"The wages of sin," she noted philosophically.
Paul had the feeling that he owed her something. "You doing anything tonight?" he asked.
She looked at him. Her dark eyes were exciting, and unreadable. "You mean, like a date or something?"
"Yeah."
"Sorry, I have to get home. My mother."
"Oh." He tried to conceal his disappointment. "But, if I should be required to, ah, work late," Brenda went on, "something might-ah-come up."
"I don't see...."
"For example, maybe we could confer on deep matters, in the conference room, after quitting time."
Brenda suggested. "There are some important matters on the table there-or there will be, around about 5:30."
Paul caught on, and manfully, his c**k tried to respond. It didn't make it. He unlocked the door and led the way into the main file room.
