The Office Christmas Party

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It was all in the name of creating a little more competition between Martin and me, to up the stakes just a little, as if the thirty thousand pound bonus wasn't incentive enough...

Actually, scratch that: it had never seemed a good idea, even at the time. Even while I was agreeing to it, because I didn't want to appear weak; unwilling to countenance the idea of being only the second best salesperson in the room. But the online advertising industry is full of bellowing bulls and this was no time to fall back on being the quiet country girl. These young men had had it their own way for far too long and I wasn't about to back down now. Move over, alpha males, it's time for an alpha female to take charge.

"Okay, Natalie. You say you like a challenge," Martin had shouted over the jeers, "So I'll make a deal with you."

I'd looked back at him, not wanting to fall into whatever trap he thought he was laying, but not able to think of a face-saving way of getting out of it.

"Whoever has the lowest sales figures by the time the Christmas party comes round," he'd continued, "Spends the entire Christmas party naked."

"Only the party?" I'd said with forced bravado, "Why not the whole week? Or are you afraid your tiny dick will shrivel in the cold?"

That increased the volume of the jeers. Fighting fire with fire was the only thing these guys understood.

Martin winked at me condescendingly. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, country girl."

He called me "country girl" whenever he wanted to get under my skin. I tried not to let it show but, like all good salespeople, he was too good at spotting body language and knew how much it affected me.

"You might spend all your days on the farm with nothing but mud to cover your skin, but things are a little different in the big city," he added.

I scowled at him. I wasn't even from a farm. I was barely even from the country, but because of my accent, and the small town I came from, Martin's "country girl" nickname had stuck. I'd tried "city wanker", "southern tosser" and various other insults, but he just seemed to soak them up. I could read body language just as well as he could and nothing had hit home yet.

"Let's drink to it," he said loudly for the benefit of the surrounding group, raising his small shot glass in my direction, "Lowest figures strips there and then when Les hands the bonus cheque to me... Oh, I'm sorry, I mean to say 'to whoever wins'."

"Naked from head to toe," I agreed, as if this was as much my idea as his. And after all my posturing I couldn't back down.

To seal the deal, I raised my glass, clinked it against his, and we downed our shots to a chorus of incoherent drunken male cheers. He winked at me again and I came as close to punching his smug little face as I'd ever come to punching anyone.

Still, as I said but didn't really mean, it had seemed like a good idea back in May, with Christmas so many months off. Or at least it hadn't seemed such a terrible idea as it did now that the party was underway.

The thing was, competition was so fierce within the two sales teams that figures weren't shared. So we still had no idea who was on top. Or at least, I had no idea, but I couldn't tell what kind of ends Martin might have to access the figures directly. He'd been winking at me the whole evening, so much that I'd avoided catching his eye at all, but since he was the kind of guy that would try to tell you everything was fine if he fell out of a plane without a parachute I didn't think I could read much into his confidence.

The big Christmas "do", as we might have called it back home, was happening in the presentation room on the first floor of the office building. The office manager had arranged for a bar to be set up with a keg of beer and all kinds of wines and spirits, and there was a small stage area for presentations and anything else that might go on. I'd heard that in previous years they'd had a band but opinion had been so divided on whether that was a success that they'd been replaced by an iPhone plugged into the sound system with dance tracks on shuffle. With the room decorated, somehow it didn't feel as if we were still in the office, despite the fact that my desk was only one floor up.

The crackling of a microphone drew my attention to Les, the previously mentioned office manager, who was up on the small stage at the front of the room giving out end of year prizes. "And next up is the award for most creative campaign..." This wasn't me yet so I drifted off again. I'm sure whoever won it produced some fabulous work, but my brain was side-tracked by worrying about whether the great start I'd made to the year had carried on through to the end. And Martin had pulled in some big deals as Christmas approached, including a huge designer bag campaign for Singapore, and I was feeling a lot less confident than I had been three months before.

