Jennifer says it helps loosen up the guests and they will spend more money after a few cocktails. I arrange the sushi on little hand-painted oval plates I picked up at Sur La Table. I also bought a dozen martini glasses to properly serve that all important elixir, the cosmopolitan. The theme of my party is “Sex and The City”.
The house is neat as a pin and I have the living room seating arranged in a kind of semi-circle facing the long folding table we used for the garage sale last spring. Tonight I have it draped with the pink velvet cloth Jennifer gave me.
The sparkly pink invitations said to dress sexy and I am looking forward to what my friends will be wearing. I chose my red tank dress. It’s simple, but rather low cut in front and clings to my curves quite nicely. It’s Eric’s favorite and I wear it only on date night.
I splurged and bought a new pair of heels just for the party: super high platform-style pumps in nude, with a shiny patent finish. They aren’t flashy or sparkly, but that’s not really my style anyway.
The doorbell rings.
“Hi, sweetie! Look at you!”
Jennifer is the first to arrive.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to host this party. It really helped me get that bonus I was working toward for last month–and if your sales are good and you get someone to host the next party, you will do really well too, I promise.”
She is dressed in a straight, black skirt just a couple inches shorter than what could be considered professional length. On top she is wearing a shimmering pink-sequined camisole that shows off her enviably yoga-toned and tanned shoulders.
“I hope you do well tonight. That’s all that matters to me. I invited all the girls from yoga class and a few of my neighbors and got confirmation on at least eight, so I hope it will be enough.”
“Hey, some of my best numbers are from small parties. It’s more intimate, they feel more comfortable getting to know the products.” She smiles and squeezes my shoulder warmly. Her honeyed auburn hair smells like warm cinnamon.
“I set up a table for you.” I smooth over any remaining creases in the cloth and turn for her approval.
She wheels her heavy tote into the living room and kicks off her black strappy sandals.
“So, what does Eric think about the party?” She calls to me from the front room while she unpacks, arranging pink boxes of varying sizes on the table.
“He is working tonight and he won’t be off until 10 p.m. so I’m thinking the party should be well over by then, right?”
“That’s the thing…I never know. It depends on the group. If they are having a good time, they will spend more, so it can sometimes run late.”
“I told him I am having a Tupperware party.”
“What? Are you serious?” Her laughter echoes across the room.
I peek my head around the kitchen doorframe.
“I didn’t want to try to explain it. He wouldn’t understand,” I giggle.
“Well, he’s gonna find out, one way or the other…”
To be continued…