It's tough to run a small business. Managing all the incomings, outgoings, staff plus all of the intricacies of the product itself. My father's printing business was failing when I took it over at twenty-five, but I had managed to build it up so that it had become one of the top ten businesses in Haytown. That didn't make me Warren Buffet, but at least it wouldn't close anytime soon.
The effort of building it did kill any chance of a social life I had, and the only reason it didn't cost my marriage was that I hadn't been married. Three months before taking over the business I proposed to Tanya Bessmott, but that fell through within three weeks of taking charge of Green's Printing. Tanya was now married to Lance Neddles both had left town over a year ago. I felt good that at least I got a Christmas card from them.
It was early January when April first came in, and I noticed right away. Whoever came up with the phrase 'drop dead gorgeous' could have been thinking of her. About five-foot six, with silky blonde hair and big, blue eyes that made her angel's face seem even more flawless. Her body slim and athletic, but with massive tits looked like she somehow stole from a larger woman.
With a silent 'wow' I got up to the counter and said, "can I help you?"
She looked up with her enormous and terribly innocent eyes, "um . . . well yes. Um, I'm looking for a job."
"Well I'm not really hiring at the moment," and her face fell, looking so sad that it nearly broke my heart, "but do you have any printing experience?"
"No," she seemed on the verge of tears, "I was just hoping."
"Sorry." I said and she turned and left. She had to be new to town, someone that looked like her would have been noticed. I wondered where she had come from and why she had chosen Haytown to live. Looking out the window and saw as she went into the Auto-Engineering shop across the street, probably to look for a job there.
I didn't think too much more of it until next Monday, when she came in again. This time, I noticed she wore tight jeans with rips in the knees and a tee-shirt from a TV show that had stopped showing at least four years ago. She was clearly having a tough time, wearing older stuff. She still looked fantastic, but a little more desperate.
As I walked up, she spoke before I could say a word. "I didn't do it right before, so let me try again." She drew a deep breath, doing great things for her chest and there was no way she was wearing a bra under her shirt. She shot me a dazzling smile before saying "I'm April Harrington and I really need a job. I can use computers and can even clean. I'm a very hard worker. So, can I please have a job?"
For a second I couldn't say anything and desperately wished I could have adjusted my pants. I almost said yes before I thought about Corey. Corey Vanetti had been an apprentice my father had taken on, and he was as lazy as he was crude. He had completed his apprenticeship just a few weeks before I had taken over, and I was pretty sure that he was one of the reasons, one of the primary reasons, my father had had problems with the business. Unfortunately, I couldn't fire him. I had tried several times but he had never quite given me cause without worrying about what the union he was a member of, would do. On the plus side, the threat had kept the worst of his behaviour in check.
However, he was very crude and often made simply awful comments about women. Again, nothing I could fire him over, but the thought of what he would say about April, how it would hurt her obviously fragile feelings, decided me. In truth, she looked and sounded like the iconic 'blonde-bimbo' and I just couldn't in good conscience subject her to that.
"I'm sorry Miss . . . Harrington?" I said with genuine sympathy. "I just don't have anything for you at the moment."
She did silently cry then and I turned my back to give her some privacy. She left and I went to watch her out of the window, 'only to make sure she was okay,' I told myself. She spent a few moments composing herself and then walked to the auto shop.
The next Monday I found her waiting for me at 8:15 when I got to the printers. April was wearing what looked like pink business-wear. The skirt was high showing off very long, very shapely legs. For someone her height, half of it seemed to be her legs. The jacket wasn't closed, didn't look like it could close, and the shirt beneath looked like the buttons might pop at any moment.
"Mr Green," she again started before I could say anything, "I've done some research and I think I can help your company with sales and administration. I know I don't have any experience in . . ."
"Okay," I said, thinking about how I could make this work. "You are going to be employed strictly as a casual."
"You mean it!?" April flashed a smile with more wattage than any of the lights at the football stadium. She then jumped up and hugged me close, pressing her breasts into my chest and kissing me on the cheek. My pants once again became suddenly very tight and I really hoped she didn't notice.
