Pre-Valentine's Speed DatingbyJ_R_Ashunwhy©
I watched the awkward expressions of each individual as they desperately tried to convey their life stories in the diminutive time frame allowed before my buzzer signaled to the room that it was time for the pathetic masses to shift one seat each to their left. I silenced the obnoxious intrusion to their anecdotes, cleared my throat, and then breathed seductively into the microphone before me. "That's time ladies, and gentlemen. Make any notes you wish on your dance cards, and then move to your next partner, please."
Some of the men stared wildly at me instead of doing as I asked, but I was not clueless as to why some of them paid more attention to me than to the sea of single ladies seated around them. Having been asked to dress for the occasion, I may have over done it with my deep crimson blouse--more transparent than not—that betrayed an impressive view of my lacy, black bra to the room under the intense lighting for the stage. There was also a tight, black pencil skirt cut far too short to be appropriate for work, and some rather sizable black, fuck-me heels to match.
By 'dress for the occasion,' my boss, Matt, had meant to wear red or pink surely, but he also meant to wear cute hearts, or heart shaped accessories. There were plenty of my co-workers who wore foolish headbands that had two glittered hearts perched on large springs, or heart shaped, rose colored glasses, and some had even taken to drawing hearts on their cheeks. I sported none of that cheap holiday wear, and none of my co-workers had taken the same challenge that I had; while they wore holiday relevant colors, many wore baggy shirts or sweatshirts, and jeans. By comparison to the rest of my female co-workers, I looked like an absolute slut desperately seeking a good time, but I had made my choice, and I owned the look while strutting into the room like I owned that too.
The outfit was intentional to not only have me noticed by Matt, but to make him speechless as well, and the attire more than accomplished that task. When he saw me, my boss was barely able to ask for my keys to help bring supplies in from my car.
"What if Mister Zimmermann happens to make an appearance today?" My boss panicked when he saw me.
"The company owner?" I laughed. "Like he would be caught dead at one of these things; no one ever seems to see him, even in the office. I couldn't even tell yah what the guy looks like."
"But...your outfit, Nancy!" The outfit was only part of the equation as to why these poor men kept their eyes on me instead of their 'dates'.
I knew the real reason why I had been made to make announcements for this awful excuse of a speed dating event--and why now many of the men present were staring disbelieving at me—in the first place, was because it had been remarked upon multiple times in the office that I had the sexiest voice when speaking over a loud speaker. I took my time when I spoke, I did not take deeply exaggerated breathes to disrupt my speech pattern, I made sure to enunciate, and though I was not conscious of the fact until it was pointed out to me, I deepened my voice into a melody-laced purr when I spoke into a microphone.
All of my co-workers were able to volunteer for their positions at the Valentine's inspired function that my company was co-sponsoring, and hosting in one of our facilities, but my boss insisted on me making all of the announcements in the 'straight' speed dating room to keep the men in attendance, drooling. Of course, he could not tell me that was the reason why I had been picked to speak, but the decision for why was obvious to everyone, and several of the other women made comments once he returned to his office. I had joked that my announcing voice would do just as well in our 'LGTBQ' speed dating room, but without a blatant explanation, I was denied, and so I thought to tease my unassuming boss with my scandalous attire as a kind of pay back for not being able to pick my own role.
After listening to the other women on my floor complain about my sexy announcing voice being too scandalous for a workplace within my earshot, but not directly to me, I wondered silently to myself if Matt also thought of my voice as being sexy. The more I thought about the question, the more I wanted to know what he thought about some of my other attributes. The men on our floor constantly complimented me for my curvaceous, hour-glass frame, for my dirty blonde hair that I always keep neatly styled, for my dark, piercing eyes, and for my flirtatious attitude. They were never crude with their compliments, and enjoying the attention, I always kept those remarks to myself. Matt never gave me the same kind of compliments, or the same kind of lavish attention, but I thought surely Matt had taken notice of all of my more seductive characteristics, too. I had surely noticed many attributes about him, and the more I noticed, the more I craved the same attention and praise from him as well.
