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face.
    Suddenly she felt a hand sneak inside her nightdress and start to stroke her breast. Despite the presence of Jamie and Daisy, she stiffened in response and felt an unexpected stab of desire.
    ‘David!’ she chided gently. ‘Not in front of the children!’
    ‘Quite right,’ David conceded, climbing off, and took each child gently but firmly by the hand. ‘Come with Daddy.’ He led them out of the room and downstairs.
‘Daddy’s got a video for you.’
    When they got to the sitting room she heard a loud stage whisper. ‘Here’s two packets of Smarties. Don’t tell Mummy.’ And he bounded back up the stairs.
    Smiling lecherously he shut the door and locked it.
    ‘And now, Mrs Ward, where were we?’
    As he jumped on the bed she saw that his cock was peeping cheerily out of his boxer shorts and she stifled a giggle.
    But she soon stopped laughing as his hands delved into her nightdress again, one caressing her nipple and the other diving gently into the welcoming wetness between her legs. And after a few
seconds she forgot everything. Television. The nanny. Even her maternal responsibilities as they both clung to each other in joyful, passionate lovemaking.
    As orgasm beckoned, only seconds away, there was a sudden thundering on the door and Jamie was outside shouting. ‘Dad! Dad! The tape’s finished!’
    Liz felt David deflate like a balloon with the air let out.
    ‘Tell me’ – he collapsed with laughter on her chest and held her – ‘whose idea was it to have children?’
    ‘So what’s she like, then, your new boss?’ Steffi Wilson, gossip writer and star interviewer of the
Daily World
noticed how Claudia flinched at the
word boss. ‘I hear the hacks were falling over themselves to worship her at the press launch.’
    Steffi leaned closer to her old friend Claudia Jones in Harry’s Bar and ordered another Bellini. The delicious blend of champagne and peach juice always reminded her of expenses-paid trips
to Venice. Not since she’d joined the
World
of course. They were only interested in screwing people on the cheap. But at least they paid you vast salaries to do it.
    Steffi had known Claudia ever since they’d been at school together fifteen years ago. Not Roedean or Cheltenham Ladies’ College for them. They were old girls of Southend Grammar and
it gave them a solidarity no exclusive private school could ever have forged. They were the only two who had ever fought their way through the net curtains and the Airwick Mist out of suburbia and
into the big time.
    ‘Yes.’ Claudia tried not to let her anger show, even to Steffi. ‘So I hear.’
    ‘So what went wrong? I thought you had the Yankee Dwarf so pussy-whipped the job was yours.’
    ‘So did I and then Liz bloody Ward pulls the Superwoman act and the Board damn well fell for it.’
    ‘How inconvenient. So what’s she like? I’ve never heard of her before. Usual type, I suppose. Dedicated career woman? Account at Browns, company Merc, works out with her own
trainer, holidays at Club Med?’
    Claudia laughed hollowly, remembering Liz’s one good outfit with sick on the shoulder. ‘More chain-store massacre, Volvo estate and cottage in Devon.’
    Claudia knocked back her Bellini and brightened. She’d had an inspiration. Steffi was rapidly getting a name as the bitchiest writer in print.
    ‘You know, you should do an interview with her. A Stephanie Wilson special. She’d interest you. You see, it’s my belief that if you scratched the most powerful woman in
television you’d find a suburban mum fighting to get out. She should be doing the school run, not trying to run a television company. The only question is how long it takes her to find
out.’ She could see that Steffi was intrigued. She loathed career mothers as much as Claudia did.
    Claudia leaned even closer to her friend and looked quickly around before she spoke. ‘Maybe you could help her find out a bit quicker.’
    ‘And you could step into her size