This one is for the
2020 Winter Holidays Contest
. As always, your votes and comments would be much appreciated. And thank you for reading.
This is a longer than I usually write, and I hope you'll enjoy it. Happy Holidays, and Stay Safe!
GISELLE
"Ooh, look, it's him." Miranda leaned in and whispered so all of us could hear her over the din of the packed ballroom, carefully pointing her finger in his direction.
"Who are we talking about?" I asked, trying to look around her without spilling my wine.
"Rory McLean, who else? Isn't he the absolute hottest hunk of man you've ever seen?" Happily married, heavily pregnant Joanie sighed. "Hmmm, come to mama, big boy," she murmured, rubbing her big round belly, making all of us laugh.
"Just so you know, Joanie, that baby bump of yours is not a magic lamp. So you can quit rubbing that poor baby's butt, hoping for a miracle," Miranda muttered, before going back to devouring the man in question with her eyes.
I just shrugged. "He's okay, I guess." Their mouths agape, I wanted to laugh at the way they all turned their heads at once, shocked that I'd say something like that about their idol.
Especially my assistant, tall, willowy, ebony-haired Marcie, who was staring at me like I'd lost my mind. "You have got to be kidding. That man is 100% grade A certified beefcake. And I'd bet he's really packing, too. Just by the way he carries himself and fills out a suit like nobody's business, like he knows he can have any woman he wants with just the crook of his finger, tells me all I need to know. And I'd bet everything I own that he'd be fantastic in bed, and would really know how to make a girl squeal."
I took a longer look, and shook my head. "I guess he's not bad if you're into red-heads. But he doesn't do anything for me."
That got me another dramatic eye roll from Marcie. "Giselle, remind me after the holidays to book you an appointment to get your eyes checked. Because that man is all kinds of hot, and I don't know how you can't see it." Heaving a sigh, she glanced back at him. "With that light beard he's got kind of a sexy Chris Evans thing going on, and I'd sure like to know firsthand if he's as hot as he looks." Tipping her head, she studied him a little more closely. "And I wouldn't say his hair is actually a vibrant fiery red like yours, it's more of a golden reddish-blonde that goes perfectly with that GQ scruff he's rockin'. And don't get me started on the sexy way he smiles, those long-lashed baby blues, or that killer body that I'd love to run my fingers over, or even my tongue, if he'd let me."
Miranda grinned, winking at Marcie. "Maybe we should try sexing him up together sometime."
Marcie laughed, nodding her head. "I'm game if you are. I'd be happy to do anything he wanted, as long as I get a chance to get busy with that hot piece of man candy."
Taking a sip of my drink, I watched them all turn back to stare, I guess hoping he'd wander over and say something witty or flattering that would get them all even giddier -- if that was even possible.
Leaving them to have their fun, before dinner was served I made the rounds and said hello to everyone I always saw at these construction industry things. And as I wished everyone a happy holiday, I was careful to avoid bumping into
His Hotness
.
After I'd taken a moment to peruse the items listed at the silent auction table I put in a couple of bids on a few things, like a trip to Mexico, since the dinner was in aid of two worthy causes: local food banks and providing toys for underprivileged kids. But even if I won, being the managing director of one of the biggest window and door manufacturers in the country, I knew I couldn't really afford the time to go to Cancun, no matter what time of year I tried to go. Though I was elated to finally be getting a whole week off now for the holidays, for the first time in ages.
I was just setting the pen back down and a shiver ran down my spine when I felt a hand sliding down my back, till I could detect some pretty insistent fingers grazing the top of my backside, before venturing even lower. Turning, I forced a smile when I saw it was Chuck Harper, one of our biggest customers who had been trying to talk me into bed for years. I'd honestly never seen anyone as polished or as vain. With his immaculately trimmed black hair gelled to within an inch of his life, nearly blindingly white smile, and clad in a trendy body-hugging shimmery navy blue suit, that I imagined he thought made him look like he still had it. But to me he just looked like a desperate guy on the prowl.
"Hey, Chuck," I said, carefully shifting away from him, till thankfully I felt his hand drop. "How are the wife and kids?"
