The Luxury of Choice

The Luxury of Choice.

Gill watches the kids repeatedly shoulder barging one another, each trying to push the other off the path and onto the wet grass that bordered it, as they head down away from the front door in which she is stood, towards the car in which their father is sat waiting with the engine running, and his music playing loudly.

When the kids eventually reached the car, Gill shouts them her love. Tells them to be nice to each other. To have a good time. To say hello to Granny and Granddad, and that she'll see them Sunday. Each respond with a brief acknowledgement, before starting a short tussle over which of them will sit in the front and which in the back. Maddy, the elder by two years over her brother Tim wins as usual.

Their father, from whom Gill had separated a little over two years ago, due to his increasingly domineering behaviour, turns from watching the kids climb into the car, to look at Gill through his side window. She raises a hand to say both hello and goodbye. He gives a small nod in return, before engaging gear and driving off.

Gill steps back into the house and pushes the door closed. She needs to get a bit of a shuffle on. Like a myriad of others that Friday, the small Company she works for as an accountant was holding its Christmas party. A rather posh, black-tie event, at a very nice country hotel a few miles out of town. The Office had closed early, to give everyone enough time to get home, do whatever it was they needed to do, and then get to the hotel in time to meet in its bar for seven thirty.

Skirting around the small suitcase that was waiting patiently, packed and ready to rock at the bottom of the stairs, Gill makes her way through the sitting room into the kitchen at the back of the house, to complete the usual preflight checks. Cooker off - check. Backdoor locked - check. You know that sort of thing.

Returning to her case, she takes a half glance at herself in the mirror on the wall next to where all the coats hang out. With nothing amiss staring back at her, she selects one of the coats, retrieves her handbag and car keys from a little side table, picks up her case, and holding the coat under the same arm with which she carries the case, she opens the door, and steps out into the gloom.

Pulling the door closed behind her, she walks down the path to the road where her car is parked. Unlocking it, she drops her case and coat on the backseat, settles into the driver's seat, placing her handbag down on to the empty one next to her, sticks the keys into the ignition, twists them and starts the car. Then, pushing eject so that the much-played Metallica CD slides out into temporary idleness, and with the radio turned on, tuned in, and blasting cheesy Christmas music, Gill drives off, humming along happily.

The Hotel is a big old stone building. Having once been a country house for some now long departed members of the landed gentry. Its Reception is big, and still quite grand, though some of its opulence has been pared back to give it a more light, welcoming, and modern feel.

As there are a few other recently arrived guests in the process of checking in, Gill stands looking around, taking the surroundings whilst she waits for one of the smart and smiley receptionists to become free. And it is whilst Gill is engaged in this gazing about, that she spots Sam, one of her colleagues coming down the impressive staircase that sweeps into Reception from the building's upper floors. He has a big warm smile on his face, and he is heading straight for her.

Now it is fair to say, that Sam from Sales was blessed with a young man's cocky charm. It is also fair to say, that Sam from Sales, would very much have welcomed the opportunity to be cocky with Gill. A fact that he had never hidden. And it was an ambition he pursued whenever suitable circumstances presented themselves.

Whilst there was no doubt Gill enjoyed his attentions and was very happy to flirt with him in her own inimitable way. And whilst the appeal and potential of his youthful physic was far from lost on her, she'd decided from the moment his intentions had become clear, not to put too finer point on it, that she was never going to fuck him. There was, with him being a colleague and all, just too much potential for post coital yuckiness. And we not talking just wet patches here.

And to be fair, Gill had since the split from the children's father, been double wary about entering into any sort of relationship. Not because she was emotionally scarred or anything as dramatic as that, but because she was loving her independence. She could do, parental duties aside of course, pretty much whatever she wanted whenever she wanted to do it. The truth be known this translated into the odd Friday drink after work, or Friday or Saturday nights on the sofa with wine and her best friend Ness.

There was the uber occasional visit, again with Ness, to the local rubbish nightclub which was fun. Here she'd had a couple of snogs whilst her co-snogger had greedily handled her buttocks, which she'd quite enjoyed at the time. But she'd always ended up going home alone. However, the important point being, all this was her choice. And she loved it. Certainly, more than a quick knee trembler with a half-cut patron of a cheesy nightclub.