My buzzer rang. "Maybe she's gorgeous, and hopefully he's charming, but it's time again to move one seat to your left, please." My announcement was only a brief distraction from my thoughts.
Matt wandered between the rooms of our event, and every once in a while, I would catch him watching me while I ran the speed dating event. Once, I caught him openly gawking at me; I smiled for him, and looked him over. If fancying my boss was not inappropriate enough, the age gap between him and I should surely need to be taken into consideration, but it did not trouble me. He easily looked old enough to be a father of someone my age, but that kind of age gap just made him seem more appealing to me. For as long as I could remember, I had always fancied older men.
There was a heightened sense of wisdom and experience projected in his salt and pepper hair; I thought. He kept his face completely shaven, now, after some of my co-workers teased him that he could dye his beard to match his hair, seeming how his facial hair was growing grey faster than the rest of him. At first, I hated them for that tease and for his knee-jerk reaction to it, but since he decided to keep his face cleanly shaven, I have been able to notice more faint lines at the corners of his mouth--to match those in the outer corner of his eyes--every time Matt smiled.
Those eyes...those icy blue eyes that shown brightly from all the years they have lived could ask anything of me, and I would comply just to watch them shine a little brighter every time I did something that pleased Matt. He loved to pick fights with me--I think to just watch how worked up he could make me--and the more passionate my arguments would get, the brighter his eyes would shine. I rarely lost any of our battles, but the ultimate goal of mine during our little play-fighting, was always to make him smirk. He still retained a kind of boyish charm in his smirks that made him look, and act altogether younger than what he was, but he seemed to reserve making the expression for a select few in our office.
There were numerous times that I would get him to smirk, that his own response would make him pause, and think while he studied me carefully. I always wondered what the seemingly simple reaction of his smirking at someone meant to him, and why it seemed to make him question my actions, but I have never asked. Instead, I gained a fondness for such little things, and cherished the moments I could make him forget himself around me. It was in those brief moments that I had his unfiltered attention, that I felt a mutual attraction between us was reciprocated, and I have been dying for an excuse to test that theory.
After watching the participants for a few rounds, and now hyper focused on my boss, I relented and agreed that Matt had made a very wise decision in making me speak after all. Not all of the women participating in the speed dating were very attractive, though to be fair, not all of the men were either. If the couples could not hold each other's attention, at least I held the attention of half the room, and kept them motivated to continue through to the end.
The piercing sound of my buzzer startled those not already watching me on the elevated stage at the front of the large room filled with folding patio tables and chairs. "Haven't found that perfect someone to be your Valentine's date yet? Don't despair...just move to your left, please."
I had to fight to keep the pleasant smile on my face while I reset my buzzer and looked over my time schedule handed to me by a co-worker when I arrived; there was still a whole hour allotted for this based on how many people had signed up to attend. I felt myself wanting to sigh, but I pressed my lips together, and held my breath while scanning over the new panicking faces before me. I wondered how long it would take for everyone to calm down and relax, but I guessed that in such a rushed environment, feeling comfortable was a luxury many could not achieve.
The woman directly in front of me suddenly sat up straight, and became very stiff. She looked at the man sitting in front of her with disgust, her face suddenly drained of all color, and then she began to look around the room as though she was seeking an escape route. The man sitting in front of her, now with a rather large, devious kind of grin, leaned in closer to her over the table, and said something that made the woman push away from the table and bolt up from her chair in one sudden motion. The moment of chaos caught the attention of a few people surrounding them, and the observers all looked quite distraught themselves while they studied the lone young woman standing. Between the random outburst, and my own preoccupied thoughts, I decided we could all use a break.
When my buzzer rang, I made the announcement. "Oh my, it is so heated in here, I feel we all could do with some air. We'll take a five minute break, and then resume one seat to our left."
The woman that had stood before me, gathered up her winter coat, and stormed to the door while swinging her coat over her shoulders as she walked. My eyes had followed her all the way to the door, but once she passed through it, I quickly retraced my glance back to the man that had caused the commotion. He was still seated with a smug little smile, waiting patiently for the next round to begin.
