office temp
"Happy Birthday from all of us" said the card on the desk, small consolation when the stunning temp who had sat opposite for the last three weeks had left last Friday. You'd been hoping that your birthday drinks would provide an opportunity to break the ice...
A woman in her late thirties arrived about 10 and was shown to the desk opposite. She wore a grey skirt, low heels, blouse, and hung her jacket on the back of her chair. She was maybe a bit plumpish, medium brown hair tied back in a low ponytail. Well kept but plain.
She took out a small photo and plastic toy from her bag and put them on the desk.
You thought you'd better be polite as the card and balloons behind your chair were a bit of a give away, so you invite her to join you and the rest of the office crew for a lunch time drink at the wine bar round the corner. She looked slightly uncomfortable at the prospect, smiled, but kept her head down and declined.
'No loss' you thought and got on with the daily monotony.
Lunchtime drinks were the usual raunchy office humour with a bit of innuendo. Nice enough but not the outcome you had hoped for. Then something caught your eye... wasn't that the new woman going past the window, perhaps she changed her mind, you thought she turned in to the bar but she didn't come to join you, ' must have been mistaken' you thought.
A few minutes later a cheer went up and three dancers came out on to the stage at the other end of the bar. The music pumped up and more drinks were required.
Up at the bar you idly glance towards the stage where the three dancers are performing, three 'ample' ladies in their thirties pleasing the crowd very well judging by the whistles. One of them had long brown hair and had her back to the audience. You liked the look of those hips as she gyrated to the music.
"Where's those beers?" brought you back to reality, and you returned to your colleagues with a tray of drinks.
* * *
Office temp pt 2
Back at the office and a bit dozey from too many rushed beers, you notice the new woman is late back. She hurries in two minutes behind everybody else, and sits at the desk. You wonder if she looks a little flustered, maybe she's hot from rushing back to work, or is she wearing a little more make-up than this morning? The phone rings... reality calls.
Later that afternoon you part overhear a private call she makes, was that something about 'you know I don't do that kind of work ' You wonder what the agency might be offering, but the call is short and the office is noisy.
For the rest of the week she comes in at 10, says little, and rushes off at lunchtime carrying her big black shoulder bag.
Friday you decide to work late, monthly sales returns to do. You ask if she wants to stay and do a few extra hours, she looks at her watch and politely declines.
The returns take longer than you expect, there's nothing in the fridge at home, and the thought of going shopping fills you with dread. As you pass, the welcoming glow and familiar hubbub of the wine bar draws you in.
Scantily clad young waitresses work the evening shift. They all know how to tease the punters and have a string of put-downs well rehearsed for every occasion. Over on the stage a black woman in a white g-string is dancing seductively. You start to relax.
The next dancer comes on, a woman in her thirties with long flowing brown hair and slightly too big hips but an ample bust to balance her figure. The music turns bluesey and you start to watch as her hips and waist gyrate in perfect time to the sexy undertones. She looks vaguely familiar, but heavily made-up you wonder if she's as young as she looks.
* * *
Office temp 3
The dancer moves so seductively around the pole and chair on the stage, you start to wonder about other moves she might be good at, and despite the beers in your otherwise empty stomach, you sense a familiar tingle as your b@lls tighten.
You move over to the bar and sit on the corner stool for a better view of the stage without joining the rowdies in front of the stage. The barman notices you haven't taken your eyes off the dancer, you just can't quite be sure, she looks like the office temp, but those curves, those moves, surely that plain frumpy woman could never move like that.
The barman comes over and you change from beer to scotch. "Mover ain't she" he smiles, nodding towards the stage. You move uncomfortably on the stool to adjust yourself. "Not bad" you reply nonchalantly. The barman leans over and says quietly "You can get a private showing in the back if you're interested... but not her, the black girl and one of the waitresses do it". The music changes and you look up to see the black girl is back on stage, dressed in red and dancing right at the front of the stage so the guys can slip notes into the top of her hot pants. You have a couple more scotches and turn from your stool to leave when you see the back of a woman in a raincoat with a big black shoulder bag leave the pub. "You off then?" the barman spoke behind you. You turned quickly towards him, then glanced back at the door, but she had gone. "Fancy a bit of that one do you?" the barman enquired.
* * *
