Kira was waiting by my desk wearing a big, friendly smile. She was up to something, no question.
We were work colleagues. We confided in each other, complained about our deadlines, remembered each other's birthdays, brought each other coffee. So I knew that smile, and most days I had to work hard to get one.
"Want to go to Edgewater Cafe?" she asked. "My treat."
"Sure."
She was dressed for the office, but I couldn't help noticing that everything was a bit tighter, more form-fitting than usual. Kira had lush, very feminine curves that she generally took some care to conceal. Not today. Her black pants, which must have involved some interesting shimmying to get into, showed off a deliciously rounded butt, and her top scooped down to reveal an expanse of creamy flesh and tantalizing swells that strained at the fabric. I was charmed ... and even more suspicious now.
"Come find me 12:30-ish," she said, giving me another smile. Then she headed down the corridor that led to the marketing department -- hostile territory for engineers like me. I watched, admiring the sway in her walk until she disappeared into cubicle-land. Another of my colleagues, an anime-obsessed programmer we called Naruto, turned his head to follow her as she passed. Fortunately, no one else was around to witness our gawking.
Kira and I shared an interest in cooking. We both knew a few local hole-in-the-wall restaurants, mostly family-run places of obscure ethnicities, and we had started inviting each other out to lunch when work crises permitted. She was smart and fun to hang out with, but always professional. And, while she was undeniably beautiful -- long dark hair, big brown eyes, and that head-turning figure -- there was a substantial diamond ring on her left hand that set the boundaries for our relationship very clearly.
* * *
I had a couple of projects in different kinds of trouble that day, and it was about 12:45 before I was able to head over to her cubicle. She offered no rebuke, and I was treated to another smile. Curiouser and curiouser.
The Edgewater Cafe was a busy seafood place and more upscale than our usual haunts. Its cozy booths provided privacy and anonymity. We started off talking about some inconsequential office gossip, but my skepticism finally overcame me.
"So, Kira," I asked, "what's going on? I get the feeling that you're about to ask me for something."
She suddenly looked more serious. "Sort of."
"I mean, I'm happy to help. It's just that you've never asked for anything before. Well, except for a bite of my mousse au chocolat that one time."
She smiled a little sheepishly. "Yeah. That was hard to resist."
"So, what's up?"
She hesitated, then said: "Well, there's this thing in two weeks, over the Memorial Day break. I'm part of a group of friends, and friends of friends. We schedule long weekends together at a country house. It's a couples thing. And Ryan can't go -- he has to be out of town for a project."
Ryan was her husband. A big, quiet guy I'd met a couple of times at company events. He hadn't made much of an impression on me one way or the other.
"You want me to be your plus-one?"
She nodded. "Can you do it? It isn't some stilted, in-group thing. It's pretty fun. We only get together a couple of times a year -- and Ryan felt badly about not being able to go. He said it was fine if I went with someone else."
"What do you all do?"
"Hang out and talk, mostly. Cook communal meals together -- that's why I thought you might like it. There are some organized activities, board games, that sort of thing. There's a big swimming pool, so we sit out there if the weather is nice. It can get a little ... wild sometimes. But nothing too extreme."
I wasn't expecting that last bit. "Wild how?"
"Well, most weekends not much happens. Sometimes we get buzzed enough to play strip poker, or strip Monopoly, or strip something else. Once there was a game with a blindfold. I don't remember exactly what the rules were, but we had to call it off after a few minutes because we couldn't stop laughing. People go into the hot tub naked. And couples trade sometimes."
"Trade? Really? And Ryan's okay with that? With me going with you, I mean?"
"Like I said, usually everyone behaves themselves. And, look, I know you're a gentleman. I couldn't bring someone like Naruto. He wouldn't have a clue how to handle himself. Or any of the neanderthals in marketing." She gave me that serious look again. "And you and I are just friends, obviously. So nothing inappropriate is going to happen. Ryan knows that."
All of a sudden, I had a lot of questions. I was between girlfriends -- it had been quite a long dry spell, actually. I'd play it cool with Kira, of course; she and I were just work colleagues. But a poolside weekend at a country house sounded great, even if that's all it ended up being. Maybe better not to ask too many questions.
"Sure. I'm in," I said. "What should I bring?"
"Maybe a bag of groceries and a couple of bottles of wine. Charlotte -- it's her house -- she handles most of the hostess stuff. I really admire her. She always has everything under control. Except for that blindfold thing ..."
"Dress code?"
"Super casual. Everyone just wants to have a chill time."
* * *
I had a big report due ahead of the Memorial Day weekend, and Kira and I barely saw each other while I scrambled to wrap things up. By the time Friday evening finally arrived, I was more than ready for a break.
We'd agreed that I would do the driving, so I packed a small bag and headed over to Kira's place to pick her up. The first thing I noticed when I arrived was that her idea of "super casual" deviated markedly from mine. She was wearing a slinky red dress with a slit that went way, way up her thigh -- high enough that I expected to see a flash of underwear but didn't. Her dΓ©colletage was less extreme but still exposed more skin than she'd ever shown at the office. The dress was held up by thin straps, and I admired her bare shoulders and the graceful curve of her back. Her heels were clearly meant to show off their wearer's legs -- which, in Kira's case, looked sublime. Elegant and beautiful from top to bottom, she definitely outshone me in my khakis and black polo shirt.
She was quieter than usual on the drive, and I wondered if she was having second thoughts about bringing me along instead of her husband. Well, too late now.
Our destination really was out in the country-- more than an hour north on a series of progressively smaller roads. I finally spotted the number on a mailbox and turned down a long driveway.