The elevator doors opened to the penthouse foyer. It was as big as Jack's living room at his home. Stepping out, he was greeted by an abstract sculpture of what appeared to be a man and woman entwined in love's embrace. It was only about two feet high, but it sat on a square marble pedestal that brought it to eye level; not surprising given his boss's reputation. Only two chairs, one on either side of the ornate double-door entrance, were the only other objects in the foyer.
As he approached the entrance, talking, laughing, music and other sounds wafted through the doors, all indicative of a party going on. It was the reason for Jack's visit, and he felt as out of place as this sculpture would be in a church. He had just been promoted to the position of Vice President of Accounting, and his boss, Peter, the owner of the company and host of this party, insisted he come to celebrate his advancement.
Jack was by no means a party animal, preferring to live a quiet life way out in the suburbs with his Susie homemaker wife, Sally. She, too, had encouraged him to attend, refusing to drive into town to join him because she was hosting a gathering of ladies from some neighborhood beautification committee, which was the real reason she didn't want him home. It seemed her life was all about home and neighborhood improvements and he was just in the way most of the time; not a very warm and loving marriage.
So, here he was.
As he raised his fist to knock on the door, it was suddenly opened by a beautiful black-haired woman in a matching cocktail dress that showed off her very large breasts. She was laughing drunkenly and wiggling to get free of a man who had his hands all over her, one lifting up her ultra short hem exposing a well-rounded, thonged ass cheek. The couple made it to the elevator, hit a button, and just as the doors closed, Jack saw the man paw her tits and mash his mouth to hers.
If he hadn't felt out of place before, he certainly did now.
With the entrance now open, Jack stepped in without waiting for someone to admit him. All he could see was a
lot
of people. All of the men were dressed in coats and ties, but the
women
. . . most were wearing cocktail dresses similar to the woman who had just nearly run him over; all very stylish and extremely revealing—as though it was a contest. This was way out of Jack's league. These were the in-crowd. So, what was
he
doing here?
Jack didn't know Peter very well. Prior to his promotion, he had been the assistant vice president of accounting, so all of the boss's contact with the accounting department had been through Jack's now-retired predecessor, the previous vice president. But Jack had heard that the boss was something of a playboy, lived in a fancy penthouse downtown, drove expensive cars, and basically just lived the good life. Now, Jack was witnessing first hand just how accurate was that hearsay.
Making his way into the cavernous living area, the source of the music was revealed as a jazz combo set up and playing in one corner. In the opposite corner was the bar, but Jack felt he should first seek and greet the boss before securing a scotch and water to get him through the evening. He wondered what the minimum amount of time was he could get away with staying.
Peter was sitting on the arm of an overstuffed easy chair, drink in one hand, which was occupied by a beautiful brunette with another low cut dress. He was obviously spying down her top. Her legs were crossed to reveal a generous amount of thigh. They were talking to a group of other men and women all similarly attired. As he approached, Jack noticed Peter's other hand was resting on the woman's shoulder lightly massaging her skin, occasionally slipping under the spaghetti strap. The woman didn't seem to mind, and Jack wondered if she was his wife. As far as he knew, Peter was married.
Jack maintained his position a couple of feet away so he wouldn't interrupt the conversation that was going on. A moment later, Peter turned and spotted Jack. He arose to greet his vice president with a warm handshake and smile.
"Glad you could make it, Jack."
"Thanks, but I feel a little out of place here."
"Oh, don't worry about it. You'll fit in just fine. Get yourself a drink and mingle." Peter leaned in, winked and whispered, "There are a quite a few attractive young ladies here for the taking."
Nervously, Jack mumbled, "Oh, I'm married. I couldn't—"
"So, am I. But no one will tell," Peter assured, patting Jack on the back.
"Oh, is that your wife?" he asked, nodding to the woman in the chair.
"No, no, she's around somewhere," Peter said with a wave of his hand in no particular direction. "You go enjoy yourself. We'll talk later."
Taking that as dismissal, Jack was only too happy to head for the bar. Along the way, there didn't appear to be too many "attractive young ladies here for the taking." It seemed they were all already taken. Every woman seemed to be paired with a man, many of whom were being quite friendly with their partner: hands strategically placed on female bodies, on shoulders, around waists hovering above asses, on legs if seated. He wondered how many of these lucky guys would get fucked tonight. Certainly not him. Not here, and
definitely
not at home.
Jack liked to look at women as much as the next guy. The problem was, when they heard he was an accountant, they automatically assumed he was the most boring person in the room. His wife even thought that about him. It made him wonder how they ever got together, or why they stayed married, except that he earned a respectable salary, which enabled her to engage in her pet projects. They rarely did anything together, except on those frequent occasions that they had friends over. Sally liked to entertain. He liked to have fun and could be a fun guy, but nobody gave him the chance. On one occasion, he'd even omitted any reference to his occupation, but nothing came of it, and he later learned it was because someone said he just looked like an accountant. Jack couldn't understand that. He didn't think he was bad looking. He only wore glasses while at work.
That was why on the rare occasions, such as this, that he attended a party or gathering, he simply staked out a place near the bar and watched the people—mostly the women. Such was the case tonight. Once he'd been served his scotch and water, he merely stepped aside. He had to admit that as much as he had dreaded coming to this party, there was the greatest concentration of hot women that he had ever before seen in one place at one time.
But before he could begin his scan, his eyes beheld a group of three women in the corner of the dining area, all blonde, all dressed to kill, except the one in the center seemed more elegant and refined than not only her two companions, but all of the women he had seen here so far. She was unquestionably the most beautiful woman here; she was without a doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Jack was mesmerized. He could not tear his eyes away.
And in that, Jack noticed in her expression what he believed to be boredom. Well, he could certainly relate to that. If he hadn't had her to please his eyes he would be going out of his mind. Maybe she just wasn't interested in the discussion with the two other ladies.
A moment later, a young man approached the group. There was discussion, to which Jack's girl shook her head, as though not interested in what he was saying. One of the other girls was all smiles and nods, and finally, she got up and walked off with the guy.
The conversation between the remaining two ladies resumed, with the other doing most of the talking. Jack's girl merely nodded politely, but still appeared apathetic. Then, another man stepped up, more discussion, again Jack's girl shook her head, and this time, the other girl got up and left.
Finally, yet another man hovered in on Jack's girl, and like his predecessors, he struck out. Jack was certain they were bombarding her with clever one-liners, but she just wasn't having any of it. Maybe what she needed was someone more sedate; someone such as an accountant. Or was that way too far in the opposite direction. But even if he got that far, what was his plan? Just to talk? About what? It's not like he was the most clever person in the room.
Jack shook his head. He couldn't believe he was even entertaining such thoughts. He had
never
attempted to pick up a woman; didn't even know how. He glanced at her again. Still, what harm would there be in a little talk?
Gulping the remainder of his drink, Jack stepped over to the bar for a refill. While waiting, he glimpsed the bartender's name badge. Joe. Carrie's Party Planners. From this position, with the other people at the bar, he couldn't see the woman. With a full glass, he said, "Thanks, Joe," then moved out of the way, but when he glanced into the dining room, she was gone. Craning his neck to see the entrance, there was no indication that anyone had just departed. Maybe she just went to the ladies room.
