"Welcome to Eon Custom Suits, Mr. Leeds," Dr. Camille Baake said, waving her
client into the office. "I was just going over your order. Are you ready for
your fitting?"
"Please, call me Clooney. And, I am absolutely ready. I've been sleepless all
week just thinking about it." He shook his head in wonder. "You know, for a
man like myself, getting fitted for a new Suit is an expensive proposition.
I've been saving a long time for this. I can't wait. I'm going to feel like a
new man!"
"If you feel like a man at all with this ensemble," Dr. Baake answered
dubiously, thumbing through his selections.
Clooney laughed. "Yeah, well, you may be right. But it's more natural this
way. I am sick to death of being a slave to enforced appearance codes, whether
they be the work clothing codes or even the fads."
"You certainly will not be mistaken for an icon of popular fashion with what
you've chosen," she chuckled. "And work codes will go right out the door when
we've finished. The new laws require employers to allow their employees any
Suit they like, unless it impedes the fulfillment of work duties or violates
vulgarity codes. But, you know that, don't you."
Clooney grinned. "I most certainly do. Let's get started!"
"You're the one with the money, and I am your humble, if slightly baffled,
servant. Let's get this fashion crime over with before I think better of it."
"You are such the martyr," Clooney chuckled. "Let's do it."
Spinning gracefully on her heals Dr. Camille Baake lead Clooney through an
impeccable chrome door into her work room. The sign above the door read "No
unaccompanied admittance: skeletal refitting and musculature sculpting lab."
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