Fifi Fuchs? Possibly

"Whatever for?"

"To be among the first to possess the Contemptuous Summer Fashion Look. I don't think we've ever had anyone on staff with the fashion edge Fifi possesses Mr Jason. She's ahead of the field."

"Should I make her head buyer?"

"Oh no sir, Fifi only focuses on the leading edge of fashion. As a store we have to cater for women whose focus is on all stages of fashion, even those with a retro-fashion mindset."

"Oh I see."

Jason entered the promotion and publicity department to find all the chic women in little black dresses and the heavier-build women in black trouser suits. They all wore flimsy red scarves with a gold toggle.

"Where is the mandatory store uniform," he said crossly to the first woman within hearing distance.

"Fifi ordered the change on your authority."

Jason grimaced. "But this uniform is dated."

"Fifi said we are utilitarian service support and not a fashion department but it's important that we look more professional than serving personnel because that's what we are and the media we deal with expect us to be a cut above. BBC film crews arrive soon to set up for filming tomorrow morning. Fifi says it's important we look classy when the film crews arrive and not suddenly appear tomorrow in a remarkable change like Cinderella."

"I see. Thank you Smart."

The executive offices were finished and the new furniture and fittings installed.

"This looks very impressive -- expensive but impressive."

"It is expensive, very expensive," said Sampson.

"Oh hi Jason," Fifi said. "I drank too much wine last night and now have a fucking sore head. How's yours?"

"Er, sustainable."

Fifi laughed. "Well what do you think of Sampson's department now?"

"Oh excellent. It will give us a high profile on TV, making the expenditure worthwhile."

"I think so too. I'll insist they don't edit out all the wide-angle shots. Don't I rate a kiss this morning."

The noise in the department ceased.

Jason kissed Fifi and after a few seconds the department was abuzz. He was slinking out when Fifi called, "Are you going to warn the police we'll need crowd control on the street -- they better make that noon to 2:30?"

"I'm thinking about that."

Jason hurried back to his office and made that call to the police. The policewoman laughed and said women in significant numbers wouldn't be interested in poncy fashion at Bradford & Johnson's."

"Could I please have your name and number constable? When the media investigates chaos in the streets I'll need to state I did warn the Met Police."

The woman gave her name and number and said she'd log the warning and send a copy to the chief superintendent. "What particular type of fashion are we talking about sir?

"The Contemptuous Summer Fashion Look."

"Oh good, that had a ring of anarchy to it. I'll alert our riot commander as well."

Jason then dictated a message about huge crowds expected to descend on the store during the business lunch-time as young women with an anarchist bent would join fashion conscious young women to be first in to buy the Contemptuous Summer Fashion Look. He added Met Police had alerted its riot units and added his signature to the memo. He instructed his PA to send it to all media.

An hour later his PA returned with a copy of the 10:00 radio news bulletin which ended with an item that riot police were on standby to control lunchtime crowds of young women racing to Bradford & Johnson's Department Store in London to be first to buy the trendy new Contemptuous Summer Fashion Look designed by 20-year-old fashion sensation Fifi Fuchs. The report said apparently parents hated the look and which made young women even more eager to start wearing the daring top and paint-splattered jeans.

Jason called the head of security to instruct all staff take early or late lunch. He checked the computer on store counters and muttered, "An estimated 852 people are currently in the store after deduction of staff numbers. Of that number 633 are on the Trendy Fashion Floor. The usual store numbers at that time of day was around 150 shoppers for the entire store. It must be a blip" but his PA said with almost religious fervour, "It's Fifi."

"What does that mean?"

"This is the second generation post-Beatles. Each generation of young people needs a guru. At present this generation only has tats -- or tattoos to you. It's exhibitionism as distinct to rising raw talent."

"Rising raw talent?"

"Yes," she said, looking at Jason in admiration. "The young mass now have their guru but are not yet aware of that. For once it has been a pleasure talking to you Mr Jason."

Jason then rested back on his chair, and he visualized his hands being all over Fiji the previous night. She'd asked him not to fuck her because she feared she might vomit all over him, having had too much to drink. His mom had collapsed over the table and had to be carried to bed. Just how much gin those two had scoffed was anyone's guess. His mom had called drunkenly in the bedroom where was her darling, and his father had said, "Here, holding the basin for you", but his mother had cried, "No not you; where's my Fifi?"

Jason couldn't believe it; his mom had found him a woman at last. At least that's how she'd view it.

