Grace
I loved office parties. Planning them was one of my favorite parts about my job, and unlike most of the things I did on my day to day, these parties were something I could actually relax and enjoy once I was done. It was a win-win for me. Unfortunately, they only came around twice a year.
Aside from the typical Christmas party, we also had an annual office party in the middle of the year to celebrate the day Mr. Cox started the business. I honestly didn’t think that Fletcher cared about the date too much. The way I saw it, the party was just a way for him to keep the staff happy and motivated, and to that, he spared no expense.
While planning the event, I had carte blanche to hire whatever entertainment, cater and decoration I saw fit, Fletcher’s only demand was that the party be held in the office’s lobby—I had no idea why, but he insisted.. Abiding by that rule, I planned the event to match the opulence of the building. We had flowers galore, waiters in pressed white shirts serving finger food, a DJ rocking the makeshift dance floor and an open bar.
The party was perfect, but I knew something was missing and when I saw Valerie from accounting walking in with a huge bowl in her hands, I knew what it was. My lips instantly curled into a smile.
“You brought it!” I said after greeting her.
“Of course, I did.” Her tone was a little incredulous as if she couldn’t believe I had doubted her. “My punch has been a company tradition for ten years. No matter how many yummy bartenders Mr. Cox hires, people still flock towards my bowl.”
I chuckled at the truthfulness of her words. I had no idea why people—myself included—liked the drink so much, it was basically rubbing alcohol and sugar, but an office party was never complete without it.
“I, for one, am glad you brought it,” I told her with her a smile. “You can set it on that table over there, and save me a glass.”
“Will do, Grace,” she assured as she walked away.
I roamed at the entrance of the building for a while longer. To be honest, I lingered there to get a glimpse of Fletcher when he arrived, but I also took the opportunity to greet my coworkers and their families. There were a lot of lovely people I hardly ever saw around the office, and these parties were a chance to catch up and feel like I belonged to something bigger than the one-man show that was Fletcher Cox.
About an hour into the party, there was still no sign of my boss. Personally, it was frustrating. As dumb as it may sound considering what had happened just a couple of weeks before, Fletcher was still the reason why I dolled myself up to come to the party. If it weren't for him, I’d have put on comfortable shoes and a dress that allowed breathing. Still, I decided not to let his absence ruin my night and finally left my post at the door.
Shimming my body to the beat of the music, I made my way to where my friends were by the punch bowl.
“I thought you weren’t going to join us,” Dana said, and the other two girls agreed.
I rolled my eyes at them and filled a cup with some of the potent drink. “I was just making sure everything was okay. It is my job, after all.”
“That man is fine and all, but you do way too much for him honey,” Valerie pointed out. Because I couldn’t argue with her statement, I merely shrugged and took a sip of the punch.
The drink was horribly strong, and I ended up coughing for a good two minutes. “Oh, my gosh, Val. What did you put into this thing?”
“Same thing as every year; two bottles of vodka, half a bottle of rum, a generous splash of sherry and some fruit juice.”
“Well, that explains it.” The words were followed by some laughs and another gulp of the potent drink. Although the taste of alcohol was still overpowering, it slid down my throat easier the second time around.
For the next half an hour, I continued to drink and talk to my friends. I forced myself to eat something every now and then so I wouldn’t be too shitfaced, but I could already feel the effects of the alcohol in my system. Then, just as a light buzzing started to sound in my head, I saw him walk through the door.
Fletcher was the last to arrive. He looked fantastic in dark jeans and a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His manner was relaxed, his smile was easy and comfortable, and he looked nothing like the troubled workaholic I dealt with on day to day basis. His demeanor was clear evidence that, just like me, he was way past the sober line, and I liked it. I loved seeing him loose and relaxed the way he was. He deserved to have a break every once in a while, and I liked that I was here to witness it.
He looked in my direction, and his eyes lingered on me for just a moment. I felt my cheeks flush and bit the corner of my bottom lip. For just a second, his eyes glimmered with a dark, hungry light I was all too familiar with, but then he turned his face away and continued the conversation he was having.
His newest dismissal mixed with my slightly inebriated state and made me feel ridiculous. I saw Fletcher all the time and, more often than not, his eyes lingered on some part of my body. It was nothing new and nothing to bite my lips over.
In an effort to get a grip on myself, I downed the contents of my glass and reminded my drunken ass that I was more than capable of dealing with my stupid feelings for a man I would never have. All I had to do, was pay no attention to him and find a way to enjoy myself. And that’s what I did.
After another round of Valerie’s killer punch, I rallied up the girls, and we hit the dance floor. The music was pumping, and so were we. My inebriated state made my usual composure and good sense slip away, and before I noticed it, I was moving my hips in a way that wasn’t entirely appropriate to the workspace. Not that I cared, though. This was a party, and I was here to have fun.
For over half an hour, I laughed and danced with the girls. In that time, all thoughts of Fletcher disappeared. It was freeing and satisfying, and I loved every second of it.
