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“It’s okay. Don’t worry. Please, stop,” said the mayor as everyone rushed in to fuss over him with napkins. “Seriously, I’m fine,” he said.

I grabbed a napkin and wiped his flank. Unrelenting in my torment, I said, “Pretend I’m not cleaning up a mess but that I’m just rubbing your ass.” Then I eyed a bead of white wine on his jacket collar, dabbed my finger on the spot, and brought it to my lips. “No reason it should go to waste,” I said.

“I just hope I don’t get pulled over on the way home,” said the mayor. “I didn’t even want wine.”

I reached for my cell phone so I could notify my brother-in-law (a CHP officer) of a possible drunk driver heading out of downtown, but I thought better of it — the good-natured Coronado rep had already suffered enough.

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