This is a sequel to the story Spanish contract: Jeff. Although not necessary, it may enhance enjoyment if that story is read first, thanks.
*
Jeff played with his spoon. Most of his friends were too smart to go to the company Christmas party, and Jeff was trying to remember why he came.
The seating plan had put Venessa in front of him the whole evening, which was ironic. Jeff had seen very little of her since the business trip to Spain. The memory of that episode had been a weight around his neck in the intervening months. It had been too long since he had seen her, she was always out on the road. All his rehearsed conversation openings had shrivelled up. She sat with her back to him, and never turned around. But at least she was wearing a satin dress cut with observers in mind and she did have a nice back.
Gill was out tonight too, planted firmly on the top table with her father, the big boss. It had been more difficult with her. Working in the same building, she was a daily reminder. Every time he saw her sashay through the office, he tensed up, she tensed up, it was a horrible Mexican standoff, neither sure who had the most dirt on the other. Still, that was nothing compared to the cold sweats he endured during meetings with her old man. It had been a long, long three months.
At least the Spanish adventure had removed the stone covering Gill's real character, now he knew where her limits were set, and how they stretched after a few drinks. And she was drinking liberally tonight. It had not escaped Jeff's attention that she had a female friend along on her guest invite. The two of them were first to hit the dance floor as the tables were cleared. Amongst old the old timers in the company the two young girls stood out a mile. It was certainly not just Jeff who was looking at them a little too long as they energetically mixed it up to the cheesiest disco classics.
Jeff made his way to the bar to search out a whiskey to wash out the cheap wine the firm had generously donated to the tables. He had just picked it up when a hand slapped down on his shoulder.
"Jeff! Jeff. Mate. You've got a room."
Jeff turned. The wide eyes of the accounts manager met his.
"Yeah."
"Go on give us your room. I've driven. I was going to go home. Give us your key, mate. Come on."
"What for?" Jeff had not quite caught on.
"Mate." A nod. Another nod. Jeff followed and his eyes eventually found a young plump waitress who had been serving on them through the evening.
"Her?"
"What were the rooms? Fifty quid?"
"Sixty."
"Here's sixty quid then, take it."
A sweaty palm fumbled what looked like a lot less than sixty pounds into Jeff's jacket.
"Go on!"
The pathetic, sordid pleading was too much.
"Take it." Jeff offered him the plastic fob. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"You're a mate." A big slap on the back and he was gone.
"Like throw yourself out of the window." Jeff checked to see if anyone had heard him but he was by himself again. He turned back around, with his funds suddenly increased, he could do a lot of business at this bar, even in this overpriced hotel.
It was closing in on midnight when it dawned on Jeff that his key was not coming back. He was not sure if he had made any agreement about this detail when he had surrendered it. Going and finding it, would involve moving from the bar. He had moved from his spot only when necessary and as such had accomplished his main goal for the evening which was to not humiliate himself on the dance floor. There was no doubt who its new owners were. Gill and her friend were having the time of their lives as were any men sitting at the front tables. Gill's dress had not been designed to restrain the full contents and her little accomplice had a dress cut very short indeed, riding higher all the time. High enough to arouse curiosity about whether she was wearing underwear or not, but not so high as to completely display proof. Earlier in the evening they had picked a couple of guys out of the pack, but they danced with each other mostly. Jeff was keenly waiting for the slow numbers.
Venessa had slipped by him a few times, he had tried to look sober, but not really pulled it off. She had kept herself in conversation with the people who mattered. Everyone who didn't was watching the two girl show.
When the first slow song came on, Gill took the hand of her friend and they disappeared into the dark. It was a big disappointment.
Those who had driven were dispersing, those who had booked in at the hotel were taking to the stairs. Now the function was pretty much done and Jeff had a new problem to solve, where he was going to sleep.
Jeff trawled around the hotel. He gave his room a flypast, there did not seem to be any activity going on inside, but it was definitely locked. That left him temporarily homeless.
Jeff tramped though the hotel corridors. As he ascended the noise from downstairs slowly faded, it became quiet. Eventually there it was. A door ajar. Jeff peered inside. The light was off. He took a few steps over the threshold. There was no sign of life at all, no bags, the bed was still made, the wardrobe door slid back, showing a bare row of hangers.
Jeff had paid for a room and this was a room so it he thought it would do. He took his jacket off, slung it over the solitary chair then headed into the bathroom. There he removed his shirt and took a look at himself in the mirror. It didn't look good.
The silence was broken, then he heard it more clearly, someone was approaching. Two someones. The bathroom door had closed behind him. Jeff made it to the door but stopped himself opening it as two sets of footsteps stumbled inside the room.
The giggling gave it away instantly. It was Gill. Jeff had a second to declare himself and diffuse the situation. But he did not.
"Come on, Karen, it's empty."
Jeff was guessing that Karen was her friend.
"Why don't we go downstairs?"
"Shut up Karen, the party's over down there. We're up here."
"You're drunk, Gill."
"I know. And luckily for me, so are you."
There was some movement around the room and Jeff heard the bed bounce. His hand was on the bathroom door handle.
"Come on Karen, show me what you've got."
"I've got a pair of these."
