I'm Dating Our Mailgirl Ch. 13

We took an escalator up to the mezzanine floor where the ballroom was located. I spotted Terri Reid and her date, the corporate Comptroller Rebecca Howell, and waived to them. Terri broke out in a laugh as soon as she saw us and continued laughing as she made her way over to us. "Nine, I'm speechless. How did you have the nerve to wear this, this, . . . outfit?"

Nine gave it right back to her. "I just wanted to wear something that was work appropriate." Terri laughed again at her humor.

Rebecca had a stern face and finally spoke, "How could you wear something so scandalous?"

"You know, you didn't say a thing when I wore even less than this at Joyce's Thanksgiving dinner."

"That was different. You were working as a mailgirl that evening. This is a grand social gathering." Nine didn't respond. I think she just wanted to end the repartee. She turned her attention to Terri. Terri looked stunning in a rust colored dress that exposed her back and her shapely leg. Clearly she was wearing no underpants. She may or may not have been wearing a bra. It would be interesting to find out. The rust color was enough of a red shade to capture the Christmas spirit and yet it augmented and enhanced her auburn hair. I guess Rebecca wanted to go for the alpha top look and had on a formal pants suit.

Terri told 9, "Your jewelry accessories are stunning." She lightly fingered her earring and then hesitantly asked, "May I examine your nipple dangles more closely?" Nine assented, and Terri gently held the dangles on the tips of her fingers. But she didn't waste the chance to get in a feel of 9's tit. Nine smiled indication she was alright with the caress. "May I examine you pussy jewelry?"

Nine actually took her hand and lowered it to her cunt. Again Terri took one labia dangle gently onto her finger tips but quickly, since she was in the vicinity, allowed her finger tips to caress and then to actually massage, gently, 9's labia. Nine gave a shudder of pleasure. After a few seconds, 9 whispered to her, but in a voice loud enough for us all to hear, "Terri, if you don't stop that you're going to wind up with a hand full of pussy juice."

Terri laughed. "Alright, but thank you for giving me a foretaste of the pleasures that you have to bestow." Terri had a masterful command of the English language. It was made even more charming by the way she delivered it with her Irish brogue.

I smiled at both of them and noted, "'Foretaste'? Doesn't that indicate that there may be more to come later?"

"I would certainly hope so," emerged from her lips in a most charming Irish voice. None of the three of us did anything to discourage this flirtation. Rebecca stood aside with a scowl on her face.

Near the main entrance, two people were sitting at a table facilitating locating the table where people would be seated. I heard them tell several people that there were no assigned tables except for four VIP table. Rose Anderson was seated at the table, and I made sure we got into the other line. Rose was much too efficient and her line disappeared and we could not avoid moving to her place at the table.

"Oh, Monica, you are at one of the VIP table, table 3."

"Sweet, who else will be there?"

"Joyce and Olivia, David and Helen Brent, Larry and Amy Johnson, the head of IT, and Patricia and Omar Greene, the head of Marketing."

I turned to 9. "Wow, we're going to be in rarefied atmosphere tonight." Rose didn't mention 9 by name, or by number as it were. She didn't even acknowledge my plus one. This was a throwback to the first night we had run into Rose at the Blush N Blu when Rose simply ignored 9 as if she were a non-entity.

Nine spoke up, "Where will I be sitting, in the wait staff galley?" I felt that was a mistake, but what harm could Rose do to us?

"You will be at the VIP table."

I grabbed 9's hand and led her to table 3. "Well, we just cleared the fourth hurdle."

She looked at me with a quizzical look. "We cleared the fourth hurdle. Hurdle one was getting by the security guard. Hurdle two was David Brent accepting us. Hurdle three was Rebecca Howell not creating a scene. Now hurdle four was getting by Rose and actually finding out we've been assigned to a VIP table. I feel I should have worn gym shorts and track shoes."

"How many more hurdles do we have?"

"The next one is Olivia. She'll be at our table. And then there's the mother of all hurdles, Joyce." I squeezed her hand and looked her square in the eye. "Are you sure you're still up for this?"

"The finish line is straight ahead. I'm not dropping out of the race now." I gave her a passionate kiss as we paused at one of the tables in the back of the hall.

As we approached table 3, I spotted Olivia. She was wearing a brown pants suit that didn't even look like they were nice enough for work. Nine allowed herself an acrimonious remark. "They must be going to karaoke at a lesbian bar afterwards. Brown loafers, really?"

