As another tray of eggplant caviar traveled past us, I turned to Claudia and asked, "Just what is it like to work in an office?" Claudia was downing her third glass of champagne and suddenly sneezed violently. Our friend Nick snatched a shrimp that was being offered by a white-coated waiter and delicately lowered it into his mouth.

"It sucks," she said with reddened eyes, catching her breath. "I like bringing you two to this party every year. But let's not have our Annual Sexual Post-Game Wrap-up this time, OK?" She smiled weakly at a man in red suspenders who lifted his glass in her direction. "Good cross today," she called. "You were right all along not to settle." Looking at Nick and me, she asked, "Haven't you ever worked in an office?"

"Never." Nick and I felt like Claudia's country cousins among her Armani-clad co-workers, gobbling down hors d'oeuvres and drinking as much as we could while still trying to remain inconspicuous. I looked down at my sad little blouse from Banana Republic, always dragged out around the holidays. A bright drop of pesto, glistening like an emerald, hung off my left cuff.

"Darling, let me help you," said Nick, and tried to flick off the blob with his finger. "Too late. Soaked through. Time to retire that old thing anyway. Don't you think so, honey? You wore that blouse last year to this party."

"Only a gay man would remember that," I said as Claudia nodded her head in agreement. I turned to her. "Do people still have sex in the office? You know, under desks or in the executive washroom? Or has the cubicle craze just made that out of the question?"

"Sex! Good Lord no. How '80s. No, no."

"Even you?" Nick asked.

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N E X T+P A G E +| "He dumped my ass"