Faint heart never won fair first impression. Go.

John swallowed. "Never a second chance to make a good first impression," he told Rod Pearl. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself.

"Relax, John," Rod said. "Some of TCD's best minds in networking will be there, but don't worry about impressing them. They're there to give their minds a cool-down before spinning them up again, and they'll take my word for you."

"Will you take part?" John asked. He remembered Rod's pictures in TCD's annual report, including the professional facial and genital close-ups with Rod's partial erection.

"Of course. The girls will expect me to be a good sport," Rod said. "One of the male designers from CI said you crossed swords with him. The girls would love to see that."

"Oh," John said. "Yes, he was very kind. Helped put me in the right mood for the next interview."

"I was glad to hear," Rod said. "CI can spend so much time with their heads up their...well, their heads in the clouds, they forget to give their candidates relief. I've heard some interviewees get through the whole panel with only a courtesy grind from Atalanta at the end. Or a courtesy fuck, of course." He nodded to John. "Loses them some candidates. But they seem to be a happy bunch."

"Yes," John said.

"So, this way to the lounge," Rod said.

When John and Rod entered the lounge, there were three women present, all wearing Big Pink's signature white blouses and conservative pink skirts. Two of them were standing and gesturing at each other, seemingly discussing some technical topic while the third paused with her skirt half-off, listening and not wanting to miss a point. To John's eyes, all of them seemed a little careless in their dress and posture, even for senior women. Their blouses draped poorly and were untucked. The two standing women had pens in their blouse pockets, protected by a little pocket-liner, and were wearing very plain, basic eyeglasses that didn't especially suit their faces. One of them, the brunette, was showing a pregnancy bulge. The third, seated woman had a pen behind her ear.

"Ruth, Maeve, Catherine?" Rod greeted them.

The three turned their heads toward the door.

"Well look who's here," one of the fully dressed pair said. A tall, thin redhead, she sized up Rod and John. "And who's this?"

"Maeve, this is John," Rod said. "He's my guest today. A candidate for an entry designer slot in Central Design and over at CI. He came in to ask me some questions to help him make his decision on our offer."

"Oh, you must be the young man that Atalanta..." Maeve said, letting the sentence trail off. She grinned broadly. "Well then."

The seated woman finished removing her skirt. "I'd say TCD has plenty of slots you could happily fill, John, starting right here," she told him. She was a blonde with a similar soft, curvy figure to Cynthia, TCD's deputy head of office.

"Please, Catherine," the other standing woman said. She was a brunette with a plaited, pinned-up hair style. "It's not polite to throw gash at the nice young man before you've even introduced yourself. What's he going to tell his mother?"

"Oh bleeding clots, Ruth. Then you should throw more willy my way," Catherine said. "Come on, off with the skirt, it's jill and spill time. You too, boys."

"Fine, Catherine," Ruth said. She turned to John. "This is Catherine Buttonwood, our head network switch designer." Ruth nodded toward the seated blonde. "This is Maeve Birch, our network applications specialist." She nodded toward the weedy redhead. I'm Ruth Myrtle, I specialize in making networking equipment actually buildable. And as Catherine points out, we are on break." Ruth unclasped the waistband of her skirt, letting it fall and stepping out of it. "And Catherine," she said, rubbing her prominent abdominal bulge, "I get plenty of willy at home, but you're on your own getting it here."

Catherine watched as Rod and John undressed. "Nice, very nice," she said. She shimmied down her underdrawers. "And I would be pleased to welcome you, John," she said. "Is that some interest I see?"

John, indeed, had most of an erection going once he undressed.