A couple of years ago, as part of my university degree, I completed an internship at a company in Paddington. Given that my entire team were old enough to be my parents, I had prepared myself for a fairly uneventful six months, and fairly uneventful it was…for the most part. This could lend itself to the fact that, unfortunately for me, there weren’t very many (well, any) lookers (or young people!) in my office, with the exception of Mike – the classic tall (very), dark(ish) and handsome(ish) type. Him being about eight years my senior and a manager of some sort, I didn’t see him very often, but if I ever bumped into him in the canteen I was always sure to be perfectly pleasant and demure (I know, I know – you wouldn’t expect anything less, right?). So, given that the selection was fairly limited, I think it’s safe to say that I fancied him, a bit.
The awkward ‘seeing-people-from-work-outside-of-work’ scenario
One weekend a few months into my internship, my housemates (Grace and Charlie) and I decided to go to Hyde Park’s infamous ‘Wireless Fesitval’. Despite there being approximately 70,000 people in attendance, who should I bump into during the Black Eyed Peas’ set, but Mike! It’s always a bit weird seeing people from work outside-of-work, isn’t it? An entirely different social context, with completely different norms for governing ‘acceptable’ behaviour…is it OK to hug people from work?! Is an innocent kiss on the cheek a step too far? I JUST DON’T KNOW! My Facebook-centred life has not equipped me for this level of face-to-face intimacy! It should come as no surprise, therefore, that on seeing Mike, I merely stood there, rooted to the spot, gaping at him in a panicked, lovestruck daze. Mike on the other hand, obviously much better versed in the whole seeing-people-from-work-outside-of-work situation, seemed thrilled to see me, giving me both a hug and a kiss, and grabbing my hand to drag me further into the crowd for a better view. I was stunned. We’d never had a conversation with more substance than a polite “hello” at work, and here I was in one of those fingers-entwined hand-holds (only the most intimate kind!). Good grief. Much to my dismay, however, in my efforts to involve Charlie and Grace, I had to relinquish my hold on Mike – unable to find him in the crowd again thereafter (and I did try, believe you me!).
Work hard, play hard
I barely saw Mike at work over the next few weeks, and things remained relatively dull until Sabine, another intern, started working for the company. She sat opposite me, and despite only knowing her for a short time, we got on like a house on fire! I finally had someone to play with, and with only a week of my internship left, we made the most of every opportunity to have as much fun as possible. Consequently, one evening after work, we decided to attend a cross-company networking event (i.e. free wine and crackers on Level 4), and were chatting and scoffing away at a nearby table when Mike approached to invite us for drinks with his team. We deigned to meet them at a nearby bar (after drunkenly preening ourselves in the company toilets), but after receiving a somewhat less-than-agreeable reception from the intern on Mike’s team, found ourselves ostracised from the group. Mike, in the meantime, appeared to be flirting with a female colleague of a more similar age and seniority (hmmf!). Nonetheless, determined to have a good time, Sabine and I instead befriended the bar staff, who happily provided us with numerous free shots and excellent company.
Oh I wanna dance with somebody
Before long, we found ourselves throwing some crazy drunken shapes on the downstairs dancefloor! Thankfully, it being a Thursday, no-one else was there to witness this (with the exception of one strange, pervy, fat, balding Dutch man, who kept attempting some awkward dancefloor gropes…vom). After a short while, Mike came to find us, equipped with sambuca shots and jaeger bombs for all. Everything was going rather swimmingly, until I became aware that he was paying a lot of attention to Sabine. On a normal night out this would have been heartbreaking enough. On this occasion, the whole situation was doubly as painful, because it meant that I was left with none other than the strange, pervy, fat balding Dutch man. No thanks. With my remaining options being far from attractive (dancing with the Dutch vs. dancing by myself), I went and sat on a chair at the side, alone.
It’s murder on the dancefloor
Almost immediately, Mike was by my side and dragging me back on to the dancefloor to join him and Sabine. Well, being a third-wheel isn’t really my forté, so I instead offered to go upstairs to retrieve our bags and coats, which we had (rather sensibly…) left unattended by the door. However, Sabine insisted, dashing upstairs to leave me, Mike, and the Dutch alone. It was at this point that Mike pounced! He began dancing closer and closer to me, and before I knew it, his tongue was down my throat and we were, for want of a better phrase, ‘making out’. I was understandably confused, exacerbated by the fact that when I pulled away, he looked deep into my eyes and said “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while”. I’m sorry – WHAT?! Then why on earth was he quite blatantly flirting with other girls all night? Being rather drunk (and lacking inhibitions anyway), I did not hesitate to question this. “I was trying to make you jealous…” was his answer. I could not believe my ears. I was still stunned when Sabine returned, following which the lights came on and it was time to go.
Seduction at the station
We parted with Sabine outside the bar, and Mike and I continued towards Paddington Station to get the tube home. Despite it being about a two-minute walk, it took us about ten minutes to get there, because he just couldn’t keep his hands off me! When we finally reached the tube, I made it clear that I intended to travel in the opposite direction to him (you know what I’m saying), but this appeared to only strengthen his resolve – I was grabbed, kissed some more, and then subjected to his hilarious attempts at seduction inside the station (I’m pretty sure a tube conductor may have been watching. Oh dear).
He began by whispering “I want to kiss you here”; tentatively placing a finger on my lips, and then slowly dragging it down my body, all the time whispering “and here”, “then here” etc. Having learnt from previous mistakes, I managed to avert his hands from groping my breasts and discovering my chicken fillets (please see my first post for further details), and was very proud of this accomplishment, given my drunken state. He then fed me what was probably the worst chat-up line I have ever heard…brace yourselves…wait for it… “and then I want to make you come, with just my hands”. What. The. Hell. The only thing that I could think of at this point, was how bloody awkward it was going to be seeing him at work after he’d said that! I mean, who says things like that?! Then, before I had a chance to realise what was going on (I was quite drunk, remember), Mike had slipped his fingers under my dress, into my knickers and up there!! To make matters worse, I had a tampon in. Yes. I don’t have a lot of luck with the timings of my menstrual cycle, it would seem (again, see first post for further details). Well, that stopped him in his tracks at least (and also dubbed him ‘Tampon Mike’ amongst my friends thereafter)! With what remained of my dignity, I slowly leaned in, stared deeply into his dark, horny eyes, and whispered… “yeah, you wish!”. And with that, I turned on my heel, and walked off towards my tube. Girl power. Believe it or not, there is now a Mrs Tampon Mike – that’s right, he’s married.