Join her

You may be competing with her for a promotion in another five or six months, but you figure you need a drink too, and truthfully fuck those stick in the mud rules.

You push your way into her office. Startled, Rebecca rapidly sits up, secreting the glass in her lap and elbowing the file cabinet closed. She was quite smooth and you aren’t sure you would have realized that her actions weren’t just the reflex of protecting client data rather than her booze. “I didn’t realize you were still here,” Rebecca offers, “do you want me to turn my music down?”

She’s clearly trying to bluff her way through this and you respect her efforts, but decide to cut through the bullshit. “Actually, you can turn it up, I’m the last one on the floor and I was headed home.” You continued, “but I decided to stop and see if I could join you for a drink.”

A look of guilt shot across her face. “I don’t think I could go out for a drink right now,” she keeps trying to bluff.

“You don’t need to,” you dead pan, “you just need a second glass for me.”

Her face drops and she can’t think of anything to say. The music changes to the next song right then and the quiet deepens the awkwardness of the situation. Then, in that awkward silence, you hear the vibration of her phone ringing.

Trying to break the awkwardness, you ask, “do you need to get that?”

“No,” she snorts and stifles a laugh. “I don’t.”

She glances at her laptop screen as the increase of the screen’s glow seems to indicate a notification or message. “Ah, fuck,” she gives in and brings her glass out of her lap, setting it down on her desk. She gets up and turns around, opening the drawer and bending over to mess with the alcohol. You can’t help but stare at her tight and plump ass as her pencil skirt stretches taught against her ass. As you check for panty lines, you don’t notice any, but her skirt does seem bunched awkwardly near her crack. You wonder if this whiskey drinking side of Rebecca would also be coming to work pantiles or if she was just wearing a thong.

She turns around and offers you a glass with a couple fingers of whiskey in it. You thank her and settle into one of her client chairs. As you start to talk about work she glances at her laptop guiltily. Seeing this, you ask, “am I keeping you from work?”

She types a few sentences on her computer before looking at you to answer your question, “No, I’m pretty much done, I just have a few things to clean up here and there, do you mind?”

“Of course not,” you say, starting to feel guilty about holding her up from work. “Would you prefer me to leave?”

“No,” she abruptly responds. She continues more calmly, “no, I appreciate the company.” More typing. As the song changes, you think you can hear her phone vibrating again.

“Are you sure you don’t need to get that?”

“No,” she responds firmly.

“Ok,” you change the subject, “you’re working on the Takehashi project right?”

“Yeah,” she answers shortly, then in an abrupt change of direction, “you’re married right?”

Taking a sip to clear your head of whiplash, you slowly answer, “yes?”

“I was just wondering if you would ever cheat?” She seems to realize how that would sound and corrects herself, “I mean, like, if you would know what makes some men cheat and others stay faithful?”