Lambdatron didn’t really have a dress code, other than that people were expected to be dressed – there was a serious nudist among the shareholders who didn’t think too much of clothes in the first place, and Stan had to draw the line somewhere. Jennlynn usually was about the sharpest dressed person in the building; it had become a habit with her while she was still back in college, and it was part of what marked her as especially quirky in a company full of quirky people. Some of the older engineers had been hippies and very sloppy dressers in years past, but in recent years had gravitated to the engineer uniform: slacks, white shirt and pocket protector, even the women. But they were in the minority, especially with as much young, brilliant, and off-the-wall talent as was running around the place, so the overall tone was pretty sloppy. Generally, it said that these people had more important things to think about than the clothes they wore. The fact that they actually wore anything at all was something of a victory for propriety.

Several years before, the local United Way had approached Stan about doing something that would help out the cause. What they specifically suggested was that they have a "dress-down day" where people could dress casually for the donation of a couple of bucks to the fund. Stan wasn’t opposed to the idea in principle, but took the charity’s representative through one of the work rooms and explained that it was nearly impossible to dress down more than most of the staff did on a regular basis, anyway.

But the incident set Stan to thinking about breaking the paradigm on that one. One of the things the stockholders perceived as a problem was that, despite switching the staff around, people tended to think of "those of us on this project" versus the rest of the company, and that was something Stan didn’t like. He wanted people thinking in terms of Lambdatron, not the parts of it.

After more thinking than really should have been necessary, Stan realized he could kill two birds with one stone. Thus was born something unique to Lambdatron: Tasteless T-shirt Thursday. For the donation of a couple bucks to the United Way, people could wear the most gross and disgusting T-shirts they could manage to find. It didn’t start off with a bang, since some people wore T-shirts that were pretty tasteless anyway, but just to get things rolling, Stan added to the fun: a prize for the most tasteless T-shirt. Usually it was no big thing, a joke trophy, sometimes tickets to a ball game, but they were drawn out of a collection of anonymous envelopes and Stan announced right from the beginning that one of the prizes in the pile of envelopes was an all-expenses-paid weekend in Cancun. By now, Tasteless T-shirt Thursday was a company tradition, and it was getting hard to come up with a real showstopper.

Up to this point Jennlynn hadn’t often been a serious participant in the contest. She might find a T-shirt in the mall that grabbed her fancy, and she’d wear it until the judging was done, then change back into a nice blouse. But the T-shirt shop in the mall did custom airbrushing and silk screening; she paid high for a quick job to her specifications, which gave the guy at the shop a few chuckles.

Angela, the receptionist, was usually a contender in the contest, but when she saw Jennlynn walk in that morning, all she could do was shake her head and say, "I can’t compete with that. Looks like you’re the winner this week."

"I think so," Jennlynn grinned. "You like it?"

"I’ve worn T-shirts here that I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing on the street," Angela said. "But I wouldn’t even be caught dead wearing that one inside."

"I think it’s pretty cool!" she smiled sweetly, leaving Angela just shaking her head at the T-shirt, which consisted of an airbrushed old-time red railroad lantern, with the white silhouette of a naked woman on the lens – and the words, Come party with me at the Redlite Ranch Bordello, Antelope Valley NV. Objectively speaking, the fact that the shirt was considerably too small and tight, and that for once Jennlynn hadn’t bothered to wear a brassiere had something to do with the effect, which was pretty spectacular.

Jennlynn made a point of walking slowly back to her office not saying much of anything. Her engineering team of the moment happened to be mostly but not exclusively male, but no one could quite find the words to say anything, especially remembering her terrible temper of the last several weeks. Griz wasn’t afraid of much and finally spoke up: "That’s some T-shirt, Jennlynn."

"Oh, it’s just a little thing from my new part-time job," she grinned.

Pulling together his courage amid the silence of the room, Griz reached for words, then found a reply: "That’s some put-on."

"Oh, it’s no put-on," she said sweetly, walking over, putting an arm around him and giving him a little squeeze, then added in her best Mae West imitation. "Why don’t you come up and see me sometime?"

