Short Story - The Chardonnay Incident.
The Chardonnay Incident by Wendy Jayne.
Lipstick is hard to write with. I had more plum-delight smeared on my hand than on the mirror. I stepped back to admire my handiwork. The heart shape was a bit crooked, but he’d get the message. I giggled and stuffed the lipstick deep into my purse. The zip had broken earlier when I’d slipped on the stairs, leaving the bar. Thankfully, I don’t think any of the team saw me falling.
I usually limit my intake to two glasses, but we were celebrating the completion of our first module of IT training and June from accounts wasn’t being stingy with the company credit card. Before long five empty lipstick-smeared wine glasses were lined up in front of me and that’s when I accepted the office girls’ dare.
Sarah did the pick-pocketing. She should have been an actress. Our trainer, Bernard, had no idea that she’d slipped his key card out of his jacket pocket. Her sleight of hand rivalled a magician as she palmed it off to me. My hand had been so sweaty I’d almost dropped it.
I plucked up the key card. It was time for me to slip back downstairs before he realized I’d been absent far longer than a routine toilet break. The sparkling porcelain beckoned. This bathroom was much nicer than the bar’s facilities. I needed to pee.
In the hall, the elevator doors pinged. My eyes grew wide in the mirror. I had to get out of here.
I shut the bathroom door behind me and was half way across the bedroom when I heard two sets of footsteps approaching the door. Next moment I heard the scratch of a card being inserted into the lock. My options were limited so I dived into the wardrobe, pulling its slatted doors shut behind me.
Seconds later Bernard and a hotel worker strode into the room. Bernard’s gaze swept the room before he said, “Sorry about this, but when I noticed my key card was missing I assumed my trainees were up to tricks. Once I found a blow up sheep called Lucy Baa-Baa snuggled in my bed.”
He paused and tugged the fridge door open and peered inside at the neatly arranged lines of bottles and said, “Another time they’d liberated the contents of my mini-bar. The card must have just dropped out of my pocket.”
The hotel worker smiled. “No problem, Mr Singer, guests lose their keys all the time.”
Both men headed toward the door. I crossed my legs and squeezed, discovering pelvic muscles I hadn’t used since an ill-fated Pilates class about a decade ago. I really needed to pee.
Bernard was stepping through the door when the phone beside the bed started ringing. He ignored my subliminal chanting; don’t answer the phone.
“Hi Mum … of course I’ve got plenty of time to chat …”
He flopped on the bed, loosened his tie and kicked off his shoes. Perhaps I groaned out loud because his head jerked up and he stared around the room. I held my breath until he returned to his conversation.
Was it a medical possibility that urine could actually re-route through your ear canals? I think I was about to find out.
“Cheers, Mum, love you too.”
He hung up the phone.
Newly discovered fact; jiggling does not relieve the pressure on a bladder.
He shrugged off his jacket and draped it on the back of a chair, then unbuttoned his shirt and peeled that off too. Obviously, he actually used his gym membership. Mine languished in a drawer somewhere keeping dust bunnies company.
His muscles tautened as he pulled off his trousers. I was going to look away, but got distracted by his jungle-themed boxers. Wow, lions and tigers roared beneath Bernard’s mild mannered suit.
He padded towards the bathroom. I gulped; he’d see the lipstick on the mirror. I’d have to make a bolt for the hall.
As Bernard’s hands touched the bathroom door I pushed against the wardrobe doors. Nothing. My hands patted the frame. No inside door handles. I mouthed several adjectives that I’d never say out loud in front of my mother. I was stuck.
The bathroom door creaked open a hand span, but someone banged on the outside door. Bernard swung around and the bathroom door clicked shut behind him. He opened the hall door a sliver and asked, “Who is it?”
The door bounded open as if an elephant had charged into it and June exploded into the room waving a bottle of champagne. “Thought we could share a night cap.”
Bernard retreated to the far side of the bed as the rest of the office girls tumbled into his room. If there was a Guinness Book of Records for speed dressing I believe Bernard would have qualified. Though he might have lost points for having his trousers on backwards.
Sarah sprinted past Bernard. “Just going to borrow your loo.”
She emerged a minute later, stuffing a tissue up her sleeve, just as the champagne cork ricocheted off the bedside lamp.
Bernard bolted to the cupboard and grabbed some glasses before the champagne sprayed across the carpet and missed seeing Sarah shake her head.
