Four hours later, Dara came out of her office to let us know that we would all be able to leave early to get ready for the holiday party later that evening. The sight of her made me angry as she walked up the aisle glancing at her subordinate's monitors with this self-satisfied smile while some of my social climbing coworkers made polite conversation. I was thinking of blowing off the holiday party when Dara announced that shew would take it as a personal offense if everyone didn't show up. It was meant to sound like a joke, but I knew she was deadly serious. I didn't cotton to all the faux holiday cheer but resolved to make an appearance none the less if only to keep the dogs off my back, namely Dara.
Some hours later I found myself sitting at the open bar in the rented banquet hall of some old dinosaur of a fading hotel brand rented by our office. Steven's suspension and a likely shit canning was the dominant conversation among my peers, but I had nothing to add. My opinion of affairs wasn't going forth in public so that one of these lapdogs could catch a few thousand brownie points snitching me out to Dara. I found this verbal iteration of tossing quarters so distasteful, that I slid out in front of the hotel to catch a smoke and check my phone. I didn't mind the biting cold and wet sidewalks, preferring it to the fake people waiting to kiss ass inside. I was considering chucking it all and catching a taxi home when a Range Rover skidded to a stop on the curb outside the hotel entrance. I thought it was reckless as flecks of ice cold rain started peppering my face. The valet didn't look like he wanted to leave the heat lamps and relative shelter of his desk to open the door when it swung open hard of its own accord. I could hear some sort of heated conversation inside.
Dara half stumbled out curbside wrapped in a calve length, beige raincoat. It looked like she'd nearly fallen from the passenger side of the car, barely able to catch herself by grabbing the door handle. The valet made a gesture to catch her as she stumbled but relented as she righted herself. A small, blue purse followed, flying from the interior of the luxury vehicle onto the curb. There was no way to see the driver because the windows were fogged up, but I was sure it was her husband, this Keith guy. She barely had time to release the handle before he gunned it out of the parking lot, taking the arching road off property as she watched. The valet retrieved her purse, appearing to say something to Dara about the situation as she nodded tightening the sash on her raincoat. She presented the valet with a handful of cash before slinging her purse and power walking into the hotel lobby. It felt like I'd been given an early Christmas present that I wished I could've shared with my suspended coworker this fine Friday evening. I smoked another cigarette pondering an argument unseen as the winter rain gradually intensified.
A howling wind went hand in hand with the brewing storm, eventually forcing me inside after watching more of my coworkers arrive with assorted family members in tow. I was tragically single and intended to stay that way until my dying days. I found the lobby sparsely lit as the encroaching evening approached making me think they were trying to save money or something. This area was large, unimpressive and sparsely furnished with some benches lining the walls near the elevators. I glanced around as I made my way inside, noticing Dara talking heatedly into her phone while staring out of a lobby window at the parking lot. She was holding her phone with both hands yelling into it's face but still far enough that I couldn't make out what she was saying. I figured she was trying to get her apparently, estranged husband to make an appearance. I lingered there watching for a few minutes, taking in her exposed humanity. What I was seeing was light years away from the self-assured, meticulously chipper department head I'd come to loathe like so many others in our shared workplace.
The banquet hall rented by our office was decorated with all of the attention to detail you'd expect from seasonal employees. I noticed a third of our office opted out of showing up, even though my entire department was accounted for, except Steve. It looked like half of the main ballroom was rented with everything crammed together, even the truncated dance floor. Despite that, some people were making the best of it, getting down on the raised section of tile that had been cordoned off. Predictably, Dara had made her work aesthetic omnipresent here as the seating was assigned. I took a seat after making a plate of holiday snacks, content to kill some time, looking at my phone.
"Shit." Dara's place at the table was situated right in front of me conspicuous by the handwritten place holder sitting up in my field of vision.
The table began to fill up gradually with the bulk of the seating taken by a female coworker who seemed to have a brood of grade school children at my left and more of the aforementioned butt kissers at my right. Out of my peripheral vision, I caught sight of some business between coworkers as a light blue object buzzed by, piquing my curiosity enough to look up from my phone. Dara was talking with some visibly disinterested members of management obviously looking to extricate themselves. They were big wigs here to put in an appearance before going off to the real holiday party thrown by the owner. It was one of the worst kept secrets around the office and a source of drone level resentment. It looked like she was doing her best to put on a happy face, laughing and joking with men and women old enough to be her parents. Something dawned on me as I sat watching. Dara had checked the beige raincoat revealing a light blue cocktail dress underneath. It was just above thigh length, revealing a nice pair of legs that caught me off guard.
