The ballroom of the Belmont Hotel was packed, nearly wall to wall, with tables covered in pristine white linen, colorfully flowered centerpieces and elegant silver and china place settings. There were already well over two hundred guests, men wearing dark blue or grey suits with gold cufflinks, shiny black shoes and silk ties and women wearing expensive dresses with sequins and bows, cut to expose the exact amount of leg or cleavage needed to give the wearer whatever advantage necessary to outshine the competition, whoever she might be. The guests, many of who were already demonstrating various stages of inebriation, were milling about, coalescing together in multiple small groups to talk and laugh, sipping their drinks while pointing out and greeting new arrivals as they entered the room.
The ballroom was hung with banners announcing and celebrating the annual Spring Banquet of Prairieland Securities, a moderately large, relatively successful financial services firm that had had a very good year. Very nearly every salaried employee at the main office was expected to attend, to eat and drink, to socialize and celebrate and to listen to a few speeches about how well the company was doing and how grateful they should be to be working for such a dynamically successful firm.
Fifteen or so minutes before dinner was served, around the time the guests first started taking their seats at the tables, a slight stir animated the crowd when Frank Portis entered the room. Frank was widely recognized as the brightest and most aggressive of the young Turks, a man likely to be announced as the youngest ever division head sometime in the next few months. He was tall and muscular with an olive complexion, short dark hair with sharp, well defined features, handsome by almost any standard.
But, the attention he generated had more to do with whom he arrived with. On his arm, was Jolene Matthews, a woman who was nothing short of stunning, with rich copper-red hair that fell in masses of long curls halfway down her back, deep green Irish eyes set against flawless, unblemished alabaster skin and a figure of soft voluptuous curves that defined the very essence of feminine sensuality. She was wearing a midnight black dress with forest green trim that tastefully accentuated her curves and an elegant pearl necklace that divided her perfect body from her perfect face. Everything about her appearance demanded attention and, as if by command, the men as well as the women stopped abruptly to take in her beauty as she briefly paused with Frank at the entrance before they plunged into the heart of the ballroom.
Somewhere near the rostrum a huge bear of a man, with long dark brown hair and a wild, bushy beard waved to Frank and caught his attention. Frank turned to Jolene and motioned toward the bear. "Hey, there's Paul. Why don't you head that way and I'll pick up something to drink. White wine ok?"
Jolene nodded and flashed a fluorescent smile before moving toward the front of the ballroom while Frank made his way to the bar, negotiating the high class obstacle course of tables and waiters and guests.
As he neared the bar, his progress was impeded by a mass of slow moving people that were waiting and shuffling in what amounted to a poorly organized line. Frustrated by the lack of movement, Frank let his mind wander, mentally separating himself from the crowd with daydreams about triumphs at work and on the golf course as well as thoughts about Jolene . The line hadn't moved more than a few feet before his self-imposed disconnectedness was interrupted by a vague impression that he'd heard his name called. When he heard it clearly a second time he turned and was startled to see the smiling face of his best friend from high school, aged 11 years since graduation and 2 years since he'd seen him last.
Bobby Mullins was easy to remember, with great white horse teeth shining under a full mustache, laughing eyes, prematurely crinkled around the edges from smiling and from sun, and oiled, jet black hair, combed straight back. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, burgundy tie and a silk shirt and looked as slick as anybody else in the room; but his speech and mannerisms were those of a southern Illinois country boy, raised among soy and corn fields rather than concrete and asphalt.
"Bobby? I'll be damned, man it's good to see you. What...what are you doing in town?" Frank reached for Bobby's left shoulder and pulled him closer as he shook his right hand.
"I just got here, came up for the party Franky."
"Wait, you came all the way up from St. Louis for a party? That's a long ways to come for free food and booze, even for you." Frank laughed and shook his head as he let go of Bobby's hand.
"Hey, I'm entitled. Just because nobody expects the peons from the St. Louis office to show, doesn't mean we won't. I figured you Chicago people were holding out on us all these years so I wanted to see what I was missing."
They engaged in small talk for a few more minutes before the line finally budged and they both took a couple of steps forward. Frank continued the conversation.
