So there I was at my office Christmas party, when Foxy Scott, a gorgeous sales guy, caught my eye and started to walk over. The fact that Matt, my boyfriend, was only metres away didn't bother me at all. I mean, he was a total wanker and was going to propose to me on Christmas Day...
Only two people in the whole world call sexy sales man Scott from my office Foxy Scott.
They are me (obviously) and my team leader (who is gay).
We coined the name at a work’s conference earlier in the year as it was better than hobnobbing with the management with a fixed grin plastered across our faces. It’s not often that we all get together as a company and this was one of those corporate nipple-twisting days when all the offices from across the country meet up to be bored to tears listening to wanky management presentations.
The whole day had been pretty tedious so by the time we got to the evening and had sampled the delights of the free bar, my team leader and I were pretty tipsy and we decided to survey the company’s male population and gave them rankings. Scott came out at the top of both our lists, so the name stuck.
Scott (a.k.a. Foxy Scott) is twenty eight and has worked for the company in the sales team for just over a year. Looks wise, he is about 5ft 10” tall, medium build with light brown hair, a gorgeous smile and bright blue eyes. He plays football for a local amateur team so he is pretty athletic, he supports Arsenal and that is about all I knew about him.
He sounds really plain, but believe me he is undeniably handsome. Sometimes I’d hear him on the phone on my way to a meeting and swoon as he worked his sexy suave salesman voice. It wasn’t smarmy or the usual salesman slick, but deep and lilting. I wonder if he won a lot of business from women. Well he would if they arranged a meeting with him I’m sure...
Anyway back to the Christmas do...
I was sitting at a table near the bar after one too many tequila slammers when Foxy Scott came and sat next to me and started chatting. I could tell that he’d had quite a few beers himself as he was always relatively quiet at work (for a salesman anyway) but now he started to jabber away.
“Well hello,” he said as he pulled up a chair. “What are you doing all on your own?”
I have to admit I was surprised he knew who I was, never mind the fact that he was sitting down next to me for a chat.
“I’m just having a breather from all the tequila slammers,” I replied, laughing.
And a break from my overbearing boyfriend.
“Yeah I know what you mean,” Scott continued. “They’re absolutely killer. So are you having a good night then?”
“Yeah not bad,” I said as I took a sip of my vodka lime and soda. “It’s a pity we’re not in the centre of town. It would have been loads better to move on to some bars.”
“Definitely,” Scott replied as he eyed me with his twinkling blue eyes.
We started to talk about a lot of random stuff and we sparked up a brilliant conversation. I think Scott must sit at work and take everything in, as he knew which rugby and football teams I support and talked with great knowledge about them both. Purely by coincidence, my football team (Liverpool) was playing his (Arsenal) that weekend, so there was lots of friendly and flirty banter going back and forth.
“I bet you ten pounds that your team loses on Sunday,” I said confidently as Scott sipped his pint.
“Are you sure about that?” he said laughing. His face was animated and gorgeous, and he looked great in his casual black jumper and jeans.
“Definitely,” I replied.
The conversation. The bet. His twinkling eyes.
He was flirting with me. He was definitely flirting with me.