"Mona would kill me for even thinking about it," the big black former football player laughed, trying to carry her joke.

"Oh, that’s a shame," she laughed. "You’ll never know what you’re missing, at least first hand." She turned to business. "So, where are we at on those retainer specs?"

Word of the T-shirt spread quickly through the company, and in another department shortly afterward, someone commented to Sam, "Wow, did you see Jennlynn’s T-shirt? Is that wild, or what?"

Sam’s arrangement with Maureen was no secret through the company. "Yeah, it is," he said. "The only one I’ve ever had who’s better is mostly retired, now."

There was a serious outbreak of dropped jaws. "You’re kidding, aren’t you?" someone stammered.

"Not in the slightest," Sam grinned. "Up at Bettye’s Ranch, a little over two years ago. Go ask Maureen if you don’t believe me. She picked Jennlynn out."

One may confidently assume that somewhat less work than normal got done around the Lambdatron offices that morning. Lambdatron had a big, if not terribly good lunchroom, and noon on Thursday was the normal time for Stan to announce the T-shirt contest winner. The affair today was a little more seriously attended than normal; few people missed it. "I don’t think anyone will argue about this week’s winner," Stan said. "Just for the record, when Jennlynn was hired, we knew that she’d worked in Nevada as a legal prostitute to put herself through college. She’s been in retirement since she came here full time, but has decided to come out of retirement on a part-time basis. I approved her decision before she put it into effect. Jennlynn, you wanted to say a couple of things?"

"Yes," she said seriously into the hush. "Stan is not joking, and neither am I. The reasons why I decided to come out of retirement are personal, and they don’t involve needing the money. I’m not going to make any bones about the fact that I’m a legal prostitute. That means that I’m a prostitute in only one place, which is Antelope Valley, Nevada. Not in Arizona, or Phoenix, or especially at Lambdatron. Outside of the Redlite Ranch, the answer is not just no, but hell no, no matter who you are or what the situation, so don’t ask. If you want to visit me there, fine, but bring money. I don’t do freebies. I’m not cheap, and I don’t do Lambdatron discounts. Due to both Nevada and Arizona law, I will not discuss prices or arrangements outside my room at the Redlite Ranch, and I’ve always taken considerable care to stay within the law.

"Normally," she continued, "It’s customary to not discuss what happens inside the house outside the house. Now, I know there are going to be wives, and in some cases, husbands, who may take a dim view of you working with me because of the potential for causing problems, so for Lambdatron employees, I will not adhere to that custom. If you come up and see me, I’m not going to call up your wife or husband and tell them, but if they ask I will report the fact that something happened, but not the details. As far as Lambdatron, the people we work with, and our customers go, I’ll have pretty much the same policy. If I am asked, I will not deny the fact that I work part time as a legal prostitute in Nevada, and I’m not asking you to deny it. However, other than this meeting right here, I’m not going to go out of the way to advertise it, and I would hope you’ll do the same. For that reason, this T-shirt is retired as soon as we’re done here. Finally, if you have any problems with my decision, you’re welcome to discuss them directly with me. Don’t go behind my back. I promise not to bite your head off. I’ve been up front with you; now, you be up front with me."

"I just want to add one thing to that," Stan smiled. "At Lambdatron, we’ve always taken pride in the diversity and individuality of our shareholders and associates, and we’ve never been too concerned with people’s activities off the job. This is no different."

* * *

"So did you get any questions?" George grinned from his seat at the dining room table in the Redlite early on Saturday afternoon. He’d just flown in from Houston, and Jennlynn was catching up with him after her first night back on the job. It was a slow afternoon, and there were no customers in the house, but it was still early.

"Shit," she snorted. "I hardly got any work done all afternoon."

"Jennlynn-I-can’t-believe-it!-type questions?" George laughed.