"And finally..." I paid attention to Les again with butterflies in my stomach, "The prize we've all been waiting for. Not just because sales are the lifeblood of this company, but because I think we've all heard about the side bet that's riding on this..." A loud testosterone-fuelled cheer rose from the crowd. "It's time for the salesman... I mean salesperson of the year award. Would our two team leaders Martin and Natalie care to join me up on stage?"

I took a deep breath and stood, unable to resist a glance towards Martin. He was already standing and buttoning his suit jacket up. He caught my eye and winked at me. What was it about that wink that so annoyed me? Oh yes: it was the sense of superiority, the confidence, the message that no matter that I was the best saleswoman in the company, there would always be a man to beat me. Well, we'd just have to see about that.

I walked between the tables and the staring eyes that followed me and made my way to the stage. I think hardly anyone was looking at Martin, and I realised that, without a shadow of a doubt, there was barely a soul in the room that was hoping that I would win. Not because I was unpopular, because I was certainly no less popular than Martin, but because the way their eyes looked me up and down as I walked told me that they would much rather that I had to spend the rest of the evening naked than Martin. There were a handful of other women in the company but even they were watching me rather than Martin. I guess I should take that as some kind of a compliment.

Martin waited for me just short of stepping onto the stage and gestured for me to lead the way. He might think he was acting the part of the gentleman, but I knew full well that it was all for show. We took up places either side of Les.

"I'm looking forward to seeing what's under that red dress," Martin said across to me.

"I'm looking forward to everyone laughing at your tiny dick," I retorted. And actually, for the first time, I found myself wondering what he might look like beneath that expensive suit. He certainly embraced the "work hard, play hard" mantra of the advertising sales executive, and all of those oh-so-competitive squash matches must keep his body in some kind of shape.

"We'll see," he replied with another wink. I couldn't tell whether it was confidence that he'd won the contest, or confidence that he wouldn't be so much of a laughing stock if he did end up standing there naked. And then a second realisation struck: I was the only one who could lose; Martin really didn't care much what the outcome was. Heads: he saw me naked and humiliated. Tails: he had another story of how wild it was in ad-land. It was a win-win situation as far as he was concerned. And it made me regret falling for it even more.

"Here we go," Les continued as he took an envelope out from his jacket pocket. Fear knotted my stomach. "So we have... Natalie."

I jumped up and down with joy and there were even boos from the crowd. And I know, not just because I'd won, but because it would mean Martin prancing around in the nude instead of me.

"Hold on there," Les said with a calming hand, "I'm just reading out the sales figures out." So I hadn't won? Yet? "Natalie, with one million, eight hundred and thirty-eight thousand."

There were sounds of appreciation and a round of applause from the crowd now. That was the highest annual sales figure that anyone had ever made. I was confident now; confident enough to look over to Martin and wink. And I could tell from the look in his eyes that, for the first time, he was actually nervous. It seemed very odd to go through life confident that you'll win at everything you attempt. It struck me as an exclusively male trait.

"And Martin... one million..." Les paused. I held my breath. The crowd were silent. But one million was the minimum I'd expect Martin to make.

"Eight hundred..." Oh god this was going to be close. Les paused and turned to each of us in turn.

"...and forty-two thousand."

And what had I had? Thirty something. Thirty... eight? Not enough.

I'd lost? By four thousand pounds? I would have spent my own money on a campaign if I'd known!

I took a deep breath and glared at Martin. The most frustrating thing was that his total self-confidence was being rewarded. Again.

The noise coming from the crowd was almost overwhelming, and the louder Martin's victory rally became, the more crushing my defeat felt. It was as if humanity had left the room and only animal spirits remained to grunt and shout and howl. I had loved the idea of working in the big city, but at times like this I just wished it could be just a little more civilised.

"You were close," he said as he held out a hand. And even as he tried to deliver a compliment it came across as gloating. He was simply saying that I'd done really well for achieving almost as much a man. "You'll get a decent bonus too," he said with a shrug, thinking that it was all about the money. But it wasn't about the money, and it wasn't just about winning: it was about beating Martin; beating Martin at something that he'd never been beaten at before.

