Drinks After Work

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Drinks After Work

Marianne Miranda's phone call finally ended, and she stepped back into the bar.

As she rounded the corner, she was surprised to see only one work colleague, Braden Green, still seated at the table.

"Where did everybody go?" she asked, confused since there had been over a dozen people there fifteen minutes earlier before she stepped away to take the call.

"I didn't realize you were coming back," Braden explained. "I think they thought the big boss left, and folks used that as an excuse to get home to their families."

"But you stayed," Marianne asked curiously.

"I don't have a family," Braden answered curtly as he held up a half full glass of beer.

Marianne looked Braden over with disdain, but then she caught herself and faked a smile. He was young, 24 years old, and cocky. He had a reputation as a womanizer who had, according to rumors, bedded at least six women at their workplace.

Marianne was 47 years old and a senior director at their company, having risen up through the ranks over the course of her 25 years at the corporation.

"Do you want me to order anything for you?" Braden offered.

Marianne was about to excuse herself, but her ex had called and said he was increasing his alimony request, which infuriated her, and a shot of liquor sounded appealing in the moment.

"A Long Island, please," she decided.

"Be right back," Braden smiled.

Marianne knew the real reason her ex asked for more money, which was because his new, much younger girlfriend was bleeding him dry. She was still furious that he left her, and now they were entangled in messy divorce proceedings. He cited emotional negligence and refusal to have kids when his lawyers served the divorce papers. Privately, he said she was married to her job, and while it was true she worked hard, he had no qualms about enjoying the money and comfortable life her hard work afforded them. And then two weeks after separating, he announced he had a girlfriend who was twenty years younger, although Miranda blamed the new girlfriend for her separation, even if she couldn't prove their affair started before then.

A few minutes later, Marianne was seated at the table and sipping on a long island iced tea while sitting across from Braden.

"You know, you've got a reputation at our workplace," Marianne said, curious how he'd react.

"Good or bad?" Braden pondered, playing coy.

"There's a lot of gossip about you," she pressed on, although she had to admit none of his affairs ever caused workplace or HR issues.

"People will always talk," Braden replied tersely. "I don't kiss and tell."

"I don't get it. What do they see in you?" she asked outright.

Braden was undeniably good looking, about six feet tall and 175 pounds with a mess of dark hair on top, but he was little more than eye candy. Supposedly, he went to college on a baseball scholarship, and he still had an athletic, toned build.

She couldn't imagine what the women at her workplace saw in him besides the superficial. He'd worked there for nearly two years, and he was still in an entry level position, so he wasn't drawing a huge salary to wine and dine his paramours.

"Whoa, why the tough treatment?" Braden protested as he threw his hands up in the air, feigning innocence.

"I'm sorry, maybe I overstepped the line there," Marianne admitted.

"Listen, at this point, my reputation seemingly precedes me when it comes to women. But I don't even seek them out."

Marianne just rolled her eyes as she took another sip of her drink.

Nevertheless, her gaze lingered on him for a long moment. He carried himself with an air of confidence, which she supposed came from his background as a jock. He was like the male version of her husband's new girlfriend, like pretty window dressing with precious little else behind the curtains.

Men like Braden irked her. She thought to all the arrogant and entitled men who had made romantic passes to her in the workplace over the years, and Braden reminded her of all of them.

She begrudgingly admitted Braden's affairs seemed like dalliances rather than anything nefarious where he was trying to sleep his way to the top. She'd heard the rumors about how he slept with a half dozen women in the company, although she assumed those were all entry level women, similar to himself, who were single and playing the field.

Nonetheless, as the troubles in her own marriage and separation came back into her mind, it made her wistful for the carefree days of her youth before love and relationships got complicated, before she had a husband leaving her for someone twenty years younger.

"Where do you see yourself in five years?" Marianne asked, thinking she'd give him a bit of life advice.

"Is this an interview?" Braden laughed.

"Not exactly," she admitted. "But I've seen people make poor choices, mixing workplace with romantic relationships, and it gets messy; it causes issues."

