'Um.' I glance down myself: boringly plain blouse, smart but functional skirt. Not really going-out gear. For some reason, I feel it would be important to look the part for a drink with Diana. It could never really just be a drink after work. Or could it? I twist my necklace in my fingers uncertainly. 'Um. I...'

She smiles and waves her hand. 'Just a drink, after work. No more.' She glances down me as well, and her eyes rest on my throat for a moment, where I'm fiddling. Or maybe on my breasts. Or both. She looks back at my face after a bit, in any case. 'I'm not asking you to dinner or anything. And anyway, if you're worried about it, you look great, Fiona. Like you always do.'

She lets the compliment hang between us, and I feel myself start to blush. She can't help but look at me in a certain way, and I can't help but like it, despite myself. And if she's going to tell me I look nice while looking at me in that certain way, and I'm going to like it, then there's already something in the air between us and even a drink is not just going to be a drink. I wonder why I feel like a schoolgirl with a crush again, and why I feel that this could be more important than it seems, and why that's quite exciting. I wonder how Diana can just look at me and be casually nice, and automatically start me thinking like this.

I wonder why Diana is making peace with me, and whether the drink is part of that or part of the start of something else.

I stop myself fiddling with my necklace, and tug my earlobe instead. 'OK, yes. Why not? Where do you want to go?' I look around the deserted office. 'Most if this lot go down the road to the Crown on a Friday.' I look back at her and catch her eye. I smile sweetly. 'And thanks for the compliment.'

She shrugs, and carefully stops herself running her eyes over me again, even as I tighten the way my legs are crossed and let my shoe work loose from my heel. I run my hand through my hair instead, and she watches that for a second. Then she sniffs dismissively. 'The pub could be noisy.' She is carefully suggesting, as I half-expected she would, that we go somewhere where we can be alone and untroubled by colleagues: even if it's just a drink, it's already obviously that kind of just a drink. If I'm honest, I'm quite pleased about that. I don't want to have to deal with Diana while also dealing with everyone else from the office, even if they leave us alone. They'd all be very interested, and not least because Diana never comes down the pub.

She continues, 'I was thinking about a new wine bar I want to try. It'll still be quiet at this time on a Friday.' She gives in and flicks her gaze over my legs quickly. I smile to myself and wonder why it feels good to arouse Diana's interest. 'We can talk there.'

She's leaning on my desk, and her hand is dangling casually over the edge. I realise that my knee is not actually that far away from it, one quick movement would bring it up against her fingers. I shift in my chair slightly, and the gap closes about halfway. She glances down, as if realising the same thing for the first time, and her eyes rest on my knee for a long moment. She swallows and I hold my breath, but neither of us moves.

'Do we need to talk?' I know I shouldn't, but I do actually quite badly want her to touch me. I tighten my crossed legs yet further as I begin to feel her gaze on my legs prickle my insides. How does she manage to have this effect on me?

She looks back at my face. 'Yes, Fiona. I think we do.' She smiles. 'I'll see you in the foyer at five.' She stands up, and her hand almost brushes my knee. It could've done, it would almost have been unavoidable even under normal circumstances. So close. But I know she's being very careful and deliberately not touching me. She watches me uncross my legs as I turn back to my desk, and smiles before she leaves my work space.

***

When I got together with Petra, I stopped trying to meet anyone else and I haven't been back to the Duck since that second time with Catherine – I'm avoiding her deliberately. So I haven't really been out with another woman for a while, and I do spend a little bit of time, before I have to meet Diana after work, wondering what I feel about her asking me for a drink.

Obviously, there's a part of me that is unquestioningly happy that she has. I'm not sure I like this part of myself, but seeing as my attraction to Diana doesn't seem to want to go away, I suppose I have to learn to live with it, even if it does seem a bit supine. On the other hand, maybe she is just building bridges again, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's always better to be on good terms with someone (not least, important people at work) than not. And last – but by no means least – I'm quite intrigued to see Diana outside work. It's always interesting to be with someone when they're out of context but somewhere they know and feel comfortable. I always think you can learn quite a lot about someone like that.

