'That's a common problem in long-term relationships,' says Lissy knowledgeably. 'You need to spice it up.'
'With what?'
'Have you tried handcuffs?'
'No! Have you?' I stare at Lissy, riveted.
'A long time ago,' she says with a dismissive shrug. 'They weren't all that … Um … why not try doing it somewhere different. Try doing it at work!'
At work! Now, that's a good idea. Lissy is so clever.
'OK!'I say. 'I'll try that!'
I reach for my bag, get out a pen and write [email protected]' on my hand, next to where I've written 'nb: darling'.
Suddenly I'm filled with fresh enthusiasm. This is a brilliant plan. I'll shag Connor at work tomorrow, and it will be the best sex we've ever had, and the sparkle will come back, and we'll be madly in love again. Easy. And that will show Jack Harper.
No. This is nothing to do with Jack Harper. I don't know why that slipped out.
There's only one tiny hitch to my scheme. Which is that it's not quite as easy to shag your boyfriend at work as you'd think. I hadn't quite appreciated before how open everything is in our office. And how many glass partitions there are. And how many people there are, walking around all the time.
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.