He gave me a narrow eyed glare, I imagine for rubbing in the fact that he was married. Still, he nodded and said, "Good, everything's good." But the way his eyes raked me over from top to toe like a snake about to pounce, I had to force myself not to shudder. "And you're looking good, too, Giselle, damn good." He stepped a little closer, leaned in and breathed against my ear, "You staying here in the hotel tonight?"
Taking another step back, I lied, "No, I'm heading home as soon it's over, catching the next train back to Montreal."
With his gaze locked on my lips, he reached out and traced a finger along my jaw, making me cringe and wonder if he could possibly be any sleazier. "Shame. I was hoping maybe we could have a drink together after this--" he waggled his eyebrows, and slyly murmured -- "up in my room."
Yeah, like that was ever going to happen.
I quickly picked my wine glass off the table, touched it to his, and flashed him a big fake smile. "Well, I can wish you a happy holiday now, since we've both a got a drink."
Annoyed that I wasn't willing to play along, the smile left his eyes. Clenching his jaw, his hot breath hissed against my ear, "You and I would be good together, you know that? Why won't you me give a chance to show you just how good I can make you feel?"
I took yet another step back, hating this ridiculous tango he was forcing me to perform. "Well, first of all you're married, and I never mess around with married men. And secondly, I'm not looking for anything with anyone right now. But I hope you enjoy your dinner, and that you have a wonderful holiday with your family."
Before he could respond, thankfully the little bell started ringing to announce that dinner was about to be served, so I gave him a little wave, rolled my eyes and went and found my company's table.
Of course I knew being one of the few women at these things made me a target, like I had a big red circle painted on my ass, practically saying 'come and get it.' But since I never showed any interest in any of them, I kept hoping they'd back off and start treating me like an equal, rather than just a sex object. More than that though, I really hated that so many of them liked to cheat whenever they were away from their families. And their poor wives back at home with the kids probably didn't have a clue what their husbands were up to when they were out at one of these things.
Aside from the cat and mouse game good old Chuck had forced me into playing, at least dinner was good, kind of a gourmet take on Christmas dinner. It started with a delicious creamy mushroom and stilton soup. Then succulent turkey, glazed ham and roast veggies, garlic mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce for the main course. And for dessert, like we needed any more, there was warm Christmas pudding with brandy sauce, melt in your mouth white and chocolate shortbread cookies and candy cane ice cream with little whimsical meringue snowflakes piped on top.
But as good as it was, I only had a little taste of everything, because if I wanted to keep my job, I knew I had had to keep myself in shape. Because nobody liked a woman carrying any extra weight, especially one who headed a company. So I had to do my best to look the part. Especially with the rumors I'd been hearing lately about the possibility of our company being bought out.
Pushing that thought aside, sitting enjoying an after dinner liqueur with my posse, as I liked to called them, as I listened to them laughing and talking together, I liked to think I was paying it forward. I knew I was fortunate to have gotten hired by Grant Tucker, the owner of the company, who took a chance on me before he retired, and turned the reins over to his son Grant Junior. So naturally I was happy to give a leg up to other women trying to get into a male dominated industry like ours. An industry was never too thrilled to see a woman at their boardroom table, or even on their sales force, no matter how competent she was.
Since my company was based in Montreal with offices across the country, and it was getting late, I planned to stay the night in a room I'd booked upstairs in the hotel. Then in the morning, I'd take the train from Union Station, just up the street in downtown Toronto and head home. I knew the rest of the girls were planning to spend a day or two last minute Christmas shopping in the Eaton's Centre and a few of the other trendy shops along Yonge Street. But since I didn't need any more clothes or shoes and really had no one to buy for, seeing as my sister's family were happy with the gift cards I always sent them for Christmas, I knew I'd be heading home on my own.
After the dinner was over, and I'd said my goodbyes, up in my room, fresh from the shower, I'd just slipped into a sheer black silk and lace teddy, and was sliding my feet back into my sexiest black patent leather heels when I heard a sharp rap on the adjoining door that led to the room connected to mine.
