"You look fantastic!" Said my husband while helping me out of the cab. "The dress fits you perfectly."
I was so proud about how I looked. Especially today. When my husband, Tom, told me about the corporate party, I was scared I wouldn't have anything nice to wear. The last time we were at the ball was before we got married. And that is 4 years ago. My old dresses were all outdated and ugly. Tom insisted on me going with him.
"You will be the star of the ballroom." He said.
I love my husband, and he loves me back. And unfortunately for me, he knows very well how to talk me into things. After he promised to buy me new dress, I couldn't let him down.
After all, the red cocktail dress, fitted perfectly to my figure. It had a huge slit on the side of the skirt, revealing just enough to catch a man's eye, but not revealing. OK, maybe a little revealing, but still classy - not slutty. I got used to the looks quickly. The dress had opening in the back, all the way to my loins. The cleavage was also quite deep, but the cut was fitted my chest perfectly. It made my B cups look almost like C cups. And it supported them well, so I didn't need bra. It would be visible on my back anyway, so I decided to go braless. To accompany that, I picked my red lipstick. I also took my red jewelled necklace and earrings. Jewels were fake made of glass, but not but nobody would tell. Under the dress was a little surprise for Tom. I know how much he loves me to wear garter belt, so I took his favourite one. Black, lacy and sexy. I matched it with my most expensive thong. Black with red little lacy flowers. He loved them, because they were not leaving much to imagination, yet still kinda classy.
Tom was right about me catching people's attention. I could feel all eyes in the room on my body, but I didn't mind. I kind of like attention. I love to feel sexy and wanted. And Tom knows it well.
I started to be extra careful with my skirt when we arrived. What was under it was reserved for Tom's eyes only. It was hard, since I knew, that every carelessness can end up with me showing more than just my left thigh. And I didn't want to look like I can't wear classy dress. Especially not in the company of my husband's colleagues and bosses.
The beginning of the party went well. Some of Tom's colleagues came to introduce their wives to Tom or to "finally meet Thomas's wife he talks so much about" as some of them called me. Tom ensured me, they are just saying it to tick him off, so I didn't care.
After the initial speech and toast "To the firm and it's success" a man came to us. He looked worried and was all sweaty. "I am sorry sir Thomas. We have kind of a situation. You see, Mr. Freeman came all the way from France and doesn't speak any English. I had been told that you know French, is it true...?"
That is how I lost the company of my husband for what felt like eternity. Mr. Freeman is one of owners of the company. Tom was supposed to keep him busy for the evening, and so I was left alone.
It could be a great opportunity for him to get promotion or at least a pay rise, and he knew it. He didn't want to leave me, but I don't know a word French, so I would not be a good companion. I told him to go and have fun and after I ensured him, I will do fine, he kissed me and left.
At first, I didn't really mind being alone. There was a lot of people around, some familiar, some not really. All of them looked nice and friendly. Buffet was rich and full of treats. And champagne. I love champagne.
After a while however, I got a little bored. Couple of men tried to start a conversation, but most of them left after they saw my wedding ring. Others were pulled away by their wives or spouses. I was lonely in a room full of people.
After about an hour I realised I didn't see Tom since he left. Not even once. I thought they would be around, but they were nowhere to be found. I walked around the whole ballroom but found nothing. I didn't find him at the buffet, I didn't find him outside. I even tried to ask a few people if they saw Thomas, or Mr. Freeman. But nothing.
When it was about an hour and half, I became a bit worried and I decided to find him. He has to be here, right?
I felt like a spy, walking around, looking through the glass on closed doors, opening doors labelled "staff only", walking to the silent, dark, empty rooms...
When I thought I searched everywhere, I heard some men laughing behind a big door. There was dim light coming from under the door.
"In the worst case, I can always say I got lost while looking for a restroom." I said to myself while opening the door.
The room was big. I suppose it was a second, smaller ballroom. There were couple of coffee tables and a few chairs and armchairs. In the middle, there was dimly lit table and five figures around it.
My intention was to come closer and get a better look to whatever they were doing. Damned heels ruined everything. The moment my shoe touched the parquet block, unmistakable clap of high heels echoed through the almost empty room and gave up all my hopes of being stealthy. All five pairs of eyes turned to me. I froze on the spot. My brain started producing horrible stories of a women crashing to a secret mafia gathering and being found dead in the trash bin tomorrow morning.
