Agency

In Which Allegra Makes Plans

also Monday morning

She'd been thinking about him since the party on Friday night. Yes, she'd been a little impulsive. She was his superior, but she'd been feeling lost as a teenager in this strange, boring country. A little excitement was just the thing. She was reasonably sure the interest was mutual. He'd hardly seemed surprised when she leaned in to kiss him.

It was silly, she knew, but she still felt giddy. Infected. It had been too long since she'd felt this kind of power.

She'd considered texting him a hundred times over the weekend. Not sending a hundred texts, of course. But a hundred moments where she considered sending a single text. That would have been more than desperate enough. And risky enough.

She assumed there was probably a wife. Possibly kids. She recalled him mentioning "his girls."

A shame, but she understood how to work within boundaries like that. In truth, she'd almost never dated an unattached man. It was so exceedingly boring -- her cliched attraction to what she was forbidden to have. Like bloody Eve in the bloody garden all over again, she thought of herself. Risking it all for just one bite of the only thing she wasn't allowed.

But that's what made it so delicious.

She'd tried other apples. Of course, she had. Met up with single men in pubs, occasionally even arranged by the very married man she was trying to get close to -- you should meet my mate Geoff, divorced, good guy -- a facile attempt to throw a barrier in her single-minded way.

When Allegra has decided on something, there is little that will deter her. Certainly not something as simple as a wife and children.

Anyway, she hadn't. Texted him, that is. It was important in these early days not to apply too much pressure. If he felt pressed or pursued, he might shut down in the interest of self-preservation.

No, one had to be very light-hearted in this early stage.

So, instead of texting, she had gone into the empty weekend office and fed her feelings in the sanest way possible. She researched Bertrand Ross. Beginning with his HR file and ending with a quiet root through his desk.

Disappointingly, she hadn't found much. He'd been with the Agency his entire working life. Performance reviews told a story of a man who was adequately suited to his job, but not enthusiastic about it. Just means Bertrand isn't a climber, she thought warmly. His interest in her, once she'd fanned it, would be purely personal. Completely about them. Not about what she could do for him.

She didn't come across that signed SOW he said he'd received, but that wasn't worrying. He'd probably put it through to accounting straight away. He had a work ethic — a solid team player.

On his desk -- no pictures of a family. Just a jar of pens (all with their caps on, she noted with satisfaction) and a clean pad of paper.

So, nothing learned, but she felt closer to him having spent some time in his files and at his desk. Now that it was Monday, she was eager to bring him back into her physical orbit.

She opened her email and hit 'compose.'

***

INTERNAL EMAIL FROM: A. Wood-Crosbie, Managing Director
TO: Bertrand Ross, Account Director

B -- have been thinking about Friday. Need to see you.

Lunch?

Yours -- A