It was a flimsy looking garment, almost sheer in nature held to her shoulders by thin almost invisible gold tinted chain that matched the golden belt that cinched in her waist. A plunging neckline that went perhaps a little too low, revealed some surprisingly full breasts just over a handful. I didn't know if it was appropriate for a holiday party attended by the families of our coworkers and some elderly members of upper level management. My eyes were continually drawn to the what appeared to be the abundant curve of her backside. Leering aside, my gaze followed that backside noticing a curious sway that almost made it appear that she wasn't wearing underwear. This was a bit much for me as I downed a few glasses of wine, wanting to wash the sight away behind an alcohol induced haze. Fifteen minutes later, I was still watching as Dara drifted off to the unoccupied portion of the banquet hall attempting to contact her better half.
"HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!" Everyone at the table toasted, thankfully distracting me from any further visual impropriety on my part. My boss returned to the table with that same chipper smile as a coworker pulled the chair out for her. She joined in a few more toasts before wandering off to check her phone again while we were receiving envelopes containing a meager Christmas bonus along with a coupon for a free turkey.
Throughout the night, my eyes returned again and again to the subtle sway of her buttocks, still wandering what lie underneath. Dara continued onward, barely missing a step as she went the social butterfly route from table to table until I guess she figured everyone had enough of her antics. I was sitting there feeling odd about my behavior and the fact that I'd stayed longer than originally intended.
"Have a drink with me, please." Dara suddenly appeared at my side, filling two glasses with the remnants of a pilfered bottle from some other table.
"Sure, ma'am."
"We're not at work; you can just, be yourself." She forced a smile as we toasted, taking a seat beside me which made me kind of uncomfortable. I glanced at her cleavage for a second before remembering myself enough to look at her face.
"Uhm, Happy Holidays, Dara."
"Don't sound so nervous, we're two people sharing a drink together." I noticed a bit of agitation in her voice as we downed a second round.
I did my best not to let my eyes wander, hoping she hadn't noticed. Luckily one of the old farts from the executive committee caught her eye, whisking her away for another worked bout of brown nosing. I was grateful for the interruption that uncomfortable conversation away with her aspirations to climb the corporate ladder. Still, I lingered making no appreciable connection with anyone or the associated people in their sewing circles. The little dance floor was full of sauced up employees, and others dancing to some Christmas song by TLC. I wasn't much of a dancer, figuring this was as good a time as any to make my exit. I pocketed my check and the small box containing a gift from my Secret Santa, some guy from the mail room.
Outside the banquet corridor in the hotel lobby, I found a long, sustained line of people, assorted family members and guests waiting for valet to bring their cars around to the main entrance. I supposed the delay was due to a skeleton crew assigned over the holiday weekend. That winter storm I'd encountered in its growing infancy, had blossomed into a full on conflagration of mother nature's icy rage. The loud howl and whistle were enough to shake the panoramic lobby windows along with the sliding entrance doors. I wanted a cigarette, but not enough to stand outside the building. I drifted off to the side noting some guests down a side corridor were lighting up, so I joined them figuring I could get a few puffs in before security intervened. It was Friday, Christmas weekend and I didn't actually have to be back in the office until Tuesday, so I wasn't in any hurry. I managed a cigarette and a half before some crew cut wearing guard decided to notice the smokers. We were given some flimsy excuse about the corridor being closed and ushered back into the main lobby. The line had diminished, but not enough to stand there waiting as I got out my phone to dial up a taxi.
That's exactly when I noticed her, just sitting there on a bench situated between two guest elevators. Dara was sitting hunched over peering down at the face of her phone between her knees. Her dark tresses hung in a manner that hid her tiny eyes from view leaving the lower portion of her button nose and thin lips visible. She reminded me of some petulant child sitting there like she'd been placed in timeout. I wondered if perhaps she'd imbibed a little too much as several of her subordinates walked casually by without regarding her in the least. I stood there taking the measure of what passed as true holiday spirit and humanity. The winds were picking up making themselves known in case I was too distracted by what was evolving right in front of my eyes. The open toed, spiked heels on her feet were this sort of cheap metallic gold that matched the belt around her waist. Her soles were pointed at one another as the phone dropped to the carpet. Nobody else seemed to notice or care that she was in dire straits. I kept watching pensively waiting for somebody to come to her aid, but everything around her just went on as usual. Dara Vong, my immediate supervisor, my boss was alone. I watched all of the cheery faces, some inebriated file out of the lobby until there was almost no one left. I told myself that I was still waiting.
