The Company Retreat

The highway stretched out ahead of them, a gray ribbon under the late afternoon sun. Derek kept both hands on the wheel, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the leather. Beside him, Claire sat with her legs crossed, the hem of her sundress riding up just enough to show the smooth line of her thigh. She scrolled through her phone, occasionally glancing out the window at the passing trees.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice soft but edged with that familiar concern. "You've barely said two words since we left the house."

Derek forced a smile. "Yeah. Just thinking about the next few days. Mandatory fun with the whole team. Can't wait."

Claire reached over and squeezed his knee. "It'll be fine. We get a nice cabin, free meals, and I get to see you in your element. Sort of." She paused, then added with a small laugh, "Well, as much as an accountant retreat can be anyone's element."

Their marriage had always been like this, affectionate but stretched thin. Derek worked late most nights, buried in spreadsheets for Trent's division. Claire picked up the slack at home, her own marketing job leaving her drained by the time he walked through the door. They still touched, still laughed, but the spark from their early years had faded into something comfortable and a little tired. Derek knew she deserved more. He just didn't know how to give it to her anymore.

"Trent's going to be there," Derek said after a minute. "As if I needed the reminder."

Claire tilted her head. "Your boss? The one from high school?"

"Yeah. Same guy. Still loves reminding everyone how he used to run the place back then too."

She gave his knee another squeeze. "Ignore him. You're the one with the steady job and the wife who loves you. That's what matters."

The retreat center came into view just before dusk, a sprawling lodge surrounded by pines. Cars filled the lot. Derek parked and grabbed their bags while Claire smoothed her dress. Inside, the lobby buzzed with colleagues already mingling over name tags and welcome drinks. Derek spotted a few familiar faces from accounting and waved half-heartedly.

Team introductions started in the main hall. The VP of operations ran through the agenda, cracking the usual jokes about team-building exercises and late-night karaoke. Derek stood near the back with Claire, nodding along. His shoulders stayed tight. He kept scanning the room, waiting for the inevitable.

Trent arrived twenty minutes late, pushing through the double doors like he owned the building. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair perfectly styled, he wore a fitted button-down that showed off the kind of physique that came from actual gym time rather than desk work. His piercing blue eyes swept the room and landed straight on Derek.

"Well, well," Trent called out, loud enough for half the hall to hear. "If it isn't little Derek from Ridgewood High. Still tagging along behind the real players, I see."

A few people chuckled politely. Derek felt his face heat. Claire's hand found his elbow.

Trent strolled closer, grinning. "Remember when I used to stuff your skinny ass in the gym lockers? Or that time I made you carry my books for a week because you lost that bet? Good times. You always were good at following orders."

Derek managed a tight nod. "Trent. Good to see you."

"Always a pleasure, buddy." Trent clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make Derek shift his feet. Then his gaze slid past Derek and landed on Claire. The change in his expression was immediate, smoother, warmer. "And who might this be? Derek never mentioned he had such a beautiful wife waiting at home."

Claire offered a polite smile. "Claire. Nice to meet you."

Trent took her hand, holding it a second longer than necessary. "Trent. Derek's boss and, apparently, his former personal trainer back in the day." He winked at Derek. "You never told me she was this stunning. I would have visited the accounting department more often."

The rest of the evening blurred into a haze of small talk and buffet lines. Derek tried to stay close to Claire, but Trent kept circling back, dropping casual comments about old high-school stories that always painted Derek as the punchline. Claire laughed politely at first, then more genuinely when Trent shifted his focus to her, asking about her work and complimenting the way the evening light caught her green eyes.

After dinner the social hour began in the lounge. Music played low, people clustered around the bar. Derek nursed a beer and watched Trent lean in close to Claire near the dance floor. Their conversation looked easy, Trent's hand resting lightly on the small of her back as he said something that made her smile.

Derek's stomach tightened. He expected jealousy, the usual dull ache he felt whenever another man looked at Claire too long. Instead, a strange warmth spread low in his gut. He shifted on his feet, trying to ignore the faint pulse of blood between his legs. It didn't make sense. Trent was mocking him again, the same way he always had, only now the target had expanded to include his wife. Yet watching Trent's easy confidence, the way Claire's cheeks flushed just a little, stirred something Derek couldn't name.

Trent turned, caught Derek's eye, and grinned. "Hey, Derek. Mind if I borrow your lovely wife for a dance? She says she hasn't been out on a floor in ages."

Claire glanced at Derek, eyebrows raised in silent question. Derek opened his mouth, closed it, then nodded once. "Sure. Go ahead."

Trent led her out onto the cleared space. One hand settled on her waist, the other holding hers. They moved together smoothly, Claire's curvaceous figure fitting against Trent's solid frame. Derek stayed at the edge of the room, beer forgotten in his hand. He watched the way Trent leaned down to murmur something in Claire's ear, the way her lips parted on a soft laugh. Every step looked natural, almost intimate.

The warmth in Derek's stomach grew, twisting into something hotter and more confusing. He told himself it was just the beer, just the long drive, just the stress of seeing his old bully again. But his body didn't listen. A slow, insistent throb started behind his zipper, and he had to adjust his stance to hide it. Claire looked happy, lighter than she had in months. Trent looked like he knew exactly what he was doing.

When the song ended, Trent didn't immediately let go. He kept his hand on Claire's waist a moment longer, saying something that made her nod and glance toward Derek with a small, unreadable smile. Then they walked back together, Trent's arm brushing hers.

"Thanks for the loan," Trent said to Derek, voice low and amused. "She's a hell of a dancer. You should bring her around the office more often."

Claire slipped her arm through Derek's. Her skin felt warm. "It was nice," she said quietly. "He's... very sure of himself."

Derek swallowed. The flicker of arousal still lingered, mixing with the old humiliation until he couldn't tell one from the other. He managed a nod. "Yeah. Always has been."

The night wound down after that. People drifted toward their cabins. Derek and Claire walked the short path in silence, the sound of their footsteps on gravel filling the space between them. Inside their room, Claire changed into a nightgown and climbed into bed while Derek brushed his teeth, staring at his own reflection and wondering what the hell had just started.