******
All of my worries were luckily pointless. As it turned out, they were not mafia members, but my husband, Mr. Freeman and three other men playing poker and drinking whiskey. When I realized one of those figures is my husband, I managed to get back my breath and posture.
I slowly walked to the chair of my husband as elegantly as I could. I knew he was in "better company" now and I wanted to look serious and classy to give a good impression. Other men at the table were silent. Watching me slowly approaching.
"I am sorry to disturb you gentlemen, I just wanted to check on my husband. Don't let me interrupt your game." I sipped champagne from the glass, which I just realised was still in my hand.
"Are you all right honey?" asked Tom. He had a smile on his face. A smile I knew. It was his "I am tipsy, but look at my beautiful wife" look.
"Yes, I am fine. I just got a little worried when I didn't see you I the ballroom for a long time."
"I am sorry love. Here, Mr. Freeman played a little prank on me. He knows me from the business trip to France a year ago. We all used to play a little bit of poker there together. When he realised all of us is here, he sent for each of us. Of course, he couldn't say he just wants to play poker with me and avoid the ball... So he came up with this French excuse. Here, let me introduce you."
Tom gave his hand on my back and introduced me to each of the men. All of them kissed my hand lightly and smiled as Tom was introducing. I didn't remember any of their names. I was so captured in my effort to act classy, that their names were forgotten before I even had a chance to try to memorise them.
"How long was I gone anyway?" Tom said as he sat back to his chair. "Enough to get me worried" I smiled at him. He had his watch. He knew how long It was. He just didn't want me to watch him play poker. He knows I hate it. We are not poor, but I hate to see him loose money in a game.
"I am sorry honey, but guys are waiting for me to call or fold and I have a good hand right now. Would you mind if I played?"
"No problem Tom. I will leave you to it. I just wanted to know where you are."
Tom kissed my cheek and continued playing. I wanted to leave at first, but then something held me back. Maybe the idea of roaming around the ballroom lonely again. Maybe the idea of men playing at high stakes. One way or another, I remained standing behind Tom's chair and watching a few hands. I knew the basic rules, but this game was different to the poker kids play for match sticks. It held me captivated.
After a while Tom offered me a chair so I don't have to stand while watching. I declined, determined to leave every minute. However, after another two hands I stayed watching, Mr. Freeman, or simply Chef, as everyone in the room called him, offered his chair to me and brought another one for himself. I couldn't refuse a chair offered by my the owner of my husband's company.
I thanked him in French as best as I could, which was terrible by the way, and sat myself on the offered chair.
The tension at the table was electric. A player's wife at a poker table. Presumably a beautiful woman at the table. That is not something that happens often in these kind of games.
The game continued and I started understanding not only the game, but also all the hints around. I could tell who is bluffing by the way they sat or blinked while calling the bets. Tom always showed me his cards, so it was like if we were playing together.
During this time, I also had time to learn something about who were those gentlemen my husband occasionally plays poker with. They were mostly speaking French, so I didn't really know what they are talking about. That however just added a little bit of mystery to the situation.
I was sitting between Tom and Mr. Freeman. Mr. Freeman was tall, masculine black man. Dark short hair and very low rumbly voice. It was obvious he was the biggest fish at the table, because even if he treated others like equals, they maintained a bit of a distance. Even his nickname - Chef - means boss in French. He was authoritative, yet laid out. Others called him Chef, so I started to call him the same in my head.
Next to the Chef was the oldest man in the room. His hair was turning grey. He had a classy beard and glasses, and was very strict just by the look. He could be in around forty something. Despite him being more than ten years older than me, I liked him. There was something in his look. Mental balance or knowledge. He was one of the men who gain respect instead of wrinkles with age. Because of his hair and his grey suit, I named him Mr. Grey in my head
Opposite to me, and next to Mr. Grey, was sitting young man. He could be in his early twenties. Longer red hair in a bun on the top of his head. This look was accompanied with stylish glasses and hipster beard. Therefore, I gave him nickname: The Hipster. It was obvious that he was watching me. He was the only one of the men, who started losing more money after I came in. I caught him looking at my body few times. Not in a creepy way. More in a curious, inquisitive way.
Last man at the table, sitting next to Tom was this smaller, clean looking man. That kind of businessman prototype. Short cut black hair, kind, but almost too kind smile, perfectly fitted blue suit. That kind of man who is easy to remember and easy to forget at the same time. The kind of man, who is different, yet still the same every day. Therefore, Businessman was nickname that stuck to him perfectly.
