Chapter 2: Building Tension
"How do I look hun?" she said
"Oh my God! You're gonna make me grab a flight and jump on you, you look so fucking sexy."
She loved that he still found her irresistible and desirable. She put in a lot of effort to maintain that allure—Pilates, yoga, and circuit training were all part of her routine. Exercising wasn't just about staying fit; it was also her favorite way to blow off steam and unwind. It paid off, she was toned and curvy in all the right places and exuded feminine sex appeal.
"You're really pulling out all the stops for that promotion huh?" he said laughing.
After six years of marriage, they enjoyed a strong relationship with a healthy sex life and a lively social scene.
"It's our last night and they said dinner is extra fancy tonight." she said.
"Alright, love, well have fun and don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said through a Cheshire grin.
Ingrid made her way down to the hotel bar, her black dress drawing every eye in the room. Amidst the sea of pinstriped suits, she stood out effortlessly, aware of the curious and appreciative glances from her colleagues as she approached. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, announcing her arrival.
Jim was the first to step forward, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. "Well, well," he said with a sly grin, his dark eyes taking her in from head to toe. "Looks like you took 'dress to impress' to a whole new level."
She raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curving her lips. "Someone had to show you boys how it’s done," she replied, her tone playful.
Jim chuckled, his jaw tightening as if savoring her retort. "I’d say mission accomplished." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "Careful, though. You’re making the rest of us look underdressed."
Ingrid tilted her head, letting her hair cascade over her shoulder as she met his gaze. "Guess you'll just have to find another way to stand out," she murmured, before glancing past him to where the other men were watching, pretending not to be listening in. She gave them a wink and then turned back to Jim, enjoying the way he seemed momentarily at a loss for words.
"Hey! You poor thing, you look parched, let's get you a drink," he said motioning to the bartender.
"You know I can't say no to a free drink," Ingrid said with a sly smile, and as she was handed a vodka soda. The bar was just as fancy as the restaurant, a long glass bar with velvet stools, golden taps and crystal tumblers.
Jim, as always, was confident, flirting with a slightly sleazy edge that rubbed Ingrid the wrong way. "This drink is on me, beautiful."
After a few rounds of drinks, the group made their way to the dining room, where the evening unfolded with delicious courses and endless cocktails. Laughter and lively conversation filled the air, and Ingrid had to admit, the buzz of the night—fueled by good company and a few vodka sodas—left her feeling more alive than she had in a while.
As time passed, the crowd began to thin, and soon enough, they found themselves back at the hotel bar. The atmosphere had shifted—more intimate now, with dimmed lights and a quiet hum of music playing in the background. Jim, who had grown bolder with each drink, was leaning in closer than necessary, his voice dropping to a lower, more suggestive tone as he spoke.
“So, Ingrid,” he said with a half-smirk, his gaze lingering on her lips. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in an industry full of guys like us?”
She met his gaze, recognizing the familiar dance unfolding. "Trying to keep you all in line, obviously," she teased, taking a sip of her drink. Her tone was light, but there was a knowing glint in her eyes.
He chuckled, leaning back just slightly, but not enough to break the proximity between them. "And here I thought you were just here to distract us."
She rolled her eyes with a playful grin. "Jim, if I wanted to distract you, you wouldn’t even know it was happening," she said, her voice low and confident.
His smile faltered for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure whether to take her seriously, before his expression relaxed back into a grin. "Is that so?" he replied, trying to regain his footing.
Ingrid just gave him a pointed look and a coy smile. She was used to this game and had played it well for years. In a male-dominated industry, she had mastered the art of turning flirtation into a casual banter that never crossed the line. She let Jim’s interest hover in the air, all the while keeping the conversation flowing in a way that left him guessing. The night was still young, and she was in control.
To keep things light, she laughed, joked, and even flirted back. But Jim was different, he was more persistent. She felt the pressure to reciprocate his playful advances, but she quickly shut them down.
"Jim, it's getting late and I have to go to bed early for the big meeting tomorrow," she said, trying to let him down gently.
"Come on Ingrid, just one more drink," he pleaded with her.
"I can't Jim, I really can't," she said, standing up from her barstool.
Jim, not taking the hint, pushed himself up off the stool and walked over to her, grabbing her arm. "Just one more, come on," he said, his breath reeking of alcohol.
Ingrid pulled her arm away from him and took a step back. "No, Jim. I mean it," she said firmly.
But Jim was not deterred. He took another step towards her, closing the distance between them.
"Come on, Ingrid, just one more drink," he repeated, his hand now resting on her hip and making a sad face. “Don’t be a party pooper.”
"Jim, I have to call my husband, but this has been fun." she said.