The Office Party

Part 27

The next Friday, Diana drifts down to Accounts at about half four in the afternoon, and sits with me while I finish up the work I was doing. In fact, she first makes us both a cuppa, then just sits there quietly in my cubicle, reading a file, while I finish what I was doing. It feels nice that she has assumed we will leave together and go on somewhere. It feels nice to assume that's why she's there.

Suddenly, I worry that maybe we're assuming different things. I push back from my desk and swivel on my chair to face her. She glances up at me, over the top of her reading glasses. She looks so much like a carefully studious lawyer at that moment, and I smile. 'Um. I assume you're here to ask me out for a drink after work?'

Diana closes her file carefully, keeping a finger between the pages she was reading. She smiles, a smile I am beginning to realise she can produce much more easily than I thought. I've only ever seen it a few times, and mostly just since the week before, but it's a nice smile. I like to think it's a smile she only lets loose on special people, which is why I'm seeing it now. She pushes her reading glasses up onto the top of her head. 'Well, yes. That would be very nice for me.' She shrugs. 'But, it wasn't just for that. I did also come down here because the top floor is like a fucking ghost ship at this time on a Friday, and I like your company.'

Inside, I smile to myself. I wave a hand vaguely in the air. 'We can play Spot The Ghost down here too.' I push my char back a bit and stand up. It may be that my skirt just happens to be a bit short today. It may be that I was half-hoping Diana would come and find me, and my choice of skirt is deliberate. It's certain that she watches the way it slides over my thighs as I stand up and look around the empty office and as I sit down again and cross my legs.

'Exactly,' she says, not quite managing to drag her eyes away from my legs in time. 'It's nice to...I mean...' It's not like Diana to stumble over her words. I wait, and she recovers herself. 'I can read as well here as in my office. And it's nice to sit here quietly with you.'

'And there's cake.' This week, I've left some surprisingly successful banana bread by the kettle. I know she's tried a slice, while the kettle was boiling.

She grins. 'There is. And very tasty it is, too.' She sits back and crosses her legs and lets her gaze stray over me again casually. I suppose it doesn't matter because there's only the two of us on the whole floor anyway, so I enjoy it. She puts her file to one side, open on my desk so she doesn't lose her place, and takes her mug and sips. 'I don't suppose Michelle has chosen Toby's cake yet, out of the shortlist?' Her eyes stray down me.

'Not yet.' I like the way we're talking about cake, but she's blatantly checking me out. I tighten the way my legs are crossed and fiddle with my earring under my hair.

'Shame. Any chance of you sending some supplies up to our floor anyway? We were beginning to get used to the regular treat.'

I point at her. 'Ahah. I know your game, Diana. You're down here because you just want to eat my cake.' Inside, I am delighted she likes my baking. It would be silly to deny that I'm also slightly aroused by how she's looking at me – she's not even trying to hide her interest. I make a mental note to deploy this skirt more deliberately in future, but enjoy her blatant interest now too.

She grins and clicks her fingers. 'Damn. Found out.' She looks at me carefully for a second. A look both sexy and mock-suspicious. 'That's not a euphemism, is it? Eating your cake?'

I chuckle. It could be. I didn't mean it as such, but it definitely could be. I can't help thinking about what she might do to me, if it was. I can't help liking the thought, as well. I shrug. 'Could be.' I lean forward and drop my voice. 'If it were, though...I'd, um, bake for you at home.' I smirk at the silliness of my extended analogy, then catch and hold her gaze. 'I'd want my cake to be nice and fresh and soft and warm for you. To eat.' I blush at how suggestive I suddenly sound. 'And you wouldn't have to share.'