By eleven o'clock the next morning I still haven't managed to put a game plan together. I think I'd kind of pictured doing it behind a pot plant somewhere. But now I actually look at them, pot plants are tiny! And all frondy. There's no way Connor and I would be able to hide behind one, let alone risk any … movement.

We can't do it in the loos. The girls' loos always have people in there, gossiping and putting on their makeup, and the men's loos … yuck. No way.

We can't do it in Connor's office because the walls are completely made of glass and there aren't any blinds or anything. Plus people are always coming in and out of it to get stuff out of his filing cabinet.

Oh, this is ridiculous. People having affairs must have sex at the office all the time. Is there some special secret shagging room I don't know about?

I can't email Connor and ask for suggestions, because it's crucial that I surprise him. The shock element will be a huge turn-on and make it really sizzling hot and romantic. Plus there's a tiny risk that if I wrarn him he'll go all corporate on me and insist we take an hour's unpaid leave for it, or something.

I'm just wondering whether we could creep out onto the fire escape, when Nick comes out of Paul's office saying something about margins.

My head jerks up, and I feel a twinge of apprehension. There's something I've been trying to pluck up courage to say to him since that big meeting yesterday.

'Hey Nick,' I say as he walks by my desk. 'Panther Bars are your product, aren't they?'

'If you can call them a product,' he says, rolling his eyes.

'Are they going to axe them?'

'More than likely.'

'Well, listen,' I say quickly. 'Can I have a tiny bit of the marketing budget to put a coupon ad in a magazine?' Nick puts his hands on his hips and stares at me.

'Do what?'

'Put in an ad. It won't be very expensive, I promise. No-one will even notice.'

'Where?'

'Bowling Monthly,' I say, flushing slightly. 'My grandpa gets it.'

'Bowling what?'

'Please! Look, you don't have to do anything. I'll sort it all out. It'll be a drop in the ocean compared to all the other ads you've run.' I stare at him entreatingly. 'Please … please …'

'Oh all right!' he says impatiently. 'It's a dead duck, anyway.'

'Thanks!' I beam at him, then as he walks off, reach for the phone and dial Grandpa's number.

'Hi Grandpa!' I say as his answermachine beeps. 'I'm putting a money-off coupon ad for Panther Bars in Bowling Monthly. So tell all your friends! You can stock up cheaply. I'll see you soon, OK?'

'Emma?' Grandpa's voice suddenly booms into my ear. 'I'm here! Just screening.'

'Screening?' I echo, trying not to sound too surprised. Grandpa screens?

'It's my new hobby. Have you not heard of it? You listen to your friends leaving messages and laugh at them. Most amusing. Now Emma, I was meaning to ring you. I saw a very alarming piece on the news yesterday, about muggings in central London.'

Not this again.

'Grandpa—'

'Promise me you don't take London transport, Emma.'

'I er … promise,' I say, crossing my fingers. 'Grandpa, I have to go, really. But I'll call again soon. Love you.'

'Love you too, darling girl.'

As I put the phone down I feel a tiny glow of satisfaction. That's one thing done.

But what about Connor?

'I'll just have to go and fish it out of the archives,' Caroline is saying across the office, and my head pops up.

The archive room. Of course. Of course! No-one goes to the archive room unless they absolutely have to. It's way down in the basement, and it's all dark with no windows and loads of old books and magazines, and you end up grovelling on the floor to get what you want.

It's perfect.

'I'll go,' I say, trying to sound nonchalant. 'If you like. What do you have to find?'

'Would you?' says Caroline gratefully. 'Thanks, Emma. It's an old ad in some defunct magazine. This is the reference …' She hands me a piece of paper and I take it, feeling a thrill of excitement. As she walks away, I demurely pick up my phone and dial Connor's number.

'Hey Connor,' I say in a low, husky voice. 'Meet me in the archive room. I've got something I want to show you.'

'What?'

'Just … be there,' I say, feeling like Sharon Stone.

Ha! Office shag here I come!

I hurry down the corridor as quickly as I can, but as I pass Admin I'm accosted by Wendy Smith, who wants to know if I'd like to play in the netball team. So I don't actually get to the basement for a few minutes, and when I open the door, Connor is standing there, looking at his watch.

That's rather annoying. I'd planned to be waiting for him. I was going to be sitting on a pile of books which I would have quickly constructed, one leg crossed over the other and my skirt hitched up seductively.

