by Harry Goldstein Published August 18, 1997

For the first two-thirds of the twentieth century, the only sex at work happened between Cosmo girls and their GQ bosses or, more insidiously, between power-wielding, power-suited, power-lunching, power creeps and the subordinates they coerced into the act. The rest of the working world was pretty well segregated: men worked on assembly lines and coal mines, steel mills, and executive suites; women toiled in restaurants, schools, hospitals, retail stores, and offices. Today, many of the barriers that had been erected over the years to keep all those wandering eyes, hungry hearts, and surging hormones separate have disintegrated. For a host of complicated reasons, including political will and economic necessity, women have established themselves in the American workforce, moving onto the shop floor and scaling up the professional ladder. We're all working longer hours and have less time to socialize outside the office. We're together a lot, men and women, mano a mano, sisters of the same stripe. There's a lot of tension at the office these days; it drains the blood from our brains and pools below the belt, tingling like an itch that begs to be scratched. Like Lou Rawls drawls, Love is in the air. But if you don't want to get asphyxiated or suffocated, there are a few things to keep in mind.