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temptations would be torture—everyone drinking coffee and talking about going out and getting drunk. I tried not to think about the state-of-the-art coffeemaker that was gathering dust in my kitchen, because it only made me want to scream with frustration.
    “Right. Let’s see what we’ve got for you this week.” James shuffled his paper around on his desk. I gave the first genuine smile of our conversation. His reliance on pen and paper in the age of information technology was somehow charming. “We’ve just started an account with a company called Dane Gibson Associates who need a new integrated payroll system. It’s an important account, so I’ll need you to check over the work my minions here have been doing.”
    I listened to James’s summary of the new account and tapped out a few relevant notes while simultaneously surfing to DGA’s main website to get more of an idea about what I’d be dealing with. They looked like an incredibly successful employment agency, dealing with professional temps and headhunting missions for companies across the South East. Dane himself gave a smarmy grin from their home page, and I felt an irrational surge of irritation at the man. He was way too good-looking, and he knew it. I wondered if the neatly trimmed goatee and stylish suit meant he was gay or merely metrosexual. Of course, I had to admit most straight men were better groomed than I was at that time, new haircut or not.
    When James had finished his rundown, he gave me an awkward smile. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but you’d say if it was more than you could cope with, wouldn’t you?”
    “Of course. I’ll be fine,” I said breezily, knowing full well I’d have more than a few late nights working on this account.
    “Great. Well, I’ll email over the file and let you get on with things, then. Bye for now.”
    “Bye, James.”
    I kept the fixed grin in place until I’d switched off the webcam, then slumped back into the chair. Moments like these, I knew I was kidding myself when I said it was only the dialysis regime that kept me out of the workplace. If a twenty-minute conversation completely wiped me out, how on earth would I cope with a day in the office?
    18
     
    Still, no point in fretting about things that couldn’t be changed. I pinched the bridge of my nose, thought productive thoughts, and set about my latest assignment.
    Of course, forty minutes into my supposed work binge, I found myself navigating to my favourite adult DVD site—the one I knew used Ollie’s company for deliveries. I tried searching for “parcel delivery guy”, came up with nothing and eventually struck on using “mailman” as the search term. I added a couple of the most promising-looking titles to my basket and selected the guaranteed next day delivery option. Then I felt a bit guilty and went browsing for X-Men comics. At least that way I’d have something I could talk about next time Ollie knocked on the door to deliver my porn. It’s not like I could tell him I had a recently discovered kink for parcel delivery guys, could I?

Chapter Three
    The next morning, I stood naked in front of my wardrobe, willing it to give me a break. Ollie would be here at some point in the next few hours, if the online parcel tracking information was correct, and I wanted to be wearing something at least marginally more stylish than I had last time. I glared at the row of suits I could no longer fit into before reassuring myself that Ollie probably wouldn’t be into that look anyway as he had that whole skate-punk thing going on.
    Assuming he was even into guys, which he probably wasn’t. And even if he was, why on earth would he be interested in me?
    I had to keep telling myself that because I was starting to act like Zoe used to when she complained about having nothing to wear, despite her wardrobe bursting at the seams. I stretched up to the top shelf where I’d stowed all my clubbing gear, and as I did, the tape holding my