I had just turned thirty when this happened, before my liaison with my brother, and I'm not proud of it. I was the only "girl" in a software group and got my share of attention because of that. It wasn't always welcome, but this was before #MeToo. My coping method was to play along, and I admit to a fair amount of flirting.
The Christmas party took place on a Wednesday night in mid-December. Most everybody was there with their wives, husbands or significant others. I had to go alone, wearing a little cocktail dress that I would pull out of the closet and literally dust off once a year, as well as a pair of lacy black tights.
At the party, I meandered from cluster to cluster exchanging the usual chit-chat and badmouthing our least favorite customer with the guys. The single guys tried to come on to me, but I played the faithful (which I was at that point), if flirty, wife.
"Your husband couldn't make it?" asked one of the wives who was among a mixed group of colleagues and their ladies. Was she suspicious of me?
"Peter's getting back from San Diego on Friday," I replied, "so it's just me tonight," I giggled somewhat inappropriately.
I had visited the open bar three, maybe four times and had to excuse myself for the ladies' room a few minutes later.
The restaurant was a historic building and the path to the restrooms twisted around a couple of corners. When I emerged, one of my main flirts from the office was just heading to the men's room. "Hi, Connor," I said.
"Hi Pam," he replied, pleasantly surprised. "You are looking killer sexy tonight, I might say. if that's OK," and bent over to give me a kiss. I should have turned my cheek but it landed on my lips, though just a peck. "I've been wanting to do that for months," he added.
"Aren't you the naughty boy, tonight," I said. But I let him kiss me again, this time longer, and didn't pull it off when his hand landed on my breast. "Oh My," I said reaching for his crotch, "good thing it's too public here for this to go anywhere!"
"I know," he sighed. After an awkward pause, "You know you're my number one fantasy girl."
"Oh my, I'll have to process that for a while," I managed to reply. "And what happens in these fantasies?"
"Well, tonight it will be dragging you into the restroom and locking the door, hehe."
"Oh my! That could get us both in trouble," I laughed. "Maybe a better fantasy, you come by after Peggy falls asleep," I joked. Actually, I couldn't believe I'd said that. Surely he took it as a joke. Did his eyes widen? Peggy was his wife.
"That would be interesting, " he replied with a smile, but the conversation ended there. Did he even know where I lived? Yeah, their Christmas card that had just arrived. I'm sure Peggy sent it. Connor went into the men's room. I wandered back out to the party and didn't think much more about it.
Office parties like that end early and I was home by 10. I took three Advils to ward off a near-certain hangover and got into my nightgown. I sat on the sofa with a glass of tomato juice feeling lonely.
I must have drifted off to sleep right there because I was jarred awake by the doorbell. What the heck? What time is it? 12:30! Thank goodness I had set the juice glass on the table before I fell asleep. I almost took out the gun but decided to check the peephole first. Holy whatever, it was Connor!
I opened the door far enough for the chain to be taught. We still had door chains in those days. "Connor, what are you doing here!?!?" I asked, trying to reconstruct the earlier conversation.
"Well, Peggy is asleep. ... That was the idea, right?"
"Oh, my god. I didn't really mean that!" But I closed the door enough to take off the chain. "You better get in here," I said. I couldn't leave him standing out there in the apartment building hallway. Who knows who already heard him? But I should have sent him packing. Big mistake.
"Look, Connor, I know I'm a big flirt, but we're both married, right?"
"I know. But I heard you say Jerry won't be back til Friday. ... I thought, ... you know, ... in the hallway there, .... Fantasies and such."
"It's Peter, Connor." But I was flabbergasted. How had I let things get to this point? Well, let's change the subject. "Can I get you something to drink? A beer? Wine? We have some Scotch. Peter's a single malt fan."
"Sure. I like Scotch."
He followed me to our portable bar. I avoided Peter's most precious bottles and took the cork off a bottle of Glen Fiddich. "How do you like it?"
"Neat, if you please."
"Wow, a connoisseur." Should I up the ante? "Maybe you'd like this Suntory instead? It's not really Scotch but I like it, too."
"OK, Suntory. I've always wanted to try their whiskey. It's called Yakasaki, right?"
"Apparently, you know something about whiskey, but it's Yamakazi," I corrected. "Close," I allowed, trying not to embarrass him. I poured Connor's neat and generous. I couldn't handle much more after my earlier drinking, but with some soda, I took an ounce or so.
We sat on the sofa sipping our drinks. It dawned on me I was still in my nightie. At least it wasn't one of my see-through versions. We both sipped our drinks.
"You're such a sexy lady. God! Tonight! I almost fell over when you arrived."
"Why thank you, Connor. I pull out that little thing once a year."
"I'm sorry about the hallway. ... I'm sorry I came over. ... I shouldn't even be thinking ... I've never ...," but he leaned over toward me, "Oh Pam."
"It's OK, Connor. I'm sorry for being such a tease. I know people get the wrong idea. .... I haven't strayed, either." I replied as he leaned closer. Did I want this? "Oh Connor, I do like you."
Suddenly, we were kissing deep, passionate kisses. I didn't pull his hand off my nightie. I didn't stop his hand from wandering all over my chest. I didn't pull back when his hand wandered down to my belly and lower. And the bulge in his pants was so hard when I grabbed it.
Peter had been away so long. Nobody would know, right?