Which was nice. Poppy put his hands on his hips and did a little wiggle, then he stuck out his tongue at the photograph and slowly curled it back in a solicitous beckon. Alistair was a hunk, he thought, and it certainly wouldn’t be a trial to play games with him. Suddenly he was shaken from his musing by a noise at the door, and he knew it wasn’t Mrs Boroclough because he would have heard her car drawing into the drive. He stood stock still, both hands pressed to his face, eyes peeping through open fingers. It was scary to be left in a strange house alone. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pretended the noise hadn’t happened and pretended there was no horrible brute lurking outside in the dark. After all, he was only a boy in pink panties, so what chance had he of deterring a burglar? After a moment or two some courage returned and he apprehensively went up to the sitting room door, opened it a crack and half opened one eye to peer out into the front hall. Nothing was there. The strange. As Sarah exited the elevator on the 6th floor, Sarah kept her head down and tried to appear as unassuming as possible as she moved quickly along the hallway to find Mark's office. Given the time and his schedule, Mark was likely in his daily briefing with some of the senior partners. Glancing in either direction, Sarah quickly made her way past the empty desk of Mark's secretary, and darted inside his office, shutting the door behind her. Sarah was already tingling in anticipation as she relished the quick thrill of sneaking through a crowded firm unnoticed. She placed the bag of eclairs at the center of Mark's desk as a surprise for when he returned to his office, and quickly scrambled under Mark's desk to wait for him. She waited there, seated as comfortably as possible while squeezed below Mark's desk, for about half an hour before boredom started to get the best of her. And it being nearly lunch time, those eclairs were starting to call her name. Well, she had brought one for.
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