"Plenty of those," she laughed. "George, I know you’ve never seen me on my day job, but I’m almost a totally different person. I’m a workaholic, all business, not much nonsense, and I’ve heard that I’ve been called ‘the ice queen.’ There are people who are still not convinced that it wasn’t a big setup between Stan, Sam, Maureen, and me, for one of Stan’s mind games."

"Can you get your guy down there to print a few more of those T-shirts?" George laughed, glancing at the "Come party with me" T-shirt that Jennlynn was wearing, mostly for his benefit, along with a very tight pair of hot pants – work clothes, in other words. "We haven’t worked out anything for a logo yet, and that looks like a good one."

"Probably," Jennlynn grinned. "You’re thinking of having a whole lineup in these shirts sometime? That would be fun."

"It would be cute for a joke sometime," George grinned. "You know we can’t advertise, per se, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t have some fun here as well as provoke a few news stories in the papers here and there."

"I was thinking that maybe you ought to have a few T-shirts made up for sale that say, ‘I stopped at the Redlite!’" she snickered.

"Good idea," he laughed. "Like I said, we can’t do traditional advertising, so we’re going to have to find other ways. I’ve got a few ideas, but it’s going to be an ongoing struggle. There’s no point in pushing it real hard right now, but after we get the new building open, well, that’s a different story. Look, there’s not a lot of girls in the business who are as intelligent, beautiful, and upfront about it as you are. Would you be up to doing some interviews, or maybe a magazine spread?"

"I may be upfront about it, George," she sighed. "But I really don’t want to be blatant about it. I’m still keeping it in the family, so to speak. Telling the people at Lambdatron is one thing. A nude spread in a national magazine article titled, ‘Engineer of the Redlite Special’ would be rubbing their noses in it. I’m sorry, George. There are limits. You’re going to have a hell of a place here and I’ll do what I can to help, but I don’t want to go too far and screw up my day job."

"Understandable," he smiled. "Though that’s a hell of an idea. Really, in a way this isn’t a hell of a lot different than putting together a housing development. There you can advertise, but you have to push past traditional advertising if you want to grab people’s attention."

"I guess I knew you did housing developments down in Houston," she said, trying to change the subject a little.

"For a long time, since I got out of college. Longer than that, my old man did it, so I grew up with it, kind of like Shirley’s kids," George said. "It got to the point where it was boring a long time ago, and I’ve been looking to get into something else. I guess you know I’ve been nosing around for years for the right opportunity to get into this business. Shirley and I were trying to buy Bettye’s, and if we’d succeeded, we planned to take the development a different direction. We were shooting more for a high-class dude ranch with a built-in girlfriend experience. We were even kicking around the idea of having the girls on salary. It wouldn’t be a lot of traffic, but it would be all high-end traffic. We’ve pretty well decided we can’t do anything like that here, especially with the advantage of the location. We want to shoot more for the Vegas visitors than we do for the locals, so we probably won’t have lots of regulars. It’s a little different vision."

"A lot different vision than the old Redlite."

"Well, yeah," he shrugged. "Look, I knew the guy who owned the Mustang. I never particularly liked him, and there were some things he did that were absolutely asinine, like getting into tax trouble, but I always respected his vision. He took the old back-alley business and built it into something else, a new vision. Now it’s time to take the next step, and this is the place to do it. I’ve known that for several years. I don’t know if Shirley told you, but I’ve been trying to buy this place for years, mostly just to get the licenses, since there are county ordinances that only allow one place in the county. I waved an awful lot of money around for what it was, and the Redlite owners always figured they could do me for a little more. Finally, I had to start waving more money around at the county commissioners to try to change the ordinance to allow a second brothel here. I wasn’t even going to push for a liquor license. That’s when the old owners saw the handwriting on the wall and decided to deal real quick at a lower price while I was still in the mood. So now, we have a corner on the market of the closest legal place to Vegas. We won’t have to worry about someone setting up a place across the road, for a few years at least, until someone else buys out the county commissioners. I can spend money to fight that."

"It isn’t simple, is it?" she laughed.

