Fling
Page 7
“What is it you do, exactly?” I pose the question to Everly. I know she doesn’t work at Clemens, my memory returning to me that I have seen her once before, in an elevator with Sandra wearing a guest badge. She seems a little on the young side though so my curiosity is piqued.
“Who the hell knows,” she says, throwing up her hands. “I’m graduating in May, I haven’t figured it out just yet.”
A college student? I almost laugh out loud. Fucking Sawyer. What is she, twenty-one, twenty-two? And he gave me shit about Sandra being young? Hell, Sandra must have four years on this girl.
The elevator stops on two and Everly doesn’t waste a second grabbing Chloe and ditching us, so that I’m left alone with Sandra, which I appreciate, so a point for Everly.
A waiter passes with a tray of champagne flutes. I grab two and hand one to Sandra. She says thank you then promptly stares into the glass, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. I’m not sure where this shyness comes from. If it’s because of me, or if it’s her default setting. “I like your skirt,” I offer by way of conversation. Nice, dickhead.
“Oh.” Her eyes fly up to mine, down to the skirt and back. “It’s not mine. Everly made me change.”
Hmm. Everly’s not so bad.
“Well, it works on you,” I say, and her cheeks flush at the compliment. “Perhaps you should keep it and wear it to the next quarterly meeting,” I tease, like a goddamned idiot because her eyes widen and her gaze returns to the glass in her hand.
“Don’t worry, I would never wear something so inappropriate to the office.” She shakes her head, gaze down.
Fuck me, this girl. She evokes something in me. I want to take this weight of shyness off her shoulders. I want to strip her bare, run my hands over every inch of her until she abandons the blushing and begs me for more. I want to touch her everywhere, find out what makes her back arch and her toes curl, to see what she looks like when she comes. For me.
“Sandra—” I begin, but I’m interrupted by a hand on my arm.
Eileen slinks her arm around mine and Sandra takes a step back, as if she’s the one intruding. Before I can say another word, Sandra mumbles something I can’t even catch and gives a little wave as she walks away, leaving me alone with Eileen.
“You looked like you needed saving,” Eileen purrs, dropping her grip on me and winking, as if we’re co-conspirators.
“Did I?” I respond, not caring if my expression is filled with the boredom I feel. Eileen is beautiful, I know that logically, even if I’m not feeling it. She’s tall and blonde, similar to Sandra, yet more polished. Her hair is filled with platinum streaks I’m sure are meticulously reapplied every four weeks. Her skin is bronzed with the hint of a holiday spent somewhere tropical and her figure implies she tends to it daily. Her makeup is applied with an expert hand. She’ll probably offer herself up to me before this conversation is over. Yet I’m distracted by a girl with honey-blonde hair I’m positive she was born with and soft curves that interest me far more than anything Eileen can create in the gym.
What surprises me though, as I look at Eileen, is that she would have interested me once. She’s exactly my type; maybe I’m just having an off night? I keep my eyes on Sandra while Eileen chats away, watching as she disappears into one of the game rooms with the Chloe girl. My thoughts are interrupted when Eileen asks if I’m listening to her. I’m not.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” I ask her, finally looking at her for the first time in minutes.
“I was asking if you wanted to grab a drink later.” She places a hand on my arm again as she asks. Do women always touch me when they flirt? I’ve honestly never noticed before. It’s only caught my attention recently because Sandra doesn’t touch me.
The party ends after midnight and there’s a fully stocked open bar, so I’ll take the invitation to grab a drink later for what it is—an offer to take her home. I decline in a way that won’t embarrass her then excuse myself and head to the bar. I need a drink and this champagne shit isn’t cutting it.
I’m waylaid before I make it ten feet. Too many people who want a minute, to introduce their dates, to wish me an early ‘Happy New Year.’ I remind myself that this party isn’t about me, it’s for the employees, a thank you for another great year. Sawyer’s been throwing this party for years. We started off with the traditional pre-Christmas parties and found them stuffy and time-consuming during a period where everyone is already stressed for time. We quickly transformed the annual holiday party into a New Year’s Eve blowout, encouraging employees to bring whoever they wanted and to have a good time at our expense. It’s good to be rich.
I finally make it to the bar on the far side of the room, the one set up outside the two event rooms that’ve been transformed into gaming spaces. Big-screen TVs hooked to all the latest in video entertainment, partygoers duking it out to a variety of games. Sandra went inside a few minutes ago, again with Chloe by her side. I consider following them in but decide against it, grabbing a drink instead. I’m not going to jockey for Sandra’s attention in the bedlam of the game room. I wonder if that note from the quarterly meeting was a joke of sorts? She’s a bundle of contradictions, I think as Hilary from the licensing department slides up, immediately touching me with one hand and the neckline of her dress with the other. I recognize it for what it is, a subtle invitation. When did I become so jaded?
Everly eyes me from twenty feet away, Sawyer’s arm wrapped around her. She eyes Hilary too, and I can see the annoyance on her face from here. I’m not sure what that’s about but I don’t have to wonder for long as they’re headed my way.
Sawyer introduces Everly to Hilary before asking me if I saw the last Flyers game. We’re deep into the raving over Schenn’s last faceoff when Everly interrupts.
“How long have you two known each other?” she asks, suspicion in her tone, glancing between me and Sawyer.
“Since Harvard,” I reply. “Roommates,” I add.
“Uh-huh,” she replies, eyes flicking to Sawyer for a brief moment before she smiles big and pulls a cell phone out from somewhere. “Oh!” she exclaims. “Oh, my!” Her eyes widen and her hand flies up to cover her mouth, which she’s dropped open in pretend shock. She cannot be serious.