I watched him fold his arms across his chest, flexing some rather impressive muscles while he leaned back against his chair, and turned his face up to look at the ceiling. Over all, and from a distance, he seemed to process some dark, attractive aura that made him seem dangerous, and yet, oddly intriguing. His hair seemed to be the most immaculate part of him besides those bulging muscles. The top portion of his chestnut brown hair was slicked back to keep from falling in his face, but it looked like the rest of his hair was buzzed neatly. The over-worn t-shirt that he was wearing seemed dingy in comparison, and I doubted that the rest of his apparel hidden behind his table, was any better looking.
I inferred that his whole attitude, in conjunction with his attire, was meant to deny any sense of interest in the event his was participating in...but then, if that was the conclusion one was supposed to reach, then why was he participating? I thought about the woman's manic look on her face while she fled his very presence, and I found myself desperate to know what he had said to scare her.
He must have felt me staring at him; he cocked his head a bit, and then lowered his handsomely angular face to look directly at me. His smile grew for a moment while we stared at one another, and then he gave me a sly wink, and blew me a kiss.
I felt my lower jaw drop in reaction to his audacity, but I also felt a small perplexing tingle trickle down my spine. Before I could correct the slip, or debate my reaction to the stranger, I felt a gentle tapping on my shoulder. I quickly turned off my microphone, and turned in my chair to see another one of the male participants standing next to me. He stood up straight, and tried to puff out his chest, but there was no way for him to compete with the well-toned man I had been staring at.
"That, miss, is one hell of a voice." The man beside me croaked out, and I faked a smile for him like I had been told to do.
"Thank you." I purred, trying to still be polite; not knowing if my boss was watching.
The man nodded. "With a voice like that..." his cheeks burst into a dark red, and he swallowed hard before he continued in a hushed whisper, "...what I mean is...well...do you, um...are you a part of any, um...phone services?" He smiled, proud of himself for being able to ask his disrespectful question.
"Is that an example of the kind of pick-up lines that you've been using today?" I asked, aghast.
"Because I suggest you should stop using them." I snapped, cutting him off, and hoping to have discouraged any further communication.
"I'm serious." He proclaimed, frowning at me. "Are you apart of any phone service? And if you are, I would like to know which one, and by what name you go by, so that I could call you later."
His smug look of pride in himself made me sick, and I actually felt my throat close on me while my stomach lurched, threatening to make me gag. Just because I dressed up for this little event, did not mean I lived some secretive sultry lifestyle outside of work. I wanted attention today, sure, but from Matt. I wanted to receive compliments from Matt, not some random joe-schmoe, and as far as I was concerned, asking me if I was any kind of sex-worker, even just a vocal one, was well beyond what could be referred to as complimentary. For a second, I wondered if he would be stupid enough to start asking for prices of favors, too. Forgetting my assigned duty to be pleasant, and working myself up into a more volatile state, I was at least able to stop myself from trying to strike the clueless asshole standing next to me, but I was unable to stop all of my responses. "Get the fuck away from this table, and if I hear any complaints about you from any of the lady speed daters, I will take great delight in having you thrown out of here."
"Oh yeah," he shrugged, and pointed over his shoulder to the empty chair that had contained the mysterious man responsible for the outburst before the last buzzer, "you gonna have that guy kicked out too? Or are you just bitchy to the men trying to compliment you?" My eyes narrowed in rage, but I restrained myself, and seeing my commitment to behave on behalf of my company, his belittling accusations continued. "What, did they give you this room because you're some dyke, or something? Is that why you can't take a compliment from a man?"
"I believe the young lady asked you to leave." Both my harasser and I were startled to hear the voice of another man from my opposite side, but I quickly recognized the speaker as my boss. "And now, you are going to leave, this entire function, and not return, or I shall be forced to phone for the police, mister..." I felt my boss put a hand to my shoulder, and lean over me to read the name-tag present on the man's sport jacket, "Mister White. Continue to cause a disturbance on your way out, and I shall contact the police regardless, and offer them any personal information that you gave us upon signing up for the event."