June kicked the champagne cork beneath the bed before dropping to her hands and knees to retrieve it. Behind Bernard’s back she shrugged at the other girls.
By this stage my legs were more contorted than a sadistic game of twister and the splash of the champagne as Bernard filled up the glasses didn’t help my cause. The urge to pee would soon override my desire to remain anonymous. Such was my desperation that I scouted the closet’s contents for any receptacle that could store liquids. I eyed the small bucket of aptly named Damp-Rid tucked in the corner and bit my lip.
Something banged into the wardrobe doors. I jumped. Sarah giggled higher than a soprano and said, “Oops, sorry.”
Click. A line of light spilled through the gap. On Monday I was going to shout Sarah a double latte from the staff cafeteria. I crept forward, getting ready to gallop for the hallway. My handbag strap whipped across my neck like a garrotte as it tangoed with a coat hanger. My handbag exploded, dumping the seventeen-items-a –girl-just-can’t-live-without on the floor.
Bernard’s head jerked up. “What was that?”
Sarah, bless her, nudged Bernard’s suitcase off its stand with her bottom. While he righted his case I scrambled, using Braille fingers and retrieved my scattered items, stuffing them back into my bag. I watched sizzling with envy as June tiptoed into Bernard’s bathroom. Promise to self; upgrade seventeen items to eighteen and will never sneer at incontinence adverts again.
June screamed from inside the bathroom. “Bernard, come quick!”
The millisecond he was out of sight, I bolted out of the wardrobe and bee lined for the hallway. Sarah whispered as I tore past, “Meet you back in the bar in five minutes for a chardonnay debrief.”
#
By Monday morning, I was an office legend, but I was a bit hazy on some of the details. Sarah dropped a courier package on my desk with a wink. “Special delivery for you.”
There was no return address. I ripped it open and out slid my cell phone. The moment I picked it up the phone beeped. I dropped it as if it was radioactive, but the envelope icon kept flashing at me.
I stabbed a finger nail on the screen and up popped a picture. I snorted.
Sarah’s head sprung up over my cubicle. “Are you ok?”
I lied. “Hay fever.”
Once I was alone I plucked up the phone and stared at the image. Silky lions and tigers. The text message said, “Look 4ward c u Friday - Module 2 IT training :) .”
Lipstick is hard to write with. I had more plum-delight smeared on my hand than on the mirror. I stepped back to admire my handiwork. The heart shape was a bit crooked, but he’d get the message. I giggled and stuffed the lipstick deep into my purse. The zip had broken earlier when I’d slipped on the stairs, leaving the bar. Thankfully, I don’t think any of the team saw me falling.
I usually limit my intake to two glasses, but we were celebrating the completion of our first module of IT training and June from accounts wasn’t being stingy with the company credit card. Before long five empty lipstick-smeared wine glasses were lined up in front of me and that’s when I accepted the office girls’ dare.
Sarah did the pick-pocketing. She should have been an actress. Our trainer, Bernard, had no idea that she’d slipped his key card out of his jacket pocket. Her sleight of hand rivalled a magician as she palmed it off to me. My hand had been so sweaty I’d almost dropped it.
I plucked up the key card. It was time for me to slip back downstairs before he realized I’d been absent far longer than a routine toilet break. The sparkling porcelain beckoned. This bathroom was much nicer than the bar’s facilities. I needed to pee.
In the hall, the elevator doors pinged. My eyes grew wide in the mirror. I had to get out of here.
I shut the bathroom door behind me and was half way across the bedroom when I heard two sets of footsteps approaching the door. Next moment I heard the scratch of a card being inserted into the lock. My options were limited so I dived into the wardrobe, pulling its slatted doors shut behind me.
Seconds later Bernard and a hotel worker strode into the room. Bernard’s gaze swept the room before he said, “Sorry about this, but when I noticed my key card was missing I assumed my trainees were up to tricks. Once I found a blow up sheep called Lucy Baa-Baa snuggled in my bed.”
He paused and tugged the fridge door open and peered inside at the neatly arranged lines of bottles and said, “Another time they’d liberated the contents of my mini-bar. The card must have just dropped out of my pocket.”
The hotel worker smiled. “No problem, Mr Singer, guests lose their keys all the time.”
Both men headed toward the door. I crossed my legs and squeezed, discovering pelvic muscles I hadn’t used since an ill-fated Pilates class about a decade ago. I really needed to pee.
