Lobbyists come in all shapes and sizes, both physically and figuratively. When someone says lobbyist, most people’s inclination is to think of influence peddlers utilising either money or connections to push some dubious sectional interest. Although people like that exist in Washington in droves, they are by far not the only people to inhabit that designation. As a fairly junior staff member, the lobbyists I dealt with were of a different variety; the technical expert. I shall use the development of a rule by the United States Department of Energy to demonstrate how as much as money and access are important in politics, the possession of information can also give great power.
For those unfamiliar with the federal rule-making process, it is an arcane labyrinth that very well may have a minotaur in the centre. From the conception of a possible rule, it can take anywhere from six months to a decade for it to come into force. There is a long sequence of stakeholder engagement, followed by public hearings, followed by a draft rule being put out for comment. Then there are more hearings and perhaps redrafts. However, despite the clumsy bureaucracy of it all, what really slows down the process is when the sectional interests get involved.
Now, for the record, I should state that in this particular matter, I was representing a sectional interest. The rule in question involved the standardisation of energy output ratings for a particular class of large-scale solar panels. At its heart, it was a debate about how to measure something, although to this day I could not tell you what exactly.
Now how did I get involved in this, you might ask? Heaven knows I asked myself that question every day for about a year. Well, as it turns out, the headquarters of a particular manufacturer of this type of solar panel is based in Austin, and more particularly in the Congressman’s district. When a major employer in your district calls your office asking for help with a federal government process, Congressmen are highly inclined to do so.
It came down to that if the output was measured in one way it would be advantageous for their products and if it were done in another way they would be less competitive. That is the first lesson of this tale: politics often has nothing to do with substance. The solar cells would output the same amount of power regardless, it just mattered what they could write on their sales material.
As a person from a legal and political science background, the subtleties of this particular difference were lost on me. Regardless, the boffins at the Department of Energy and the engineers from all the competing companies and NGOs all seemed to get very excited about it. As far as I could tell they were arguing about what letters to put in formulas, but I guess the letters matter.
The upshot of this was that while Russell was being taken out to dinner by executives from this company to explain how important their business was for the Austin economy, I was sitting in hearings or on the phone with an engineer for hours taking furious notes on a draft rule. I had travelled to San Mateo, California, Wilmington, Delaware, and Norcross, Georgia (all home to major large-scale solar companies) for various stakeholder engagement activities. I had spent literally weeks with the officers from the Department of Energy, to the point that I had memorised their work extensions.
Finally, the process entered the most critical stage, the hardtack negotiations of the final wording of the draft rule that would be implemented on a trial basis. There would still be another round of hearings and a possibility for the rule to be changed at a later date, but the truth is that it is extremely rare for a rule to be amended between the trial and final implementation. In the end, if you can control the final draft, you have set the rule.
The company sent out two employees to Washington for the final stretch, their congressional liaison officer from Austin for process management and a research engineer from their manufacturing plant in Huron, South Dakota for the technical know-how. The congressional liaison, Tiffany, I knew quite well. She was a friendly mid-thirties blond lady who looked like she was right out of Texas central casting. We had met several times and had developed a good working relationship.
The engineer who was scheduled to come out was called Dennis. I had only met him once — a large round man with thick glasses — but I had spent more time on the phone with him than I think anyone else in my life and we had developed a high degree of trust. Therefore, it was a shock when a panicked Dennis called me at home on the morning he was scheduled to fly to Washington to tell me his mother had had a fall and was in the hospital and that he was going to have to send his new second in command out in his place. I had to assure him he was not letting me down, although I was secretly also panicking, and that he needed to stay with his mother. kaçak bahis When I hung up I swore loudly at the phone, then called Tiffany who had a similar reaction in a much more lady-like way.
So, there I was; sitting in a meeting room in the Department of Energy the next day with Tiffany and half a dozen other industry people feeling distinctly nervous. Tiffany said the replacement engineer was in the foyer and got up to meet them. Sitting there by myself I realised I had been so panicked I had not even asked for their name.
