Secret Agent: A Day in the Life of an estate agent

'Kelly's good viewing statistics have everything to do with her vital statistics'
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In what is fast degenerating into a sixth-form classroom, our office has awarded Kelly a prize. Rather than dismiss it out of hand for the condescending gimmick that it is, she is waltzing around, all euphoric. "I can't believe it!" she keeps squealing, affecting the mock surprise of a Hollywood Oscar winner. Not that the "prize" is anything so grand: Kelly has won a bottle of Tesco Cava for achieving the most number of viewings this month.

"I advise the rest of you to take a leaf out of Kelly's book," my manager said, using the occasion to pat her rather lingeringly on the back.

"With all due respect," Justin piped up, trying and failing to hide his jealousy, "Kelly has assets that we don't have." Overlooking the fact that this made me a flat-chested male, he was right. Kelly's viewing statistics had nothing to do with her skills as an estate agent and everything to do with her vital statistics. She has this incredible knack of booking viewings so that the confused male buyer – because Kelly's customers are always male – isn't sure whether he has made an appointment to see a property, or dialled a 0908 number. Sample line: "I think you're going to like what you see, Roy. I've got the keys to the basement – so be prepared to get dirty."

I had always assumed that such outrageous flirting was reserved for her unsuspecting clients, until I found myself in the unfortunate position of being alone in the office with Gavin. "Can I ask you a question?" he ventured, swaggering up to my desk with misplaced confidence.

I hate this opener – it invariably precedes something rather uncomfortable. I nodded hesitantly.

"Do you think that Kelly likes me?"

The urge to throw my head back and roar with laughter was strong, but I resisted. "Of course Kelly likes you, silly," I said, then, for no good reason, added, "we all like you".

"I mean, likes me, as in fancies me," he explained.

I smiled wanly, wondering what on earth led him to think that someone who had the pick of Loaded's readership would choose a freckly estate-agent wannabe seven years her junior. And then he explained. "She keeps asking me to do stuff for her, like buy her chewing gum. I think it's an excuse."

Before I could set him straight, Kelly herself bounded in, laughing coquettishly with a bloke. "Wait there, I'll just grab the keys," she said, winking as she disappeared round the back.

"She's a bit alright," the bloke said, cocking his head in her direction and grinning.

Gavin pushed back his chair and drew himself up to an imposing 5ft 3in. "Shame she's already taken, mate."

The excruciating silence that followed proved to be mere respite next to the furious tirade that erupted when Kelly discovered why her man had left. That'll teach her to be a prize flirt.