It was all wrong for me if I’m honest. I mean going to a concert with a man like Robin was alright, but the whole point of it wouldn’t be the music, would it? We would both know that something else might happen afterwards. In his car. Or up against a wall somewhere; or we’d stop at his office on the way back. For the umpteenth time I imagined myself across Robin’s desk and this time the thought was truly appalling. OK, true it was also fascinating. A bit of flirting was fun, but actual fornication was different. And men are so rough! What new ghastly trouble was I letting her get me into?