I must have looked like a stunned fish when the person who dropped into the seat beside me and extended their hand in greeting was not another middle-aged balding man with a paunch dressed in a golf shirt, but a mid-twenties and very slight Asian woman in a tailored Amani suit. I took her hand and shook it as she said in a thick Boston accent “Hi there. I’m Susan. Pleased to meet you.”
The Department of Energy Assistant Secretary responsible for the policy area called the discussion to order and the debate began. Normally it is my or Tiffany’s job to try to control the agenda, while the engineer is there to make technical arguments. However, it quickly became clear that Susan was capable of doing both of these roles by herself without any help from me. At one point, she got stuck into the Department itself for a breach of its own stated consultation process which impressed me much more than her obviously formidable grasp of the substantive matter.
Regardless, as these things often do, it quickly devolved into positionalism. Everybody knew the strengths and weaknesses of everyone else’s products. All the areas of possible agreement had been reached long ago, and all that was left were the areas of real difference based on the self-interest of everyone involved. As it approached five in the afternoon, the very harassed-looking Assistant Secretary called a halt and said that we would pick it up the next day.
I wish I could say there was progress made the following day, but after another seven hours of going around on the same ground without finding a solution, I pulled the plug. All the best technical know-how and money and whatever else you can throw at a problem is great, but sometimes it takes a bit of hard power to get something done. I called the Congressman, who called the Whitehouse Director of Policy, who called the Secretary of Energy. The whole thing was over in the blink of an eye. We were having the same debate for the third time about some formula for estimating the actual energy output of a solar cell in real-world climatic conditions when the Assistant Secretary just announced “Okay ladies and gentlemen, I think we have enough to make our decision” and twenty minutes later we were standing on the National Mall.
Out of earshot of the other parties, Susan swung around to face Tiffany and me and asked “So did we win?”
I looked at Tiffany, then shrugged and said “Yeah I guess. But I don’t think any of us had much to do with it.”
Susan’s face cracked into a wide grin and she demanded “So what happened? One moment you’re on the phone and then next they just end the negotiations.”
I started to explain what had gone down as Tiffany hailed a cab. Susan grabbed my shoulder and pushed me inside, then said “Come have dinner with us. I want to hear more about the palace intrigue of Washington.”
The women were staying in a hotel near Logan Circle which was convenient for a lot of the best restaurants in town. We ended up in a very well-rated pub-style establishment on P Street. Susan joined me in a beer while Tiffany sipped a glass of white wine, as I regaled them with tales of the Washington establishment. Tiffany had been in and out of the city for years so it was not new to her, but Susan was enthralled. I expected that, as a scientific person, she would be appalled that decisions were often made with little consideration of the evidence. However, she seemed to find the mess and influence peddling fascinating. She was asking increasingly pointed questions about the behaviours of particular politicians and senior officials. At one point, I gave Tiffany a questioning look, but she just gave me a shrug so I continued, making it sound like I had a much greater insight into the dark dealing of the Federal government than was actually the case.
The meal came and went, and still, Susan was asking questions. Tiffany waved the company plastic at a passing waiter and once again we were standing outside. Obviously not done with me yet, Susan linked her arm to mine and started to walk toward their hotel. I expected to drop them at the door, but Susan steered me across the foyer and into the lift with Tiffany trailing behind us.
Susan flicked her card key in the lock of a door and held it open for us. Tiffany stepped though, but then made her way toward an open door to the adjoining room and said “I think I’ll turn in. Good night.”
Quick as a flash, bedava bahis Susan threw her arm out to stop her colleague and said “Not so fast. I think we should celebrate our success today, regardless of the form it came in. And anyway, I want to hear more about Washington. I might not get another chance to pick the brains of two insiders.” With her arm still barring Tiffany’s exit she picked up the room phone and said “Hello. Housekeeping? Can you send up a bottle of Champagne on ice? Thanks” then hung up.
Tiffany started to protest, but Susan quietened her by saying “It’s ordered now. You might as well have a glass with us.” Tiffany rolled her eyes but sat down on a chair. Susan picked up the hotel guide, then said excitedly “They have a jacuzzi. I quite fancy some bubbles with my bubbles. How about you guys?”
