So many stories, so little time. I have a lot of ideas brewing in my head, and a few of my stories that need completion. My early New Years resolution is to write more and complete all of these tales that I've started in the past year. As always, I welcome comments and constructive criticism, but abuse will not be tolerated and summarily deleted. Enjoy!
"Th-there's a betting pool?" he stammered at his colleague's admission. "About me?!"
"Don't be so naïve, El," Stephanie said coldly. "I know you've heard some of the conversations going on around here, about you and what they'd like to do with you, or TO you, as the case may be."
Elliot had heard some of the quiet conversations from the women around the office, but didn't believe they had really been talking about him. He was no male supermodel, but he also knew he wasn't the worst looking guy at the company he had joined six months ago. Eighteen months before that he had lost his wife of nine years, not to affliction or ailment, but to a messy divorce that took Elliot to the brink of despair. Elliot Redman had checked out of the world of the living after Missy's unexpected and sudden departure, shunning friends and well-wishers and only barely speaking to his immediate family occasionally.
He didn't need the money that the job paid. Missy had a keen financial mind and had squirreled away millions from stock trades that her oblivious husband had not noticed. The secret funds had come to light during the divorce proceedings, allegations of corporate embezzlement were thrown about, but ultimately the hidden nest egg was rightfully split down the middle. Elliot found himself nearly five million dollars richer, but money was no substitute for the pain in his heart after watching his first and only love walk out the courtroom door forever.
After conversations with both his mother and two sisters, Elliot decided to stop wallowing in self-pity and continue his life, if only on a limited basis. His previous employer, a local auto parts chain where he served as district manager, had wanted him back desperately, but Elliot decided to return to the work force doing something new, something outside of his comfort zone, and obtained an administrative support position with the Polarity Corporation.
Polarity specialized in obtaining government contracts and hiring workers that had their jobs eliminated by big business outsourcing to overseas companies. The contract that Elliot's team worked on dealt with creating training material for new hires at the Treasury Department, however Polarity dabbled in many other areas from agriculture (a 400-acre farm growing potatoes and carrots for the military) and infrastructure (road repair for interstate highways) to sewing and packaging U.S. flags to wave over The Capitol and White House.
Polarity had adopted a laxer work environment and dress code after the pandemic. Employees in jeans and t-shirts regularly outnumbered those in suits and khakis. Elliot partially embraced the laid-back setting, opting for jeans most days, but never wore less than a collared polo shirt. In his seclusion, he had let his hair grow long and it now reached past his shoulders in loose light brown curls. Adding to his new look, his normally clean-shaven face now sported a full beard with only a few flecks of grey intermixed with his well-trimmed brownish-red facial hair. At forty-six years old, he looked at least ten years less.
Although he was well-liked at Polarity, Elliot held back from making many friends at work. Except for Stephanie and a handful of others, he preferred to keep his personal life separate from the office. Always polite, Elliot kindly begged off from after-work functions, opting for quieter nights at home with his English Bulldog, Maxx, and a glass or two of red wine with dinner. He had tried to keep himself away from work relationships as much as possible, but now his distance seemed to shrink with his friend's revelation.
"Why me?!" he asked his friend as they stood near the coffee station waiting for another pot to brew. "I've never given anyone any inkling that I was interested... you know... that way"
"Maybe not," Steph replied, "but there sure is interest in you! You gotta know you're one of the better-looking men around here. And that's kind of a rarity in this place, if you hadn't noticed." Elliot had noticed that the ratio of women to men at the company was about four to one, with most of the male contingent either pushing retirement age or barely out of high school. The higher mass of women at Polarity mostly ranged in age from late twenties to mid-forties, and half of that crowd were single or divorced.
"Who's in it?" Elliot asked Stephanie flatly, still not quite believing his friend's revelation.
"I can't tell you that," she answered. "That's part of the bet. I wasn't even supposed to tell you about the bet. But even though you know now, it probably won't make it any less fair since you don't know who's in or out."
"Are you in?" he asked her with a hard look.
"Are you kidding?!" her response came out louder than she had wanted. "If I was, I wouldn't have told you about it. I don't want any part of this. I kind of find it morally reprehensible. I just thought you should know before you started garnering more direct attention and wondered what was happening."
"When did this start? I haven't 'garnered' anything yet, as far as I know," Elliot continued his query.
"The idea started a couple weeks ago," Steph replied, "but the bet doesn't begin until tomorrow. I think you're going to be very popular at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."
++++++++++
Sleep didn't come easy for Elliot that night. He was up past two a.m. with thoughts racing through his head about what may transpire that morning at work. When he finally dozed off, it felt like only a few minutes before the alarm blared its klaxon to awaken Elliot for the start of his day.
When he arrived at work and scanned in for the day, Elliot took mental notes of the ladies that gave him a second look or enthusiastic greetings. He received numerous of both and when he got to his desk, Elliot created an electronic document of all the women that had shown him extra attention that morning. He knew about half of the women by name, the rest he labeled with physical descriptions such as hair color, ethnicity, height, body size, and, embarrassingly to himself, bust size and sex appeal. When he completed the document, he counted twenty-seven women. Elliot didn't know how much was in the betting pool but reasoned that it was a substantial amount.
At lunch, Elliot tracked down his friend, Stephanie, after wading through more attention from the ladies. He counted six more that he hadn't confronted earlier that morning, raising the list to thirty-three. Taking a seat in the communal lunchroom, he began to question Stephanie.
"So far, I've counted thirty-three," Elliot started. "I know you can't tell me who, but can you tell me how many?"
"I can't give you the exact number," she replied, "but there are a few women that aren't here today that are in on it. It's definitely more than thirty-three."
"How much did each woman put into the pool" was his next question.
"One hundred dollars each was the buy-in," she answered. "Gonna be a good payday for whoever bags you first!" she joked then laughed loudly.
"I just hope I'm worth it," Elliot muttered to himself. "Y'know, I've been with no one since... since Missy left..."
"I'm pretty sure you haven't forgotten what to do or how to do it, El," she responded. "If you want my advice, I think you should just have some fun with it!"
"Fun..." he repeated. "I'm not sure I remember how to do that either..."
++++++++++
Two Weeks Prior
