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"  There I was, skirt hiked up, shirt unbuttoned, atop my boss&amp;#039;s desk. Across the street, the building workers were getting an X-rated show for free. Not that I was having sex with my boss \u2014 too clich\u00E9d. It was my coworker, the one I&amp;#039;d spent hours with, working on projects and bitching about company politics. We&amp;#039;d snuck into our boss&amp;#039;s office one slow Friday afternoon to act out our oft-shared fantasy of a quickie in the inner sanctum.  Fluorescent lighting aside, offices are the new meat markets. Unlike other forms of dating, workplace affairs guarantee you&amp;#039;ll never endure painful setups or spend your evening trawling Websites that list the contents of strangers&amp;#039; bedrooms. In the office, you have a prescreened pool of eligibles. You know loads of the same people and have approximately the same interests. You&amp;#039;re assured he&amp;#039;s gainfully employed and reasonably bright, working as he does in a place smart enough to have hired you.  But the real point is about companionship. Americans work their asses off. We don&amp;#039;t take lunch (scarfing a veggie burger while scanning cnn.com doesn&amp;#039;t count), and our dog has forgotten what we look like. We spend more time with colleagues than anyone else; it&amp;#039;s natural they become our friends \u2014 and sometimes our lovers.  Not that things always go smoothly \u2014 my first office romance proved that. A charismatic rising star, he dumped me after a whirlwind three-week &amp;quot;relationship.&amp;quot; I was just out of college, with a big crush that ended up crushing me. I sobbed silently in the office bathroom stalls; I alternately suffered and seethed while having to endure his presence every day. Though business and pleasure can mix, so can business and raw, murderous hatred. But I&amp;#039;d hazard that dating at work is inevitable. As corporate America insists on a workforce of hyperproductive automatons, we&amp;#039;re rebelling. We steal paperclips, surf the Net, and have a quick fling to affirm that we&amp;#039;re more than just another cog in the machine. My risky interlude on my boss&amp;#039;s desk might not be everybody&amp;#039;s idea of a perfect date. But it sure beat an anonymous grope in a mirrored room at some trendy loser mecca with a cover charge. Besides, with my schedule, I&amp;#039;d never have made it there anyway. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/advice/a11769/sex-at-work-howze/>