Four thousand pounds. That's all the difference was. Four. Thousand. Pounds. I had a bag that had cost more than that. A bag just like the stupid bags in the stupid campaign that had probably tipped stupid Martin's sales ahead of mine.

"Well..." Les said as he stared at me, and then looked me up and down, and then I knew what he meant. He took a step back to leave me in the limelight.

I looked at Martin who cocked his head and didn't even need to say "I'm not letting you out of this".

Yes, it wasn't about the winning, it was about beating Martin, and it was very much about not being naked in front of my co-workers. I looked down at my long red dress and my little red shoes and took a deep breath. The noise of the crowd began to rise again, and the animal sounds began to form some human words.

"Off! Off! Off! Off!"

I wondered if anyone knew the sales figures beforehand. Were the Christmas parties usually this well attended? It was my first year at the company so I couldn't tell, but the room in front of me seemed incredibly crowded. How many people were there? Seventy? Eighty? And I would have to face each and every one of them again after tonight?

"Off! Off! Off! Off!" Some were clapping along in time, but one thing was for sure: they had their prey in sight and they weren't going to let me get away.

I reached behind me and fumbled for my zip.

"Would you like some help?" Martin said, leaning towards me and shouting over the crowd. My glare gave him the answer he needed.

I slid the zip down my back, pulled at the shoulder straps, and slid the red satin down my arms. The top half of the dress slumped off my torso.

I had chosen red underwear today, in case the shoulder straps should reveal any of my bra. It seemed kind of a redundant precaution now.

I didn't want to spend a minute longer in front of the chanting mob than I had to, so with a wiggle of my hips I pushed the figure-hugging material down my waist. When it reached my thighs it fell to the floor and I took a step sideways.

That wasn't so bad, I thought. I'm just on the stage in my underwear, that's all.

"Off! Off! Off!" was now competing with wordless cheers, whooping and wolf whistles.

My hands went behind my back again and I unfastened my bra. This was it; this was the point where things got serious. The only choices I had were whether to feign boldness and bravery or to hide my body behind my hands.

But I knew that the more Martin saw I was suffering the more satisfied he would be, so with a single, rapid movement I had pulled the bra away and stood with one hand on my hip and the red lace hanging from my index finger.

Cheers and whoops completely drowned out the "off!" contingent, especially when I held my arm out to one side and theatrically dropped my bra onto the stage.

Oh, how thankful I was for being in good shape. But then, would Martin have even made the bet otherwise? Probably not.

I was almost blinded by the flashing of camera phones. And then I realised who the dark shape with the biggest flash was: the official photographer. My topless display was going to be recorded for posterity. Correction: my naked display was going to be recorded for posterity.

I looked down at the nearest tables. I knew every single person in the company. Almost everyone was cheering or shouting and almost every pair of eyes stared at my breasts. Some looked up at my face as my eyes fell on them, but most didn't even bother pretending that they were looking at anything else.

But it amazed me how quickly the novelty of bare breasts seemed to wear off, as almost immediately the whoops and cheers seemed to be subsumed by more cries of "Off! Off! Off!", which quickly gained overwhelming support.

I took a deep breath and pushed my fingers into my knickers. Before tonight I could count the number of men that had seen me naked on the fingers of one hand. In a few seconds I would need an abacus to do the same. I pushed my hands downwards and the delicate red lace glided over my thighs. As it reached my knees I let go and they fell to the floor.

The noise was deafening as I carefully stepped out of the red underwear. Well, I had done it. I was naked in front of everyone in the office. It wasn't quite my worst nightmare, as that involved me sitting on the toilet in the middle of the shopping centre, but it was a close second.

I wanted to get off of the stage as quickly as possible so I took a step forwards. I nearly jumped when a hand touched my bare stomach and I glared at Martin. He removed it instantly, just before my arm was about to react with a slap.

"Erm, aren't you forgetting something?" he said, with a pointed glance down at my red stilettos. I was meant to go without shoes as well? "Head to toe, I think we agreed?" And he winked again, and I nearly slapped him again.

