The pattern was repeated during the following weeks, Rémi, or Monsieur Tremblay, would come during the moments my superior was away with some kind of excuse, he would ask me something, worrying very much about the welfare of the sweet and innocent Mademoiselle Leclerc. I would maintain the distances, using the always useful French ”vous”, but he soon started slipping calling me by my pretend first name and making himself comfortable around my desk. One day he took it one step further.
”Chère Jeanne, why don't you join me for lunch today?” he asked caressing the hand I had on the computer mouse.
”Oh, Monsieur Tremblay, you flatter me, but wouldn't it be inappropriate?” I was setting a bait and waiting for him to bite it.
"Not at all, ma chérie, I always invite all the new recruits for lunch every now and then, and I still haven't been able to hear your story." He stared at me with what he expected to be seductive eyes.
"Well, I will have to ask..."
He cut me before I even had time to remember which was the name of my boss. "That won't be necessary, meet me at the hall at 12 pm."
He left and I held a scream of joy, the plan I had devised was starting to work. Needless to say, that was just one of many incredibly boring lunches when I had to pretend to be flabbergasted.
