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Work went well. I sat in on meeting as I learned the investing business. The companies in our building were expanding rapidly, and there were numerous recent college graduates like myself: male and female, being hired. Like I said, there was lots of available pussy running around.

And not so available pussy. One day in a crowded elevator, someone behind me put their hand on my ass. I thought they were trying to steal my wallet. I turned, and there was a woman smiling at me.

I'd seen her before; she was an assistant in another department. Sometimes, we'd be in the same meeting. I just turned back as the elevator reached my floor and didn't think anything of it. After all, the woman had to be close to fifty.

Over the next few months, anytime we were in an elevator she'd do the same thing. If we were in a corridor, and no one was around, she'd grab my ass. I couldn't figure it out and I wasn't going to confront her. I tried to avoid her but our offices were on the same floor. That was impossible.

Things changed when the company announced the annual Christmas Party. You could bring a date, a spouse, a partner, whatever. I wasn't seeing anyone and chose to go alone. The good thing for me was that it was at a restaurant just a block or two from my apartment. I could drink as much as I wanted and walk home.

One thing I did was dress up. Last year, I'd worn a blazer and tie; inappropriate. Women wore fancy cocktail dresses; usually red. They had their hair done for the occasion with holly as an accessory. A few even put sprigs of mistletoe in their hair and let everyone know it. Me, I wore a tux, with a red bowtie and cummerbund, with a Santa Claus pin in my lapel.

It was open bar. I got myself a drink and wandered about, stopping to chat with work colleagues, wishing people a Merry Christmas. I swore the girl with the mistletoe in her hair walked past me three times, stopping each time. "Hey, look what I have my hair." She insisted on a kiss. I had no idea who she was.

A half hour later, there she was that ass pinching woman. Her name was Antoinette DiMarco. I walked over to her. "Merry Christmas, Miss DiMarco. You look lovely." It was rare than anyone called her by her first name; it was always Miss DiMarco.

She was wearing a shimmering red dress with a white belt. Red shoes, a red ribbon in her hair with matching red lipstick.

"Thank you, Andy. You look great in the tux; very classy. No date?"

"Nah, I'm not seeing anyone that would make sense to bring. I have to ask you what's with all the ass grabbing?"

"Oh that. I'm just having a little fun with one of the new boys in the office." She laughed.

"I thought it was weird. And by the way, why doesn't a woman like yourself have a date?"

"I just don't."

I thought that was kind of abrupt. I didn't pursue it. I had a drink in my hand; hers were empty. "Would you like me to get you a drink? I don't mind."

"That's very thoughtful. I'll have ginger ale with a lime."

It took me a while in the very crowded bar. Free booze does that to people.

"Thanks, the place is packed."

"Yeah, you know it's an open bar, you can have anything, not just ginger ale."

"I know." Then she looked at me and I'm not sure why she told me. "Andy,

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