8 at every table

You try your best not to work so hard as to break a sweat. Melissa is right, you are only wearing a white button up and wearing a sweat stained shirt is not how you want to spend the evening.

As you place out chairs, you watch Miranda commanding the room, every single volunteer and organizer asking for her opinion and approval. She almost glows in her position of power, effortlessly making decisions and moving on. It's how you imagine her in the boardroom and in every aspect of her life.

You also can't help but notice Melissa, Miranda's daughter. Obviously cut from the same cloth, she is a **** in her own right. She is also quite stunning in fitted dress pants that show off her firm, round ass. Her blue frilly blouse a contrast to her mother's red, but no less attractive.

You swear you catch the both of them looking at you as you straighten out a table, pushing in the chairs so they are uniform. Neither of them look away as you look up at them. They say a few words before turning their looks back to each other. Where they just discussing you? You wonder. Hopefully they appreciate what you put aside to be here tonight. Your girlfriend would not be pleased you bailed on her. Amy would surely give you the cold shoulder at work. Who knows what might have happened with your sister Nicole.

Regardless, you are here now, and your going to make the best of it. You finish putting out the last set of chairs when Miranda call from across the room. "Ryan, can you grab a couple chairs for the reception table?"

"You got it, Miranda."

You head back to the storage room to gather the last chairs when you hear the storage room door close and lock.