Anyway, always one to tell it as it is, Gill was equally as open with Sam about his chances, as he was with her about his ambitions. He was undeterred. She was happy to have him keep trying. And thus, they had become friends without benefits. Well, no physical benefits anyway. But there was always this mutually titillating teasy tussle going on.

Sam reaches Gill in Reception just as it's her turn to check in. They hug briefly. She picks up her case and steps forward to the desk behind which a receptionist waits. Sam takes a few steps forward too with Gill, then stops and waits for her. Formalities done, and key card to her room in hand, Gill returns to the spot to which Sam is temporarily rooted.

Turns out he's heading to the bar to meet a couple of their colleagues, and it goes without saying, he's keen for her to join them. Gill declines, on the grounds that she needs to get to her room, sort herself out, and get ready for the evening's corporate festivities. But she gives a thumbs up to his suggestion that he knocks for her later, so they can go down to the party together. Deal done, Sam heads off, and Gill watches him go.

She must admit, his bum looks good in those jeans!

Gill chooses to take the grand staircase, over the lift to the first floor where her room is located. The large landing and wide corridors are plushily carpeted, tastefully decorated, sparking in her a rather pleasant sense of anticipation, that the room will be something a little more special than your average chain hotel provides. Arriving at its door, she utilises the key card and lets herself in.

When the agreed to knock comes, Gill isn't ready. The room she's been given hasn't disappointed. Far from it. It's spacious, beautifully decorated and comfortable almost to the point of being, one might conclude, luxurious.

In any event, its effect was profound. And she had thrown her usual caution to the wind and opened the mini bar. From which, whilst laying on the big, beautiful bed wrapped in the super soft white towelling dressing gown the Hotel provided its guests, she had drunk two small, but exorbitantly expensive bottles of chilled white wine. Being not much of a drinker, the combination of the wine and the plushness of her surroundings had left her super relaxed and enjoying the feeling of being to the manor born. Albeit temporarily.

All of this adds up to, she'd spent too much time on the bed, sipping wine, and enjoying the shite programs that she had flickering on the oversized TV that stretched out along the wall in front of her. She had showered and was in the process of applying her makeup in the large non-mist bathroom mirror, when Sam arrived at her door. But that's as far as she'd got. So, it's in the white super soft dressing gown that she answers the door, and lets in Sam who, stating the obvious, points out that she isn't even dressed. And that they were meant to be joining the others in a few minutes"!

Gill contends she is almost ready. And it won't take her long, if Sam stays out of the way and lets her get on.

With Sam loitering near the bed Gill ducks back into the bathroom to finish her makeup, which she does in just two shakes of a lamb's tail. Then she's back in the room just long enough to grab her knickers and the deep green satin, backless halter neck evening dress, she's bought especially for this occasion, before disappearing back into the bathroom, pushing the door behind her so that it swings to being three quarters closed.

After a few moments, Sam manoeuvres himself in order to try and grab a shifty peek at Gill through the gap in the bathroom door. He sees nothing. Well, nothing of Gill anyway. Unrewarded he returns to the bed and sits down on the end. From here, for want of something better to do, he calls out to her, saying how nice the Hotel and the rooms are. With no response forthcoming from the bathroom, he continues his wait in silence. Looking around the room at nothing in particular. Interspersed with glances at his watch.

True to her word, after just a few minutes Gill emerges from the bathroom clad in her finery, eliciting a heartfelt exclamation from Sam, on how fabulous she looks. And to which Gill responds with a smile, a thank you, and a confirmation that she is ready, and that they should be going. Which they duly do, after she's picks up a small evening bag, removes her key card from the little slot by the door, and pops it into her bag.

As they walk side by side along the plush corridor towards the grand staircase, out of the blue Gill pipes up, "Did you see anything then"?

"When"?

Gill looks at Sam and pulls one of those, "really"? faces.

"When I was getting dressed".

"No". He confesses, adding, "Unfortunately", in a little act of rebellion.

"Oh dear. Never mind". She says brightly.

