Mister Doe's Fiction: Janice

Janice
by Bryan Doe
suggested by Bart Agee

The day I came up with this story idea it ran nonstop in my mind. For most of my adult life people have told me that I was "too nice." Well, I've been thinking a lot about that lately, and I thought of an incident that I could combine with my "niceness" (ugh) and come up with a story.

The idea I came up with also includes some "living clothes" bits like my "Dream" and "Eye for Beauty" stories. It was based on a real-life situation, where some friends and I were coming from... call it a religious conference. We went to meet with some friends of one of my passengers at this restaurant, and the extremely well-endowed hostess met us at the door wearing a catsuit (that at first glance looked like nothing more than black bodypaint), pointing out her emphatically female figure all too well.

I got to thinking, what if I were her boss? What if I'd been secretly eyeing her, trying to work up the courage to ask her out, and then she shows up wearing this? And what if I was still struggling with being "too nice" at the time?

OK, so I finally made manager. It didn't take long for me to decide that there was no point in hanging on to my job at Mo' Better Blues unless I made manager, and quick. People can catch an attitude real quick when you're dealing with their money or their food, and being a manager was the only thing that could made the job's downside worth the trouble.

But at first I wasn't real thrilled about it. That's because I didn't really *feel* like a manager. I was basically a pushover in those days. Always had been. If people came in late, I knew I should say something, but the words just wouldn't come. If they wore something inappropriate, or did something stupid, unless it directly involved a customer I usually wound up letting it go.

I suppose that should have gotten me in trouble, but in fact the staff here was always basically a family, so the place ran itself while I figured out how to be a boss.

One of the jobs fringe benefits, one that never gets pointed out in an interview, or printed on a check stub, was working with Janice, the restaurant's hostess. This girl was (and IS) ALL THAT! Janice is about as fine as they come. She's VERY well endowed, front and back, which makes for kind of a sticky situation.

See, the restaurant's clientele consists of dating and married couples, and singles looking to meet someone, and as hostess, Janice is usually the first person people see when they come in. Fortunately, though, she was usually good-natured about... "things," though; she tended to wear attractively nondescript clothing to work, though no one could ignore her if they wanted to.

Things tended to run smoothly, more because of the close-knit staff than because of my dazzling managerial skills. I worked on a "managerial persona," but fear of not being accepted as a "real" boss forced me to keep the persona under wraps, continuing to be a pushover.

I also developed strong feelings toward Janice, which I rarely even hinted at. Why, I can't say, exactly, especially since she had a pretty quiet social life at the time.

Then Tony came into her life.

He met her at the restaurant, and quickly insinuated himself into her life. He called himself a "performance artist," and he had some pretty strong views on things. He actually said in public that "clothing is censorship," and that people should rebel against this "insidious tool the Man uses to keep them under control."

Under his influence she began wearing more and more daring clothes, and at first I didn't say anything, of course, even though many of our female customers could have felt threatened by this woman's dazzling figure on display.

Of course, I also *wanted* to see this woman's dazzling figure on display for my own reasons, so I didn't really *want* to say anything to her about it, though I knew that a "real" manager would.

Then one day she showed up for work in an outfit that was basically a strip of cloth across her breasts and a somewhat larger strip around
her nether regions. I saw her in this outfit and basically I shut down. The "regular guy" part of me was absolutely thrilled, of course. But I was the "boss," supposedly, and as boss I couldn't have this sort of thing. And of course, I couldn't come out and say this. So I folded.

Then, from my own mouth an authoritative voice (that up to that point I had never been able to muster) told Janice that she can't work in that outfit, unless she wants to drive customers away. She went to the ladies' room and changed. I was amazed that all it took was a simple statement, though I wasn't aware of where that simple statement was really coming fron.

A couple of minutes later Janice came from the bathroom wearing a black catsuit. Now, a catsuit wouldn't normally be inappropriate clothing. But to tell you the truth, when she first came out of there my first impression was that she was wearing black bodypaint.

Then, wonder of wonders, the same voice as earlier said no, that won't do either, even though inside I was all for it and at the same time wondering just who was doing my talking since it "obviously" wasn't me. In response to my silent question an inside voice insisted it was me talking; that is, it was the managerial persona I'd been afraid to display. It came out to demonstrate what happens when you project authority.

