It really wasn't supposed to be this way. When my wife first explained the job to me, it sounded too good to be true. She could dump her job in a rather large city, move to a small town, manage one third the number of people and still make the same money. It sounded so good, a major reduction in stress for the same pay. She jumped at the chance, and before we knew it, we were living the small town life.
Now we had no illusions that there was no price to pay for going small. Going to a play in small town USA usually means the high school auditorium. The museum is a dusty exhibit of some glory days around the turn of the century. And shopping? Well, we can get what we need most times, but almost never what we want.
The people were pretty nice, except when we ran afoul of some clannish relationships which had been in place for generations. So, with so much going for it, why was my wife complaining so damn much? In a word: Cathy. It seemed that one person was making up for the headaches of the two thirds of the staff numbers that my wife had dropped. It seemed that a couple of times each week I was hearing about some ruckus that Cathy had caused or blown out of proportion. Frankly, I was getting sick and tired of hearing her name.
I had only met Cathy a couple of times when visiting at my wife's office. Cathy is tall, almost six feet, and very slender. She didn't look very curvy as she has a sort of permanent slouch, probably as she is uncomfortable with her height. Her jet black hair is cut short in a page-boy. My wife assures me that her big brown eyes and open smile, hide the soul of the devil and the teeth of a piranha. For the most part, I didn't think about Cathy except when my wife was complaining or when I was wondering what kind of car she drove and whether I could really cut those brake lines.
All that changed two weeks before Christmas. No, it wasn't the spirit of goodwill or seasonal cheer that changed things, it was the employee Christmas party. Now, the annual party was a big deal in this small town, even if it was held in the backroom of an out of the way local restaurant. It was one of the few chances that people had to kick up their heels and show off a bit, outside of the occasional wedding. Personally, a root canal sounded better than spending the evening with a bunch of people my wife usually complained about, but I was told it was a command performance.
My wife and I arrived a bit early, she wanted to stake out her territory and try to get only those she could still stand to sit around her. My goal was much more modest: get through the evening without saying anything stupid. So, I was just sitting at the table, nursing a drink and watching with great interest as the employees filed in.
Some of the women were dressed casually, or no more dressed up than for a restaurant meal. Those women clearly had not received the memo or something as most of the women in attendance were dressed to the nines. Some women favored floor length gowns, these were mostly, but not exclusively, the older women. Some women favored form fitting dresses, ranging from knee length to well above, with heels much higher than I would have guessed. I was looking forward to the dancing that was to follow the meal and short program, according to the agenda. And then Cathy walked in.
Gone was the mousy page boy, replaced by a perm that turned her hair into a shorter and darker version of Andi McDowell's. And gone were the polyester pants and shirt that made up her work attire, replaced with perhaps the shortest of the form fitting dresses, a completely dazzling red number. Gone too was any discomfort about her height. She was wearing full heels, and she proudly stood tall revealing an extremely feminine profile. Her small breasts pushed at the red material, and her nipples poked out slightly, looking a bit like maraschino cherries. I took in every detail with enormous appreciation, the black hose, the slits on the side of the dress that was already impossibly short, the matching red lipstick and nail polish. I knew that if this was a piranha, I was going in the river!
Of course I had a major problem in this. My wife. Normally, my flirting with another woman at this kind of affair would be accepted or overlooked, she understands my needs pretty well. But not with her arch-nemesis! Not with Cathy! In fact, I was already feeling like I had looked her far too long and intensely already.
I was not at all surprised when Cathy and her husband chose to sit at another table, and my wife breathed a sigh of relief. However, I was pleased at the location they did select. Cathy ended up at the end of a table kitty-corner to us. I had a clear view of her in profile, right down to her coquettishly crossed ankles. Wait! Did she look over and smile at me?
As dinner progressed we made eye contact several times and I could feel my interest level seriously rising. Normally I might have asked her to dance at some point later in the evening and after getting fully aroused gone home and made mad passionate love to my wife. But I would never hear the end of slow dancing with Cathy, so that was not going to happen. Is Cathy giving me the eye? Or is it my imagination?
In fact all through dinner she seemed to be glancing in my direction. I assumed pretty quickly that it was to drive my wife crazy, but the effect on me was much worse. At first the glances were quick, and if I made eye contact she would shyly look away. As the evening wore on the glances lingered and the smiles became more open. Unfortunately the longer glances from Cathy gave more time for my wife to shoot me glances of disapproval. I had a fine line to walk to be sure.
But disapproving glances were not enough to keep me from looking in Cathy's direction, especially after dessert arrived. It was about that time that glances from her were accompanied with a very slight wriggle of her rear end, accompanied by her recrossing her legs. When recrossing her legs, her thighs were in full contact and she rolled her hips a bit so that the upper and lower leg traded places while touching along the full length the whole time. Just imagining what must be happening under that microdress was enough to convince me that I could not possibly stand up until everyone else had left the table.
Finally, the dinner and program ended and people began to move around. Some headed for the dance floor, others for the door. Little knots of conversation moved around the room. People began to drift away from our table and the pressure in my pants began to subside. Unfortunately that pressure relief did not last long.
Along with a number of other couples, Cathy and her husband had taken to the dance floor. When she danced fast, the hem of her dress shimmied and shook and seemed to be a neon sign advertising the charms that lay beneath. When she danced slow, she wrapped her hips around her husband, who let his hands wander all over, and occasionally under the little red dress. At the rate things were going I would not be able to stand up until after New Year.
Finally, the DJ and the dancers took a break. After a bit, I worked my way to the bar and then down a narrow hallway to where bathrooms were. The hall was a bit dark and narrow. As I was squinting my way down the corridor, a door just in front of me opened and I found myself face to face with Cathy. I tried to maintain my composure.
"Hi Cathy! Great party tonight."
"Oh Hi, Bill. I didn't see you there. Yes, it is quite an evening, but it always is."
I paused a beat or two, hoping my pounding heart would not be heard in the quiet hallway. "Cathy, you really look stunning tonight..." She smiled broadly but looked away slightly. Another pause as I feared, perhaps, that our interlude was over. But she continued smiling as she looked up.
"Thank you. I noticed you looking at me," she said quietly. Even though Cathy had a reputation of speaking her mind, I was not quite ready for such an immediate opening. I stammered a bit.
"I just couldn't help myself in the presence of such beauty. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable." Now it was my turn to look down a bit shyly. But her grin was ear to ear.
"You're so sweet. And not uncomfortable...maybe a little tingly," she said in a husky voice. Just as my knees were about to buckle, she pointed to a doorway just a little way down the hall.
