Christineâs eyes darted back and forth between the young girl walking toward her and the computer monitor on her desk. She watched the girlâs dark blonde hair sway with her quick steps. She watched the body move gracefully, like an athleteâs body. When the girl passed, Christine watched her hips and ass move seductively in a pair of tight slacks.
Christine Brewer was a 29-year-old accountant at ACR, Inc., a small but growing computer software company. She was attractive, competent, shy and six years into a bad marriage. Her 5â7â shapely frame, layered light brown hair and arresting green eyes had caused many men in the company to look twice at her.
But, she was rarely known to say more than âHiâ to anyone other than her boss. Chris, as everyone called her, was an enigma.
Traci Conway couldnât be any farther on the opposite end of the spectrum than Chris. Outspoken, forward and direct was Traciâs approach to life. At 23, she was the youngest computer tech at the company. The only thing she did better than work on computers was flirt.
At the moment she was on her way to a senior accountantâs office. Something about a network connection. Ten minutes later she emerged from the office, cheeks flushed from something the man had said.
As Traci walked between the cubicles, she caught Chrisâ eye and headed her way.
âHey, Chris. How are you?â Traci asked enthusiastically.
âFine, Traci. Havenât seen you in ages.â
âOh, theyâve got me doing just about everything now,â Traci said, leaning against the wall of Chrisâ cubicle. âHow have you been?â
âOK. Trying to finish Christmas shopping more than anything,â Chris said with a shrug.
âI was thinking of heading over to the mall at lunch.â
Traci nodded. Chris paused for a second. Then, to Traciâs surprise, Chris added, âWhy donât you come with me.â
The younger girlâs hazel eyes shined. âIâd love to. Thatâll be fun.â
They made arrangements to meet at noon. Both women were happy with the unanticipated plans and were anxious for lunchtime to arrive. At quarter to twelve, Chris headed for the ladies room. She touched up her makeup and caught herself checking the line of her body under her dress.
âHey, youâre going to lunch, not the prom,â she told herself. But, she looked forward to the companionship.
The women drove the short distance to the mall with Traci doing most of the talking. Although Traci was single and couldnât trade family stories, they found enough job related gossip to keep them both happy.
Once inside the mall, Chris took charge and chose a large clothing store as the first stop. They both tried on winter coats that exceeded their winter clothing budgets. More âwish listâ items were found in the sweater department.
âOh, look at these,â Chris said as they walked passed a scarf display. She ran her fingers over a brightly colored scarf with thick stripes. âI loved scarves when I was a kid.â
Traci picked one up and let it fall open. Then she lifted it and swung it around Chrisâ neck, sliding it under the collar of Chrisâ big coat. With one more toss, the scarf fell over the womanâs back, while another end hung in front. Traci gently adjusted it.
A chill went down Chrisâ back as the girl finished. The simple touch of another person had made her heart jump. The perfumed scent of this young woman, her smile, her eyes, engrossed her.
âThere. You look really, really cute in that, Chris,â Traci was saying with sincerity.
Chris blushed. She put her hands on the soft material, feeling the warmth building around her neck. She looked down at the display.
âI canât even afford these.â The words were filled with melancholy. She started removing the scarf. âWeâre so far in credit card debtâŠâ The words hung in mid air.
Traci saw the dejection in the womanâs face.
âWell, maybe Santa,â was all Traci could think of saying.
Chris smiled. âYeah. Maybe.â
They shopped for another half hour, then ate salads in the food court. When they got back to the office, both women expressed their thanks to the other for going. They agreed to do it again soon.
Later that afternoon they crossed paths once more. This time, it was Chris who initiated the conversation.
âTraci, youâre going to the Christmas party arenât you?â It was as much a request as a question.
âSure,â Traci said. âWouldnât miss it. You going?â
âYep. Just wanted to make sure Iâd have at least one person to talk to.â
âIâll look for you. Iâve heard Mr. Kent has quite a mansion. Iâm excited to see it,â Traci said.
âOh, itâs fabulous. And I doubt if Iâve seen half of it,â Chris answered. Kenneth Kent owned ACR, Inc. and showed off his house each year in the form of a holiday party. It was one of those affairs where stories for the following year were produced by free flowing liquor.
Two days later, on the Friday before Christmas and the day before the big party, Traci wound her way through the maze of cubicles until reaching the accounting department. Approaching Chrisâ desk silently from behind, she crept forward and placed a brightly wrapped box on the womanâs lap.