"Be nice, just because you are Cinderella arriving at the ball in your magnificent, uh, outfit, that doesn't give you the right to be catty. Be above that." I didn't see Joyce. Olivia had a giant grin on her face, but somehow I knew it wasn't because she was glad to see us. Not in the traditional sense of a friendly greeting between friends. Somehow, instinctively, I knew that smile betrayed a sinister, malevolent sense of joy at what was about to happen.

Nine squeezed my hand and said to me, "She's smiling. I guess we've just cleared the fifth hurdle."

"No, my dear, she's about to insert a high hurdle onto the track." With that Joyce appeared. She had an appearance as if her dog and her mother had both just died and she received an audit letter from the IRS.

She practically shouted at 9, "Get some clothes on, right now."

"No. You've never come up to me at work in the 6 months that I've been there and said, 'get some clothes on.' If I can't wear clothes at work, that I certainly shouldn't be required to wear clothes at our company Christmas party."

"Don't be so impertinent!"

With that, 9 turned to me and said, "I want a drink." She was holding my hand the whole time and guided me by the hand to one of the service stations set up around the room. "White wine, please."

"I'll have Black Jack and branch," I told the bar tender.

"Are you sure you don't want to make it a double?" she chuckled. I was glad she was still in good spirits.

"Maybe both of us need to brace for the rest of the evening."

Joyce was standing on the podium and indicated everyone should take their places at their dinner tables. We walked back to our table and we saw Olivia talking to one of the wait staff. He removed one of the silver and glass place settings. Olivia grabbed the plate he had just removed and placed it forcefully on the floor. He removed one of the chairs at the table.

Joyce was directing people as the came to our table, "Larry and Amy, over here please; Patricia and Omar over there. Mr. Brent and Helen, over there, please." By now Joyce and Olivia were standing behind two of the seats at the table. Mr. Brent naturally took the two chairs leaving two spaces between them and Joyce and Olivia. "Move over one seat, please. There's only one more person at our table." He obeyed her, but he was still trying to figure out the logistics. "Ms. Ross, you can sit here between me and Mr. Brent." Why was she being so formal? And what about 9. That's exactly what I asked her, "What about 9?"

"She will sit on the floor where all mailgirls deserve to take their meals." Nine looked stunned but still composed herself quickly enough to sit down on the floor. She tried to muster a polite smile. I was torn. I didn't know what to do. Do I join her on the floor? Do I sit at the table? Nine could see my dilemma and she said, "Well, take your seat, Monica. I'm sure Joyce and Mr. Brent are looking forward to your scintillating dinner conversation." That had the sound of a put down, but I thing she was giving me a signal that she was alright with this humiliation and my not rushing to her defense.

I sat down and nervously kept glancing at 9. The salad was served. Nine had no eating utensils; but she went along with what Joyce intended as her humiliation. She embraced this treatment, more as I had embraced Joyce's failed attempt to humiliate me by having me shower in the fishbowl earlier today. She grabbed the salad with her hands and ate it all. When the waiter came to remove her salad plate from the floor she told him, "That was delicious."

Next he placed the soup bowls around the table. They were the tradition dainty cups you come to expect when soup is served. But he had a flat traditional formal soup bowl which he placed in front of 9. There was still no soup spoon; but this didn't stop 9. She started lapping up the soup, a chicken consomme, like a dog. I could see her licking the bowl dry as she reached the bottom.

The waiter removed all of our soup cups and 9's bowl and asked each of us in turn if we preferred Dover Sole, Chicken Cordon Bleu or Roast Beef for the entree. He did not ask 9. I ordered Dover Sole. . . .for one. As he was serving us, Terri got up from her seat, about two tables away from us, but close enough that she could watch everything taking place at our table. She was carrying her plate of Chicken and her eating utensils. She sat the plate down on the floor and sat there next to 9. Nine looked up at her and the gratitude for this show of solidarity was manifest in her eyes. I was further shamed into confronting the fact that I had not made this gesture myself.

At this point, the waiter came back and placed a plate with a domed cloche in front of 9. He removed the cover with a flourish to reveal a bowl of hot steaming gruel, but still no utensil. She started to dip her face into the bowl, but Terri stopped her. She cut off three pieces of chicken and started feeding 9. Then Ted got up from his seat and came over carrying his plate of roast beef. "May I join you two ladies?" He sat down, cut some roast beef and likewise started to feed 9. Finally, I got some backbone and took my plate and joined them. Nine smiled up at me, "You didn't have to do this. I don't want you to get into trouble with Joyce."

