"I wouldn't even know how to ask," Beth said.
"Just walk up to him and ask him if he'd like to go out for a drink after work."
Beth rapped a quick, nervous beat on the steering wheel as they rolled to a stop in front of a red light. "That seems pretty harmless. What if he says no, though?"
"Then he says no. It's not like you asked him on a date. You're a couple of coworkers, doing the after-work thing. I bet he has a beer with the other VPs all the time." Adrienne managed a faint smile. "If it becomes a habit, then . . . you'll see where it goes from there."
Beth hmmed. "I'll do it. I'll ask him tonight."
"That's the spirit."
They found the parking garage. "So what about you?" Beth asked as she parked the car.
"What about me?" Adrienne said.
"Any significant others? Husband? Boyfriend?"
Crush? Adrienne thought and looked away. "No . . . I'm not looking for a man right now."
Beth nodded. "Too many bad experiences?"
"Something like that," Adrienne said.
The stark white lights in the parking garage drew their shadows out in front of them as they walked down the ramp. The clouds above the buildings had unraveled in enough places to show stars and a clear, dark blue sky, and Adrienne stared up at them. The walk to the hotel was too short, but maybe that was for the best.
"Around what time do you want to leave?" Beth asked.
Adrienne shrugged, opened the glass door to the lobby. "I don't have an agenda. As long as the sun isn't home before me, I'm fine."
Beth laughed. "Oh, I'll want to go before that. This kind of thing makes me uncomfortable."
"Really? I like dancing. There's never enough opportunity to do it."
"Mmm. I'm not really good at it," Beth said.
And then they were in the lobby, joining a trickle of others in formal clothes on the way to the ballroom the department had rented for the party. The company had stopped having official parties after they'd hit the 1000-employee mark, but the custom of getting together for the holidays had never fully dissipated.
Soft creamy lights illuminated the marble tiles in front of the ballroom, and Adrienne entered, pulled in the sight of the glittering chandeliers, the spotlit band, the broad dance floor and the people moving among candlelit tables. Beth had already moved away to greet one of her peers, and Adrienne watched her go with a slight pang. . . .
Then she glided off in search of friends and acquaintances. Dancing was not something she could do often: not the kind of dancing she wanted, cheek to cheek with a loved one. But there were enough men she liked in the department to at least see the floor.
#
Adrienne was sitting in a chair in the lobby, massaging her foot, when Beth joined her shortly after midnight.
"Dress shoes are uncomfortable."
Adrienne laughed. "They're not so bad, as long as you don't walk in them."
Beth rolled her eyes. "Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it."
"Kind of does, yes," Adrienne said, and got to her feet. "I take it we're ready to go?"
"I'm tired of going around in circles, making nice. Any more polite smiling and my face will crack off. Let's get out of here."
Adrienne followed her out onto the sidewalk. "Was it really that bad?"
"It wasn't bad, per se," Beth said. "I just wasn't having as much fun as some people. Like, say, a certain footsore order processor."
"You saw me?" Adrienne asked, a quiver running up her body.
"Oh, yes. Every time I looked at the dance floor you were with someone else, though. Preventing jealousy?"
"Jealousy!" Adrienne laughed, opened the car door and dropped inside beside the VP. "Please. Most of those guys are married, or not interested."
"I don't know. Even married people have fantasies." Beth backed the car out of the space, punched the button for the top and rolled to the bottom of the ramp. The wind ruffled between them. "I'm sure even the stodgiest has had a brief, wistful thought about you."
Adrienne chuckled. "Ah well. Too bad for them."
"That they're already attached?"
"That I'm not looking!" Adrienne grinned. "Besides, they have a powerful new vice president to have fantasies about. Why waste their time on a lowly order processor?"
Beth laughed. "Oh, that's good! Fantasize about me? Please."
Adrienne could not begin to answer the bitterness she heard in the woman's voice, and so she remained quiet. Only a few cars shared the interstate with them as they merged off the ramp. The roar of the wind made hearing difficult, but the fresh cold, even the humidity more than made up for it. That and seeing Beth's hair slowly unravel, wisps of it curling around her long neck.
"That's about as likely as them fantasizing about their mothers," Beth said when they came off the highway. She brushed her hair back impatiently at the first stop light.
"Beth, you did look in the mirror before we left, right?" Adrienne said, letting her head rest back against the seat and looking at her.
"But I don't normally look this way."
"Your face wasn't mystically changed by the cosmetics. Your body didn't transform when you put on that gown. All the things that make you beautiful are only augmented when you dress them up. You only highlighted them tonight."
"Me, beautiful."
"Yes," Adrienne said. "Your dignity. Your grace. The way you react to pressure. Your wry sense of humor. Your voice. The intelligence in your eyes. Your ease with your authority."