The bar is buzzing as Gill and Sam arrive, with the attendees from all the various functions being held in the Hotel all using it as a rendezvous point. Joining their colleagues, Gill and Sam are directed to a table bearing the name of the company for which they work, and some silver trays upon which are some pre-poured, but still chilled and fizzy glasses of Champayne. And with Champers in hand, Gill and Sam separate to mingle amongst their group.

The glass of bubbly done and dusted; Gill pops the empty vessel down onto a table which she notes still contains some unclaimed glasses of fizz. She briefly resists the urge to pick up another, before thinking bugger it, it's Christmas.

Turning to rejoin her group, a voice behind her asks, "Are you stealing our Champayne"?

Gill turns to find herself looking into the smiling face of a man. Like the other male guests, he's in black tie. Unlike the other male guests, or a lot of them anyway, his look nicely tailored and fit him well. The impromptu nature of the meeting means he and Gill have ended up standing far closer to one another than one would normally in such circumstances. But far from any feeling of discomfort, Gill finds herself enjoying the close proximity, and the smell of his cologne.

She laughs. "Sorry. Wrong table. I thought they were refills. I did think it a bit generous. But then again, it's Christmas isn't it".

It is the man's turn to laugh "It is. And you'd better be careful, otherwise you're going to end up on Santa's naughty list".

Warming to the exchange. "Oh, I am good"! Gill assures him with deliberate ambiguity.

"Well, I'm delighted to hear it. Enjoy the Champagne, and I hope Father Christmas is good to you!"

Gill lingers for a moment or two, during which the two of them look at each other but say nothing. Then she turns and rejoins her colleagues, who are just being called through to dinner.

Gill tags onto the back of the departing group. But she can't resist a quick look back. The man is still standing there watching her as she goes. He then raises a hand, waves her goodbye, and at the same time, he very distinctly mouths the word, "beautiful"!

Gill smiles back at him. Turns and files out with the others. Acutely conscious that he is watching her move, and that she's enjoying him doing so.

Dinner is held in a private dining room, and there is a small lake of wine drunk to wash down the delicious food. With the meal over, everyone is invited to head to the Ballroom where the festivities would continue. As the people rise to leave, Sam joins Gill to do just that.

As one would expect, the Ballroom is a big space, with many original features, including four huge chandeliers, still in evidence. For this evening, the original features are augmented with just the right amount of tasteful Christmas decoration.

One enters the room through another original feature, a set of old oversized polished wooden double doors. Opposite these at the far end of the long room, stands a stage where a small group of musicians are already gainfully employed in, blowing, striking, and strumming out appropriate tunes for the audience. Some of whom are already up and dancing, whilst others sit or stand around, drinking, chatting, laughing. All are enjoying la bonne vie.

A few steps into the room Sam leans in towards Gill, so he could be heard above the music and the merriment and asks if she wants a drink. Of course, she says. A gin and tonic with lots of ice, thank you very much. Sam nods and peels off to the left towards the bar. Gill steps further into the room, looking for their colleagues.

Spotting them a way down deeper into the room, settling around a collection of hitherto unoccupied tables and chairs. She sets off to join them. Having to walk nearly the entire length of the very long room, Gill takes the chance to look around and drink in the atmosphere. She feels good.

It would be a lie to say that Gill doesn't notice one or two appreciative glances, cast in her direction as she makes her way through the other celebrants. She sees them and allows herself a private little smile. Then she spots Champagne Man. He's on the edge of a small circle of others, all of whom are standing around, making merry, and tucking into glasses of whatever. He hasn't seen her.

Giving herself a little surprise, Gill subtly alters course to take her in the direction of the group of which he is a part. The closer she gets, the more she's aware of a fluttering in her tummy. A few feet from him, he still hasn't spotted her. Almost upon him, and he STILL hasn't looked in her direction. Directly behind him now, and still unnoticed, she edges in towards him just enough to brush her shoulder across his back. And then she's passed.

For the second time in a few hours, Gill turns and looks back over her shoulder at him. BOOM, mission accomplished! For once again he is patently enjoying the movement of her body as she walks away.