"So, Bobby, how are things outside of work? You still dating a new girl every month?"
"I don't know, hard to keep track, but that might be about the right average." Bobby grinned mischievously. "Sooner or later, I'll grow up and settle down, but not for a while."
Bobby and Frank both chuckled and then, with some hesitation, Bobby quietly asked. "So, how is life treating you, Frank? Things ok?"
Frank paused long enough to indicate that he didn't have a simple or easy answer to the question. He pursed his lips tightly and ran a hand through his hair before starting to respond.
"Well, things are...sort of ok...now. I don't know if you've heard or not, but Becky and I are...well, we aren't together now."
Bobby frowned but showed no real surprise. "I...uh...I heard that. I'm sorry Frank. Tough break."
"Yep. It is." There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Frank awkwardly broke it by asking who Bobby had brought to the gala.
"Oh, I came stag, Franky. But I'm hoping I won't leave that way." Bobby was gleaming while he said it, smacking his lips and raising his eyebrows suggestively when he finished.
"Typical," Frank said shaking his head. "Some things never change."
They were at the front of the line now and Frank ordered two white wines and Bobby got a beer. Frank gestured in the general direction of the rostrum and Jolene. "Hey, Bobby, I'm with someone tonight, but why don't you eat with us. Naturally, she's off limits, but maybe somebody else might sit at the table..."
"Oh, I'd never horn in on your action, Franky. But, yeah, I'd love to eat with you. Show me the way." Bobby raised his beer bottle to his friend and tipped it in a mock toast.
--0--
"Happy Anniversary Baby."
Becky was smiling at Frank across the table, her light brown hair in soft curls, spilling down to her shoulders and framing her face of small childlike features, a face that would have been considered beautiful except for a weak chin and a few too many freckles. She was wearing an elegant black dress and her left hand was unconsciously fingering a string of pearls around her neck, a gift she had just received from Frank, while her right hand held up a champagne glass in a toast.
Frank, brought his glass up to meet hers, smiling, admiring his wife. "To us...forever."
They clinked glasses and sipped the bubbly, pale yellow champagne as the setting August sun cast streaks of rose and orange through the window and across the white tablecloth.
"This is a beautiful restaurant, a beautiful evening Frank. Thank you so much...for everything...for the pearls and...and, everything."
"It's the least I can do for my wife, the woman I love, for someone as beautiful as you are." He nodded toward her body appreciatively. "I love the way you look in that dress. You should wear it more often."
She blushed and giggled. "This is a special dress, for special occasions. I wouldn't want to dilute the magic it has or the spell over you might weaken."
"Well, the dress certainly helps, but the spell is mostly cast by what's under it." Frank gave her a lecherous grin.
A waiter approached and ostentatiously placed salads on the table and then made a great show of grinding pepper over each one before refilling the champagne glasses and then backing away, mumbling some congratulations about their anniversary.
Frank took a bite and, while chewing slowly, contemplated Becky's right forearm with some curiosity. After swallowing, he gestured to it with his empty fork.
"What's that there on your arm? Is that a rash?"
"Yes. Just a little poison ivy I think. I think I got it at the NetSol picnic while I was taking a walk around the pond."
"Oh, yeah, I lost track of you there for a while. You know, that's a very nice park, and I loved that pond."
"Yes, I could tell. I think you were out on that canoe for a couple of hours." Becky frowned a little and stabbed aggressively at a piece of lettuce.
"Yeah, that was a lot of fun, I'd like to do that again."
Becky pressed her lips together in thought and then, with a sudden earnestness, looked to Frank and blurted out:
"You know I love you, don't you Frank? That you are the only man for me?"
The unexpected forcefulness of Becky's declaration took Frank by surprise and puzzled him slightly. He cocked his head and wrinkled his brow in response, regarded Becky for a moment and then softly replied.
"Yes. And I love you." He leaned across the table until his face was less than a foot from Becky's and continued. "But our relationship is more than love. We're comfortable with each other; we like each other and need each other too." He gently touched the side of her face. "And we have trust. No matter what, after knowing each other for all this time, we both have each other's absolute trust."