Caught in a fog of bewilderment, Jason went to the Trendy Fashion Floor and found the manager.

"Bishop, where's Fifi?"

"Gone to the manufacturer Mr Jason with her new creation. Apparently seeing you in only your underpants last night inspired her no end."

"Inspired her no end. Is that a translation from ancient Egyptian?"

"You gave her a flash of out-of-brain insight sir. Apparently it's the next best thing to outright orgasm."

"Are you unwell Bishop? Should not you be heading for sickbay?"

"I'm fine Mr Jason; it's you who looks unwell as if, aw I find this hard to describe. I know; it's as if a cloud of bewilderment hangs over you."

"Damn right," Jason snorted. "And what is this latest creation?"

"It hasn't been named yet but Fifi is thinking the Crucible. Adult Nappies is the accurate description but that seems too utilitarian in terms of fashion marketing, if you get what we mean?"

"I understand," Jason said, but didn't. "Well I guess what people wear in the privacy of their own home is not the business of society."

"It's street wear sir and wearing to events such as riots and rock concerts. The image Fifi has is everyone wearing just their Crucible."

"You mean females would be topless?"

"Of course sir. The Crucible is a one-piece garment and will be in white reversible. The other side will be a random pattern in the new fashion colour mix of purple, lime green and orange."

Jason vomited over Bishop who stoically said, "Thank you sir."

Wiping his mouth with freshly laundered linen, Jason handed Bishop the handkerchief and asked her to trash it. "How many units is Fifi ordering?"

"Two million sir."

"Bloody hell," he grunted. "On whose authority?"

"Yours Mr Jason."

"Carry on Bishop," Jason said, now reeling under a cloud of depression.

The premiere screening of the back-to-back episodes of 'Department Store London' ended and the credits rolled.

CHAPTER 3

The feeling of being warm and cosy around his midsection and cold at the other extremities awoke Jason Rees who yawned drunkenly and grinned, "God I've peed my pants."

The unemployed actor continued to sprawl on his lounge chair, attempting to gain his bearings. Where was he and whom was he with? He looked around and cleared up the latter thought -- there was no one else in his rented room. A re-run of an idiotic comedy was playing on TV and an empty gin bottle beside him. It was almost 11:15 am.

The gin bottle, it had been almost full when he began watching that new TV program last night about a young blonde woman starting work at a department store, obvious Marks and Spencer but re-branded for TV as Bradford and Jones or whatever. The bimbo had been so stupid she and her fellow actors had him roaring with laughter and he'd become engrossed in the show. It was a good story line, nearing the end of an era for rich family dynasties holding on to the remnants of their trading past and the emergence of young people empowered by higher education even thought if they were like that bimbo, unable to spell the name of their degree.

After a shower and changing into dry clothes, Jason Smith peering into the mirror before shaving and grunted, "You're pissed you loser." He grinned pleased with himself for being able to reprimand himself although still drunk. As he lathered up he recalled he'd been dreaming, placing himself with that bimbo in a much more upmarket department store than the one in that TV show last night. But it hadn't gone right for him; the bimbo outsmarted him whichever way he'd turned. And how the fuck had she shot from trainee to a top-line executive in her first day at the store? Jason grinned knowing dreams couldn't be rationalized.

He headed across London to a film studio for an interview for a two-bit part in a film for Sunday Theatre about an ageing rock star attempting to get his old band together for a world tour, only it would all turn to custard. His agent had sold the idea that Jason was the right age to be the rock star's illegitimate son from an affair with a hugely successful woman Member of Parliament.

Nearing the studio in his Japanese clapped-out car mis-firing on one of its four cylinders -- at least Jason thought that was what it was -- he looked up for a street sign, his car went between two parked vehicles in the gap between then and mounted the footpath.

"Oh shit," he groaned, hitting the brakes and closing his eyes as he was about to hit a woman in a cloak. In a what? He opened his eyes and saw her terrified face through the hood of her cloak as the vehicle stopped, almost touching her. Who the hell wore a cloak these days? They'd been sent into redundancy by cheap hoodies.

"You fucking idiot. You almost ran me over. Footpaths are for people with feet, not road vehicles."

God if she called the cops," Jason reasoned, he'd be done for drunken driving.

Jason shot out of the car like Jake-in-the-box. The complaining bitch opened her mouth to hurl more abuse but it stayed open and then she said, "Ohmigod."

