Tamara

My red heels clicked on the pavement as I stepped out of our black SUV and the valet drove it away. I smiled as I walked arm in arm with my husband Alan into the ornate glass doors of the Grand Hotel, where his company always hosted its annual holiday party, or the 'Bessmer Bash' as everyone called it. I had mixed feelings about it, some years it was fairly tame, with dancing and fun, but more often than not turned into a drunken debacle, with the men hitting on anything that moved, myself included. Alan always had the tendency to flirt, strut, and brag but after enough drinks...