Guarded

"Morning," I said to the security guard.

"I'm just reading my stars," said he. "It says I will meet a beautiful woman. But that's not right because I met you two days ago. I'm a Saggitarius. What are you?"

"Totally uninterested in anything you might have to say, and a little bit creeped out by your entire demeanour," I said. Not really. But I thought it loudly. Instead I replied, "Libra."

He followed me to my training room and read my horroscope to me. Then he said, "Can you sign in when you get the chance?"

"Sure."

Five minutes later I went out to sign in. As I was doing so, he came round to the front of the desk and put his hand on my shoulder. And left it there.

This was 8.12 a.m. Did he really think I was going to say, "You are everything I've ever wanted in a man. Take me now. Here, against the ornamental fish tank. Sod the training course, let's get it on." I've been propositioned in various ways over the years - some successfully, some less so (one memorable instance where a male friend said totally out of the blue, "So, do you fancy a shag then?" I shan't tell you if he was successful or not). Still, no-one's ever tried seducing me by a hand on the shoulder in an office reception before. Novel.

I won't be going back to that office. But - lucky old me - he's on a training course in London on Friday. Thankfully not one of mine.