"No, it’s not," he shook his head. "In fact, it’s a hell of a lot more complicated than that, you’ve only seen the barest hint. I would never have been able to do this if I hadn’t had all those years of working through the complexities of the housing market in Houston. Like I said, I was getting bored with it, then my wife wanted to divorce me, which was fine; there was a damn good reason why I kept coming up here to hit the houses. But it was a nasty divorce for that reason; she tried to take me to the cleaners, but I can hire lawyers, too. Let’s just say that legally as well as for tax purposes, my ownership of this place is buried under a bunch of offshore corporations that are mostly designed to keep my wife’s lawyers from digging through them. They can get to my stuff in Houston, but I’m selling out down there as quickly as I can. I’ve still got some irons in the fire down there I can’t get rid of easily, so it’ll probably be some time before I can be up here all the time. I’m trying to split my time back and forth, and it would be impossible if I didn’t have Shirley, who knows this business in ways that I never will, even if I stay with it the rest of my life."

"She’s darn good people," Jennlynn conceded. "She’s just about my best friend, anymore."

"Mine too," George nodded. "Basically, I intend to let her handle running the place, while I take care of all the financial and developmental stuff."

"From what I’ve seen of this place, it’s awfully ambitious, but I’ve seen some real good ideas on the prints."

George laughed. "Oh, there’s a story about that. Once we knew we had the bird in the hand but before the papers were signed, I flew Shirley down to Houston so the two of us could meet with the architectural firm I’ve used for years down there. Together, we developed the first cut on plans for this place. Now, there’s some damn good people there, but this is something that is really new to them, so I figured that Shirley and I would have to lead them by the hand through what we wanted. The first morning we met with the team, there was this one woman there who got the idea of what we were talking about real fast and didn’t need to be told anything twice. She had several good ideas out of the clear blue sky, too. She was way out in front of everyone else. We finally broke for lunch, and Shirley and I decided to invite her to eat with us. So, we’re sitting there in this classy restaurant in Houston, and Shirley turns to her and says, ‘I can’t put my finger on it, but you seem familiar.’ The woman just shook her head and said, ‘Well, I ought to.’ It turns out she worked her way through college at the old Sheri’s up at the Green Patch, and at the Mustang back before I started coming to Nevada. Shirley had worked with her."

Jennlynn laughed. "Sounds just a little familiar."

"It ought to," George smiled. "Well, we told her we wouldn’t let on, of course. Anyway, we went back to the meeting, and when the fur quit flying she was the head architect for the project. So, we’re getting a dream house that’s being designed by someone who knows firsthand what a house is all about."

"I can hardly wait," Jennlynn smiled. "This place is all right in a pinch, but only in a pinch." The mobile home they were in had been designed as a regular single-family home; the master bedroom had to be partitioned to get two rooms, and there were only two bathrooms, which was cutting it awful tight. But it would only be used for a few months, then would be moved to the far back of the lot, where it would become George’s private home.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and in a few seconds, Shirley’s voice sounded throughout the building with the traditional call, "Ladies, we have callers! Ladies!"

"Hark!" Jennlynn smiled, sounding as if she were quoting from Shakespeare. "A call to arms! About damn time, too." As she got to her feet, Claudia and Tina came walking out of the kitchen, while Cindy and Laurie, a new girl Jennlynn hadn’t met before, put their cribbage hands face down on the living room coffee table.

As Shirley opened the door, the five women gathered in a loose line in the living room. "Good afternoon, and welcome to the Redlite Ranch!" she said expansively by way of greeting. "Please come in and greet our staff."

One by one, four people came in the front door. It was only about the tenth lineup that Jennlynn had stood at the Redlite, but her total was probably somewhere over a thousand by now – she hadn’t kept count, and there was no way of telling. But this one was special – it was the first time that she’d stood a lineup for someone who had known her outside the business, for the four callers were all from Lambdatron: Mike, from the N&J atomizer project, Bob from accounting, Phil, who Jennlynn had worked with before but was now on some project she wasn’t clear about – and of all people, Angela. All looked nervous.

