Skirts and dresses must be at least kneelength with appropriate heels." He wondered why he needed to know that."If you choose to wear pants, they must be accompanied by a button downshirt, and some sort of tie at the neck. Flat shoes may be worn, but theymust be clean and polished. If you wear a skirt or dress, you may changeinto a pair of flats, at your desk, but must change back if you get upfor any reason." I'll keep that in mind." His sarcasm was apparent.She continued her lecture, unfazed by his response. "Above all else, yourclothing must fit. Even a Junior executive like Ms. Baker deserves enoughrespect, for you to appear at work in clothing that doesn't look bettersuited for a teenager. I'll let it slide today since it's your first day,but tomorrow I hope you'll arrive in something a little more adult.There's also the issue of your hair. Hair must be worn above the collar.I'm afraid that ponytail will not due. You don't have to get it cut, butyou must keep it off your shirt.". "That's my last name." She punched the button for her floor, and put out her hand. "Rachel Jordan." They shook hands. Rachel had always hated the limp-fish "handshake" some women give, and had cultivated a firm grip. His hand was likewise firm, but there was no attempt to crush or intimidate (or limp-fish). He simply shook it and then let go. She led the way out of the elevator, and he followed. She wondered if he was surveying her from behind, but he moved up next to her and they walked down the hall to her apartment. She opened the door and led him inside, glad she'd cleaned the evening before. It wasn't "company ready," as her mother would have put it, but it was a damn' sight better than it had been the morning before. She sat him down on one of the stools in the breakfast nook, and retrieved the first-aid kit. Jordan Grey peeled his suit jacket off, and with some difficulty rolled up the remains of his shirt sleeve. "Wow," said Rachel. "That's worse than it looked outside.".
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