Despite my best attempts to have some self-respect, I largely seem to be pathetically eager for Diana to like me. Like me as a person, of course – that's part of where this whole stupid situation came from, not wanting to be seen as just another pretty girl, or potential fuck. But that's bound up with the way I want her to fancy me, and want something with me, beyond just a snog and a grope in her office.

Catherine offered me everything I could ever want: she was sexy and an amazing lover, she was kind and good company, she understood me. But a relationship with her would be impossible, and I'm getting better at getting over her. Diana is selfish, impatient and promiscuous – almost everything I would normally avoid. So I do wonder why on earth I'm so interested in her, and why she just has to smile at me in a very particular way to melt entirely my resolve to keep her at a distance.

With a sigh, I shut down my computer slightly early and pop into the toilet to check my make-up and try to do something halfway nice with my hair.

***

We walk to the wine bar. Our office is fairly central, and it's not a long way to the part of town where the nightlife tends to be. Like Diana suggested, though, at five o'clock on a Friday it's still too early for things to be really busy. On the way, Diana asks how things are going with the accountancy qualification the firm are putting me through. I realise that she and Roger probably see each other a lot, both being heads of department – they have an executive meeting together at least once a month. Yet another reason to be careful with whatever our relationship turns out to be.

The wine bar is nice, much too nice for me under normal circumstances. There's no going up to the bar, there's a lot of angular chrome and glass furniture and monochrome fake flowers in vases, and there's a massive list of different types of wine. I have to concentrate quite hard on not feeling intimidated. After a bit of hunting, I do find a wine I've actually tried before – one of the cheapest ones, of course – and I order a glass of that.

Diana looks at me. 'Are you sure?'

I smile mirthlessly and nod. What a thing to ask! How to convey clearly and succinctly that I don't know what I'm doing and I'm not nearly so socially adept as she is. I swallow my irritation and wait until the waiter has drifted off. I realise that the best thing is just to be honest. 'I don't know much about nice wine, Diana. I know which ones I like, out of the ones in the supermarket I can afford.' I wave a hand around the bar. 'If I'm going out, I tend to drink cider. Rough, or what?'

She smiles, more kindly than I expect. 'Sorry. I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable deliberately. We can go somewhere else after this, if you like.'

'Let's see how this goes first, shall we?' I glance over and watch the waiter pour our glasses and put them on a tray with a small bowl of nibbles.

Diana leans in a little and drops her voice. 'To tell the truth, Fiona, this place is a bit more up itself than I was led to believe.' I glance back at her and she grins. 'And this chair is fucking uncomfortable.'

I can't help giggling a little. The chairs are truly awful: ugly and difficult to sit on with any grace or style, let alone comfort. Diana smiles in relief and sits back as the waiter brings his tray over. We avoid each other's eye as he serves us, but grin at each other behind his back as he turns away. I take a handful of nuts from the bowl and look down into my glass.

Diana holds her glass carefully, looking at the colour quickly, then flicks her wrist to swirl the liquid in the glass. Then she sniffs deeply and takes a small sip, breathing in through her nose. I want to laugh, but she does it all with such easy confidence that actually I'm impressed. I wait until she's taken a proper mouthful, and drink some of mine, then ask, 'So. The furniture's crap, the attitude's a bit poncey. But what's the wine like?'

She nods. 'Good. As it should be at these prices.'

I push my glass over. 'Do you want a go with mine, too?'

She looks at me, trying to see whether I'm teasing, but I smile and offer her the glass. She shrugs and does the same with my glass, but only takes a small sip. Then she nods from side-to-side and pushes my glass back. 'Actually, that's not bad at all.'

I smile at her over the glass as I take another drink. 'Eight quid a bottle, from the supermarket. I recognised the name. I treat myself with it sometimes, if I'm cooking something nice.'