The man glared at my boss standing behind me, shot me a nasty look of disdain, and then turned to leave. "Whatever," he mumbled to himself, "the bitch ain't that hot anyway." I felt the pressure of my boss's hand stay on my shoulder until the man had gathered up his coat, and left the room.
"Are you alright?" Matt asked me when I turned to look up at him.
"Yes, thank you, but I can fight my own battles." I took deep breathes to calm myself.
"I don't doubt that, Nancy," Matt chuckled, "but I don't need you killing anyone today either. It would look bad for the company, after all, if I allowed for you to murder someone during one of our events, and with the look on your face, that boy was going to suffer a slow, painful, public execution." He tried to tease me to lighten the mood.
"I wasn't looking for an execution, sir," I rolled my eyes at my boss, and smiled, "just for some manors to be learned, that's all. Seeming how this little event is for Valentine's Day, it would not have been such a stretch for me to have tied him up, and flogged him until he apologized...right?" I asked faking an innocent pout.
"You think of flogging when you think of Valentine's?" He snorted, and I shrugged while still trying to look more innocent than how I was behaving. Matt laughed in earnest, and shook his head. "When I was your age, I would have loved to have met someone like you, Nancy." His confession confused me, but before I could ask for any clarification, he leaned down to whisper a playful taunt in my ear. "Be a good little girl, and be nice to our guests, or you may find yourself being of one taught some manors."
Stunned, my almond shaped, grey eyes opened to the full extent that they could, and I bit my lower lip while trying to stifle my growing smile. My heart-rate quickened the longer he stood hovering over me. Wondering if Matt was taking the opportunity to look down my low cut blouse, and suddenly very eager to test if my theory of the attraction between us was accurate, I rolled my shoulders back towards him, and took slow, deep breathes to exaggerate the calculated raise and fall of my voluptuous pail breasts. I heard a faint moan in my ear confirm for me that he had noticed my actions.
I giggled softly to myself at the confirmation. "Hmm, thinking of ways to punish your naughty little girl?" I breathed my tease out of the corner of my mouth. Matt had always retained his composure around me, even during our play fights, and I suddenly needed to know if I could demand his complete attention and push him into a more authoritative role.
"Mine?!" Matt gasped. "My...naughty...little..." He started to repeat, but then stopped himself, and cleared his throat while shaking his head.
"Isn't that where you were going for that smart remark about punishing me?" I asked fearful that I had misinterpreted him. Maybe I needed to take the lead after all, or maybe he was not as interested as I had thought he was, but surely, the problem could not lay in the latter.
"That's not exactly what I was referring to, no." I turned my face just enough to catch the disappointed look in his eyes. I frowned, torn, while I looked over his perplexing expression, but he forced a warm smile for me. "I have no desire for women acting like little girls. I much rather prefer a more vengeful, strong-willed kind of woman...like the one I had to prevent from murdering someone on this stage..."
I squealed with delight when I comprehended his clarification, but before I could continue to tease him for it, my buzzer sounded the conclusion to our respite from the event. He prefers to see the more vengeful, strong-willed side of me? Then it was no wonder at all anymore as to why the man picked fights with me whenever he seemed to be bored at work. This whole time I thought I was flirting with him, and winning some unspoken game between us anytime I accomplished making him smirk at me, he had been flirting just as aggressively without me realizing it.
I turned my microphone back on, and made the announcement to continue the speed dating. I could not stop myself from smiling broadly over my epiphany. I noticed that Matt kept an eye on me while he walked off the stage, and while he toured the progress of the couples around the room, but his gaze seemed more suspicious than playful. Had I misunderstood him once more?
After a few more rounds, we had another disturbance. Just before my buzzer could signal a change in partners, one of the female participants shrieked loudly, stood up, and smacked the man sitting in front of her at her table. There was a collective gasp heard throughout the room followed by one man laughing while the stressed woman gathered her coat, and headed for the exit. When I finally located the scene of the disturbance, I realized the man laughing, was the man that had been slapped, and this was his second altercation for the afternoon with one of the ladies. As my buzzer rang out, I scanned the room again to locate Matt, but he was not present.