On my knees

regret

"Breakfast," he announces, waking me with a tray of fruit and cream cheese and smoked salmon bagel. My hands and feet are free and I'm surprised to find that he's tied one of the ribbons around my hair.

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"Wow," I groan. I don't normally eat breakfast but I've never felt as hungry as I do at this moment.

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He picks up a pear and bites into it, lying at the foot of the bed, propped up with one elbow. I notice for the first time that he's wearing a suit.

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"Listen. I've got to make tracks soon, an important meeting, but I had fun last night, I want to do it again." On a Sunday? Fine by me, I think, but I'm actually supposed to have planted six hidden cameras in your house by now. The thought puts me off my food.

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"I'll just have a shower quickly."

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"Of course."

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I stare at myself in the huge mirror of his en-suite. My hair is a post-coital mess and I've still got the cameras in the lining of my clutch. What were you thinking? I ask myself. I expected a bit of fooling around, a pool party, then Tina and I would make our excuses and make a hasty exit, not this.

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So why don't I regret it?

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