Bernard was stepping through the door when the phone beside the bed started ringing. He ignored my subliminal chanting; don’t answer the phone.
“Hi Mum … of course I’ve got plenty of time to chat …”
He flopped on the bed, loosened his tie and kicked off his shoes. Perhaps I groaned out loud because his head jerked up and he stared around the room. I held my breath until he returned to his conversation.
Was it a medical possibility that urine could actually re-route through your ear canals? I think I was about to find out.
“Cheers, Mum, love you too.”
He hung up the phone.
Newly discovered fact; jiggling does not relieve the pressure on a bladder.
He shrugged off his jacket and draped it on the back of a chair, then unbuttoned his shirt and peeled that off too. Obviously, he actually used his gym membership. Mine languished in a drawer somewhere keeping dust bunnies company.
His muscles tautened as he pulled off his trousers. I was going to look away, but got distracted by his jungle-themed boxers. Wow, lions and tigers roared beneath Bernard’s mild mannered suit.
He padded towards the bathroom. I gulped; he’d see the lipstick on the mirror. I’d have to make a bolt for the hall.
As Bernard’s hands touched the bathroom door I pushed against the wardrobe doors. Nothing. My hands patted the frame. No inside door handles. I mouthed several adjectives that I’d never say out loud in front of my mother. I was stuck.
The bathroom door creaked open a hand span, but someone banged on the outside door. Bernard swung around and the bathroom door clicked shut behind him. He opened the hall door a sliver and asked, “Who is it?”
The door bounded open as if an elephant had charged into it and June exploded into the room waving a bottle of champagne. “Thought we could share a night cap.”
Bernard retreated to the far side of the bed as the rest of the office girls tumbled into his room. If there was a Guinness Book of Records for speed dressing I believe Bernard would have qualified. Though he might have lost points for having his trousers on backwards.
Sarah sprinted past Bernard. “Just going to borrow your loo.”
She emerged a minute later, stuffing a tissue up her sleeve, just as the champagne cork ricocheted off the bedside lamp.
Bernard bolted to the cupboard and grabbed some glasses before the champagne sprayed across the carpet and missed seeing Sarah shake her head.
June kicked the champagne cork beneath the bed before dropping to her hands and knees to retrieve it. Behind Bernard’s back she shrugged at the other girls.
By this stage my legs were more contorted than a sadistic game of twister and the splash of the champagne as Bernard filled up the glasses didn’t help my cause. The urge to pee would soon override my desire to remain anonymous. Such was my desperation that I scouted the closet’s contents for any receptacle that could store liquids. I eyed the small bucket of aptly named Damp-Rid tucked in the corner and bit my lip.
Something banged into the wardrobe doors. I jumped. Sarah giggled higher than a soprano and said, “Oops, sorry.”
Click. A line of light spilled through the gap. On Monday I was going to shout Sarah a double latte from the staff cafeteria. I crept forward, getting ready to gallop for the hallway. My handbag strap whipped across my neck like a garrotte as it tangoed with a coat hanger. My handbag exploded, dumping the seventeen-items-a –girl-just-can’t-live-without on the floor.
Bernard’s head jerked up. “What was that?”
Sarah, bless her, nudged Bernard’s suitcase off its stand with her bottom. While he righted his case I scrambled, using Braille fingers and retrieved my scattered items, stuffing them back into my bag. I watched sizzling with envy as June tiptoed into Bernard’s bathroom. Promise to self; upgrade seventeen items to eighteen and will never sneer at incontinence adverts again.
June screamed from inside the bathroom. “Bernard, come quick!”
The millisecond he was out of sight, I bolted out of the wardrobe and bee lined for the hallway. Sarah whispered as I tore past, “Meet you back in the bar in five minutes for a chardonnay debrief.”
#
By Monday morning, I was an office legend, but I was a bit hazy on some of the details. Sarah dropped a courier package on my desk with a wink. “Special delivery for you.”
There was no return address. I ripped it open and out slid my cell phone. The moment I picked it up the phone beeped. I dropped it as if it was radioactive, but the envelope icon kept flashing at me.
I stabbed a finger nail on the screen and up popped a picture. I snorted.
Sarah’s head sprung up over my cubicle. “Are you ok?”
I lied. “Hay fever.”
Once I was alone I plucked up the phone and stared at the image. Silky lions and tigers. The text message said, “Look 4ward c u Friday - Module 2 IT training :) .”
