"You look nice," I heard Jackie mumble sleepily as she rolled over in bed and watched me clumsily looping a tie over my upturned collar in the half-light of the bedroom.
"Thanks," I said as I wrestled with it. I didn't often wear a tie, and I was struggling to get the knot the right size.
"What's the special occasion?" she asked, stifling a yawn. As a nurse, she often worked nights and she hadn't got in till the early hours of the morning.
"Oh nothing really, it's just that we're meeting with the head of Support today and I thought I'd make the effort," I replied. This was partly true, although it had actually been Fiona's idea for me to wear a suit and tie.
"Well, you look nice, you ought to wear it more often," she said, watching through half-open eyes as I slipped on the jacket of my favourite charcoal grey suit.
"Thanks," I said. "Listen, I might be a bit later again tonight."
"Okay, well text me later. Don't work too hard."
"Alright, see you later, love."
Of course, I felt bad about lying to Jackie, the guilt knotting and burning in my stomach like indigestion as I drove to the office. But I kept telling myself that it was a harmless fling, some meaningless sex, or at most a brief office romance that would be over in a month or so when Fiona's work was complete and she moved on. Jackie need never know, and what she didn't know couldn't hurt her.
"Morning David, you look smart," the receptionist said cheerfully as I waved my security pass to open the barriers.
"Thanks, Cara, you're looking good yourself," I replied. The problem with being on the inside of the reorganisation was that whenever I spoke to anyone these days, I couldn't help wondering if they'd still be here in a few months. How many receptionists were there? About five? Would that be cut to four? Or maybe three? I hoped Cara wouldn't lose her job, she was always so bright in the mornings.
As April had turned into May, Fiona had constructed a potential plan. After many meetings with the various heads of department, including Terry, she'd concluded that the structure and proportions of staff were, more or less, appropriate. Her conclusion from this was that the redundancies should be shared evenly by the departments and sub-teams.
I whistled happily as I sat down at my desk and said a cheery 'good morning' to Gwen.
"Isn't it your turn to make the tea?" she said, barely looking up from her monitor.
Apart from Fridays, the dress code in R&D was smart casual so I didn't often wear a suit and tie, and it made me feel a little awkward. I'd read somewhere that a tight collar can restrict the flow of blood to the brain and I tugged at it, trying to loosen it a little as I collected her mug.
The two suited men waiting for the kettle to boil stopped talking as I entered the kitchen, although I'm sure they'd been talking about the redundancies. I recognised one of them, an account manager called Geoff, a tall man with a shock of blonde hair. I remembered him from the Christmas party, belting out 'Born to Run' at the karaoke bar, his tie wrapped around his head like a bandana.
You know how there are certain people you just know you'll never get on with? For me, that was Geoff. He just always came across as being an arrogant tosser; I often came across him in the kitchen boasting about how he'd persuaded some customer to take an expensive upgrade they didn't need. He was the kind of guy that after a couple of pints would insist Gwen was only a lesbian because she'd never had a real man.
"Morning, David," he said. "I hear you're working with that totty who's down from the London office, that right?"
"Yes, Fiona. I'm helping her out for a while," I said through gritted teeth as I refilled the kettle.
"So, um, we've heard that we could lose up to twenty percent of the staff. Is that in the right ballpark?" he said, lowering his voice and leaning in close enough that I could smell his cheap after-shave.
"Sorry lads, I really can't say," I replied.
"Come on, just between us, eh?" he said, lightly punching my arm.
I was struggling to find a way of saying "Go away" politely as Fiona's head appeared around the door.
"Morning, David," she said. "Would you mind making me a cup of coffee? Just milk please."
"No problem," I said, ignoring the way Geoff and his colleague exchanged smirks.
"His master's voice," I heard Geoff whisper to his colleague, followed by the sound of muffled sniggers as they exited the kitchen.
--
"Thanks, sexy," Fiona said, as I leant over and carefully placed the coffee mug on her desk. I jumped, nearly spilling it as I felt her hand sliding over the taut material of my suit trousers, gently squeezing my thigh. I glanced up at the half-open door, relieved to see that there was no-one immediately outside.
"Isn't that sexual harassment?" I said, putting it down carefully, feeling my face burn red as her hand drifted upward, firmly squeezing one of my buttocks.
"Well then, you'll have to make a formal complaint to your manager," she said as her hand lingered, leisurely exploring the taut firmness of my cheeks.
"But you're my acting manager," I replied, twisting away as she tried to slide a hand into my trouser pocket.
