Sameena picked up her phone and read the text message again:
"Summer party tonight. 7PM. North Arcade bar. One free drink + entertainment provided."
She'd never actually met any of her co-workers. Being an agency, and given Sam's proclivities, she'd found it better to keep her distance. But a free drink was a free drink, and it's not like she had anything better to do. Besides, she so rarely got out these days: it might be good to let her hair down.
Speaking of her hair, if she was going to go she'd need to get ready. What to wear? If the bar was booked out it would probably just be other women like her, but if there were plans to move on afterwards, or if the bar wasn't booked then dressing to pull couldn't hurt.
Decisions, decisions.
Sam put her phone down and headed upstairs to her bedroom. Maybe actually looking at her clothes might sway her one way or the other. Flicking through coathangers, she noted that most of the clothes worth hanging up were more daring than she remembered. She hadn't had much call to use them in recent years but each dress or low-cut top she flicked past was like another page in photobook. The black mini-skirt that had got Damien Hewlett's attention, an absurdly tight white top that had had about half a dozen men's hands all over it - so many memories. Sam was starting to think that dressing platonically was out of the question.
All this reminiscing was fun, but the clock was ticking and she still had to get ready. Finally, after much deliberation, she settled on figure-hugging white maxi-dress that ended a couple of inches above her knees. She had great legs and intended for the world - or at least the pub - to know about them. It covered her chest completely, but clung to her breasts so tightly that even to her eye they looked bigger and rounder. The same was true of her ass, she noted, so in terms of male gaze she had every angle covered. She kept her hair fairly straight but with a slight curl at the ends, partly because she liked the look and partly because she ran out of time for anything more complicated. Stiletto heels were a no-brainer if she wanted to make the best of her legs and ass - black, and shiny as the day they were bought.
She put the finishing touches on her makeup while waiting for a taxi to arrive. She didn't have to wait long and for the duration of the journey she couldn't help but notice the driver regularly checking her out in his rear view mirror while pretending to look at traffic. He was more than a little bit creepy, Sam thought, but at least he proved that her efforts hadn't been in vain.
*
As planned, Sam arrived on the stroke of 7:30 - casually late. Before she even stepped inside, she could hear that the bar hadn't been booked out. A dozen or so cleaners wouldn't be making such a racket and the music was far too raucous for that kind of crowd. Good. Her outfit wouldn't go to waste.
Inside, the bar was dimly lit and bustling but not to the point of being difficult to navigate. She spotted a group of women in the corner who she assumed must be her colleagues. Just as she was bracing herself for awkward introductions, Frank, her manager, emerged from the toilets. A familiar face was quite the relief, especially one with such a broad grin.
'Ah, Sam,' he said. 'Glad you could make it.' He greeted her with a hug and then turned to the rest of the group. 'Everybody, this is Sam. Sam - everybody.'
She flashed a toothy smile and gave a little wave.
'I don't suppose you'll have met anyone else, will you?'
'No,' she answered.
'I'd introduce you all individually but that could take a while. Here, sit down. Can I get you a drink?'
'Oh, I'll get myself one, thanks.'
'Nonsense. The first one is on me for you girls doing such a great job. What'll it be?'
'If you're sure. Rum and coke, please. Not too much coke.'
'Alright. In the meantime sit down here and introduce yourself to Lucy here. Lucy, why don't you tell Sam what we've got planned for entertainment tonight.'
Lucy, who had been flicking through something on her phone screen up to that point looked up at Sam. She had straight blonde hair, fastened in a ponytail that brushed the back of her neck. It made her look younger than she really was, which Sam guessed was late 30's.
'Hey,' she said.
'Hiya. So, what did he mean by entertainment?'
Lucy let out a little indignant half-laugh before answering: 'Wrestling.'
'Wrestling?' asked Sam, surprised. 'What, here?'
'Yep. He's looking for volunteers.'
'He wants a bunch of cleaning ladies to volunteer to wrestle?'
'Not just any kind of wrestling,' Lucy paused to sip from a glass of white wine. 'Oil wrestling, or something. Can you believe it? I hope he didn't pay too much for that because I think he's going to end up disappointed.'
'What, like wrestling in oil?' Sam hoped she was masking her curiosity with disbelief. Lucy didn't seem to care either way.
'Exactly like that. Can you believe the nerve? Oh, shh, he's coming back.'
Before Sam could reply, Frank squeezed past her and placed a glass tumbler in front of her, filled with ice and black liquid which presumably was rum and coke.
'Thanks,' she said.
'So, Sam. Did Lucy fill you in? I haven't asked everyone yet but I thought it would be a fun little ice-breaker. I put up a little sheet of paper on the wall over there for girls to put their names down. What d'you think? Are you in?'
It wasn't like Sam to get flustered but he was talking so quickly and she didn't want to disappoint him. Besides, part of her sort of liked the idea - at least the concept of it.
'Uh, well, sure. Why not?'
Lucy had gone back to looking at her phone, but she glanced up at Sam with raised eyebrow and an expression that said "