I’ve always loved my job. I thrive on it, in fact. I love this company that three generations of Sullivans have created. I love the challenges, the creativity, the wins. And I adore this beautiful space we’ve built to house our people, to nurture their talents and coax the very best out of them.

But I have never enjoyed coming into work quite so much as I’m doing this week.

Marlowe’s new position got off to a cracking start on Monday with that shopping spree. For the first time, I understood why little kids love dressing up their dolls. Marlowe is a highly intelligent, well-educated and talented woman. She seems organised as fuck and I have no doubt she’ll whip me and all my admin firmly into shape while taking a huge load off Plain Elaine.

All that is undeniable. And yet. She is also my brand-new fuck toy, and she’s glorious. Just glorious. Stunningly, head-turningly beautiful, for starters, all long-limbed and molten-eyed and golden-haired. She’s an absolute knockout, and she wears her new clothes so perfectly that a guy is incapable of doing anything but taking them right off her.

She also has a temperament I can really get on board with. She’s articulate, assertive, but not aggressive. She’s not afraid of hard work, and she’s no snowflake. While I was sold on her looks, I can’t afford to have an EA who’s purely decorative, and Marlowe is earning her salary across the board. She’s warm. Friendly. Upbeat. Resilient. Funny.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I like her. As a person. I’m not a woo-woo guy, but her vibe is positive. She has a good energy about her, an energy that draws you in and has nothing to do with those astounding looks.

I went easy on her yesterday—a quick blow job because she was sore from Monday. But today is a hoot. I get Alo to send over a sexy little white tennis dress and I drag her along to my racquets club at lunchtime where I proceed to beat her at padel by the skin of my teeth. Considering it’s her first time playing the sport, she’s fucking amazing. She’s seriously sporty: great eye for the ball; great stamina (a fact I duly note); and my absolute favourite trait—a total refusal to yield a point until she’s done absolutely everything in her power to win it.

She puts up such an amazing performance, in fact, and looks so hot doing it with her long legs and lithe figure and hair in a wholesome plait, that I feel compelled to drag her into the disabled changing room afterwards. Not only is it private, but the open-plan shower gives it more of a wet room dynamic.

‘Brendan!’ she gasps. ‘We shouldn’t be in here! What if someone needs it?’

‘I need it.’