"This is our staff," Shirley smiled. "Ladies, would you introduce yourselves?"

"Hi, I’m Laurie," the new girl said from down at the end of the line. "Pleased to meet you."

"Hi, I’m Claudia. Welcome to the Redlite Ranch."

"I’m Cindy. Thank you for coming."

"I’m Jennlynn. Glad you could make it."

"Hi, I’m Tina. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay."

"If you’d like to sit down and have a complimentary cup of coffee and chat with the ladies, you’re welcome," Shirley said. "When you’re ready, any one of these ladies will be happy to take you on a tour of the rest of the building." That was a euphemism for going out back to discuss prices, but no one picked up on that, so Shirley added. "If you’re new here, any one of the girls will be glad to discuss how we go about things. I’ll also add that Claudia is doubling as our cook this weekend. She’s got a big pot of jambalaya on the stove, so if you’re around at suppertime, you’re welcome to join us in a complimentary family-style dinner."

There was silence for a moment – the four visitors from Lambdatron seemed incapable of speaking. Finally, Angela spoke up. "I’m still not sure I believe this."

Normally the drill was for the ladies to let the visitors take the lead, but this was special. "Did you honestly think I was joking about something like this?" Jennlynn laughed. "Come on in, take your coats off, stay a while, we’ll get you some coffee. Since Claudia made it, it’s lots better than we have at Lambdatron."

"You really weren’t joking, were you?" Mike said in a small voice.

"No way," she smiled confidently, savoring the moment. "Would you like me to take you out back?"

"I . . . uh, well . . . I, uh . . . "

"I promise, I don’t bite," she grinned, taking him by the arm.

A couple minutes later, they were back in Jennlynn’s room – one of the smaller ones, since she was only there for the weekend. "Mike, you’re nervous," she smiled.

"I’m like Angela, I’m still not sure I believe this," he said. "I mean, the three of us, Bob and Phil and me, we, uh, we talked to Sam; he sort of gave us a briefing. Angela heard us talking about it and asked if she could come along for the ride."

"I sort of wondered," she said. "But since we’re back here, do you want to party, or just want to look around?"

"Uh, Jennlynn," he said. "I don’t . . . I don’t know about this."

"It’s pretty simple. We work out a price and what we’re doing, I go up and settle with Shirley, then I come back and we party."

"That’s . . . uh, Jennlynn, I hate to admit this, but, uh . . . "

"You’ve never done this before?" she smiled.

"Yeah," he said in a small voice. "I mean, I always had my nose to the computer screen rather than, uh, well . . .

"Then it’s high time we fixed that," she grinned. "Engineering may be one thing, but it’s not everything. You ought to know that. If not, then it’s high time I taught it to you. Like the guy said in the movie, ‘Let me make you an offer you can’t refuse.’"

A couple minutes later, after the brief health check required by state law, Jennlynn came back up front carrying a credit card slip she’d already stamped in her room and handed it to Shirley, noting that there were three wide-eyed visitors from Lambdatron staring at her. "Bob, Phil," she smiled. "Mike and I will be a while, but one of our other talented staff members will be glad to assist you."

She headed back to the room where Mike was waiting and walked in the door, finding him still standing where she’d left him, and still with a dazed look on his face. She put one arm around him and with her free hand began to unbutton his shirt. "Well, that’s that," she said. "You ready, Mike?"

"Uh, Jennlynn, uh . . . "

"Come on Mike, this isn’t that hard. You’re not the first virgin I’ve done. Let me just take you through it easy."

"God, I don’t believe this . . . " he said as she stepped back and peeled off the tight T-shirt in one move, baring her breasts.

"Don’t think, just do," she grinned.

It was a considerable time later when they came back into the living room, arms around each other, walking close together and not entirely because of the narrow main hall. Shirley was sitting in one of the armchairs, working on her knitting; Cindy was playing solitaire, and Laurie was working on her nails. Angela was nowhere to be seen.

"Jennlynn," he whispered. "Thank you. That was wonderful. Can we do that again?"