Chris jumped and made an unidentifiable sound of surprise.
âHo, ho, ho,â Traci said in the deepest voice she could muster.
âWhatâŠ,â Chris said while turning. âOh, Traci.â
âMerry Christmas,â Traci said smiling.
Chris picked up the package and stared at it.
âWhatâs this?â
âItâs yours. From me. Open it, open it,â Traci said with excitement.
âBut, IâŠâ
âOpen it,â Traci ordered.
Chrisâ fingers nervously pulled open the paper wrapping. Inside was a thin, rectangular white box. She lifted off the top of the box and pushed aside the tissue paper.
âOh, my God. Traci. No,â Chris said softly.
She lifted the colorful scarf from the box.
âPromise me youâll wear it tomorrow to the party,â Traci said.
Chris stood up and wrapped her arms around Traci, holding the scarf tightly in one hand.
âThank you,â Chris said almost in a whisper. Traci heard her sniffle quietly. âYou shouldnât have. I canâtâŠIâŠâ
âDonât worry,â Traci said, leaning her head back so she could look at the other woman. âJust enjoy it.â
Tears formed in Chrisâ eyes. She turned around before they fell and placed the scarf in the box. She faced Traci once more and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
âThank you.â
âMy pleasure. Now, Iâve gotta go,â Traci said. âSee you tomorrow night?â
âAbsolutely.â Chris tried to smile but her emotions made it difficult. She watched the girl gracefully walk away, wishing she didnât have to go.
The following evening, Chris showered and dressed, having decided on a red sleeveless dress that she normally considered too tight and too short. But, something told her it would be all right tonight. Her husband, as usual, had opted not to attend. If she could escape with as little verbal abuse about her wardrobe as possible, sheâd be home free.
She pulled on her coat and wrapped the scarf around her neck. Luckily, the game was close enough to take her husbandâs full attention and she yelled âGoodbyeâ as the door was closing behind her.
Across town, Traci was shuffling through a closet full of outfits. Eventually, the combination of a sheer pink blouse and black pants won out. Traci especially liked this blouse because the first button didnât appear until you drew an imaginary line from one nipple to the other. Matching red bra and panties, both lacy and small, finished the festive motif.
She found the Kent mansion with only one wrong turn, which she blamed on the directions given her by a coworker. The imposing house and surrounding estate looked like something off a Christmas postcard as she drove in. She parked and walked past huge pines that appeared to be decorated and lit by Disney staff.
Immediately upon knocking at the entrance, the double wood doors swung open and an elegantly suited man welcomed her. The man took her coat and directed her to the refreshments.
Traci looked up at the magnificent chandelier hanging in the foyer. Hallways seemed to lead in all directions. A winding staircase caused her eyes to wander upward to another floor of balconies and halls. The subdued sound of voices drew her into the house.
As she entered what must have served as the formal dining room, she saw a long table of hors dâoeuvres encircled by guests. Two or three of them called out her name in unison. Traci smiled at each one, trying desperately to get the names correct. She placed three huge shrimp on a plate, added some sauce and accepted compliments on her outfit with appropriate shyness. Several pieces of cheese finished the plate and she exited by the door opposite from where she came in.
She entered a much larger, darker room that she took as the library. A roaring fire-with real wood logs-blazed on one wall.
âTraci, glad you made it,â came a male voice from her side.
She turned to see the VP for Accounting. âOh, hi Mr. Clark.â
âChristine was asking about you earlier. Iâve lost her now.â Clark looked around the room.
âOK, thanks. Iâll run into her eventually, Iâm sure,â Traci said. âWhere are the drinks?â
âOff the kitchen. Through there.â The man pointed to a nearby door.
âGreat. Good seeing you.â
âYou too,â Clark said.
The blouse was working, Traci said to herself. That was two men so far that had made less eye contact than cleavage contact.
She wound her way through the crowd and into the adjoining room. Sure enough, there was a bar being tended by two more men in tuxedos. Traci ordered a glass of wine and exchanged welcomes with other guests. The tall, thin glass of wine arrived and Traci excused herself to yet another massive room.
Through the swarm of people she picked out the head of a brunette in a red dress. The streaked, layered hair falling to the shoulders could only belong to one woman at ACR, Inc. The dress, however, came as a surprise to her.
Chris was talking to another female guest as Traci approached from behind her.