Jayne works as an announcer for a TV channel that shows soft porn. When Stella, her producer, tells her about an exclusive sex club she thinks that might be just what she needs to spice up her rocky affair with Mick . . .

By the end of the evening Jayne was full of suppressed excitement. There was an added sparkle to her closing link that even the others noticed. She ad-libbed her way through, posing flirtatiously with her lips moistened and her eyes gleaming seductively. Afterwards, when Bill came up to remove the mike, she could see his arousal beneath his cord trousers and hear the deep-throated lust in his voice.

'God, you were one hot bitch tonight!' he murmured huskily, as his hand caressed her behind.

'Made up for your absence yesterday, all right!'

Tony uttered similar sentiments, and Jayne revelled in the sense of power it gave her. Up to now she had always remained slightly aloof from all the hype, distrusting her new-found status as a surrogate porn queen. But now she was no longer ashamed of her rôle. When Tony's earlier remark, that he hoped Mick appreciated her, had struck home. If he didn't find her sexy tonight then he was a lost cause in the bed department, she decided, and she would be perfectly justífied in seeking her fulfilment elsewhere.

But when she got home she was devastated to find the flat in darkness and her lover absent. 'The bastard!' she said aloud, striking a histrionic pose. 'I give the performance of my life and he doesn't even see it.'

He still wasn't home when, at two-thirty, Jayne crawled into bed. She lay awake, miserable and anxious. True he was sometimes out this late, when he and his mates played poker, but tonight of all nights! Somehow she felt he should have known she wanted him. If there was no telepathic link between them, if he couldn't sense when she needed him and be there for her, how close could they really be?

Jayne knew her reasoning was irrational, but she couldn't help herself. Her mind drifted away from Mick and back towards the secret club that Stella belonged to. She wondered what kind of people joined such a club - over-sexed ones, presumably. She thought of Stella, performing sex acts with other members before the camera, and wondered how it felt to be a real porn star. Strange, she'd never wondered how if felt to be Anna Vandyke, or Delycia. Perhaps that was because the films were third-rate, the acting unconvincing. It would be different if people acted as if they really meant it, were really turned on by each other. What wonderful films you could make then!

Mick crawled in about half an hour later, when Jayne was on the verge of sleep. Her earlier desire had dissipated and when he disturbed her she merely grunted a little and turned over to doze. He didn't attempt to seduce her, or even talk, but she heard him give a deep sigh. Part of her wanted to take him in her arms, to try and rekindle their physical passion for each other, but her heart wasn't in it. Instead she gave herself up to a confused sequence of erotic and fantastic dreams. The only thing she remembered about these dreams was the name she was known by: Miranda.

She woke halfway through the morning to find Mick had already gone to work. It was a familiar situation, but now it only underlined the gulf between them. After a black coffee and croissant she picked up the phone and dialled Stella's home number, but there was no answer. Disappointed, she nevertheless left a message to say she was interested in being put forward as a club member and suggested using the name from her dream. She hoped Stella would get the message at home. It was not something she wanted to talk about at the studio with types like Bill around.

Although she wouldn't mind Tony knowing. At the thought of the blue-eyed director, Jayne's heart gave a sudden lurch. What if he were involved in this club of Stella's too? It was dangerous having affairs with colleagues, which was why she had kept him at bay so far. But if the rules of this club forbade its members to become involved with each other outside its walls, as Stella had hinted, that put a very different complexion on things.

During the next few days Jayne was on tenterhooks wondering whether her name had been put forward to the committee. Stella had warned her not to mention it again: she would let her know the outcome. Even so, the very thought of joining such a club put a new spring in Jayne's step and a sparkle in her eyes that was noticed by the viewers. They rang and wrote in asking if she had a new lover, begging her to wear certain clothes or making various indecent suggestions, and seemed to have completely forgotten that she went off air the previous week.

'You're flavour of the month again, Jayne,' Stella remarked dryly.

Had she guessed that her appeal was based on the prospect of imminent sexual liberation? Jayne felt a new and subtle tension in her life, both at the studio and at home. Mick was behaving oddly, suspiciously, and she wondered if he had noticed her new aura and concluded that she had taken a lover, but the strange thing was she no longer cared. He'd had his chance and been found wanting. They were friendly towards each other when they met, and she bore him no ill-will, but he no longer made her pulse race or her heart throb. Someone else would have to fill that void in her life now - or rather, several others.

Then, just as Jayne was growing impatient, a call came from Stella one afternoon.'There is a vacancy, and the committee would like to see you,' she said straight away. 'Can you make it on Friday, after work? We could go together.'

'Yes, that's fine. Is there anything I should do? Wear?'

'Wear your sexiest underwear. And be prepared to take it off.'

Jayne's hand was trembling as she replaced the receiver. Stella had sounded so matter-of-fact, but the prospect of appearing before this anonymous 'committee' filled her with a combination of heady excitement, extreme curiosity and sheer terror. She doubted whether she would get much more information out of her producer so she decided not to try. When they met at work that evening nothing was said on either side. But by the time Friday night came around in Jayne's over-active mind the interview had taken on the awesome dimensions of an initiation ceremony.

She was nervous and fluffed her lines a couple of times, thinking of the trial to come. Stella seemed to sense this and refrained from commenting as they got ready to leave the building. In the dressing room she glanced with approval at Jayne's black lace underwear trimmed with red satin bows but again said nothing. Jayne put a loose turquoise velour top on over her bra and pulled on some stretchy black velvet leggings which she wore with high-heeled black patent sandals. She had agonised for some time over what to wear and settled for what she thought of as 'classy tarty.'

'Do I look okay?' she asked Stella hesitantly.

'Great! You needn't worry, Jayne. The committee will love you, I'm sure.'

'Will they know who I am?' she asked, uncertainly. 'I mean, what if they watch the programme?'

'If any of them does recognise you they won't mention it. We have a kind of unwritten rule that forbids any reference to what we do outside the club. And you'll be known as Miranda, remember. Better get used to that.'