Our Christmas party had been on a Friday night. As I'd only been working there since the summer, I agreed to be on the weekend clean-up crew. When the list of volunteers was circulated, my imagination ran wild: Mark had signed up too.
I'd told my friends about Mark, the silver-haired fox of the office. Elaine and Debbie had laughed at my crush, but it was no joke: Mark's hair was shining silver and he had a tongue to match. He'd flirted with me almost since I walked in the door, compliments coming very easily. It hadn't been long before I'd been imagining gripping his broad shoulders and strong back whilst I lay beneath him.
Ordinarily, I feel a little guilty fantasizing about older men because they come with the added complications of wives and children. It's hard for me to picture myself with a man who leaves me to go back to his family. With Mark, there was no danger: he'd been divorced for nearly six years by the time we met and his children had shipped off to college.
The morning of the party, Mark had stopped by my desk. "I saw your name on the list," he said in his rich voice.
I smiled at him, pretending to ignore the mischief in his eyes. "Yeah, I thought I'd do my part as the new girl, y'know?"
"Well, when we're done, there'll definitely be a mess needing cleared up." Mark grinned and walked away, leaving me staring at his toned ass.
The party was something of a blur. I remember several bottles of wine, dancing with a few of the girls and making eyes at Mark. He feigned reluctance when I dragged him onto the makeshift dance floor, but as I started to grind against him, other parts of him showed their interest. My breath hitched as his growing bulge slotted into the groove of my backside. I tried not to think about how short my dress was, or how wet this was making me. By the end of the night, I'd spent most of the party hanging near Mark, listening to every word and generally behaving like a besotted schoolgirl.
On Saturday morning, I arrived back at the office having taken several painkillers and wearing thick sunglasses. The hangover I was nursing was going to make this tidying up duty an ordeal. I pushed open the door to the office and found a group of five or six co-workers in a similar state. A few half-hearted waves were all any of us could muster. I grabbed a bin bag and made my way around the desks, stuffing in whatever crap had been left. Christmas music floated from somewhere as if trying to cheer us up.
I was on my knees under a desk reaching for a discarded cup when I heard someone walk up behind me. "Morning," Mark said. I could hear the smirk in his voice.
I backed up as quickly as I could and stood a moment too soon. The bang of my head on the underside of the desk caused several others to look around. I winced and rubbed my scalp, tussling my long brown hair. "I'm okay," I called to the others before fixing Mark with a half-serious glare. "This hurts," I told him sharply.
He was staring at my hair. "Is this what you look like when you wake up?"
"Shut up." I playfully slapped his arm. Hard muscles tensed: my hand lingered a moment too long. I met Mark's eyes, seeing my lust reflected.
He nodded towards the bag at my feet. "Come on, let's get this place cleared." The promise of focusing on other, more fun activities, afterward went unsaid.
By mid-afternoon, we'd gotten most of the crap cleared. The office looked vaguely professional once more. Only the Christmas banners strung across the ceiling were left. Mark looked around the office and announced that since there was so little left to do, he'd finish up. "It's Christmas," he told them. "Go see your families."
None of them needed to be told twice. They were gone in a flash, with one or two winking at him or me. I guess our display last night didn't go unnoticed.