"Any weekend I’m here," she grinned. "Just come up and push the doorbell. Don’t forget money. Remember, I told you I don’t do it in Arizona at all."

He let out a sigh. "Thanks, Jennlynn. I guess I understand, sort of. But thanks, big time."

"Hey, there’s a first time for everything," she said. "Come on, have a seat, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee."

She headed out to the coffeepot in the kitchen and found Angela there, sitting in a kitchen chair, head on the counter, crying her eyes out. "Angela, is something the matter?"

"Yes," she said softly. "No. Hell I don’t know, I don’t know what to think. I shouldn’t have come. Christ, I thought maybe, but . . . "

"Angela," Jennlynn replied. "Is it about me doing this?"

"No," she cried. "God, in a way I envy you so much that you can do this and enjoy it. Jennlynn, can we talk? Just you and me?"

"Sure. Maybe we’d better not do it here. Let me get Mike his coffee, and we can go back to my room."

"Uh, all right," Angela replied, getting up. Jennlynn could see that her face was streaked with tears and that she had been crying a lot.

She took the coffee in one hand and her co-worker in the other, led her out into the main room, stopping quickly to give Mike his coffee and leading Angela back toward the back. "All right, Angela," she asked once she had the door closed. "What is it?"

"Oh, Christ, I don’t think I have the guts," Angela started.

"Come, take a deep breath, get hold of yourself," Jennlynn said gently.

"You know I was married, don’t you?"

"No, I didn’t know that."

"It was a long time ago," Angela sighed. "It . . . it didn’t last long. It never worked. I, uh, I hated the sex. I shouldn’t have come up here and let you rub my face in it."

"I’m sorry, Angela. You had to know that’s what this place is all about."

"I know," she sighed. "That’s not what I meant. Thursday, when we were at lunch, you said . . . well, no, you hinted that you, uh, you made it with women too."

"And you thought you might like to try it out?" Jennlynn asked consolingly.

"I didn’t . . . I didn’t have it thought out that far. I mean, well hell, I don’t know what I mean. I’ve often thought that maybe . . . but I never managed to . . . "

"It’s hard to think of yourself as a lesbian or bi or something like that, right?" Jennlynn finished for her. "Look, Angela, at first it was hard for me to admit to myself that I’m a prostitute. It took me three years to get myself out of the closet enough to say it Thursday. My college roommate was a lesbian; it wasn’t easy for her, either. But I often envied her, because she at least had the capability of getting close to someone. I don’t have it. I’ve never been able to manage it. There isn’t anything wrong with loving someone, even someone of the same sex, if you can love them."

"I know," she sighed. "It’s just that, well, doing it, I mean, I just don’t know."

"But you think maybe you ought to give it a try?" Jennlynn finished for her again. "Look, Angela, I’ll work with you if you want me to. But I’ll tell you right now, that while I’ve done women, it’s not my strong point. If you want to try it out, I ought to set you up with Cindy. In fact, you’d be much better off talking with her about it than you would be with me, anyway. She really does go both ways, and she’s good."

"Jennlynn, I don’t, I mean, I’m scared."

"Maybe it would be better with Cindy since you don’t know her," Jennlynn said softly. "I’ll go get her." She headed out the door, hurried out to the living room and called Cindy. She took her co-worker back to meet her other co-worker, then said, "You two have lots to talk about. I’ll catch up with you later."

Several hours later the door to Cindy’s room was still closed when Shirley went back, knocked lightly on the door, and said, "Dinner in ten minutes." She got an orgasmic moan in reply and was unable to tell who it was from.

She headed back out to the living room. Most everyone was there; it had been a busy afternoon; everybody but Angela, Shirley, and Cindy had been out back more than once, and the jambalaya smelled really good. "I’m not taking any bets about whether they’re going to make it to dinner or not," she reported. "They’re still going at it pretty good. Sounds like they’re having fun, too."

Three months later, Angela won the weekly Tasteless T-shirt contest with one that read, LESBIAN – And Proud Of It!

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