I'm sitting here with my head spinning, completely confused. I need to talk this thing through with someone... I just don't understand my own feelings on this one. I've honestly never felt like this before.
It all started last night. Christmas party season -- the joys! I've not been in my new job very long, working in the sales floor of a national magazine (I'm not allowed to say which, but you've probably read it in the hairdressers.')
For some unknown reason, they held it in the office. Always a weird one, when there are so many clubs or restaurants we could have gone out to, but that's management for you.
The office was packed, from top level management right down to the lowly folk like me, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Partners were invited as well, but I was on my own because my so-called boyfriend decided he'd rather be out with his mates than come to a work do with me. Now ladies, offer me your opinions on this, I'd say that's a dumping offence, wouldn't you?
Suffice to say, I was doing the rounds on my own. Being new, I really didn't know many people, and while I was hoping for a chance to meet some people I could hunt out on Monday to chat with, I wasn't holding out much hope. All the girls were in ready-formed cliques, or busy being coupled up, and there was the odd bit of office romancing going on when the culprits thought no one else was watching.
Don't get me wrong, I wasn't completely down on the evening: I had made an effort for this party, with my long dark hair curled and bouncy, my mascara and eyeliner painstakingly applied, with just a hint of lip gloss, and I was wearing my favourite short, sparkly party dress which I knew gave me a killer cleavage, clung in the right places across my hips, and showed off my long, tanned legs to their full advantage. In short, I knew I looked good... I'm no supermodel but I'm happy with my curvy size 12 figure and I know how to use it to get what I want.
Last night, I was pretty pissed off with the boyfriend, and while I like to think I'm a pretty moral kind of girl, I knew that if the right man came along, I could probably take him up on his offer with no qualms. So my radar was well tuned as I poured myself another large glass of white wine from the plentiful bottles our boss had provided, and sashayed lasciviously from one side of the room to the other, surreptitiously watching to see whose eyes followed me. I'll be honest with you -- and if you ever end up in the same room as me, you'll be forced to agree -- I'm one of the best flirts you'll ever have the pleasure of meeting. I know how to play with a man's mind, and although they like to think they're in control, they absolutely never are.
One guy had already caught my eye, a tall, dark haired fellow in a well-fitting charcoal suit. He was standing with another, older guy, and they were deep in conversation. I noticed the older guy clock me as I passed, but it was his mate I was more interested in meeting. I decided to hover near them, and quickly slotted myself into a group of girls who were gossiping by the sales floor's doorway, positioning myself so that I could keep an eye on my tall, dark, handsome stranger.
I caught his eye. Result! Electricity sparked between us almost palpably. I took my time smiling and looking away with exaggerated casualness, counting to ten slowly in my head before I looked again. His dark eyes burned into mine from across the room. I looked suggestively at the doorway, inclining my head towards the seating area outside of the main office. Excusing myself from the group I'd slotted into, I rolled my hips in my best catwalk fashion as I strode out of the office and positioned myself where he'd be able to find me.
He appeared a moment later, two glasses of champagne in hand, and sat down opposite me. I perched on the edge of the soft chair, knees together, leaning forward to ensure I moved my perfect cleavage into his line of sight. "Well hello," he smiled, handing me one of the glasses. "I don't think we've met?"
"Lamentably not," I purred. "I'm Jasmine, I've only been here about a week."
He took my hand, raised it to his mouth, and planted a lingering kiss on the back, making the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "Jasmine, I'm Greg," he said. "It's lovely to meet you."
We gazed at each other wordlessly, both aware of each other's sheer sexuality. I could feel my tiny black thong moisten between my legs, knew that my nipples were pressing through the flimsy material of my dress. Every nerve in my body screamed out for him to touch me, to kiss me, to take me somewhere and fuck me.
"So what do you do?" I asked, noting with pleasure that his eyes had swept over my body, and were showing definite approval.
He threw back his head and laughed, showing perfect white teeth. "I'm depute MD of this media company," he said.
My face flushed with embarrassment. Imagine not knowing who my own bosses were!
"You look stunning when you're embarrassed," he grinned.
"Greg, I've been looking for you everywhere!" I glanced up sharply. The woman who'd spoken was around my age, maybe a couple of years older, with expensively layered blonde hair, immaculately manicured nails and a perfect size eight figure. Her whole demeanour screamed that she was fantastically well off. Underneath the glossy exterior, though, I could also see that she clearly had gorgeous looks to work with. Bright blue almond shaped eyes, framed with thick dark lashes, and full lips. Small, pert breasts topped her flat stomached figure and long, slender legs. A large solitaire diamond glinted on the ring finger of her left hand. I surveyed her, impressed despite myself. If this had been a racecourse, this girl would have been the top Thoroughbred, Best in Show. I had met my match.
"Jasmine, this is Ceri, my fiancée," Greg said smoothly, touching her hip. She slid herself smoothly between us on the couch.
"Nice to meet you, Jasmine." Her accent spoke of good breeding.
I was impressed, despite myself. The self-confidence of this guy, to flirt with a stranger in front of his perfect fiancée!
"I'll go and get you a drink, sweetie," Greg said, excusing himself to go and get more champagne.
"Make sure you get Jasmine another, as well," she said. I couldn't read her tone. For all I can read men like the open books they are, women always fox me. I've never been one for having a gaggle of female friends around me -- just the same old trusted friends I've known since uni. "So, Jasmine, what do you do?" Ceri asked, once we were alone.
I shifted uncomfortably. Small talk was new ground. "I've just started here, in the sales department."
She smiled, showing those amazing straight white teeth. "And are you enjoying it?"
I nodded confidently. "Everyone seems really nice so far, although there's loads to learn!"
She gazed at me, her bright blue eyes inquisitive. "And are you here on your own tonight?"
I looked at my knees. "My boyfriend decided he'd rather spend the night doing boys' things -- he's currently sinking pints in the pub. I'll get a text around 3am telling me he loves me... that's if he even remembers my name come closing time."
She gave a loud, genuine laugh, which completely warmed me to her. "Men... they're always the same!" she said. "If Greg had any say in the matter, he'd be doing the same, but he really wants the MD's job so he shows face at all the social things. I'm here as his token blonde on his arm."
