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The Office Party
by glodys©
It had been a very difficult period for me and Imogen. I had been in my new job for about six months, and was finding it very tough - long hours, lots of new people to meet and new procedures and techniques to learn, and I was taking work home every night and every weekend. And Imogen finds her work quite hard, too - she comes home absolutely fagged out at the end of each day and usually falls arelax on the sofa after we've eaten. All this meant that we'd hardly been out once for months and months, and our sex life had virtually disappeared. I don't think we had made love once in the last two months.
The toll on our relationship was pretty heavy. Imogen hated me talking about work, and I just couldn't think about anything else. We snapped at each other, we rowed occasionally, and in between we just didn't talk very much about anything. When we went to bed, she would just turn away from me and go straight to relax. At weekends she did the shopping, pottered in the garden while I did my work, and scowled round the house looking very thin-lipped all the time.
Christmas came. I learnt that there was to be some sort of celebration one night after work, and naturally felt I had to be there. On learning that Imogen actually finished work a couple of days earlier than I did, I thought this would be an excellent opportunity for her to get out of the house and, with a bit of luck, for us to rekindle our love life. I imagined her wearing a pretty dress and having a few takes, relaxing and laughing. Perhaps we'd have a dance, which she loved. And maybe when we got home, she'd be relaxed enough for me to try and make love to her for once.
She was reluctant when I raised the idea, but I persisted - in fact, I pretty well put my foot down and insisted. We arranged that she would come into town and meet me after work, and when the day came she duly waited for me in the foyer downstairs. It was not cold, and although she had a coat over her arm I was delighted to see that she had really made an effort - she had had her hair done, and was wearing one of the dresses I liked best, a low-cut backless job with thin shoulder-straps and a short, flared skirt. She looked wonderful, and I congratulated myself on having such a pretty wife. Just as we were leaving my friend Tom followed me down the stairs.
"Hallo," he said, "what have we got here?"
"Oh, Tom, this is my wife," I said proudly. "Imogen, this is Tom. We work in the same office".
"I'm delighted to meet you," he said gallantly. "You're not coming to the bash, then?"
"Yes we are," smiled Imogen sweetly. "We're looking forward to it!"
Tom seemed slightly taken aback, but said "That's wonderful! I'll see you there, then?" and went in front of us out of the swing doors, walking quickly.
We followed him to the carpark, got into the car and drove the short distance to the club where the party was taking place. The club was dark and intimate - not at all the sort of place I had imagined for an office party - and when we went inside I could not at first see where my co-workers had got to. Imogen went to the cloakroom to leave her coat, and by the time she got back I had found them. They were seated round a long table on a sort of U-shaped banquette in a dark corner. There were not many of them - Tom, of course, and a handful of the others, and at the head of the table sat Larry, our head of department. Larry was a hard, competitive man. He was the sort that never says "Would you do this?" or "Could you please do that?" but always planted his thick forearms on the table and said "Very well. What you will do is ..." I found this peremptory style of management very off-putting, but there was no question that he ran a tight ship. On his left sat Dickie Pardoe, his side-kick - assistant Head of Department, a small, weaselly man with sharp features and a rather sarcastic manner to those below him.
I was dismayed to find that there were no women present, and felt embarrassed that I had completely misunderstood the nature of the occasion. I had envisaged the normal sort of office party, attended by all the secretaries and so on, but obviously I had been wrong. I looked nervously at Imogen and wondered how she would take this, and certainly she looked a little apprehensive. My colleagues soon put her at her ease, however. It helped a lot that she had already met Tom, albeit briefly, and the others made quite a fuss of her, crowding round and offering her takes.
"You must come and sit with us important guys!" said Larry, standing up, and although she smiled and said no, it was quite all right, she'd be happy down here, he would take no refusal and insisted that all the others move out of the way and let her slide all the way between the table and the banquette to sit beside him at the far end. He took her hand as she arrived and sat down, half-shaking it and half patting it in a friendly way. He looked down the table and shouted "My shout, I think!"
There was a chorus of denial, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty-pound note, saying "Nonsense, I'm the head of department so I think I can buy you all a take if I want to!"
And to me he said "David, I'm marooned up here - it'll take me half an hour to get out, and you've all just sat down, so could you take the money and do the honors for me?"