I started to protest that I did not have my swimsuit, but Susan retorted “Just go in in your tighty-whities. Nobody is going to notice. And you” she pointed at Tiffany, “I know you’ve got yours because I could see you doing laps in the pool at 6 am when I was in the gym.” Tiffany raised her hands to indicate she was not arguing. Triumphantly, Susan turned and said, “Well I’m going to change.” She fished something out of her suitcase and then closed the bathroom door behind her.
Tiffany stood up and said “Well I’d better change as well” then made her way for the door to her room.
Susan was the first to reappear. She was dressed in a red bikini. She was very thin, with slender legs, narrow hips, and only a faint swell under the triangles of fabric on her chest to indicate breasts. Her long black hair was still tied up in the ponytail she had been wearing for the last two days and her dark eyes were glinting with excitement. She leaned on the doorpost and remarked nonchalantly, “Vietnamese by the way, if you’re wondering where I’m from.”
I had not actually been wondering about her ancestry, just enjoying the expanse of light brown skin before me, but I nodded regardless. Susan sat down on the chair vacated by Tiffany and asked “Where’d the blond go?”
I indicated with my head to the door to the adjoining room, just as it opened and Tiffany walked through with a towel over her shoulder. Unlike Susan, she was wearing a one-piece swimsuit that still did not hide the fact that where God had withheld from Susan, he had given in spades to Tiffany. The suit was high-cut at the hips which caused the appearance of a deep V pointing down between a pair of strong thighs. The neck was not very low cut, but still showed off a bit of cleavage as it pushed her large breasts together. She had pulled her hair up into a loose twist on top of her head, presumably to keep it out of the water.
Susan laughed, then said “Oh come on Tiffany. Don’t you have something a bit sexier?”
Tiffany gave her an incredulous look and said “I’m not here to be sexy. This is the swimming costume I have because I brought it here to swim laps, not for swanning around in hot tubs. You can either shut up or I’m going to bed.”
Susan opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Excitedly she jumped up and pulled it open to find a young bellhop with a bottle of Champagne in an ice bucket on a trolley. She pulled it out, ignoring the glasses, and started to walk off down to corridor, calling over her shoulder “Just put it on the room tab.”
I grabbed a couple of towels off the bed and followed her, giving the poor boy an apologetic nod. Tiffany trailed in my wake as we caught Susan up at the lift. The jacuzzi was on the basement level, off the pool area. Susan and Tiffany went straight into the room. I started to head for the changeroom, but Susan grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along with her. As I pulled off my slacks and shirt and stowed them on a shelf with the towels, Susan whooped and jumped into the jacuzzi. Tiffany rolled her eyes and took a more measured entry. I stepped up to the edge in just my underwear, then Tiffany waved at the bottle of Champagne she had left on the floor and said “Open ‘er up.”
I uncorked the bottle with a pop, then in the absence of glasses handed it to Susan as I lowered myself into the pool. The jacuzzi had seats on all four sides. Susan and Tiffany were sitting opposite, so I sat between them. Susan took a swig from the bottle and said “Here’s to getting what we wanted,” then handed it to Tiffany and continued “All right, I want to hear more about that cesspool that is Washington.”
I racked my brain for a second, then launched into a recounting of a story that Russell had told me about a judge in the seventies who would make decisions about complex cases by putting the briefs that each side had filed on scales, then awarding the case to the heavier. I actually doubted it was true, but I told it regardless so that I could steal Russell’s punchline: “Judges are meant to weigh the evidence; he just took it more literally.”
I was actually starting kazandıran bahis siteleri to run out of material. Thankfully, Tiffany (after a few swigs of Champagne) jumped in with a couple of stories of her own. Finally, she lapsed into silence, and to fill the hole I asked Susan “So how did you end up in Huron anyway?”
Susan shrugged and replied “I specialized in clean energy development when I was at Harvard. So, when I graduated I went looking for jobs, and the best one I got offered just happened to be in South Dakota.”
