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 debtâŚâ 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.
âWhatâŚ,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, IâŚâ
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 canâtâŚIâŚâ