*After all,* the inner voice said, *you weren't made manager just to have a title. You have to run this place, and when you say something these folks have to know you mean it.*

Sure enough, everyone in the place knew that I insisted that Janice change. After the second change of outfit (into a t-shirt and jeans) she even called me "bossman" in front of everybody, doing a military-type salute (and smiling).

Then the inner voice told me that I was now on my own, so I went to my office to take care of some necessary business. Before leaving the office, I made a couple of phone calls, the whole time with my back to the door. When I turned around, with the phone still in my hand, I found myself face-to-face with Janice's catsuit. Of course I dropped the phone.

A voice coming from the catsuit demanded to know why I made Janice take it off. I approached the suit, staring in disbelief. "Who's in there?" I said. Is that Janice?"

"No, it's not Janice," the voice snarled. "You made her take me off, remember? I want to know why." I walked up right behind this suit, looking down into the collar. Being so close to it (against it, actually) assured me that my eyes weren't deceiving me; it really was as empty as it looked.

I called Janice over the intercom, thinking it had to be some kind of trick she was playing. When she got to the office she saw the catsuit and yelped. She almost fainted, thinking *I'm* the one playing a trick.

Once it was established that neither of us was playing a trick on the other, the suit repeated its question. "Why did you make her take me off?" Janice seconded the question.

I hesitated. *You know why you did it,* my inner voice said. *Tell her.*

"Janice," I said, a bit more forcefully than I usually speak, "look at yourself, and then think about our average female customer, and tell me why I made you take the catsuit off."

After a few moments, Janice half-smiled and allowed that yes, maybe the sight of her in a catsuit is a bit too much for the female customers to handle. "But did you think that maybe it's not the female customers I was thinking about?" she said.

"You mean, you had your eye on a customer?"

"No, Boss," she said emphasizing "Boss" (and making me a little uncomfortable doing so, though not nearly as uncomfortable as I would have thought), "not a customer."

*Like you didn't know that,* the inner voice said. *Go ahead and make your move already, willya?*

I started to say something, but cut myself off before anything came out. "Well, I just want you to know that I appreciate you not causing a scene out there earlier. I half-expected you to start sounding like your friend Tony."

"Oh him?" she snarled. "Tony's history. I got tired of being his platform."

"Oh really?" I said. "That's good-- I-I mean, that's too bad!"

I nervously looked down at my desk, but I found myself stealing glances at the catsuit, somehow thinking I wasn't being noticed.

After an awkward silence, the catsuit's voice asked, "Why don't you tell Janice the 'real' reason you called her in here?"

I repeated the question, first out loud and then internally. The inner voice told me it wasn't going to take over, I was going to have to handle this one myself. I scraped up the courage from somewhere to tell Janice I wanted to take her out on a date. She and the catsuit both blurted out "finally!"

I was shocked. "You mean you *knew* I had my eye on you?" I blurted in response.

"Of course I knew," she said. "Why do you think I wore this anyway?" I told her that I thought it was Tony's idea, and she reminded me Tony was out of the picture. Then what sounded like my own voice, coming from behind my desk, asked, "Why don't you two go out somewhere now?"

I turned toward my desk in surprise, but Janice evidently thought it was some kind of trick until she saws the look on my face. "That wasn't you, was it, Bossman?" she asked.

I said no, but the voice said, "Yes it is you. This place ran itself all this time, it can manage to do it one night longer. At least the workers will think so."

On my way out of the office, arm in arm with Janice, I wondered aloud about how this was happening. The voices, mine from behind my desk and Janice's from her empty catsuit, just laughed. Then it hit me.

"You know what, Janice? I think you and I both did this. Together. I wanted to ask you out, and you wanted me to ask you out. We both wanted it badly enough that we kind of pushed ourselves into making it happen."

"Like she said," the catsuit said, "why do you think she wore a catsuit to work in the first place?" Then the two voices laughed again.

"I guess this means we have to stop holding things in," Janice said.

I agreed, but I told Janice that tomorrow there would be some changes in the restaurant as well, in my new authoritative voice. "Whatever you say, Bossman," she said, smiling.

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