It's December, and it's cold. That's how it was for her now. Just another cold wintery month. The snow drifted in the air; floating like large puffs of cotton. People around her didn't seem bothered by the flying cotton balls; they seemed happy. Well at least happier than her. She didn't know when was it that she had become this cynical and cold. Colder than that icy draft that blew across her face every now and then as she walked down the street to her destination. Her destination? That stupid pre Christmas office party, which her 'over-the-top' boss was hosting. All in all, she wouldn't have bothered coming down to this one. But then something told her, it would be better to stay in her boss's good books; just in case. Furthermore, her boss just loved to show her off. He could have been a sweetheart but then he had this habit of groping women's body parts. And her butt was no exception.
Hands dug deep into her fur coat's pockets and head hung low, she struggled through the cold draft and the snow towards the office building. The wind blew through her hair; streaking a few strands of hair across her face. She tucked them behind her ear as she looked around. People on the street are loud and greeting each other; the usual festive cheer. If only it lasted the entire year, the world would have been a better place. She scoffed to herself thinking how these same people wouldn't give a second look if a drunk guy lay dead on the pavement. But hey, it's December! So let's all pretend and show how nice we are. Shaking her head at her own thoughts, she crossed the street and made her way towards the large glass doors of the building on the other side.
"Paula." She acknowledged the woman behind the lobby desk; the woman flashed a wide smile at her showing off her perfect teeth. She managed a small smile back at her. The lobby was empty, except for Paula behind the desk and the big burly security guy who was leaning on the desk, talking to her. She couldn't recognise the big guy; probably new recruitment. But one thing she did recognise by looking at the size of his belly, was that he really need to get himself a diet having only salad and water. That sounded miserable; salad and water. But then that was what she had to thank for her killer figure. She avoided the guy's look, it wasn't anything new to have eyes running all over her body. The lobby was huge and sparkling clean. The floors were shiny, reflecting the lights on the ceiling. The walls smooth and shining. But the most important thing was, it was warm. After that walk through that unforgiving cold, the lobby felt like heaven.
"Top floor! They are waiting for you." Paula said, as she walked past the desk and towards the elevator. She just nodded to her to indicate her understanding. Not that she was unpleasant or so, but that's just her. She avoided talking to people as much as she could. There wasn't any sound but the soft instrumental music coming from the speakers installed on the ceiling. Her heels made a clicking sound as she walked over the polished marbled floor. She watched her reflection on the shiny metal doors of the elevator, waiting for the elevator to come down. Surprisingly, she looked good in her dark grey fur coat and the green dress underneath. Her hair, apart from the tiny flecks of snow in them looked pristine. She brushed away the snow, tidying up her dirty blonde hair and looked at my face. She was pretty surprised that she didn't look like some drunk bitch, given her foul mood. Honestly, she wouldn't be able to tell herself that her mood was nowhere near good if she had to judge from her face. Well, that's what pretending and putting up a mask everyday gets you. A perfect cover of wellness to hide the not so well interiors.
The elevator arrived, and she got in. The same music as the one in the lobby was playing. She wondered if people there even stopped to listen to it for a moment. She tapped her foot softly as the elevator started to climb up towards the top floor. What am I doing here, she asked herself. Hated every minute of such parties; so many people, music, talking. Got on her nerves. But despite all her complains (to herself), she was there. Perks of the job, she thought to herself ruefully. The job was okay; it paid well. In fact the money was really good and that was the only thing that kept her going. She wanted to be there because of her ambition and her hunger for more and more. So she sold her happiness for thick wads of cash; well who's judging anyway? She checked herself on the elevator doors once more, smoothing down her dress which ended about an inch above her knees. She tucked her hair to one side of her neck revealing the bare skin. She didn't wear any necklaces or other trinkets save for the small golden earrings. Personally, she felt her skin was the most precious ornament she could have; pale and soft. She didn't need jewellery to accentuate it. The thing she loved most were smoky grey eyes. Men would compliment her about her lips, her face, her hair and obviously her breasts and her butt (all thanks to the gym), but almost nobody complimented her on the eyes. Well, she couldn't blame them entirely. For most she wasn't the 'falling in love' type of woman. She was rather more of the 'Honey, let's fuck' type. Men called her sexy, hot, gorgeous but almost nobody called her beautiful. Well, almost. With her 5'9 height and her 26 years old tight body, she was more into fucking anyways rather than falling in love.
The blast of "Merry Christmas" shouts that hit her when the elevator doors open was stronger that that cold draft blowing outside. She pasted a fake static smile on my face as she got out of the elevator. Her mood soured even more as she glanced around the hall. Full of people; mostly her office mates. But there were some she didn't recognise. Some of her office mates had showed up with their family members as well; wives, girlfriends, husbands or boyfriends. She had none.
Good for me, she thought to herself.
"May I take your coat, ma'am?" There's a guy waiting by the elevator with his hand out to take her coat. Slowly, she pulled off her fur coat down her arms and handed it to him. She could almost hear the faint whistle that came out through his lips as he gazed at her silky sleeveless green dress wrapped around her tight figure. The smile on her face widened just a bit; she knew she looked good.
She had to look good, that dress had costed her almost a month's salary. The dark silky green had caught her eye when she had been shopping. And when she had tried it on, and saw just how well it complimented her figure, the price tag hadn't mattered anymore. The dress stopped just short of reaching her knees, about an inch high up. That was perfect to show off her toned legs (thanks again to those long hours at the gym) and the Jimmy Choo heels only helped to show her shapely bubble butt (Thank you, gym). She had her adolescence period to thank as well for her nice tight figure. Those years at college, cheerleading had helped to maintain her figure.
She could feel the man's eyes on my back as she walked away. The usual greetings and customary exchanges, smiles and handshakes. The hall was full of chatter. The decorations had been done beautifully though; mistletoe hung from the ceiling and colourful lights adorned the walls. The women, some genuinely praised her attire while some hid their questions behind a facade of fake praises. The men; well most of them couldn't do the subtle act of admiring her body. Not that she was complaining. But she had no interest in reciprocating their 'admiration'. Honestly, she have been out of the dating scene for quite a long time now. It did seem a bit unusual with a 26 year old, but her eyes were set on work and climbing up to higher places. The occasional flings were there, but serious love and relationships were not on her mind.
"Nikki!"
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice she knew too well. Trying not to groan out loud, she plastered that fake smile across her face and turned around to face her 'almost sweetheart' boss, Mr. Arnold Valeron.
"Hello, Mr. Valeron." She said, not so warmly to her boss. He was in his mid fifties, married and had two kids. But that didn't stop him from hitting on every girl he could get his eyes on. She hated the fact that he called her 'Nikki' instead of her good name, 'Nicole'. Nobody called her 'Nikki', she simply hated it when people cropped her name. His wide smile irked her a bit more, as he came over and put his arm around her shoulders (Touchy, as always).
"Where have you been?!" He exclaimed, his other hand holding the glass of champagne, whose contents were on the verge of spilling over.
"Had some things to take care." She mumbled back as he steered her through the crowd, his hand across her shoulder a bit too strong. He didn't seem to hear what she had just said.
