Jim took another gulp of the holiday punch as he looked at his drunken office colleagues making fools of themselves. It was 7 p.m. on the Friday night before Christmas and the annual company holiday party was in full swing. But Jim wasn't in much of a mood to party. His girlfriend had broken up with him just a few weeks earlier, and he had come to the party unattached. Of course, a lot of his coworkers were single, and it didn't stop them from having fun at the party, or from hooking up. Office fraternization was discouraged as a matter of firm policy, but everyone knew the annual office party was an excuse for hooking up. So far, though, no one showed an interest in hooking up with Jim.
This year someone had the great idea of making it a costume party. Jim looked around and had to admit that many of the costumes were elaborate and creative. Jim, on the other hand, had been too busy to think much about a costume. So, he just came as himself. He seemed to be the only one without a costume, so he felt awkward, and he was looking for a ripe opportunity to leave.
He decided he would make a show of mingling and reveling to whoever might be watching by circling once more around the party. He would try the punch bowl and cookies in the conference room down the hallway. Then he would make a discreet exit, trying to avoid any of his bosses. He didn't think anyone would miss him.
When he got to the conference room, it was jammed full of people. Christmas lights -- no, "holiday" lights, per the recently circulated company memo -- were strung around the otherwise darkened room and pop versions of well-known Christmas carols were blasting from an unseen speaker. Jim pushed his way through the crowd of costumed office workers toward the punch bowl. One more drink and that would be enough party for him, he thought.
Finally, he made it to the table with the bowl. The punch was mostly gone but there was enough for at least one good drink or more.
As he picked up the ladle an unfamiliar voice sounded next to him.
"Would you get some for me, please?" the voice asked.
Jim was struck by the sound of the voice. It was feminine, and high-pitched, with a lyrical, musical quality. It bore the trace of an accent he could not place. He turned around to see who the owner of the voice was.
He didn't see her at first. He had to look down just a bit. She was quite short -- under five feet tall. She was dressed in a startlingly short, form-fitting green dress gathered at the waist by a thick black belt and trimmed in white at the collar, sleeves, and hem. Her legs were bare, which to Jim seemed odd to see in such a short dress this time of year, and she wore black shoes with gold-colored buckles and very high but chunky heels. She wore a green fuzzy cap with white trim and a white tassel. Her hair was straight, medium-length, and raven-black. She had a slightly upturned nose and high, apple cheeks. Even in the dim light he could see that the eyes staring up at him were an arresting dark, bold blue. She grinned at him with the most dazzlingly white and perfectly straight teeth he had ever seen.
And her ears were pointed.
Jim nodded at her in appreciation.
"That's a great costume."
"Thank you so much! But it's not really a costume," she replied in a manner than struck Jim as unusually animated, even at a party where everyone was drunk.
It was a big company, with a lot of employees, and Jim didn't know everyone who worked at it, but he was still surprised that he had never seen this woman before. She was strikingly pretty, and he would have thought he would have noticed her. It felt good to have such a hot coworker paying attention to him.
"I don't think we've met," Jim said. "I'm Jim."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Jim," she said. The tone and lilt of her voice were unlike anything Jim had heard. It seemed to make her words dance. "I'm Alyasa."
He didn't think he had heard that right. "Eliza?" he asked.
"No, silly boy, Alyasa."
"Alyasa," Jim repeated slowly to make sure he got it right. "That's an unusual name. But it's nice. So, what division do you work in?"
She smiled at him and he could swear her eyes sparkled.
"Oh, I don't work here," she said with the slightest emphasis on the last word.
That did not make any sense to Jim. She did not seem to be attached to anyone at the party, and only employees and significant others were invited to it. Jim had the feeling he was being played with, but he was buzzed and she was gorgeous and he did not mind.
"I see," he said. "So where do you work?"
"The North Pole," she said to him without pausing.
"Well, sure, of course," he said. "That explains the, ah, costume. I'm guessing you must be an, um, elf."
"I am an elf. You are right about that," Alyasa replied. "But I already told you, this isn't a costume."
"Oh, oh, I see. Yes," said Jim. "That would be your, uh, working outfit."
"Now you've got it," Alyasa replied. "By the way, aren't you going to get me that drink?"
"I'm sorry! How rude of me," Jim replied. He ladled punch into two cups, one for each of them, and handed a cup to her.
He raised his cup to her.
"Here's to chance meetings with pretty elves at holiday parties," he said, feeling emboldened.
"You are as courteous as you are handsome, Jim," she replied and flashed her brilliant smile at him again.
"You are too kind, Alyasa," Jim said. "I have to say; those ears are really impressive." They were. Jim could see no evidence of where the costume ear tips joined the real flesh of her ear. It was a professionally done job, and it must have taken a long time. He couldn't imagine how she could have done it herself.
"Well, I wouldn't be much of an elf without them, would I?" she said in her lilting, sing-songy voice.
"So, what do you do at the North Pole?" he asked her.
"How thoughtful of you to ask me, Jim," she said. "Mostly, I make toys. But some years I help Santa deliver presents, too. I like that part best. It feels good to travel. We elves don't get out that much. It's a busy life. And to tell you the truth, elvish men are a little dull. Not like you, Jim."
