Chapter 6: Janice’s Problems – Janice I .1 – Monday

My name is Janice Constance DuPont. I am a 24-year-old paralegal at the law firm of McCormick, Weiss, and Daniels, where I’ve been employed for almost two years. I graduated from college with a Bachelor’s degree in Paralegal Studies, specializing in Corporate Law. Until a month ago, my time at the firm had been a period of contentment — the work environment is supportive and rewarding despite the hectic pace. The discord, however, stemmed from my now-ex live-in boyfriend, whom I would prefer not to mention more than needed.

The aftermath of our breakup left me managing on a single income in an apartment — and with expenses — that used to take two. My finances stretched very thin — actually, more than thin. They had snapped. The apartment we once shared now consumes a significant portion of my income, and to add insult to injury, he took the car we’d shared. No transportation. No, I don’t squander my remaining income on shoes, contrary to what one might assume. The point is, I’m somewhere between just getting by and not getting by.

I’ve had no luck finding a roommate—a sane one I could trust. So I’ve immersed myself in work to keep my mind off things. My ego had taken quite a hit when my boyfriend cheated on me, which probably didn’t help.

One day in the break room, something unexpected happened. A group of us—paralegals, secretaries, and a female lawyer, Kate Daniels—were chatting. She prefers to be called Miss Daniels, not Ms. Daniels. She was nearly six feet tall, always dressed conservatively in loose blazers and slacks, her long blonde hair neatly bunched up, her makeup—if any—subtle. I used to think she was a bit stiff, but over the past few months she had become much more ... something. Not sure if outgoing or friendly or happy are the right words. She had begun to give off a happy vibe. I began to enjoy being around her, for whatever reason. Maybe it was my situation.

Anyway, we were all in the break room and I bent over to retrieve sugar from a lower cabinet. As I straightened up, I could have sworn Miss Daniels was checking me out. The front of my blouse had fallen forward and anyone looking from the right angle—which Miss Daniels was—could see all the way down to my navel and pretty much my entire lace-bra-covered bust. We’d worked together for almost a year, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. But for some reason I felt a little flattered.

When I noticed Miss Daniels’ gaze, there was a noticeable flush to her cheeks, her lips appeared a bit redder, her eyes more luminous. I found myself staring back, a little smile working its way onto my face until I managed to stop it about the same moment she realized she’d been caught. Miss Daniels covered by saying, “That’s a nice blouse.” I looked down at my blouse — first at one breast, then the other — not-so-subtly but casually, and replied with a simple “Thank you.” I don’t think anyone else noticed.

Later that morning, I learned that Kate had been made a Managing Associate — a somewhat surprising move, as there were several other associates with longer tenure at the firm. Rumors had been flying ever since partner Brian Malone abruptly resigned. No great loss, was the attitude from most of the staff. He was Kate’s supervisor and by all accounts they hadn’t gotten along. There had been whispers about Kate among the staff — several of the partners had been heard mentioning her name with looks of concern. That all changed after Brian resigned. The concern faded and things felt normal again. It was a relief to see that the rumors had turned into something positive for Miss Daniels.

That day, the partners took Miss Daniels out for a celebratory lunch. When they returned, it was easy to tell they’d had the proverbial three-martini lunch. Even Miss Daniels had more color in her cheeks than usual.

As the clock neared quitting time, I was asked to deliver a hefty stack of papers to Miss Daniels’ office. Remembering that morning, I felt a little reckless. Recalling Kate’s “complimenting my blouse,” I decided to do something about it. When I arrived outside her office, I strategically undid a button and pulled off another at the top of my blouse, ensuring my bra and breasts would be quite visible — especially when I bent over to place the papers on her desk.

As I entered, she greeted me, thanking me for the delivery. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of my open blouse. As I leaned over to place the papers, I knew she had an eyeful. Her reaction was unexpected — she started to applaud. I looked at her, and she gestured toward her own blazer, pulling at the area around her bust. I looked down and exclaimed, “SHIT!” while pulling my blouse together. I groaned, “I lost a button somehow...” Then, distressed, said, “I walked through the office like this.”

Kate chuckled, reassuring me, “I don’t think anyone noticed.”

“You can’t know that,” I retorted, acting flustered.

“Yes, I do,” she countered with a grin. “You don’t have any bills tucked in your bra, and there was no applause as you walked through. I couldn’t help but applaud, and I’m ready to get a five out of my wallet.”

I gave her a deadpan look. She pulled a safety pin from her desk drawer, got up, and closed the door. Approaching me, I stuck out my hand for the pin, but she offered to fix it herself. Standing in front of me, she pulled the two halves of the blouse away from my body. “That’s a beautiful bra. Where did you get it?” she asked.

It was then I smelled wine on her breath and realized she might be a little — if not drunk — mellow. I named a little-known lingerie shop across town, noting its expense. “It’s money well spent. I think you might deserve a twenty,” she quipped.