The first comment came 35 minutes later when, somewhat predictably, Corey came in to work. "Hey boss, who's the hot toy?"
"Oh, I'm not a toy," April said happily, "I'm a real girl."
"Uh huh." Both Corey and I said at the same time and then looked at each other. Luckily, I recovered before Corey could say anything else and said, "yeah, Corey. Get in back, I need you to complete the Homewares Catalogue today?"
"But that's not due until . . ." he began to protest.
"Today, Corey!"
"But you haven't even introduced me to the . . ."
I cut him off as harshly as I could, pointing to the door leading to the presses in back, "what part of right this minute do you not understand?"
He grumbled a bit but left without further comment. This was not going to be easy.
That morning was taken up with filling out all of the employment forms, something April did well and for a little while I thought that I might have been scammed, she seemed to know all of the forms that needed to be filed with all of the agencies. When I asked her how she knew about this she just replied, "I just have a knack for administration," and giggled in a way so cute that I had to adjust my pants again. It was becoming a hazard.
I tried to warn her about Corey but she said she would soon 'win him over,' which I doubted, but she wouldn't be swayed. I worried, in truth I even lost sleep over it, sleep that sometimes had extremely erotic dreams about April in them.
Still, April turned out to be a great employee. She was very good with computers and, it turned out, even a book-keeper. I hadn't trusted her at first, she seemed like she couldn't add two plus two, and once picked up her calculator to add a 55mm width to 63mm length, which made no sense at all. I checked and rechecked the figures the first few times, but everything in my accounting program at least was completely correct. She even found a bank reconciliation error that I had been looking for months.
Corey was a problem. Whenever he saw her he couldn't resist making some comment, he never used her name but called her 'hots', 'cutie', 'baby-cakes' and a variety of other names. It was embarrassing for me and I waited for her to complain, waiting to be caught up in a sexual discrimination suit, thinking that I could at last fire Corey. However, April never seemed to take offence, often giggling in her silly way without understanding.
Three weeks after I had hired April, Corey made the comment, "we all have to wear these ugly green shirts, boss. How come she doesn't have to wear one?"
"Well I'm not convinced that they're ugly . . ." I began, but April interrupted.
"Oh, I'd be happy to wear these shirts," she replied with child-like excitement.
"You can wear mine," Corey said with a smile and began pulling his off. Even though he was taller, there was no way a shirt for his skinny frame was going to fit over April's prodigious breasts. However, I noticed to my horror that she looked like she was going to accept. She had taken off her jacket and her hand was starting to the buttons.
"No!" I said, stopping them, and was saved as a Peter Bellows from the convenience store, walked in. He was, as always, pleased to see April and wanted to talk to her about a new order, while she was doing this, I managed to shuffle Corey into the work room.
April was only working three days a week at the time, but on Wednesday she arrived wearing a tight, green shirt, with a plunging neckline. It looked almost like it was painted on. Below she wore a brown mini-skirt, the same colour as the shorts we wore as part of our uniform. This seemed even shorter than the one she used to wear, and over the next few days I couldn't help but notice that if she bent over or sat back I often got a view of her panties.
I tried to talk to her about it but April was so proud of her uniform that I couldn't bear to criticize it. I did feel guilty that her new uniform seemed to do good things for sales. Most of our customers were male and I had noticed that they all started coming in on the three days April worked. Chris Morely, the owner of the local bar & restaurant, came in to update his menus, despite doing that just before Christmas. Ben Powell from the supermarket came in personally now, every week, to get catalogues printed and even 'old-man' Wellington from the Retired Serviceman's Organisation came in to print programs and ogled April almost completely without shame. It might have been an act of business greed, but I started employing her full time after two months.
In the last weeks of march I found two, printed bulletins put up declaring April 1st, International No Panties Day. I tore them down when I saw them, and after the second one, I confronted Corey. He said, "well, it wasn't me that put them up. But surely everyone knows that this would just be a joke."
"April may not," I replied.