Flushed with success and a fair few drops of Oxytocin, Gill gives him one of those sorts of smiles that says everything and nothing. Turning to face front, she unashamedly she applies a smidgeon more sexy to sway of her hips, for the next half a dozen or so steps. After which, she resumes normal service as she is both out of his eyeline, and approaching the tables about which the rest of her party are gathered. Joining them, she pops her recently admired bottom down onto one of the few vacant seats and joins in the general banter.

Several minutes later, Sam arrives with the drinks. Gill looks up at him smiles and thanks him as he hands her the gin and tonic. Then she returns to her conversation with a female colleague called Sue, who is roughly the same age as Gill, and to whom she is sat alongside. They'd opened their chat about how nice the Hotel was. They'd asked each other if they had enjoyed the meal, which they both had. And when Sam arrives, Gill is listening to Sue telling her it's a bit of a shame that her partner couldn't make the evening, due to a clash with his own company Christmas do.

With no vacant chair in the vicinity, Sam looks around for one to commandeer. Spotting a likely candidate, a little way back up the room towards the large doors through which they had all entered, he puts his drink down on the table and sets off.

When he is a few steps out and out of earshot, Sue abruptly changes the direction of the conversation to Sam. Nodding in the direction of the temporarily departing Sam, Sue gives a chuckle, raises her eyebrows and says, "Nice bum"! It was at the same time a statement, and an invitation for Gill to make some sort of proclamation. Instead, Gill gives a half laugh too, and looks in Sam's direction, who was now returning with chair in hand.

"Mm". She said.

Sam pops the chair down and joins the two women, commenting on how warm it is. Sue pipes up that it's because he's sitting next to two very hot women. Sam laughs politely and agrees.

"Smokin'"! He says.

Some time and some drinks later, and with the band having been replaced by a disco, a few of the woman in the party get up and head to the dancefloor, encouraging Gill and Sue to join them. Leaving Sam, Gill weaves her way through some of the floor's other occupants, to join her friends already there and doing their thing to the music.

Some tunes and many moves later, the number of Gill's dancing colleagues has whittled itself down to just two, Gill and one other, although the dancefloor is still busy.

Gill is just about to abandon the dancefloor, at least temporarily, when Sam emerges through the other dancers and takes up a position at what he obviously considers an acceptable distance from her. Pleased to see him she dances with him face to face, moving with a newly restored enthusiasm. This time it's her turn to watch and enjoy the movement of a body. Namely Sam's, who she decides, isn't at all a bad mover.

Sam starts to drift in ever so gradually closer to Gill, until he is no more than an inch or two from her, mirroring the movement of her body with his own.

He makes some half-arsed excuse about there being so many people, it was difficult to find room to move. Gill accepts this as the bollocks it is, but she doesn't care. It feels good to have him moving so closely to her. She turns her back to him and closes the gap further still, so that now her bum bumps rhythmically against his groin as they move.

The surroundings. The atmosphere. The music. The kiss of Sam's body against hers, and the gentle bumping of his groin against her bum as they dance, combine to and give her the sort of woosh you get in your stomach on a fairground ride. Only this woosh was a little further south. And it was hot and delicious!

As the last few bars of the tune to which they are dancing fade away, instead of the next piece of music emerging from its tail, the little bit of feedback that occurs when a microphone is switched on, comes over the PA.

Gill and Sam bump, and then grind to a standstill. They glance at each other briefly, and then turn to look towards the stage.

A man, wearing the ubiquitous black tie, microphone in hand, announces that it's time to draw the winning ticket in the charity raffle. That charity being "Marshmallow", a local charity for underprivileged children. He confirms the prize is one night's accommodation and breakfast in the Hotel, plus a free treatment in the spa. He thanks everyone for their generosity, asks the DJ to pick a ticket from a wine bucket, and announces that the winner is, someone or other neither Gill nor Sam has heard of. Neither were either of them aware there was a raffle in the first place.

Gill and Sam find themselves in a state of limbo, whilst the winner makes their way to the stage to receive the voucher for their prize. Sam still an arm around Gill's waist, his hand resting on her hip. For a moment neither of them is not quite sure what to do next. Without the cover provided by the music and the other dancers, exactly what's what here is exposed. And they both know and feel it.