"I'm kind of just enjoying life right now," Braden explained. "I mean, I'll probably settle down at some point, but that's just not where I'm at right now."

"Just a fair warning," Marianne cautioned, "our industry is a small one, and people hop from company to company, so that everyone knows everyone after a certain point. Even if you go to another company, reputations precede all of us. Sometimes indiscretions can have unintended consequences down the line. It's hard to live down a poor reputation."

"Well, I don't kiss and tell, like I already mentioned," he defended himself. "Anything you've heard came from the women talking, not me."

"I get it. You're young and want to play the field. It's just, you're playing with dynamite with all the workplace affairs. If you dated outside the workplace, it wouldn't be an issue."

"You know the hours we pull," Braden protested. "We all work closely together, so we form emotional connections. Besides, our long hours don't leave a lot of time to meet people outside work."

"It's just some friendly advice," Marianne said as she took another sip of her long island iced tea. "I don't mean to offend you."

"Does anyone care? Why is it anyone's business?" he objected. "I keep my personal life out of the office. What does anyone care what I do on my own time."

"Look, far be it from me to give anyone relationship advice," she replied. "I'm going through a divorce myself. It's just... just..." but her voiced faltered, and the words failed her.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Braden responded sincerely.

"It's not your burden," Marianne sighed as she wiped away a tear.

Braden reached across the table and put his hand on hers, which almost made her jump, but his touch was strong and calming.

"He's a fool," he assured her.

"I wish I could believe that," she said as she took a deep breath and steadied herself. "He makes less than half of what I do, so he wants alimony, and he's already moved on and has himself a hot new, much younger girlfriend, and I'm basically financing it all." It all just came out before she even realized it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw a pity party."

"You're a catch, I hope you don't mind me saying," Braden said earnestly.

Marianne smiled. Her marriage had started crumbling years ago, the romantic spark having long since died, only to be replaced by complacency. Still, she had no inkling of her husband's displeasure, and the separation hit her like a brick wall, filling her with self-doubt and shattering her sense of security, plunging her into a suddenly uncertain and lonely future.

"Thank you for that," she smiled demurely.

His kindness surprised her. She assumed that Braden was shallow and superficial, but his face showed a genuine concern for her well being that caught her off guard.

"Maybe I misjudged you," she admitted begrudgingly.

"Can't judge a book by its cover," he reminded her.

"Is that what you tell all the girls?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Come on," she eyed him warily. "Look, I appreciate the kind words, but is this all just a game to you? You see a vulnerable woman, give her a little attention, show a little empathy, and then they're eating out of your hand."

"Have you always been this cynical? Your ex must have hurt you bad," he said as he shook his head.

"Just a realist," she deadpanned, but inside she was churning, his question striking her to the core. She used to be an optimist, but the separation had soured her outlook on life, turning her mood decidedly negative and downcast.

Marianne had always been a driven, hard-working woman, only now she realized how devoid of joy her life had been the past few months as the reality of her impending divorce weighed her down.

Again, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I think I owe you another apology," she admitted.

"That's twice in one night," he noted with a wry smile. "Is the Ice Queen finally thawing out?"

"Ice Queen?"

"Maybe I'm not the only one with a reputation at work," he grinned.

"People don't really call me that, do they?" Marianne questioned. "I mean, I know I can be uptight sometimes, but Ice Queen makes me sound like a bitch."

"People talk," Braden replied as he looked down at his drink. "But like I said, you can't always judge a book by its cover."

Marianne sighed all over again. "I suppose you have a point. Again."

To her surprise, she felt a newfound fondness for Braden. She wondered if it was just the alcohol taking effect and lowering her inhibitions, but then again, maybe he wasn't as shallow as she initially assumed.

"Do you come here often?" she asked.

"I do. I live in the apartments just a block away," he answered, gesturing down the street.

The sting of her separation, the rejection still left her reeling, wounding her sense of security and identity, especially when her ex had moved on from her so easily. Her parents had passed away several years ago, and she was an only child, so with no other close friends, she had no one to confide in about the separation.

