That time of year again, the works christmas party.
Lianne had sworn off them for a few years. The last job she'd had, she'd been at for a long time, and she'd had enough drunken works shindigs to last her forever. Now though, she was older, wiser and altogether more sensible. Although a hell of a lot more of a lightweight, it seemed.
She'd been in what she still considered her "new" job for about 18 months now. New job, new area, new life. It was all going pretty well; she liked her colleagues, loved her boyfriend (boyfriend seems like the wrong word when you're out of your twenties, doesn't it?), loved the area. It was a fairly small office, and informal most of the time. Occasionally they'd get a visit from the big cheeses, and then everyone was on their best behaviour, but on the whole it was a friendly, relaxed team of people. Sometimes she disagreed with the way certain people operated but that's work, isn't it? It's never perfect.
One of her workmates had booked them a meal in town, and they'd all headed out afterwards to indulge in drinks. The last time Lianne had been out with this lot, things had been messy - as one of the few staff that commuted, she'd booked a room at a central hotel, but despite the temptation to go hard at it again this year she didn't want to suffer the same jibes as last time round. She'd had a few too many and had lost patience with the hipster-style jazz club they'd wound up in, grousing that there wasn't anything to dance to. Nope, not doing that again. A couple of quality G&T's would suffice, a good natter with a couple of her workmates and a bitch about the bosses, and she'd be happy. No need for baubles as earrings, or elf hats with ears attached, or fur trimmed miniskirts.
By midnight she was feeling pretty good. Okay, so she'd exceed her "couple of G&T's" limit. Exceeded? Hmm, trashed it. But one of the girls knew this funky little cocktail bar, and she'd had to try one of *those*.. oh and *that* one... Ahhh, sod it. She didn't get out much these days, living in the sticks. The barman mixing their cocktails had been easy on the eye, and flirty too, dropping her the odd wink, but she hadn't done anything awful - although the rumblings about a kebab, or karaoke, sounded appealing. She couldn't tell which option sounded better, and then realised that when either a kebab or a karaoke session with your workmates was becoming a good option, it was probably time to call it a night.
Hugs all round then, and "see you Mondays". She only had a five minute walk - well, hobble, in these stupid heels - back to the hotel. It wasn't yet midnight and Lianne congratulated herself on being the sensible one in the group - not like last year! Oh no, no weekend-long hangover for her. She was buzzing a bit from expensive cocktails, but it made the walk bearable. She'd be ever so good - glass of water before bed, remove the eye makeup, drag a brush through her hair, get up at a sensible time and have a shower, coffee, decent breakfast... Yep, well behaved now. She was too old for all that
partying-til-the-sunrise schtick. Anyway no-one wanted to party with an as-good-as-married, fairly un-girly woman like her. They'd be chasing after the younger, hotter bits of skirt from the office. She deliberately ignored her internal monologue's mutterings of "frump.. lightweight..booooooring", in favour of the more positive aspects of an early night.
She wandered through the dim lobby and hit the call button for the lift. City centre hotels built upwards, and she was on the fourth floor out of five. A few people milled around the lobby, lingering after late drinks, hoping for a last nightcap, or prolonging the inevitable. Lost in her own thoughts, Lianne didn't notice when a group of men clocked her.
She didn't see them smile small smiles. She didn't notice when one of the men detached himself from the group and moved slowly towards the lifts.
He followed her into the brightly lit small space and hit the button for the fifth floor, his hand brushing over hers as she reached for the number four. Lianne glanced up, taken unawares; she'd not even seen him get into the lift behind her.
He smiled at her surprised expression and blatantly looked her up and down. His gaze lingered over her cleavage and he actually licked his lips. The alcohol must have removed some polite inhibition, and Lianne actually sputtered a laugh. The man looked sheepish. She decided that if it was okay for him to check her over, she may as well do precisely the same thing and see how he liked it.
Jeans, worn and washed soft. A dark coat, over who-knew-what; he seemed solidly built but it was hard to know. It was okay for guys - eye up a bird in a tight dress and you could see if she was thin, fat, toned, voluptuous - but a man in tight clothes? Generally if they were that proud of themselves she'd not be interested anyway. She'd never liked vain men. She resumed her assessment. He must have been early forties, slight flickers of grey through his dark hair, just enough that it looked like a trick of the light. His eyes were dark, too, with an intensity she associated with.. oh now what did it make her think of... the cocktails fuzzed her brain but she thought perhaps of birds of prey. Clever. Ruthless.
She laughed to herself. Waaaay too much gin. The lift made a soft ping and the doors opened. Lianne cast one wistful look at the cocksure bloke in the lift and wandered into the corridor. She kicked off her shoes and luxuriated in the relief, then began to pad back to her room.
She keyed the lock and let herself in, opening the door with a shoulder whilst juggling shoes, bag, keycard and doorhandle. When she didn't hear it click shut behind her, she didn't panic - it must have snagged somehow. She tossed her belongings onto the floor and turned to close the door properly.
She'd pivoted unsteadily, only halfway, when a hand slapped over her mouth and a strong arm pulled her backwards.
Lianne's eyes flew wide and she screamed, frantically scrabbling her stockinged heels over the carpet, instinctively fighting for balance.
Her assailant pulled her backwards, towards the door, and kicked it closed behind himself. He hung onto her and held her as still as he could, putting his mouth close to her ear.
"Shhhh. Don't scream. Not gonna hurt you."
She wriggled and flailed. He wasn't removing his hand from her mouth. Suddenly she felt the world go sideways. He'd dropped backwards, onto one knee, dragging her down with him. He'd rolled somehow so that he was lying on his back, her body tight against his, and before she could think to kick, his legs wrapped around hers. She could move even less now.
"I told you... Calm down. You can't get past me, I'm stronger than you. I won't hurt you. Now STOP."
As she recognised how pointless her struggles were, she gave in. She'd only get tired out. Her chest heaved.
"I'll tell you again, no screaming. I'm not here to harm you. I'm going to take my hand away, okay?" His voice was steady, smooth, controlled. He did what he'd promised and slowly removed his hand from her mouth, relaxing his hold on the rest of her.
Lianne stumbled forwards, dragging herself towards the bed, crawling for it and hauling herself upwards. She plonked herself down, looking at him, staring stupidly. Lift guy. What the hell?
He stood. Looked at her, breathing hard, eye makeup running from tears, hair dishevelled. He couldn't help but smile again. She just watched him, warily, her mouth hung open in shock. She knew she should be screaming blue murder, running for the door, but she was rooted to the spot.
He unzipped his jacket and hung it neatly. He stepped closer to her.
"I'm going to have you," he said quietly.
Her eyes grew rounder. She couldn't understand, herself, why she wasn't fighting. She was just sitting, all scared... She tried to muster some courage.
"You can't do this. I'll shout. You can't..."
That was her first real mistake. He silenced her protests with his mouth, shoving her back onto the bed, pushing her into the mattress. His tongue forced between her lips and she could only screech at him. One hand was on her chest - fuck, he was strong. The other hand raked up her thigh, grabbed her knickers, and pulled. He literally tore them off her. He sat up, quickly, a knee over her legs, and the hand with her knickers in was now on her belly. His other hand covered her face, pinching her nostrils closed. She shook her head and flailed again, but as soon as she opened her mouth to breathe, he stuffed her knickers in.
"There. Now you can't scream. Any noise you make, well... town centre hotel, friday night, we're just another office party couple having some fun, aren't we?"
