Tom! It was on the tip of my tongue, but a throat-clearing from Tilda brought me to my senses. I would have to keep my words neutral or risk the third degree.
‘Though I’m not into drawing blood,’ he continued thoughtfully. ‘So literal bloody cheek isn’t quite what I have in mind. A nice bit of red flush, though…mmm.’
‘Did you call me for a reason?’ I muttered, beyond flustered.
‘Yes, I did,’ he said. ‘Did you set up that account on Safeword.com?’
‘Oh…not yet. I’ll do it later.’
I’d made a start but my brain had failed to co-operate, too preoccupied with Tom and his wily ways. I was in no mood to be penning kinky come-hithers to strangers after all that.
‘You?
??d better,’ he said, his voice like raw-edged silk. ‘Or you’ll know about it when I see you.’
Now this sounded promising.
‘Oh, will I?’ I said, trying to keep my tone light enough to deflect any attention from my neighbouring desks.
‘Yes, you will,’ he said. ‘And I’m getting a sense that you’re testing me. Do I have to prove that I mean business?’
I gulped. ‘Yes’ or ‘No’? Which was the right answer?
I couldn’t resist it. Despite the danger that surrounded me, I put my lips close to the mouthpiece and said, ‘Maybe you do.’
I could almost hear his smile at the other end.
‘Oh, dear, Foxy, you do have a habit of letting yourself in for it. OK then. As soon as you put the phone down, you’re going to go to the Ladies’ and do two things for me. One, pull the cups of your bra down and keep them that way for the rest of the day…you are wearing a bra, I take it?’
I gave a little yelp of indignant laughter. Mistake. Tilda was on the case right away, her neck tilted in my direction.
‘Of course,’ I hissed.
‘Just checking. I know what you’re like, Ms Cox, you rampant little animal. So, yeah, the bra is number one. Two, take off your knickers and put them in your bag for the rest of the day. You are…?’
I tutted and huffed. ‘Yes, again.’ I paused. ‘Oh, God.’
‘What?’
‘Do I have to?’
‘Yes, you have to. I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby at six, to make sure.’
Now this was a thrilling thought, as if I wasn’t thrilled enough.
‘Will you?’
‘You bet. What are you wearing?’
I gave Tilda a swift side-eye. I wasn’t sure I could answer this without arousing suspicion.
‘What do you mean?’ I hedged.
‘Skirt? Trousers?’
‘The former.’
‘I was hoping you would be! Excellent. Go on, then. And don’t forget. Six o’clock in the lobby for your underwear check.’ He made a couple of smoochy noises and rang off.