The prospect of starting over again in relationships, in life, seemed daunting. She was 47 years old and felt the weight of the years in her aching bones and sore muscles every morning. Still, even though she didn't work out, she carefully monitored her diet, so she maintained a 34-26-35 figure with 125 pounds on her 5'5" body.

She'd even lost a few more pounds recently, the separation causing fits of depression, making her lose her appetite where she often worked through the day and skipped lunch. She'd recently begun coloring her dark hair to hide the greys, but the lines on her face were creeping in and growing deeper. Make-up smoothed them over, but that felt like a mask she wore into the world. She knew those lines, those wrinkles, the signs of old age were still there. The passing of time, of life passing by weighed on her.

But it felt good just sitting in the bar with Braden and forgetting about the troubles in her life, or at least being able to talk about them.

As she sat alone in the bar with him, a fanciful thought crossed her mind. A temptation. An opportunity. At first she dismissed it as impulsive and reckless, but it wormed into her mind perniciously with each smile and glance they shared as the conversation took on a decidedly friendlier and even flirtatious tone.

The longer the thought lingered in her mind, the more the fact that it was impulsive and reckless appealed to her. As she took another sip of her long island iced tea, she wondered if it was the alcohol affecting her mind. She stirred the little straw in her drink and came to a realization. For at least one night, she didn't want to be herself. At least not her old self. Not the woman in a failed marriage whose husband left her for a younger partner.

Maybe it was for all the wrong reasons, but she had a handsome young man sitting across from her. She had cautioned him earlier about workplace affairs, but he had insisted he didn't kiss and tell, she reasoned.

If he'd slept with so many co-workers, then he can't be that selective, she rationally assumed. Nevertheless, she was so much older than him and didn't think she could take another rejection while still reeling from her separation.

As she moved the hair from her eyes, her hand landed back on the table and accidentally brushed against his. It was accidental, innocent even, but she felt an undeniable spark, and her skin tingled. They looked at each other, and she smiled in embarrassment, although she didn't know why.

"Do you really live a block away?" she asked.

Braden's eyes widened, clearly surprised by her question, but he quickly recovered and tried to play it cool.

"Yeah, it's just a short walk," he answered and then paused, cautious if he was misreading her intentions. "It's a small place, but I could show it to you if you wanted to stop by."

Now it was Marianne's turn to pause. She considered if she might regret her decision come the morning but decided to throw caution to the wind.

"I probably shouldn't be driving," she responded as she held up her nearly empty drink, thinking it sounded like a reasonable excuse. "Maybe I could stop by for a spell until the alcohol's passed through my system."

A grin spread across Braden's face. "Yeah, I'd like that. Do you want to go now?"

Marianne looked down to the floor as she smiled shyly and nodded her head.

She put on her thin jacket as they got up from the table and then followed him out the front door. Her heels clicked on the tiled barroom floor as she followed the young man across the bar while still dressed in her knee length black pencil skirt and grey blouse. Her pulse raced as she swore she felt some of the patrons watching her, judging her for leaving with a man literally decades younger.

At first she ignored the glares, but the bar was a frequent happy hour hot spot for her workplace, and she quickly scanned the crowd, fearful that someone might recognize her leaving with the company lothario, but she breathed a sigh of relief when she only saw a sea of strangers.

There was a chill in the air that hit her stockinged legs as they stepped out to the sidewalk.

"It's just down this way," Braden gestured as he put his hand on the small of her back, and chills went up her spine.

She tried to discreetly take slow breaths, to calm herself down, but her pulse was racing. She stood up straight and held her chin up high, trying to exhibit an air of confidence, even as her legs felt weak like jelly.

Even in her heels, Marianne was several inches shorter than Braden, and she snuck glances at his clean-cut face and lean body as they made their way, only now the tingling wasn't in her arms or spine. It was in her moistened panties.

They made small talk as they walked along, but the conversation was in one ear and out the other. Her mind was awash in a million thoughts all clamoring at once.