"Yes I did. And I don't care." I moved her bowl of gruel in front of me. I've hinted previously at my becoming addicted to the gruel and its ability to induce sexual desire in me. I wanted to be aroused, as if I weren't already, so that 9 and I could make mad passionate love later. I didn't bother with a spoon, I just dove my face in and started ingesting the gruel. I came up long enough for air and I caught looks of bewilderment on Terri and Ted and even a bit on 9's face. Not because I was eating the gruel, she knew I was becoming addicted to it, but to the brazenness that I was scarfing it down so vigorously and seemingly enjoying it so much. My sole would have gone uneaten except for Terri feeding 9 an occasional bite. My display did not escape Mr. Brent who looked like he was making mental notes.

When dessert was served, a chocolate mousse, Ted started to serve 9 spoonsful. Mr. Brent said, "9, come over here, please." She moved the few feed next to him; she remained on the floor. He started feeding her spoonsful of mousse. I couldn't decide in my mind if this was a tender gesture or if he was condescending to 9. Nine didn't mind and smiled up at him with each spoonful. Whether Mr. Brent was indicating he was on 9's side or whether he was taking advantage of her subservience, I took this as an affirmative sign that he was on our side in the eventual fight with Joyce. As 9 turned to move back into our group, Mr. Brent placed his hand on her ass. Nine smiled back at him. I guess there can't be any harm in flirting with the boss.

AT THE HOP

Everyone in the room finished our meals. There was a dance scheduled. The dance floor was near the entrance of the hall, the other side of where we were. The music started and I asked 9 if I could have the first dance. We walked, hand in hand, through all the table giving everyone present a good eye-full of 9, not that they hadn't seen what was going on before. As is usually the case, the music was too loud for us to have any conversation.

The band started playing Hopelessly Devoted to You, and 9 and I fell into each other's arms. As the music ended, we made our way back to our table. We sat back on the floor. David and Helen stood up and walked over to where we were sitting. He addressed us, kind of looking between us and not really addressing either one of us. "May I have this dance?" Nine and I looked at each other. We smiled. I sought to clarify his request, "Which of us are you asking?"

Helen spoke up, "I want the red head."

We all chuckled at her enthusiasm. David then said, "Well, I guess I'm stuck with the brunette." Clearly, no put down was intended by his choice of the work 'stuck'. I think he was just building on his wife's enthusiastic opportunity to jump on the chance to dance with a naked woman.

We all walked to the dance area. I could see David giving the band a signal, and sure enough they started playing Hard to Say I'm Sorry. David used the opportunity to guide me placing his hand as low on my exposed lower back as he could. Helen was clearly uncertain of the protocol of two women going to the dance floor. Nine rushed in to make her at ease as well as she could using only non-verbal clues. She led Helen onto the floor. Helen wasn't sure what to do with her hands.

Nine asked her, "Do you want me to lead."

"Yes, I guess you better. I've never danced with a woman before." Nine put her arms around Helen and pulled her into her naked body. Helen was clearly nervous and I'm sure she was wondering if she had bitten off more than she could chew.

"Relax, Helen; this is supposed to be fun." She took Helen's right hand in her left hand but not before placing Helen's left hand on her ass. The were still close enough that I could hear 9 say to her, "You are allowed to rub it, if you want." Helen did so and got a huge grin on her face.

I smiled at Mr. Brent, who clearly had heard this conversation and I said to him, "If you lowered your hand six inches you could rub my ass." His hand moved down. "Are you sorry that I have a strip of cloth between my ass and your gentle hand?" Without saying a word, he moved his hand under the cloth so that he was massaging my bare skin. "That's much better," I whispered sensuously into his ear.

I drew his attention to Helen and 9, "They really appear to be enjoying their dance." He chuckled.

"Helen has really come around. She was livid when she found out we were going to be instituting the mailgirl program. I spent three days in the dog house. She told me she thought the concept was abhorrent and completely offensive. She asked me if we were going to be recruiting a bunch of pole-dancers, prostitutes or potheads." I laughed out loud. "What's so funny?"

"That's the exact reaction I had at first. But before I knew what was happening I was dating 9. I had my first lesbian relationship with her. And her with me."

"That's interesting. I didn't know that."