“Who the hell knows,” she says, throwing up her hands. “I’m graduating in May, I haven’t figured it out just yet.”
A college student? I almost laugh out loud. Fucking Sawyer. What is she, twenty-one, twenty-two? And he gave me shit about Sandra being young? Hell, Sandra must have four years on this girl.
The elevator stops on two and Everly doesn’t waste a second grabbing Chloe and ditching us, so that I’m left alone with Sandra, which I appreciate, so a point for Everly.
A waiter passes with a tray of champagne flutes. I grab two and hand one to Sandra. She says thank you then promptly stares into the glass, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. I’m not sure where this shyness comes from. If it’s because of me, or if it’s her default setting. “I like your skirt,” I offer by way of conversation. Nice, dickhead.
“Oh.” Her eyes fly up to mine, down to the skirt and back. “It’s not mine. Everly made me change.”
Hmm. Everly’s not so bad.
“Well, it works on you,” I say, and her cheeks flush at the compliment. “Perhaps you should keep it and wear it to the next quarterly meeting,” I tease, like a goddamned idiot because her eyes widen and her gaze returns to the glass in her hand.
“Don’t worry, I would never wear something so inappropriate to the office.” She shakes her head, gaze down.
Fuck me, this girl. She evokes something in me. I want to take this weight of shyness off her shoulders. I want to strip her bare, run my hands over every inch of her until she abandons the blushing and begs me for more. I want to touch her everywhere, find out what makes her back arch and her toes curl, to see what she looks like when she comes. For me.
“Sandra—” I begin, but I’m interrupted by a hand on my arm.
Eileen slinks her arm around mine and Sandra takes a step back, as if she’s the one intruding. Before I can say another word, Sandra mumbles something I can’t even catch and gives a little wave as she walks away, leaving me alone with Eileen.
“You looked like you needed saving,” Eileen purrs, dropping her grip on me and winking, as if we’re co-conspirators.
“Did I?” I respond, not caring if my expression is filled with the boredom I feel. Eileen is beautiful, I know that logically, even if I’m not feeling it. She’s tall and blonde, similar to Sandra, yet more polished. Her hair is filled with platinum streaks I’m sure are meticulously reapplied every four weeks. Her skin is bronzed with the hint of a holiday spent somewhere tropical and her figure implies she tends to it daily. Her makeup is applied with an expert hand. She’ll probably offer herself up to me before this conversation is over. Yet I’m distracted by a girl with honey-blonde hair I’m positive she was born with and soft curves that interest me far more than anything Eileen can create in the gym.
What surprises me though, as I look at Eileen, is that she would have interested me once. She’s exactly my type; maybe I’m just having an off night? I keep my eyes on Sandra while Eileen chats away, watching as she disappears into one of the game rooms with the Chloe girl. My thoughts are interrupted when Eileen asks if I’m listening to her. I’m not.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” I ask her, finally looking at her for the first time in minutes.
“I was asking if you wanted to grab a drink later.” She places a hand on my arm again as she asks. Do women always touch me when they flirt? I’ve honestly never noticed before. It’s only caught my attention recently because Sandra doesn’t touch me.
The party ends after midnight and there’s a fully stocked open bar, so I’ll take the invitation to grab a drink later for what it is—an offer to take her home. I decline in a way that won’t embarrass her then excuse myself and head to the bar. I need a drink and this champagne shit isn’t cutting it.
I’m waylaid before I make it ten feet. Too many people who want a minute, to introduce their dates, to wish me an early ‘Happy New Year.’ I remind myself that this party isn’t about me, it’s for the employees, a thank you for another great year. Sawyer’s been throwing this party for years. We started off with the traditional pre-Christmas parties and found them stuffy and time-consuming during a period where everyone is already stressed for time. We quickly transformed the annual holiday party into a New Year’s Eve blowout, encouraging employees to bring whoever they wanted and to have a good time at our expense. It’s good to be rich.
I finally make it to the bar on the far side of the room, the one set up outside the two event rooms that’ve been transformed into gaming spaces. Big-screen TVs hooked to all the latest in video entertainment, partygoers duking it out to a variety of games. Sandra went inside a few minutes ago, again with Chloe by her side. I consider following them in but decide against it, grabbing a drink instead. I’m not going to jockey for Sandra’s attention in the bedlam of the game room. I wonder if that note from the quarterly meeting was a joke of sorts? She’s a bundle of contradictions, I think as Hilary from the licensing department slides up, immediately touching me with one hand and the neckline of her dress with the other. I recognize it for what it is, a subtle invitation. When did I become so jaded?
Everly eyes me from twenty feet away, Sawyer’s arm wrapped around her. She eyes Hilary too, and I can see the annoyance on her face from here. I’m not sure what that’s about but I don’t have to wonder for long as they’re headed my way.
Sawyer introduces Everly to Hilary before asking me if I saw the last Flyers game. We’re deep into the raving over Schenn’s last faceoff when Everly interrupts.
“How long have you two known each other?” she asks, suspicion in her tone, glancing between me and Sawyer.
“Since Harvard,” I reply. “Roommates,” I add.
“Uh-huh,” she replies, eyes flicking to Sawyer for a brief moment before she smiles big and pulls a cell phone out from somewhere. “Oh!” she exclaims. “Oh, my!” Her eyes widen and her hand flies up to cover her mouth, which she’s dropped open in pretend shock. She cannot be serious.
