Overhearing Sandra

I was in there to get away.  Hiding I suppose.  The party had been going strong for about three hideous hours and I just needed a breather – office parties like this are not my thing and I’d been dreading it for weeks.  And yes, it was living up to expectations.  The toilets were empty when I went in, so I went into one of the cubicles, locked the door and sat on the lid of the toilet taking some deep breaths, trying to work out how long before I could reasonably leave the party without losing face.

So I was there for maybe like a minute or two, when into the ladies walked a voice I recognised.  And my heart dropped.  It was Sandra, Miss Popular herself.  Getting stuck in small talk with her would be just all my confidence needed.  Oh, she’s gorgeous is Sandra, not beautiful as such but sort of effortlessly feminine in a way I could never attempt, all butterflies and pink swirls, that’s what Sandra makes me think of.  Well anyway, she was jabbering away to a squeaky excitable voice I didn’t recognise.  And squeaky was all agog – “oohs” and “aahs” and hanging on every word from the sounds of it.  They apparently paid no attention to my cubicle hide-out, probably too busy making waxwork perfections to makeup and hair in the mirror.  They could be no more than two meters away from me at that moment but it was like I wasn’t even there – just like any other day in the office really.

And then Sandra said it.  With no warnings, and not in conspiratorial hushed tones either, just straight out with it, as if she was proud as punch and should be admired all the more for it.  The moment the words drifted under the door I froze.  You know like when you stub your toe and it takes a second for the pain to fully hit you?  Well it was like that, a moment or two more and the blood had drained from my head and my brain was racing with the implications of what I’d just heard.

Of all people!  Perfect polished princess Sandra - it was deliciously unthinkable.  A rush of thoughts started the blood pumping once more.  If this got out, what would people say?  And do?  If they were to find out.  All at once I became acutely aware of my situation.  I could do that.  It was a powerfully wicked thought.  Could I do that to her?  But if she knew I was in there, that I had heard … better keep quiet, sit things out, think it all through carefully later.  I sat hardly breathing, heart thumping, wondering how long they would bear to be away from their Bacardi and cokes.  They would go, I silently told myself.  I’d give it a minute, then slip out into the crowd.  All I had to do was wait it out a few minutes more…

And then my bloody phone rang.