Oh well.

'Hi,' I say, in the same husky voice.

'Hi,' says Connor, with a frown. 'Emma, what is this? I'm really busy this morning.'

'I just wanted to see you. A lot of you.' I push the door shut with an abandoned gesture and trail my finger down his chest, like an aftershave commercial. 'We never make love spontaneously any more.'

'What?' Connor stares at me.

'Come on.' I start unbuttoning his shirt with a sultry expression. 'Let's do it. Right here, right now.'

'Are you crazy?' says Connor, pushing my fingers out of the way and hastily rebuttoning his shirt. 'Emma, we're in the office!'

'So what? We're young, we're supposed to be in love …' I trail a hand even further down, and Connor's eyes widen.

'Stop!' he hisses. 'Stop right now! Emma, are you drunk or something?'

'I just want to have sex! Is that too much to ask?'

'Is it too much to ask that we do it in bed like normal people?'

'But we don't do it in bed! I mean, hardly ever!'

There's a sharp silence.

'Emma,' says Connor at last. 'This isn't the time or the place—'

'It is! It could be! This is how we get the spark back! Lissy said—'

'You discussed our sex life with Lissy?' Connor looks aghast.

'Obviously I didn't mention us,' I say, hastily backtracking. 'We were just talking about … about couples in general, and she said doing it at work can be … sexy! Come on, Connor!' I shimmy close to him and pull one of his hands inside my bra. 'Don't you find this exciting? Just the thought that someone could be walking down the corridor right now …' I come to a halt as I hear a sound.

I think someone is walking down the corridor right now.

Oh shit.

'I can hear footsteps!' Connor hisses, and pulls sharply away from me, but his hand stays exactly where it is, inside my bra. He stares at it in horror. 'I'm stuck! My bloody watch. It's snagged on your jumper!' He yanks at it. 'Fuck! I can't move my arm!'

'Pull it!'

'I am pulling it!' He looks frantically around. 'Where are some scissors?'

'You're not cutting my jumper,' I say in horror.

'Do you have any other suggestions?' He yanks sharply again, and I give a muffled shriek. 'Ow! Stop it! You'll ruin it!'

'Oh I'll ruin it. And that's our major concern, is it?'

'I've always hated that stupid watch! If you'd just worn the one I gave you—'

I break off. There are definitely footsteps approaching. They're nearly outside the door.

'Fuck!' Connor's looking around distractedly. 'Fucking … fucking …'

'Calm down! We'll just shuffle into the corner,' I hiss. 'Anyway, they might not even come in.'

'This was a great idea, Emma,' he mutters furiously, as we do a hasty, awkward shuffle across the room together. 'Really great.'

'Don't blame me!' I retort. 'I just wanted to get a bit of passion back into our—' I freeze as the door opens.

No. God, no.

I feel lightheaded with shock.

Jack Harper is standing in the doorway, holding a big bundle of old magazines.

Slowly, his eyes run over us, taking in Connor's angry expression, his hand inside my bra, my agonized face.

'Mr Harper,' Connor begins to stutter. 'I'm so very, very sorry. We're … we didn't …' He clears his throat. 'Can I just say how mortified I am … we both are …'

'I'm sure you are,' says Jack. His face is blank and unreadable; his voice as dry as ever. 'Perhaps the pair of you could adjust your dress before returning to your desks?'

The door closes behind him, and we stand motionless, like waxworks.

'Look, can you just get your bloody hand out of my top?' I say at last, suddenly feeling irritated beyond belief with Connor. All my desire for sex has vanished. I feel completely livid with myself. And Connor. And everybody.


TEN


Jack Harper leaves today.

Thank God. Thank God. Because I really couldn't cope with any more of … of him. If I can just keep my head down and avoid him until five o'clock and then run out of the door, then everything will be fine. Life will be back to normal and I will stop feeling as if my radar's been skewed by some invisible magnetic force.

I don't know why I'm in such a jumpy, irritable mood. Because although I nearly died of embarrassment yesterday, things are pretty good. First of all, it doesn't look like' Connor and I are going to get the sack for having sex at work, which was my immediate fear. And secondly, my brilliant plan worked. As soon as we got back to our desks, Connor started sending me apologetic emails. And then last night we had sex. Twice. With scented candles.