Cynthia poured herself a bit of the whiskey and raised it in a toast, "Here's to the end of this stupid project." Then she downed the shot.
"Amen to that," Rob agreed, taking his own shot. "What time is it even?"
"Doesn't matter," Cynthia responded with a flourish of her pen. "We're done."
"Thank god!," Rob responded.
They looked across the table at each other. Cynthia broke into a laugh and Rob's face struck a quizzical look.
"What?" he asked.
Cynthia reached for the whiskey and spoke as she poured, "It's just ridiculous how we have to work late like this just to meet deadlines that we didn't set. And even though we bust ass to get it done on time, you just know the client is going to sit on it for six months, at least." She set the bottle down and swirled her glass.
"Yeah, but hey, the overtime's great, right?" Rob joked.
"Psh! We're salaried, there's no overtime." Cynthia rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, that was the joke." Rob replied. Cynthia squinted at him for a second then started laughing again.
Rob looked at all the papers, reports, graphs, and other drawings spread around the conference room table and sighed. He started to arrange piles.
"Don't do that," Cynthia scolded. "Just let one of the new people do it tomorrow."
"Yeah, but I'll feel bad," Rob said, as he continued to tidy.
"Hey! They're not the ones here at, whatever the time is," she leaned forward and stared straight into his eyes. "Leave it."
Maybe it was the the hour, or the couple of shots of whiskey, but Rob didn't catch himself looking down Cynthia's shirt, but she did. She glanced down and back at him and gave an incredulous look.
"I.. I'm sorry," Rob stammered. "It's late."
"Whatever," she downed the last of her whiskey and set the glass down hard on the table.
Cynthia grabbed up the signed report and headed out of the conference room, "Come on, we have to log it in, then we can leave, finally."
Rob followed, a little embarrassed, but trying to hide it.
They headed down the hall to the Director's office with Cynthia a few steps ahead.
Rob was lost in his head, his eyes unfocused in front of himself. He could feel a bit of the whiskey. Maybe he'd crash in his office tonight. He had a comfortable couch for sleeping specifically for nights like this when the work ran late.
The blinking of an overhead light pulled him from his thoughts and he noticed his eyes had been resting on Cynthia's ass as they walked. She was wearing a green pencil skirt with thin yellow vertical stripes. The stripes swayed with her hips as she strode down the hall. The lines made her look taller than she was.
They continued on to the Director's office and he followed her inside. She didn't even bother with the lights. The city lights through the windows were bright enough to not trip over anything and they only needed to be there for a moment.
The went to the Director's side desk and Cynthia brought the computer up to log in. She was leaning over, rather than sitting. Rob again appreciated the lines on her skirt.
"Here, put your PIN in too." she called looking back at him.
"What? Oh, yeah." Rob replied and typed in his number.
Cynthia finished with the computer, shut it down, and put the report on the Director's desk.
"There. All done." She said and mimed brushing off her hands. "So, you heading home?"