As it usually happened whenever I drank this much, just as the room started to spin around me, the punch pooled in my blather, and I had to run to the bathroom. After I peed and blotted some of the sweat from my face, I took a deep breath and exited the spinning bathroom.
“Come with me,” Fletcher’s lustful voice sounded in my ear.
For a moment, I thought I was imagining things. It had to be Valerie’s poisonous punch talking. After all, Fletcher Cox didn’t ever slip up like this. He knew how to keep his face on whenever people were around, and he never—ever—approached me in such an improper way in public. He had, after all, an image to maintain and getting involved with a middle class, let’s say poor, nobody like me was not the way to do it. We both knew that.
However, just as I about to turn around to go splash some water on my face, I felt a hand grip my elbow. “It’s an order, Miss Taylor.”
Slowly, I turned my head toward the voice and saw Fletcher’s face. His blue eyes were hooded and dark, and his mouth was slightly open, taking in deep breaths. I could see it in his eyes that this was one of those nights, the ones where he let himself get drunk enough, and I let myself get kissed enough, and we both ended up regretting everything in the morning.
But there was something different tonight. If I had been sober, I’d have known that the difference was that I was as drunk as he was. Nevertheless, I was drunk as a fish and anxious to make whatever mistake he had in mind for tonight.
With a wicked smirk on my lips, I nodded and ordered my feet to move as I followed Fletcher out of the party and toward the elevators. I was sure everyone in attendance was drunk enough not to notice us leaving or even our absence, but my drunken state made me not care if they did.
Considering the lust in Fletcher’s eyes and how hard he came on whenever he was this drunk, I’d imagined that he would be all over me as soon as the elevator doors closed behind us. However, to my surprise, he took a step back and just looked at me.
“How can I help you, Mr. Cox?” I asked, my usual question to him.
“Fletcher, please. I hate when you call me Mr. Cox.” There was disdain in his voice as he said the formal name I usually used.
“Okay, Fletcher.” We both smiled at the name. “How can I help you?”
He sighed and instead of answering my question, he asked another, “What do you see when you look at me?”
Everything I have always wanted, was the first answer that popped into my head, and I almost said it. But then, I realized what a huge drunken mistake that would have been and kept that reply to myself.
Instead, I said, “I don’t think it matters what I see.”
“Why the hell not?” he asked a little exasperated.
“Because I’m a nobody. I’m just the girl who gets your coffees and your messages.”
We stood in silence for a moment, then Fletcher started to move in the very slow pace he usually did when he was about to kiss me. Butterflies were set loose in my stomach, and my already spinning head swam with each step he took.
Once Fletcher was standing right in front of me, he shook his head and brought his hand up to cup my cheek. His skin felt warm against mine, and that musky scent of cologne and alcohol filled my nostrils making my eyes flutter.
“Don’t say that, Gracie. Don’t sell yourself short.”
The tone he used was firm, but there was also a softness in it I wasn’t used to hearing. It made me believe that I was more than I thought I was and, perhaps, meant more to him than I thought I did. It also made me find the courage to reply to his question.
“I see a man who works too much and has everything he wants.”
He chuckled, but it wasn’t an amused chuckle. “I guess I do look like that, don’t I? But, the reality is that I don’t have that—everything I want, I mean.”
His words were slurred, but to my drunken ears, they were perfectly intelligible. The intensity of his gaze and the confession hidden in them made my heart skip a beat.
Feeling weak in the knees and wet between my thighs, I whispered, “And what it is you want?”
A wicked smirk curled on Fletcher’s face as he continued to stare at me. The elevator dinged and the doors opened, but we stayed there, frozen.
“I think you know, my sweet Gracie.” His voice was like velvet and the finger he slid from my cheek all the way to the cleavage of my red dress scorched me like fire. I took in a deep breath as he added, “The question is, do you want it as well?”
Even tipsy as I was, I knew this was the point of no return. The exact moment when I should call Fletcher “Mr. Cox”, tell him a big, fat “NO!” and let the elevator take me back down to the party. However, my lust for that man and the elation of finally feeling wanted by him fought the little consciousness I still had. So instead of doing what I should, I reached down to grab Fletcher’s hand and pulled him out of the elevator with me.
“I’ve wanted it since I first met you,” I boldly said once the metal doors closed.
Without another word, Fletcher started walking towards his office, towing me along with him. The combination of my excitement and the deadly alcohol contents of Valerie’s punch made me less graceful on my high heels than I would have liked, but I had more important things on my mind than my stability.
As soon as we were both inside Fletcher’s office and the blinds were closed, he turned to look at me. His pupils were so dilated I could barely see the blue of his irises. My already foggy mind became even more clouded as the intoxicating smell of his cologne filled my nostrils.
I closed my eyes and simply felt the heat of his skin approaching as his hand once more touched my face. This time, his touch wasn’t light and appreciative as it usually was, it was raw and domineering and scorching. My mouth barely had time to pull in a deep breath to alleviate my arousal, when Fletcher’s lips covered mine.