Sandra can resist anything but temptation at the annual office party gropefest. But in January 1978, her newly acquired libido takes her a step too far.
The characters are entirely fictional (ish). Any similarities with real people, living or dead, are entirely deliberate.
The Free Electric Band is a song written my Albert Hammond and Mike Hazlewood, preformed by Hammond. It was released in 1973 on the Epic Label.
Telephone Line was a single taken from the 1976 album A New World Record by The Electric Light Orchestra, released on United Artists label.
***
Before long, the annual drink-fuelled grope fest was upon us. I refer to the event most likely to impart feelings of shame; one most likely to create awkward glances the next day; the time when men traditionally put every effort into bedding the object of their unrequited lusts and women say fuck-the-consequence; a happening, after which said women experience difficulty looking in a mirror.
I mean, of course, the office Christmas party.
This year, the party took take place in the function room of a hotel; this was a proper hotel rather than a pub that called itself a hotel, so the room was bigger than many nightclubs. Being a hotel, this building had rooms that one could book for the night, much to the delight of some of my male colleagues.
Which is just what Charlie Femuck had done.
Office Christmas parties were never formal affairs and the clear understanding was that partners could not be invited! I turned up in my only party dress. It was a modest affair in pale blue with short angel sleeves and a handkerchief hemline at the knee. It suited me as the scoop neckline didn't show off much cleavage and none of my ample thighs could be seen; It signalled that I was not intending to cop off. A matching blue leather shoulder bag added the finishing touch.
Pamela turned up in a pair of obscenely tight black satin pants, hugging her perfect little arse, a white tied-under-the-perfect-tits blouse and a black leather bomber jacket. She emphasised her slim elegance with a pair of what looked to me like black patent leather sandals with five-inch heels I couldn't have even stood up in, let alone dance; as if she needed any more height. She looked stunning, the cow! My eyes drew themselves down to her groin, where the painted-on satin did nothing to conceal her womanhood.
"Jesus! Pam!" She could see where I was staring.
"What?"
"Those pants are showing off your fanny!"
"So?"
I couldn't help but judge. "It's obscene."
"Feels nice though. You wanna try it sometime!" Her tone was equally judgemental as she eyed my modest and, to her, boring garb.
"You're a bit on the quiet side," I said to Pam after we'd had a couple of drinks.
"What do you mean?"
"I'd have thought you'd have already picked your next conquest and would be working on him by now."
"God no!" was the surprising response. "I have to work with these morons. I'm not having them talking about me on Monday."
"Oh!" I was a bit taken aback. "So you've never, you know..."
"Not with people I have to work with. No."
"So why the fuck are you dressed like that?"
"San! I do not dress like this to attract men. I do not wear sexy clothes to announce that I'm up for a shag; I wear them because it makes me fee good. Me! You need to join me in the nineteen-seventies and stop thinking like a teenage boy."
Well, that told me. As we sat in silence for a while, I had to accept that she did have a point.
"Evening ladies!" Charlie sat down next to me, uninvited.
"Hello." I was less than enthusiastic.
"If either of you fancy going somewhere else for a bit of fun..." He dropped a large fob that had 307 inscribed onto the table. Attached was a key. "Or both of you."
"That your idea of a seduction technique?" Pam asked.
"What's that?" I pointed at the key. I was playing naïve.
"It's a room key. I booked it earlier. I think I'm going to be lucky tonight."
"Well, not at this table," piped in Pam, "So fuck off!"
"Don't beat about the bush, Pamela, love. Just say what you mean."
"I think what she means is that we aren't interested tonight." I explained.
"Or any other night, day, morning, anytime," Pamela added.
"Your loss." He pocketed the key.
The DJ changed the disc and Albert Hammond's 'Free Electric Band,' began.
"Sure I can't persuade you?" Charlie began.
"Oh, I love this song," Pam blurted out. "Let's go dance." She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the dance floor.
I glanced back to see Charlie wonder off, looking dejected, to be unsuccessful somewhere else.
"Nice move," I said to Pam.
"Saved me from punching him in the face."
"You don't like him then?"
"He's a fucking creep."
"He's groped my arse a couple of times. I must say."
It became difficult to dance and talk, especially with Pam looming over me, so we concentrated on dancing and carried on through several record changes. I was enjoying it, as I got little a chance to dance those days. As ELO's 'Telephone Line' played, two guys joined in and, without invitation, began to dance.
"You're Sandra from Customer Accounts, aren't you?" One of them said to me.
"Yeah," I agreed, competing with the disco. "Are you from personnel?"
"Yeah! Roger, and he's Simon." Simon joined in, dancing with a reluctant Pam.
What puzzled me was that Pam, the stunning beauty who oozed sex appeal, and I were dancing together, but Roger chose to dance with me. He actually chose me over Pam.
"Why did you want to dance with me?" The insecure Sandra had to ask so called into his ear.
"Why not?"
"Because that," I pointed to Pam, "was dancing with me."
