…and I don't approve of that in the workplace.

Sex at Work is out tomorrow – a brand new Xcite compilation of inappropriate behaviour on the job.

You'd win no prizes, let alone votes, for guessing that I wrote my story Kingmaker in the aftermath of the 2010 General Election, during that strange uncertain period when nobody knew exactly how the government was going to look. The unique position Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg found himself in gave me pause for thought. And you can be clear that my thinking during that pause had little to do with changing the democratic process and everything to do with smut. And so a tale was born.

Here is an excerpt:

'Make me an offer.'

He is sweating and there is fear in his eyes; he has been awake for forty eight hours straight and it is starting to tell on him.

'That…that's what the negotiation teams are trying to thrash out…'

'I'll give you thrashing out. Never mind the policies. Make me an offer. Make me an offer.'

I put a well-shod foot on the Regency-striped upholstery of a chair. He stares at the angle my leg makes, too terrified to move his gaze further up to the place where my skirt hem and stocking top meet, visibly. My hand is on my hip. My skirt suit is sharp and deadly and the lack of sleep has brought me to vivid, almost hallucinatory, life. I have power. At last, I have power, and I mean to keep it.

'Ms Saffron, I think we are all rather exhausted…'

'I'm not. I'm raring to go, Mr Ruby. I feel I could go all night.'

'I'll let you have a referendum,' he whispers. Oh, this is rich. This man, who has called me an intellectual featherweight and a harpy who lives in cloud-cuckoo-land, has lost his grip on the nation and now needs my support to claw it back. Shall I give it? Or shall I go to the other side, the dark side? Whatever happens, I am the fulcrum around which the power balance is arranged. I may never be the King, but I can be the Kingmaker.

I remove my foot from the chair and approach him, circling him, eyeing up my prey in its crumpled suit. He has a certain rough and ready something about him, I've always thought. He's certainly rough now, but is he ready?

'Yes, you will,' I say clearly. 'You will let me have a referendum, I'm sure. But is that all I get?' I put out a hand, let one finger spark against the burgeoning stubble on his cheek, like striking a match. He almost jumps back.

'Have you gone quite mad, Ms Saffron?'

'Perhaps. But this is the deal, Mr Ruby, which you can take or leave. If you don't want me to screw you, you have to screw me.'

I want to laugh at the way his jaw drops. Is he really so surprised? He certainly isn't uninterested; there is a flush at his collar and he bites his lip, looking down into my deep cleavage with more than a touch of a leer.

'You're serious, aren't you?'

'Never more so. And get on with it, can't you? I'm supposed to be seeing Mr Cobalt in half an hour. And who knows what he has to offer, eh?'

The thought of the hated Mr Cobalt spurs Ruby into action. He twists me at the wrist and manhandles me over to the big polished desk; the desk that has seen the signing of so many documents of state. It turns me on to think of the decisions that have been made in this room, and the knowledge that I am adding to them in a rather unique way brings an exhilarated laugh to the surface. I lean back, resting my bottom on the ledge, and pull Ruby down to my lips by his dangling red tie.

He kisses well, just as I knew he would; there is passion and spirit behind those pouting, spouting lips, probably the same passion that fires up his rhetoric. I wrap my legs around his hips and pull his hard core towards me, grinding against it while our tongues collide. His arms are strong and his shoulders broad, as befits a man who has had the cares of a nation resting upon them. I feel that we could deal with each other; we could unite, even merge. He shoves my skirt up higher and places the firm hand of government upon my thigh, finding it damp.

'Is this what you want?' he mutters, breaking the kiss and patting the soft flesh above my stockings.

'It's a start. Get on your knees.'

Whatever my thoughts about the election outcome might have been, at least I sold a story on the back of it. It's an ill wind etc.

But don't let my story put you off! There are workplace-based shenanigans from some of erotica's very finest to be found within the pages of Sex at Work.

K D Grace ; Izzy French ; Rachel Kramer Bussel ; Emma Lydia Bates ; J J Monroe ; Landon Dixon ; Kay Jaybee ; Angel Propps ; Zee Kensington ; Sommer Marsden ; J Troy Seate ; Velvet Tripp ; Honey Leigh ; Sylvia Lowry ; Charlotte Stein ; Jeremy Edwards ; Mia Lovejoy ; Heidi Champa ; Lynn Lake.

And I really love this cover of the five-story ebook version – it so captures the spirit of my story!