Consenting Adults
Sasha cradled the wine glass in her upturned hand, the
delicate stem nestled between her ring and pinky fingers, her thumb caressing a
nervous arc across the bowl. After nearly ten years in retail where “holiday
party” usually meant “lunch in the break room,” this catered after hours
shindig was a little overwhelming. Especially since she'd only been a legal
intern for a few months.
She sipped the sweet Moscato and walked slowly through the
room in search of a friendly smile to give her an in, an excuse to insinuate
herself into some conversation. Networking and being social had been a
challenge for her in the world of retail politics, too, but it was more than
just that aspect that fueled her desire to go back to school a few years ago.
Even if a client didn't ooze gratitude, she knew she'd be making a positive
impact on the world around her with this career change. No one needed a
$400 Michael Kors bag. Not everyone needed a lawyer, either, but meeting that
need was more fulfilling to Sasha than convincing someone to part with their
hard earned cash in the name of blind consumerism and brand recognition.
Bitter? Maybe a little. Though in her experience, even the
bubbliest people in retail had a streak of disdain just beneath the surface.
A few smiles and nods greeted her as she made her way across
the banquet hall, but nothing solid enough to warrant stopping and injecting
herself into already lively discussions. So she kept moving. At the worst, she
could stop at the hors d'oeuvres table across the way as if that had been her
intention all along and not look like a wandering fool. Which was how she felt.
Thank god for the wine, which gave her nervous hands something to focus on.
Finally, her work crush, Malcolm Dane, came to her rescue
with a smile and a small wave. She headed in his direction, holding tight to
her glass. If she rubbed her thumb on the same spot for much longer, the glass
might wear thin and shatter. Malcolm was only a few years older than Sasha. Of course,
he hadn't wandered off into the black hole of retail fashion like she had, so
while she was a thirty-something intern, he was on the fast track to becoming a
partner.
She had been prone to what she called “work crushes” since
her first job in high school. They were innocent little things, these crushes.
It was inevitable. Spending so many hours a week with the same group of people,
there's an attachment that develops. Not necessarily romantic, although Malcolm
was cute. Really, really cute. In fact, there were quite a few attractive
people in the office, and their appeal only grew when she got to see their
passion and intellect at work. That was sexier than any bright smile or
chocolate brown eyes.
Well... almost.
Malcolm raised his glass and Sasha raised hers in turn.
“If I had known there were such great company parties
waiting for me in the legal field, I would've dumped retail a long time ago,”
she said.
“Well, we're happy to have you now.” He clinked his glass
against hers, then drank.
He tipped his head back, draining his glass, and Sasha
admired the hard line of his jaw, the soft line of his throat. His Adam's apple
rose and fell with each swallow. She licked her lips, sweet with the wine that
also warmed her cheeks. As he finished his drink, Malcolm motioned across the
room.
“You'd think an office full of lawyers would know better.”
Somehow she'd missed the mistletoe hanging near the tree
when she'd canvassed the room earlier. Probably because everyone was sober
then. There were a few people who'd clearly indulged a little too much already,
even though the night was young. She watched as Jake, the cute mailroom guy,
locked lips with an office assistant.
“Do they have that every year?” she asked.
“Three or four now.”
“And no sexual harassment cases the Monday after?”
“I guess not. A few pissed off wives, though.” He gave her a
smile that seemed to say something more,
Sasha cradled the wine glass in her upturned hand, the
delicate stem nestled between her ring and pinky fingers, her thumb caressing a
nervous arc across the bowl. After nearly ten years in retail where “holiday
party” usually meant “lunch in the break room,” this catered after hours
shindig was a little overwhelming. Especially since she'd only been a legal
intern for a few months.
She sipped the sweet Moscato and walked slowly through the
room in search of a friendly smile to give her an in, an excuse to insinuate
herself into some conversation. Networking and being social had been a
challenge for her in the world of retail politics, too, but it was more than
just that aspect that fueled her desire to go back to school a few years ago.
Even if a client didn't ooze gratitude, she knew she'd be making a positive
impact on the world around her with this career change. No one needed a
$400 Michael Kors bag. Not everyone needed a lawyer, either, but meeting that
need was more fulfilling to Sasha than convincing someone to part with their
hard earned cash in the name of blind consumerism and brand recognition.
Bitter? Maybe a little. Though in her experience, even the
bubbliest people in retail had a streak of disdain just beneath the surface.
A few smiles and nods greeted her as she made her way across
the banquet hall, but nothing solid enough to warrant stopping and injecting
herself into already lively discussions. So she kept moving. At the worst, she
could stop at the hors d'oeuvres table across the way as if that had been her
intention all along and not look like a wandering fool. Which was how she felt.
Thank god for the wine, which gave her nervous hands something to focus on.
Finally, her work crush, Malcolm Dane, came to her rescue
with a smile and a small wave. She headed in his direction, holding tight to
her glass. If she rubbed her thumb on the same spot for much longer, the glass
might wear thin and shatter. Malcolm was only a few years older than Sasha. Of course,
he hadn't wandered off into the black hole of retail fashion like she had, so
while she was a thirty-something intern, he was on the fast track to becoming a
partner.
She had been prone to what she called “work crushes” since
her first job in high school. They were innocent little things, these crushes.
It was inevitable. Spending so many hours a week with the same group of people,
there's an attachment that develops. Not necessarily romantic, although Malcolm
was cute. Really, really cute. In fact, there were quite a few attractive
people in the office, and their appeal only grew when she got to see their
passion and intellect at work. That was sexier than any bright smile or
chocolate brown eyes.
Well... almost.
Malcolm raised his glass and Sasha raised hers in turn.
“If I had known there were such great company parties
waiting for me in the legal field, I would've dumped retail a long time ago,”
she said.
“Well, we're happy to have you now.” He clinked his glass
against hers, then drank.
He tipped his head back, draining his glass, and Sasha
admired the hard line of his jaw, the soft line of his throat. His Adam's apple
rose and fell with each swallow. She licked her lips, sweet with the wine that
also warmed her cheeks. As he finished his drink, Malcolm motioned across the
room.
“You'd think an office full of lawyers would know better.”
Somehow she'd missed the mistletoe hanging near the tree
when she'd canvassed the room earlier. Probably because everyone was sober
then. There were a few people who'd clearly indulged a little too much already,
even though the night was young. She watched as Jake, the cute mailroom guy,
locked lips with an office assistant.
“Do they have that every year?” she asked.
“Three or four now.”
“And no sexual harassment cases the Monday after?”
“I guess not. A few pissed off wives, though.” He gave her a
smile that seemed to say something more,
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