I didn't want to stand up there arguing so I kicked off the gorgeous red shoes, and dropped an inch in height in the process. The wooden stage was hard and rough on my bare feet.

I left the stage and walked back to my table, trying to shut out the sight of every head following me along the way. The room was spinning and it was all I could do to focus on reaching my chair.

I almost fell into it and was finally able to lay the tablecloth across my lap, rest my elbows on the table and cover myself a little. The others sat around the table hadn't said a word as they stared at me.

"I think Natalie needs a glass of wine," Ruth said from two seats left of me. She picked up the bottle and poured the thick, red liquid into my glass. I forced a smile which I wish could have expressed how grateful I was at even this small show of support. I picked up the full glass and took a large gulp. I would need a lot more of this to get me through the evening.

"That was so close," another voice said. It was David, one of the junior sales staff. I turned to look at him and he stared intently into my eyes as if he was trying to pass some kind of telepathic message. Although one didn't need to be telepathic to understand what the message was. It was something along the lines of: "Hey, naked girl, want me to take you away from here and look after you?"

I looked around the table at the other four men. Their eyes all bore into me with the same stare and variations on the same message. I glanced around the room and noticed that every male eye I met was very keen to hold contact for as long as possible, pleading that I would notice them above all others.

"Are you okay, Natalie?" David's voice asked. There was very little note of concern in the question, or at least the only concern was to try to monopolise my attention. At least he was too far away to offer a "purely reassuring" touch on my arm.

"Sure, yeah! Why?" I forced a wide grin and sat back in my chair and his eyes instantly looked down at my chest. Was there any point in even trying to cover myself? And how long would I have to stay at the party anyway? If I left early, Martin would gloat even more, but I sure as hell wasn't going to be the last person here.

"Well, uh..." David's brain was scrambled at the sight of a pair of breasts and he wasn't enough of an alpha male to be able to charm his way out of it.

"Excuse me," I said, picking up my glass and standing, "I need to go and thank some people for their hard work this year."

It was only pretence to get me away from the table, and the way all eyes scanned my body as I stood and turned away from them told me it was the right decision.

The hardwood floor felt suddenly clammy beneath my feet. I guess I hadn't registered it on my way back to the table earlier, but all of those warm bodies spouting hot air over the course of the evening must have raised both the temperature and the humidity levels. That explained why I wasn't quite cold, although it was a little cool to be walking around naked; a little cool and a little public.

Having made a poor excuse I had to follow through with appearing to at least talk to someone. I walked towards the bar at the side of the room, conscious again of how my every movement was being studied. There was a group of three which included the chief executive standing and talking and I decided that if I was going to brazen this one out, I may as well start at the top.

I was glad to at least have a wine glass to hold as if it formed some kind of barrier between my naked skin and the three men in grey suits. They turned towards me as I approached and their conversation paused, and for the first time since I'd lost the stupid contest I smiled to myself: so this was what power felt like. In a male-dominated business I was used to heads turning, and often that was a curse as much as a blessing, but I knew right then that I had the three of them very much on the back foot.

"Natalie," the chief exec, Bryan, said, as if just saying my name was the way to start a conversation. His eyes flickered up and down my body and when they returned to meet my gaze he knew I'd seen it. Now, I've never been one to use my looks to advance my career, but right there and then I knew that if I chose to, I could go far with that approach.

"Bryan," I said, "The party seems to be going really well." It seemed incongruous to be standing there naked and to make such a mundane statement.

"Indeed, indeed," he replied, still lost for words. And then the desperately grasping of his mind managed to find a conversation thread. "And congratulations on that fantastic sales total. You've made such a contribution to the company since you joined."

"Not quite enough," I said waving my hands, "As you can see."

Oh, allright, I'll admit it: watching the three men's jaws hanging slack as they looked me up and down was a bit of a thrill. I had no interest in any of them, but they were three of the nicest guys at the company and all three of them happily, and I believe safely, married men.