I’ve always appreciated the finer things in life. I have this weird inherent ability to say – for instance – look at ski boots (I don’t ski) and somehow choose the most expensive boots. It’s even worse with things I do know about. I’m naturally drawn to the best of the best, and I have sophisticated tastes.
In an effort to be more budget-conscious, I took a part time job in a high-end boutique wine shop. Fine wines are expensive, but I get a discount, and I get opportunities to taste before I buy.

Last weekend, my favorite sales rep visited the store late in the day. I was actually just about to start closing up. He pulled five bottles out of his bag and said, “you’ve gotta taste these wines, Dominno. They’re amazing and you’re going to love them.”
I pulled two glasses from under the counter and he pulled the cork on a highly allocated Willamette Pinot Noir. Pinot Noir happens to be one of my favorite vareitals.
I swirled the wine in my glass, opening it up and admiring the ruby color. Then I put my nose into the glass and smelled. Ohmyfuckinggod it was complex. Finally, I tasted. Elegant, earthy, bright fruit, good acidity, perfectly balanced. I felt my nipples get hard.
I looked at the rep and said, “I’ll take a case.”
“I can’t sell you a case of this, Dominno. It’s small production. I just wanted you to taste it, because I knew you’d appreciate it.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” I asked as I walked over to the door and locked it, flipping the “CLOSED” sign over and unzipping my dress. I slipped it over my shoulders and it slid over my hips to the floor. Underneath, I was wearing only a pair of thigh-high black stockings.

If you consider yourself a connoisseur of fine things, give me a call. We’ll have a lot to talk about.