Proclivities -- Part I: That's George Richter?!
I finally did it. I'd gotten my associates degree in computer science. It took four years, attending part time at nights while I kept my full time job working at the local library in the children's department. I graduated in late March and shortly I'd landed a job with a local tech company, OTP Security that specialized in IT security and document encryption, working in technical documentation -- diagrams, photos, manuals, archives and the like. More importantly, I would be out in the real world with an opportunity to expand my social circle beyond the moms, dads and their kids who frequented the library. It's not like I hadn't dated in that stretch. I'd even had sex with a few, but those encounters were generally awkward, brief and less than satisfying. Honestly, I had better orgasms after reading a particularly steaming section of a romance novel or dreaming about being taken by one the cute dads I saw at work.
I'd been with OTP several months when the cold reality sank in. Most of the guys that piqued my interests were either married or in serious relationships. I went on some uninspired dates with a couple of B-listers. And the rest, well, socially inept geeks didn't even begin to describe them.
It was Friday afternoon in late June and, even the prospect of payday could not lift my spirits, despite the much better pay. As I contemplated another lonely weekend, my friend and roommate Judy called and invited me for girls' night out with some of our friends. I was never positively disposed to clubbing, but I agreed anyway. It had to better than the alternative.
As I contemplated what I would wear - an outfit I'd purchased recently, but never had the gumption to wear, a black leather mid-thigh skirt and a tailored, that is, snug, white tuxedo blouse. Really not that racy, but a clear departure from my typical, conservative choices. And there were the new thigh high stockings, bra and panties I'd really splurged on to go with it. If nothing else, it should gather some attention.
"Hi, Linda."
Startled, I looked up to see Betty Thomas, the office manager, a matronly woman in her late fifties. She'd been at OTP since its founding. Although I did not know her well, I was aware of her reputation as being very influential with the owners. As I scanned her frumpish floral dress, I suddenly dreaded that I might be looking at my future. I'm definitely wearing that new outfit tonight!
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but we just realized that I forgot to tell you that since this is the last Friday of the quarter, the company sponsors a social gathering at Brick Tavern right after work. You know, to have a drink and unwind."
Brick Tavern was nice gastropub just a few minutes from the office with a lively atmosphere and good food, but I was hardly in the mood.
"Well, Betty, I just got off the phone and accepted an invitation from one of my girlfriends to meet up tonight."
"Linda, it wouldn't be right to miss the first one after you've been hired."
"Are you saying it's mandatory?" I asked.
"Not mandatory, of course, but I think Chuck and Roger would be disappointed if you didn't attend," she replied with thinly veiled malice.
Chuck and Roger were the founders and owners of OTP and really nice men in their fifties. I doubted they'd care if I were there or not, so Betty was probably on a power trip. I didn't want to get on her wrong side, as the owners relied on her to keep things running smoothly. Even though I did not report to her, as office and personnel manager, she could make my life difficult.
"Alright," I conceded, "I guess one drink wouldn't hurt, but if I'm going to keep my other plans, I'll need to go home and change beforehand. My apartment is only about ten minutes away."
"That should be okay. Just don't be too long. See you there," and then added to my surprise, "Tell you what, leave a little early, say quarter to five."
"Thanks," I replied, although she really didn't hang around to hear it.
The time came soon enough, and, muttering curses at Betty, I rushed home. At least my roommate Judy wasn't home yet and I didn't have the time, nor the desire, to explain this unexpected change in plans.
I stripped out of my jeans, pullover, sports bra and plain navy panties. Out of my special underwear drawer (yes, I have one, but it rarely saw the light of day), I pulled the new black lacey boy-short panties and white lace bra. I checked myself in the full length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. Who is that woman? The bra did little to hide the pink shadow of my nipples and these panties are sparser than I remembered. Definitely cheeky, but at least it was bathing suit season, so no stray pubes were sticking out. For whatever reason, I never liked that look.
My shoulder length brown hair has a natural wave that I could rarely master, but there was no way I was getting involved with straightening it. That never lasted anyway. Otherwise, my pale skin showed a hint of tan lines from one piece bathing suits, but I avoided attempts at tanning, as it more often resulted in sunburn. A sprinkling of freckles across my nose and cheeks were a testament to my heritage. I definitely felt sexy, but who am I kidding? Odds are extremely thin that anyone would have this view.
I put on a bit of makeup, followed by the blouse, skirt and stockings. One more check. Not bad. Sexy, but not slutty. I'd put on some black ballet flats for now, but grabbed the pair of black pumps that I planned to put on later. Oh, right, take that lightweight grey boyfriend sweater. Sometimes the air conditioning in places can be downright frigid.
I tossed my sweater and the pumps on the passenger seat, hopped in my car and off I went, a mix of anger -- with Betty -- and anxiety, totally unsure if I really wanted to partake in the meat market of dance clubs. It was a short drive so I didn't have much time to ponder the situation. Despite my rushing, it was nearly five twenty by time I parked. Composing myself as best I could, I walked in.
Off to the right was the dining area, barely one third full. In front of me, the bar beckoned. Obviously, the place did a brisk happy hour business, essentially every high top table and barstool in the bar area was occupied, with a cacophony of conversations competing with the blare of "background" music. I scanned the room and could see that the programmers had circled their wagons around Chuck. Finally, I saw Betty frantically waiving me over to the bar, which ran the length along the back off the room. She'd secured a place with Katie, a short, pear shaped woman, about my age, who was in the accounting department and had been kind to me since our introduction on my first day at work.
I snaked my way over to them, where to my surprise, Betty had saved a stool for me. I didn't sit down, but placed my purse on the seat and laid my sweater across the back.
"So glad you could make it," she said. "And don't you look nice," her tone dripping with disapproval. I suppose she expected something less alluring, but I was certainly not about to follow her lead for fashion.
"Thanks for saving a space for me," I said, ignoring her condescension and then added for Katie's benefit, "I'm meeting some girlfriends later to go out dancing,"
"I think she looks great," said Katie. "I wish I could carry that off."
"Thanks, Katie," I said. At least someone appreciated my look. "Where's the rest of your department?"
"They've already left. Not much party spirit in those bean counters. Can I get you a drink?"
"That would be lovely. I'll have a vodka and tonic."
Katie snagged the bartender and shortly, she handed me the cocktail.
"So how do like working at OTP?" Katie asked.
"I really like it. The work is challenging and everyone has been very supportive," I replied, omitting that Betty could be a real bitch.
Not to be left out of the conversation, Betty chimed in, "That's right. OTP is ranked as one the top companies to work at in the area."
Betty yammered on about how great OTP is, primarily extolling herself and all the wonderful programs she'd initiated to improve the work environment. Behind her back, I got a serious eye roll from Katie.
Much to Betty's dismay, Katie interrupted her, "Oh my, look at the time, I've got to get going. My husband will be really ticked if I'm not home to make dinner."
"So soon?" I replied.
"Unfortunately, yes," Katie replied, sneaking a sly wink. I guess she'd had her fill of Betty by then, and now I'd have to go it alone. "See you Monday. Have a great weekend!"
"You too," Betty and I replied in unison.
