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The office holiday party was getting into its frankly carnal stage. Married staffers who wanted to steer clear of trouble were saying their goodbyes or simply walking away. Unmarried staffers, and some of the married ones who were looking for trouble, were visibly shifting gears, appraising their best prospects for ending the evening in somebody else's bed. Or simply finding some action in a shadowy corner of the large warehouse and gallery space the company had rented for the evening.

Music pounded from the d.j. and reverberated around the large brick rooms of the long-ago printing plant. Martin was on the prowl, no doubt about it. His fondest hope for getting something tonight had been Wendy, lovely Wendy who dressed as carefully and femininely as if she were an air hostess in the 1960s, but she seemed to be attached to Carl tonight. Martin supposed he should have guessed that. Mariah was a possibility, she was a little rougher and tougher than Wendy but that probably meant she was a wildcat. Or a lesbian. Hard to tell. In any case, he didn't see her. In fact, it looked like there weren't that many women to hit on left.

Then he saw Sharon. Sharon was kind of on the big side. Okay, more than kind of. She wasn't fat fat, but she was broad across, and she was stocky, and she had a kind of nerd-girl thing going, with pulled-back hair and black retro hornrims, which was appropriate because she was obviously smart as hell, to judge by meetings he'd been in with her. Martin didn't exactly go for the BBW type, but he didn't exactly not go for Sharon, either. There was something he'd found kind of a turn on about her nerd-girl thing and the way her ample bosom strained against her dress shirts, opening gaps between the buttons which flashed little bits of pale peach flesh. Or her chubby thighs extending from a plain-front skirt. She had probably put on weight fairly recently and her wardrobe hadn't quite caught up.

He pulled up next to her, with practiced casualness, and made a witty comment about a couple of coworkers who were obviously a couple of drinks past their limit. Sharon seemed to be amused by his caustic sense of humor, based on past experience, so she took it in stride. The conversation went easily, relaxedly. Sharon was more of a pleasure to talk to than many of the women Martin would have considered prime bedding candidates.

Then she asked out of the blue if it wasn't time for him to being looking for some hot chick to hit on. He wasn't surprised that she knew his reputation, and almost without thinking about it he shot back a glib response: what makes you think I'm not? With someone else this might have gotten just a knowing tease in return, but he knew he had miscalculated with her when he saw her face turn serious in an instant. He only half-heard what she muttered in response, but the message of it was obvious: don't make fun of me, just for your fun.

Now he had to backpedal, quickly and convincingly. Without laying it on too thick, he let her know that he wasn't making fun, that he'd always thought she was kind of attractive in a different way from the others. That there was no joke in what he said, and that ... he was interested in her, if she was interested in him.

She was skeptical. Why, so you can check me off your list of coworkers laid? No, because we'd have a good time together, he said. Yeah, I hear you're good at having a good time, she said. Is that so bad? he said. The question hung in the air, with no definitive answer.

Why don't you go get us a couple of drinks? she said.

He hurried back expecting her to have moved on, but she hadn't. Maybe there was a little hunger in her eyes, now, too, or something amused at the thought of what she was thinking of doing. Martin hoped that was what it was, anyway. They sipped their drinks and talked a little more, superficially, avoiding the big subject. Then she fixed him with a look.

I'm not going home with you. But find us somewhere we can make out.

The gallery complex had lots of dark and off-the-beaten-path places— small offices used for nothing now, stairwells, places where rooms had been cut in half, leaving odd-shaped nooks. Martin quickly found one and they squeezed into its shadows.

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Author’s note : apologies to Deep Purple: And yes I know the song is ‘My Woman from Tokyo’ ——————————- I work for an extremely large company that is based in Kyoto, Japan. The office I work out of, however, is in Seattle. On Friday, January 6th, 2006, I succeeded in bringing in a contract that would net the company $100 million. When I arrived at work on Monday morning I was immediately called into my supervisors office. When I went into his office all of the bosses of this branch of the...

Blue Collar Town

by Philip Johnson Chapter One Portsmouth, Ohio. It’s a blue collar town where the south flowing Scioto River joins the mighty Ohio River. Take away the rivers and there never would have been a reason for a town being built there to start with. Like so many times over the last few years I came in from Slab Run Road onto highway fifty two and passed the sign welcoming me to town adding the not so impressive statistic, population twenty one thousand. Of course that sign has been up so long now...

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