"You like the new uniform?"
"Well, I—"
"Georgette!" called the woman, who seemed to be several years older than the others and reminded Heck of his impression of what a madam ought to be like.
A strawberry blonde came over in the HF uniform and slowly pirouetted for Heck. The uniform was maroon and silver, with a tight clinging bodice and tapered slacks that fit her buttocks and legs like sun-tan oil. Heck gaped.
"Like it?" the strawberry blonde asked.
"That's enough, Georgette," the older woman said. "This is the boss."
Georgette went away, wagging an acre of pulchritude.
"What are you all going to be," Heck asked, "elevator operators?"
"Elevator operators?" repeated the woman, and laughed. It was a loud, unrestrained sort of laugh, but somehow not uncouth—exactly what Heck would have expected if the woman had been what Heck thought the woman looked like. "Dear me, no. Elevator operators!" And she went off into a second fit of laughter.
"Then what?"