Beth glanced at her, eyes wide.
"Those are the things that make you beautiful. Not a thousand dollars worth of make-up and fabric."
They were silent after that, until the parking lot. Beth guided the convertible into the senior VP's spot and turned off the car.
"So, did you ask him?" Adrienne said gently.
Beth shook her head, her gloved hand still resting on the keys in the ignition.
"Why not?"
"I . . . he's my boss, Adrienne. I can't just . . . date my boss."
Adrienne frowned. "The real reason."
Beth paused. "I . . . guess I was afraid. Afraid he'd say no."
Adrienne reached over and took the woman's hands. "Beth! Beth. Why would he say no? Do you really believe he wouldn't be interested?"
"I don't know," Beth said, looking down at their hands. "All my life I've . . . well, I've never really thought about having someone. I wanted my career. I worked hard for it. And then I realized, a month after I took this position, that I was coming home to an empty apartment. That there was barely any furniture in my apartment. That I didn't want it to be that way for the rest of my life, but that . . . well, I'm running out of time. I'm not young any more, and I'm not the sort of woman most men my age are looking for."
"They don't know what they're missing," Adrienne said, and could not stop herself before she had leaned over and placed her lips on Beth's, licked the raspberry lipstick . . . fallen into the woman's open mouth. Her flesh pebbled into goose-bumps, but it was not just the cold but the heat.
Adrienne broke away abruptly. She couldn't bear to look over at Beth, but opened the car door and closed it, head down to hide her flushed cheeks. "Thanks for the ride," she said, and fled for the building.
A pause, then the sound of the car door opening, the click of heels on pavement and the hiss of satin and crinoline. Then Beth grabbed Adrienne's arms and turned her. Her breath came in soft white clouds as she panted, and her eyes were wide.
"Stop. Stop. What . . . what was that? What was that?"
"I'm sorry, I overstepped my . . . I didn't mean to . . ."
A fragile smile twitched on Beth's mouth, the outline of her lips slightly smeared. Her eyes were serious. "You're bending over backwards not to say it, so you might as well."
"I . . . can't," Adrienne said, trembling.
Beth cupped her face, met her eyes. "Whatever it was," she said, "Maybe we should try it again."
Adrienne wrapped her arms around t
he woman and met her halfway: raspberry-hot, her entire body an exultation.
"My God," Beth said afterwards, forehead resting against Adrienne's. "I had no idea. . . ."
"I didn't want you to know," Adrienne said.
"Not that you had a crush on me. That this would feel good," Beth said, chuckling huskily.
Adrienne blushed. "Beth . . ."
"Would you like to go out? For a drink after work."
Adrienne laughed out loud. "Beth!"
The woman grinned. "Well, you said it would be easy. It was pretty easy." She grew serious again and rested her hands on Adrienne's shoulders. "Will you? I . . . don't know much about this."
"This, what? Relationships? Dating? Dating a woman?"
"Any of it," Beth said, with a half-smile.
Adrienne nodded. "Mmm. Well, luckily, I can help."
"So we should try that kissing thing again," Beth said.
And they did.
"Tell me something?"
"Mmmm."
"Is that lipstick really raspberry-flavored?"
Adrienne laughed. "I think so. Try it yourself--it's all over me by now."
Beth grinned. "I have an idea." She trotted back to the car and started it, then rummaged through a CD-case. Choosing one, she slid it into the CD player and turned up the volume. A few minutes later, a smooth tenor started crooning 'Dancing in the Dark.' The woman lifted her arms. "I'm not so good at this, but it's something I'd like to learn . . . among other things."
Adrienne stepped off the sidewalk and joined her on the asphalt, taking her hands. "Oh, it's easy. Just let me lead."
The music filled the silence of the parking lot and they danced across the spaces reserved for vice presidents and directors, laughing. When the song segued into something a little more somber and they found themselves entangled, only their hips moving, Adrienne whispered into the nearby ear, "Ms. McKeane . . . is this skip-leveling?"
"Of the most severe degree," Beth whispered back. "I would discipline you, Ms. Carera . . . if I cared."
Adrienne giggled.
A little later: "By the way . . . the answer is yes."
"Hmm?"
"To 'will you have a drink with me.' Yes."
"Ah. Well, then, we'll see what goes from there . . . won't we?"
***
About the author:
M.C.A. Hogarth has been many things--a web database architect, product manager, technical writer and massage therapist--but is currently a parent, artist, writer and anthropologist to aliens.
Discover other titles by M.C.A. Hogarth at Smashwords.com
Connect with Me Online:
Twitter: http://twitter.com/mcahogarth
Website: http:/www.stardancer.org
My blog: http://haikujaguar.livejournal.com
Skip-Leveling Page 2