I hadn't sat down yet, so it was easy for me to take all their orders and go to the bar, repeating them so as not to forget. The barman was pretty slow so it was some time before I got back to the table with my tray of takes. There were too many for one tray so I had to make two trips. I was relieved to find Imogen all smiles, engaged in animated conversation with Larry and Dickie and the others at that end. There was no room for me on the banquette so I fetched a chair and planted myself at the foot of the table next to Tom and opposite Imogen at the far end.
I watched her for a while, letting the conversation flow around me. Larry was turned towards her, giving her his full attention, and her head went from him to Dickie as they talked and laughed. I couldn't hear what the conversation was about, but she was evidently enjoying it. I felt pleased that her first outing for such a long time was going well, and mused pleasantly for a moment about what we might do when I got her home. I wondered how I could ensure that she had plenty to take - Imogen likes a take, and can get quite lively if the circumstances are right, which was just what I was hoping for. It would be so nice, I thought, to wake up next morning after a good bout of love-making, perhaps have a cuddle before I went to get her breakfast in bed, and then we could curl up with the newspaper and maybe ..... who knew? It would make a good start to our Christmas.
I roused myself from my pleasant reverie to realize that everyone was looking at me. Dickie was waving some notes in my direction - as I was nearest they wanted me to get another round in. Off I went to the bar. As I stood by the bar waiting, I turned back and in the dim light could make out Imogen's dark head moving animatedly from side to side as she chatted.
When I got back to the table and passed the takes down each side, I could see that Larry's hand was on her arm, as if to emphasize a point, but as I sat down again he put it behind her and seemed to be stroking her bare back. She giggled and shook him off, and the men around her laughed indulgently. Then he put it back again, and she wriggled again but he kept it there. I thought this was a bit of a cheek, but she was still smiling and laughing, and the most important thing was for her to enjoy herself. Beside me, Tom was speaking about the latest project in the office, and I began listening to him and joining in - it was a bit off to talk shop on such an occasion, but often when men are gathered together it is "shop" that is the common meeting point for them, and the most interesting topic of conversation. Certainly this conversation was interesting, for a bit of a disagreement about procedures was developing between Tom and the man on my right.
Once in a while I glanced down to see if Imogen was all right, but each time she was totally absorbed in her own conversation. Once she laughed so much that she fell towards Larry, and he put his arm round her shoulders for a moment before she straightened up. Then I had to go for another round of takes. I paid this time, and the high prices in the club were a bit of a shock.
When I got back, the fellows were standing up to let Imogen and Larry out. She squeezed her way slowly along the row between them and the table, giggling because it was such a tight squeeze, but they were helping her out with friendly hands on her waist. Larry followed her.
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"I'm just going to have a dance with Larry," she said, planting a quick kiss on the top of my head, "you don't mind, do you?"
Of course, I said no I didn't.
She seized her take from the tray and drained it in one, then put the glass down and I watched them make their way to the little dance-floor at the rear of the club. I returned to the shop conversation, which had become quite heated. Once in a while I craned my head round and looked to see how she was getting on, but the club was very dark, and I could only just make them out dancing quite closely together.
They didn't dance for very long, for only ten minutes later I saw them by the bar with more takes in their hands. Larry had his arm round her waist, and was bending over her explaining something. She was grinning up at him happily, resting her weight on his arm. Then they disappeared again, presumably back to the dance floor.
They came back, Larry carrying yet another round of takes, and the process of squeezing over everyone's laps was repeated. I got up and made a trip to the cloakroom - I was takeing orange-juices because I had to drive home, while everyone else seemed to be on shorts. When I got back the argument still raged at my end of the table, but at the far end things seemed quieter.
Larry and Dickie were sitting forward, leaning towards Imogen on either side, talking softly. She was looking from one to the other, smiling and answering, and every so often her head would drop and she'd look downwards as if in thought. After a while leaned back on the banquette and seemed to be breathing more deeply. Her eyes weren't even open at one point. The take must be getting to her. When she opened her eyes and me looking at her she jumped and smiled sheepishly, feeling silly at nodding off I suppose.
At this point Tom got up and I thought for a moment he was going to hit the man on my right, the argument had become so heated.
"Hey, come on," called Larry down the table. "Keep it calm, there's a lady present!"
Tom sat down, breathing heavily and scowling, and someone brightly started up a different conversation. Larry saw that everyone was calm and leaned over to whisper in Imogen's ear. She smiled at whatever it was he said, and shook her head. He leaned more urgently, as though he were trying to persuade her of something, and Dickie leaned towards her to add his two-penn'orths.
