There are times when I honestly don´t know what possesses me. It´s as if being an adult -- and having to act so uniformly dull all the time -- suddenly gets overwhelmingly tedious and I find that I just *have* to break momentarily free from the restraints society places on us.

Yeah, *right*.

I´m thinking complete bollocks and I know it.

It was the dimples that did it.

It´s *always* the fucking dimples. If I had my way I´d outlaw them in anyone over the age of twelve. Blasted things. They´re positively disconcerting.

// Yes, Chris, I think it´s a wonderful idea. I´d be delighted to help. You tell me what you want done and I´ll do it. And, hey, while I´m at it, why don´t you just smile at me some more and, to hell with it, I´ll be your slave for life. //

The truth always makes for such a lousy defence.

But, what else could I have done?

He´d looked so miserable upon realising that he´d be deep undercover on Valentine´s Day that I just *had* to ask what was the matter.

Big mistake.

*Huge* mistaken even.

Then again -- if I really wanted to look on the bright side -- I could say that I didn´t need that particular delusion anyway. Finding out that my chances with him were roughly on par with that of the proverbial snowflake in hell was probably for the best.

No.

It *was* for the best. I keep telling myself that. What´s more, I´m finally beginning to believe it too.

Nah, I exaggerate a little. I always knew that, for me, he was as unattainable as the Holy Grail (or to modernise the myth, as unattainable as Malone being in a good mood for an *entire* day…).

And before you say that I shouldn´t be so down on myself, that I´m a worthwhile person and Goddamn it, I could have Chris Keel if *I* wanted to, let me just add that it´s not really like that all.

I *fancied* him, (oh, even now the thought of that mouth sucking my… *Snap* out of it Spencer! You´re still at work you moron!) like a love-sick teenager lusting over the no doubt talentless but exceptionally aesthetically pleasing creature that is selling the most poster-mags at the time. I never kidded myself that I stood a chance, and, truth be told, I´m really more than content with this feeling. Having fallen prey to so many in my time, I´m well and truly used to crushes being a harmless aspect of my life. If nothing else they give me something to fantasise about.

Anyway, although for some mind numbingly stupid reason I´d never thought of it before, the minute he told me -- "I want Sam but, like one of those big birds with its head buried in the sand, he pretends that I´m nothing but a partner to him." -- it all made perfect sense.

Perfect.

Too perfect.

They are fucking perfect for each other.

Fucking… Perfect…

Perfect… Fucking…

Er, let´s not go there right now. I have to keep reminding myself that I´m still at work and that the rightful place for my hands to be is on the keyboard. *Not* gliding unconsciously towards my crotch.

Mind you, let´s look on the bright side again, (I swear I´ve got to stop drinking so much caffeine, my levels of chirpiness are beginning to piss even me off…) if I get caught having a surreptitious wank in the office then it would take the heat off Sam…

Poor Sam.

I don´t think I´ve seen him look so perma-stunned since the morning after his visit to that Karaoke bar with Chris.

I´m also beginning to worry about the plush Pikachu wearing the love-heart t-shirt. If he squeezes it much harder then I swear the stuffing is going to pop right out of its head.

I´ll say one thing for Chris, knowing when to stop is not one of his strong points. The roses in the box and the gym locker (and I still don´t know how he knew the combination to the lock…) were classy. The chocolate? Well, that wasn´t too bad. The tiny teddy-bear? Again, almost acceptable but I do believe the Pikachu was taking things just a *little* too far.

Then again, even the Pikachu pales in comparison to the masses of helium-filled, brilliantly red balloons that are currently tied to the back of Sam´s chair.

The office has never looked so bright. Sam has never looked so morose.

A voice suddenly breaks into my reverie. "Hey Spencer, are you going to answer that or do you *like* the sound of a phone ringing?"

Eh? What? Oh. Phone. Ringing.

Shit! My phone ringing.

"Spencer."

"Spence! What took you so long?"

And hello to you too, Chris.

"Um… I was busy. Anyway, what are you doing on the phone? I thought you couldn´t call from where you are."

"I´m in London. In Sam´s apartment to be exact."

Uh-huh… No wonder he sounds so happy.

"What about the case?"

"The case is over."

"I thought you were told to stick it out another week."

"What are you? Malone Junior? The case is finalised and in the hopefully capable paws of DS Bumpkin. I discovered the cache of weapons and how they were importing them and that was that. Why hang around?"

"Okay. Fine. Does Malone know?"

"He soon will."

"Aw, come off it, you don´t want me to tell him, do you? That´s really stretching our friendship."

"Nah. I´ll tell him. I just want you to get Sam to go home, that´s all. Oh, and make sure Sam doesn´t find out the case is finished… See ya!"

Get Sam to go home, that´s all…

I think I´m rather break into the Pentagon… Naked save for a collar round my neck complete with bell.

Thanks Chris. You´ve just managed to make buying and carefully hiding all those presents for you look positively easy in comparison to what you now want me to do. Well done.

Think Spencer, think!

Two pale, smooth naked bodies, glistening with sweat and entwined…

Aaaarrgh! Whilst that is a *more* than pleasant thought, now is neither the time nor the place… Nor is it helping.

For some reason I just don´t think tapping Sam on the shoulder and telling him that it is home-time will work overly well. In fact, I don´t think tapping him on the shoulder at all -- thus likely giving him the impression that yet another courier has arrived to deliver more *gifts* to him -- is a great idea because I suspect he´d be apt to punch me. He just has that look about him at the moment.

Oh look -- my mind deviates from its course ­ well I never, Malone´s just wandered out of his office and taken his customary place in the middle of the office for when he wants to share something with us. Yep, there he goes, opening his mouth…

"I´ve just had a phone call from Mr Ke…"

Shit! Fuck!

I swear to God, Chris, you are going to owe me big time for this. Dimples or no fucking dimples, this is going above and beyond the call of duty.

Without pausing to think about what it is I think I´m doing, I spin, too quickly on my chair and, throwing my arm out, knock my coffee all over the keyboard and desk.

Goodbye keyboard! You´ve served me well and I can but hope that your death furthers the cause!

The clutter of the cup hitting the floor and the sight of the coffee dripping over the desk and onto the floor momentarily shuts Malone up. If I´m not mistaken he even graces me with his patented, ‘now, remind me, which kindergarten did I have the misfortune to pick you up from?´ expression before sighing heavily.

Sam also sighs heavily.

From the look on his face, he has well and truly had enough of his working day.

"That is it! Anyone would think it was April Fools Day the way things are going on here. I´ve had it! I´m going home," he declares tetchily.

Sam bounds up from his chair, grabs his jacket, stuffs the Pikachu into his pocket (*interesting*) and storms out.

I mentally offer a prayer of thanks to the great unknown.

I´ve done my bit, Chris. It´s now entirely up to you.

I´d wish you luck, but I know you don´t need it.

You´ll just have to smile at him and, the memory of his day, like his heart, will just melt.