I continued, "I thought it was noteworthy that Helen, may I call her that, appeared to be taken aback by 9 and her, uh, waitress uniform at the Thanksgiving supper. She didn't look too happy."

"She wasn't. I got an earful at the end of that evening."

"What brought her around?"

He laughed. "Probably 9 taking Helen's hand and putting it on her ass."

I laughed. "Nine has a way of disarming people that way." The music was over and David walked me back to our table, or rather my spot on the ground next to his table. Terri asked 9 for the next dance. I remained a wallflower, but I was able to observed both of their hands all over the other. Next, Terri asked me to dance while dumpy Ms. Taylor asked 9 to dance.

As soon as the music started, a cover of Babe by Styx, Terri started in with asking me questions. "Monica, I'm interested in this dynamic between you and 9 and you and Joyce."

"Terri I only know two things about you. You are a free lance writer for magazines and a lesbian. Who's asking me that, Terri the magazine reported or Terri the lesbian?"

"Both."

"Is Terri the lesbian looking to expand her world beyond Rebecca Howell."

"Please. That relationship, if I can dignify it by calling it that, is headed nowhere fast."

"You two looked like you were hot and heavy."

"This is our third date. And if I'm lucky, it'll be our last date. Our first date was the Thanksgiving supper. It was an interesting evening, but the people I met there were the highlights of the date. After our second date, two weeks ago, I think we both realized there were no sparks being generated. When she invited me to be her date for tonight, I jumped at the chance, frankly hoping that I would run into you here. Nine and her scandalous behavior was just an added bonus. I assumed you would be here as Joyce's date. So what's the story?"

"Did I just see you take off your reporters hat and put on your lesbian hat?"

In one sense, I was flattered that she was fishing for an opening to ask me for a date. But in another, I was really bothered that not only was she not respecting my relationship with Joyce, but she wasn't respecting my relationship with 9.

I backed away from her on the dance floor. I became confrontational, "What happened? Were you not able to set up a date with 9 and now you're trying with me?"

"No, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. But the answer to your question is 'no'."

I came back into her arms, "I'd really be offended if you didn't have such a charming brogue," I smiled in a flirtatious way.

"I don't know what got into me. It really was improper. I didn't mean it the way it came across."

"That's alright. Maybe we just misunderstand each other, or the signals we were giving out." She kissed me, gently, but on the lips. We started walking off the dance floor, but I grabbed her hand to lead her back to where we were sitting. As we were walking up, I saw the most remarkable thing of the entire evening. Nine walked over to Joyce and asked her to dance. I don't know what she was up to. But I was anxious to see what would happen. Obviously Joyce had nothing but disdain for 9 as she was a lowly mailgirl. Yes, there were a couple of tender moments before and after the Thanksgiving dinner. But her true feeling came across quite clearly that night. Nine on the other hand had surprisingly made some comments that showed a bit of concern about Joyce. Clearly she was embarrassed by the events of this evening, but as I thought back on the evening, she bore the humiliation quite unemotionally.

The band was playing Bad Girls. Neither of the dancers was holding the other. Then the band went into Don't Stop Believin', the Journey cover. Nine took Joyce into her arms. Joyce responded by wrapping her arms around 9. Joyce embraced her in a business appropriate manner, but 9 repositioned Joyce's hands in a most-business inappropriate manner, except if the business was Seahawk Industries.

When that dance was over, Joyce instinctively assumed the role of the alpha lesbian and escorted 9 back to her position on the floor. I was grinning as I asked 9, "What was that all about?"

"No harm in schmoozing with the boss."

"Let me see if I understand this correctly, the same boss who humiliated you from the moment that we walked into this room?"

"My Lutheran parents taught me, 'If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also'. What did your Southern Baptist parents teach you?"

"Presbyterian," I corrected her. "I guess they taught me the same thing."

The rest of the evening continued the same way. Nine was definitely the belle of the ball being asked to dance every dance. It didn't matter, lesbian, gay, straight, they all wanted to dance with her, or get a chance to cop a few free feels. She danced with both Ted and Jennifer. The only people who didn't ask to dance with her, nor she with them, were Joyce's minions in HR, Olivia, Rose, Rebecca from accounting. Even Melissa, Joyce's secretary, who had always been gracious with me, remained aloof. I had no idea of her sexual orientation, but I guess she took the non-verbal signal and did not dignify 9's presence by asking her to dance.