She giggled, and shook her head, no. Larry's hand was moving gently under the table as though to emphasise a point. Every so often Imogen would close her eyes. Whatever it was that Larry and Dickie were saying was evidently quite interesting, for the other men close to them were looking at them and bending their heads to hear. Imogen shook her head again, and then leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
Now I had to go for yet another round of takes, and just as I got back Imogen was squeezing her way out for another trip to the cloakroom. She kept looking back at Larry and Dickie, and they were smiling and nodding at her. When she got out from the table she stood for a moment, and they waved her away towards the cloakroom.. Then without looking at me she turned on her heel and trotted away, her skirts flirting round her thighs. I thought it seemed strange that she needed to be encouraged to go to the lavatory - she usually managed that by herself!
When she came back she seemed quite flushed, biting her lip. My colleagues watched her with interest as she squeezed past them back to her seat beside Larry, helping her with their hands on her haunches. As she squeezed in front of the last one, he put his face to her bottom and she yelped and batted him away. They were having fun! She reached her seat and sank down between Larry and Dickie, and Larry leant towards her again as she did so. Suddenly her eyes opened very wide and she bit her lip and went very red, and then sat with her head down. Dickie was leaning in to her as well, his hands out of sight.
When she looked up and reached for her take, one of the men played a trick on her and moved it just out of her reach. She laughed ruefully and stretched forward for it, but someone moved it a little further. Then she rose in her seat and reached along the table, and they moved it further - this caused a roar of laughter.
Finally she stood right up and leaned far along the table, with Larry pushing her from behind with one hand. I realized that his hand must be on or near her bottom, and thought about the very short skirt she was wearing, but she was having a good time and that was what counted.
As she got her take and sat down again, the man next to Dickie got up and almost clambered over him, taking his place beside her. He too leaned forward and talked to her quietly. She looked at him with surprise, and then shrugged and leaned back in her seat again with her eyes closed and remained like this for some time, Larry and the other man crouched towards her watching her face and speaking softly from time to time. A lot of attention was focused on the far end of the table - even Tom's head kept turning in that direction although most of the time I was engaging him in conversation.
I was beginning to think that it was late, and I should make some sort of a move to get her home. I wanted her to be a little takes so she would be receptive to my love-making, but not so takes she fell arelax. Unfortunately just before I had thought of what to say to start her moving, there was a demand for more takes and I found myself back at the bar, waiting.
Looking back at the table I could see all their heads turned toward Larry and Imogen - they must be saying something of great interest. When I got back with the tray, I noticed she was hitching up the thin straps of her dress, and as I got back with the second lot of takes she was squeezing out from her seat again. Larry was following her.
"Going to dance again?" I asked brightly. "We ought to think about making a move soon, darling!"
"Er ... no ... cloakroom ..." she muttered, and walked towards the back of the club.
"Me too," grinned Larry, and followed her.
"And me," said Dickie. Then the other man from that end of the table left his seat, grinned at me, and followed them.
I drank my last orange-juice, and decided that I ought to visit the cloakroom too, before undertaking the drive home. I didn't say anything, but just walked to the rear of the dark club. Threading my way between the dancers, and found the quiet carpeted corridor that led to the toilets. In the gents I found Larry and the other man standing outside one of the cubicles. As I entered, Larry had a little coughing fit.
"That sounds bad," I said with a smile as I went to the urinal and unzipped. "Too many cigarettes?"
"Er, yes, could be," he replied.
"What are you two doing?" I asked.
"We're waiting for Dickie. He's in there," they nodded at the cubicle.
I finished what I was doing, swished my hands under the tap and went back into the club, wondering why three grown men had to wait for each other to go to the lavatory.
Imogen was quite a long time, but when she came back, her eyes were bright and she was smiling. As I looked at her mussed-up hair and her face, flushed from too much holy water, I thought how very lovely she was tonight. At that moment I loved her more than I had ever done, and couldn't wait to get her home and into bed. She made no demur as I hurried her out of the club and into the car to a chorus of good-byes from my colleagues.
"Well, that was quite a success, wasn't it, darling?" I said as I fastened my seat-belt. "You seemed to be having a good time!"
"Yes," she said shortly, and promptly closed her eyes and leaned her head on the window. We drove home in silence.
When we got home she said "I feel like a shower", and went into the bathroom. I lingered downstairs for a while, then went up to join her. Unfortunately all the holy water must have affected her because by the time I got there she was already in bed and arelax.
The thing that had delayed me was that as we left I had noticed
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