Tiffany took another swig of the bottle, then passed it to me and said “What’s it like moving from a big city like Boston to a little shitberg like Huron? You must be so bored.”
Susan laughed loudly and replied “Oh hell no. It’s great. Thiers twice as many men as women. There are so many guys I don’t know what to do with myself. I can just take my pick.”
Tiffany raised her eyebrows and asked, “And what do you mean by that?”
Susan shrugged and replied “Getting laid of course. If you want cock on tap become a female engineer. Grad school was pretty good. There were ten guys for every girl, but it was still Boston. Huron is like that on steroids. I’m a hot piece of arse with a well-paying job in the middle of nowhere. I’ve got a whole plant full of men who’ll do anything I ask because they haven’t seen a pretty girl for years, and then if I get tired of nerds I just go out at a lumberjack bar and get myself railed caveman-style.”
Tiffany’s eyes were wide with shock. She stammered “Holy shit. That’s insane. I can’t even imagine doing that.”
Susan grinned widely and replied “I thought this town runs on sex. You’ve been a lobbyist for years. Surely you’ve got yourself a fair bit.”
Tiffany shook her head and said “Nar. Lots of drinking and Rolling Stones concerts, but I’ve never had to sleep with anyone to get what I wanted.”
Susan gave her a wink and said “Oh that’s disappointing. Seems like a good excuse to be a slut, not that I need it.”
Tiffany sighed and responded “You might have a point. I haven’t gotten any since I got divorced two years ago. In truth, it was a year before that actually.”
Susan’s voice was laced with genuine disbelief as she said “How are you even functional? I haven’t gotten laid for a week because this rule thing has been so mad and I’m starting to go loopy.” As she spoke I felt her foot slide up my leg and start to rub my cock through my underwear.
Tiffany took a long drink from the Champagne bottle, then replied “I wouldn’t say I’m not going a bit crazy.”
Before Susan could respond there was a tap on the glass door and a hotel employee called “I’m closing up the pool.”
Tiffany pushed herself up out of the jacuzzi as she said “Well, time for bed.”
Susan gave my groin one last rub with her foot then followed her colleague. They both wrapped themselves in their towels as I followed them, acutely aware that my hard cock was visible through my wet underwear. Before I was fully out of the water, Tiffany had pulled open the door. Susan scooped up my clothes and flashed me a grin as she left the room.
I called after her “Hey, I need to wash the chlorine off.”
Susan looked over her shoulder and replied “You can use my shower.” I wrapped my towel around my waist and jogged to catch up as they reached the lift. I followed Susan down the corridor towards her room. She opened the door and ushered Tiffany and me through.
Tiffany made her way toward the door to her adjoining room and called back “Good night,” then closed it behind her.
I was not particularly surprised was Susan walked past me to the bathroom, shedding her bikini as she did. She turned to face me in all her naked glory and said “Come on big boy. Let’s get clean before we get dirty” as she beckoned me to follow.
By the time I had shed my underwear and reached the shower she was already under the water. I stepped in after her and pulled her into a passionate kiss as my erection pushed against her stomach. Susan was very responsive as our hands roamed each other’s bodies, but when I cupped her bottom to lift her up against the wall she stopped me and said “Not yet. Let’s wash up first.”
I followed her direction as she had me shampoo and condition her hair, then scrub her body with shower gel. It was a good excuse for me to explore her thin frame with its pointy brown nipples atop her small breasts and her tight backside. When I reached the black patch of hair between her legs which was trimmed into her bikini line she moaned and pushed into my hand as I rubbed her clit. However, when I went to slip a finger inside her she once again stopped me and said “Time to get out” and turned off the water.
Before I could react, Susan had grabbed a towel and was out of the bathroom. I pulled one off the shelf, gave myself a quick rub then followed her. To my surprise, she was nowhere to be found in her room, but the door to Tiffany’s suit was open. I carefully looked around the doorframe and was surprised to find Susan lying in the centre of Tiffany’s bed drying her hair. I looked pointedly to the door of Tiffany’s bathroom, behind which the shower could still be heard running, and mouthed “What are you doing?”
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