I was 18 and bored. My father was having another one of his posh work gatherings and I was forced to not only attend, but have a huge smile planted on my face the whole time. The only plus to this was being able to have a few glasses of champagne which made those smiles slightly more genuine.
I was speaking with a woman who was enthusiastic about my future in the company, when I saw a man I hadn't seen before. He would have been in his early forties, and very handsome in my opinion. He was wearing a nice suit that hid any details of his body aside from its general structure, which was quite built. My eyes trained on him for a moment and I lost my words, until the woman prompted me.
'Sorry Madge, can you excuse me?' I said apologetically.
'Of course, love.' She replied kindly, I liked her most out of these snobs. Except perhaps the man across the room who continued to glance over at me in my tiny black cocktail dress and black stilettos.
I walked over to the punch bowl closest to him and maintained eye contact, until yet again it was broken, this time by my dad.
'Sweetie, I need you to fill this bowl again, thanks.' And he was gone.
'Fuck.' I muttered under my breath and noticed that indeed, the punch bowl was near empty. I lifted the heavy glass bowl and finally managed to get it into a position where it wouldn't spill. I was clearly having a hard time, but no one even looked at me, let alone offered any help. I was halfway back to the kitchen before I heard a voice I'd never heard before, talking to me.
'Excuse me, Miss, could I help you with that?' Said the mysterious man from the rec room. I glanced up and smiled at him, about to refuse, but my arms were tired and if I didn't find a bench soon, the bowl was going to slip.
'Ah, actually yeah, that'd be great, thanks,' I handed him the bowl awkwardly, 'I'm Zoe, by the way, Frank's daughter.' Our hands touched momentarily and a little jolt of excitement ran through my legs.
'I'm Peter, nice to meet you, Zoe.' He grinned and stared at me for a moment, perhaps sensing my tension, or maybe he'd been told stories about me. 'I'm the company accountant, just started a few weeks ago, your father is a good man.'