She was a senior director letting one of the most junior associates take her home. Let alone the fact that he was a work colleague known for sleeping around in the office. Or the fact that he was literally decades younger. If word ever got out, she'd be office gossip fodder for years.

And yet all of that only titillated her and fueled her lust. Maybe the alcohol had clouded her judgement and lowered her inhibitions, but she didn't care.

Before she knew it, Braden pressed a code to enter his building and then quickly whisked her on an elevator to the 4thfloor. The moment was surreal, and she felt as if her feet were floating across the floor until they finally came to a stop at his apartment door.

Braden fished out his key and unlocked it, and then he stood aside to let her enter first.

The apartment had all the hallmarks of a post college bachelor pad. There was a row of empty liquor bottles proudly on display above the fridge as well as various sports posters that served as wall decor, but the apartment was otherwise clean and uncluttered, if spare and basic.

"Let me take your jacket," he offered after closing the door.

His hands grabbed the collar of her coat as she let it slide off her shoulders and arms. As it came off, she couldn't help feeling that he was consciously taking the first step in undressing her, and her arms felt suddenly bare since her blouse sleeves only just reached past her elbows.

"My place is small" he said apologetically as he hung her jacket in the entryway while she took a seat on the sofa. "You can see my whole place from where you're sitting. The kitchen's right there, and those two doors lead to the bedroom and bathroom."

Marianne looked around and couldn't help wondering how many other women from her workplace had ended up alone with Braden in his apartment before her. She'd heard all the rumors, how he'd bedded several of the girls in the finance department, and there was even speculation he had bedded one of the business development managers after some folks saw them getting handsy at the Christmas party.

"You've got a nice place. It's a great location being in a walkable neighborhood with so many restaurants and grocers nearby," Marianne complimented him.

"Yeah, it's perfect for me," he agreed. "It's just, I'm sure it's nowhere near as nice as your place."

"Well, I do make significantly more than you," she reminded him. "You're still just starting out in your career."

Still, it served as a stark reminder of their different stations in life. He was young and living paycheck to paycheck, whereas she was mature and lived very comfortably. She held no illusions; any attraction between them was purely physical. He was an attractive young man and charming enough, but they had so little in common. She already couldn't imagine the workplace gossip that would ensue if anyone learned that she went back to Braden's apartment alone with him.

Braden awkwardly stood in front of the sofa for a second, pausing as if still unsure, clearly intimidated to have a mature senior director sitting before him in his living room. Then he decided to go for it and sat down on the sofa next to Marianne.

He leaned into her, and Marianne's breath grew short as his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Nervous anticipation filled her, and so did the realization of what she was about to do.

"You promise you won't kiss and tell," she asked to confirm again, suddenly nervous she wasn't making a big mistake.

Braden pulled back his arm and sat back on the sofa.

"I don't force any women into doing anything they don't want," he vowed. "If you're not ready or want to walk away for any reason, I won't stop you. And you'll never hear a word of tonight again. I promise."

Marianne appreciated his sincerity and felt her own anxiety dampen. "I'm sorry. I'm all butterflies inside. I mean, if we do this, you know I'm a senior director. I can't have word spreading around the office that I slept with you."

"I haven't told anyone about any of my affairs. My lips are sealed. Anything you know came from the women's lips, not mine."

"Well, then you've got a lot of women talking," she laughed nervously. "I've heard of at least six women you've been with," she answered skeptically.

"Exactly. You don't know about the other sixteen," Braden replied sharply.

Marianne gasped. "You've slept with 21 women at our company." She realized she would be number 22. "You've only been with the company for two years."

Braden grinned, almost embarrassed by his own conquest number. "To be honest, they seek me out for the most part."

"What do you mean, they seek you out?"

Braden paused and took a deep breath. "No offense, but women are gossipy. They talk. Word made its way around the company that I'm... ahem... let's just say, well endowed. And then some of them just wanted to see for themselves if the rumors were true, so they propositioned me. I only chased after one girl myself at work, Danielle, whom I guess is one of the women you know about," and Marianne nodded her head in acknowledgement.