Christ, she must be a religious weirdo waiting for her guru to materialize.

"Miss, it was all my fault. You were innocent. I'll tell the judge you were not jay-walking."

He was ignored.

"Ohmigod, if only you were an actor."

What? She wanted too much -- a guru with professional acting experience was a big call. Jason knew he had to do something.

"Miss, you've had a big shock. I'm not your guru but please allow me to take you to the nearest tearooms."

"Oh yes, that would be lovely. I'm Miss Sampson."

"You're Lady Fifi Fuchs," Jason said, remembering something from his dream of last night.

The young woman looked at him strangely. "How on earth did you know that? Oh I know, you saw me on TV last night."

"Yes and I had a big dream about you."

"A dry dream I would expect. I shall risk my life getting into this damn-awful looking vehicle. I should think it's knackered."

"Or very close to it Fifi. I'm Jason Rees."

"Oh hi Jason. Do you believe you can back on to the street without hitting anything?" Perhaps I should drive?"

"Are you a good driver?"

"No but I should think I'm heaps better at driving than you are, considering what I've just witnessed."

"That sounds much too optimistic. I'll drive." Jason drove immaculately to the tearooms a little way down the street.

"We're not opened for another ten minutes," said the stern-faced woman who came to the entrance. Then she looked at Miss Sampson. "Oh goodness me, it's Fifi Fuchs. I watched you on TV last night. You were sensational."

Female waitresses came running to crowd around Mrs Stern or whatever her name was. Come in Fifi, is this your man?"

"No ma'am, Fifi has mistaken me for her guru."

Miss Sampson giggled and whispered, "That's original," and taking Jason's hand pulled him into the tearooms.

"Tea and toast or tea and muffins?" asked the waitress. "Kitchen's not open yet."

"Tea and toast with unsweetened marmalade please Buffy. "

"Ohmigod Miss Fuchs. You know me?"

"No, I read your name tag."

"Oh silly me."

"I was attempting to avoid thinking that Buffy. Place your order Jason. I'm paying as a reward for you giving me a big fright."

"Oh is Jason that big Miss?"

Miss Sampson almost fell out of her chair laughing while Jason felt a sense of unaccustomed pride.

"I'll have English breakfast tea with two eggs on one piece of toast and baked beans on the other piece."

"Yes Jason, you may have that even if I have to cook it myself. We must keep his pecker up, mustn't we Miss?"

Jason caught his companion as she fell out of her chair in near hysterics.

As Buffy walked off Jason said, "I apologize for giving you a big scare. What do I call you?"

"My name is Rose Sampson." Rose smiled sweetly and said she hadn't seen his pecker.

"Oh, you're referring me mounting the pavement and attempting to mount you with my car?"

"Yes indeed," she giggled.

"I was looking for a street sign as I was heading for Simpson Brothers' Studios."

"Are you a plumber or an electrician, although you're not dressed like those guys. May I ask why would you be going to the studios?"

"To try to grab the part of an aged rocker's illegitimate son. I have an introduction."

"Who are you to see?"

"Mr Phelps."

"Oooh, you are a man of good connections. Jason, are you really a professional actor?"

"Yes of course. I work at nothing else. That is, when I'm in work."

He looked at Rose, wondering what her interest was, and saw the look of 'Behold, here is my guru' on her face.

"Can you do an American accent Jason?"

"I get by particularly with Texan and New England."

"We can rewrite the script, changing LA to Boston."

"What script? Actually I lived in Boston for two years. I went there as part of a small British troupe for a festival and was invited to stay on."

"Oh god, I can't believe this is happening," Rose said. "It's as if I'm living a dream."

"Sorry Rose, I have made allowances for you being blonde but I just can't get my mind around you want your guru to have acting experience."

"What guru? You are in the tearooms and your breakfast is ordered so why keep up with this guru pretence?"

"You confuse me Fifi I mean Rose."

"Well you must be short on brainpower. At least that suggests you'd be easy to direct. I want you to come with me after this to talk to some people. There will be test-screening to follow."

"I'm already being interviewed for a part."

"At what time?"

"At 7:45 because Mr Phelps had to leave for Scotland at 8:00."

"Oooh it's 8:05."

"Fuck!"

"No its Fuchs and please pronounce it correctly as FOOKS. Its Old German and means Fox."

"No I meant fuck. I've missed my appointment."

"Never mind, you have one with me. Ah, here comes that waitress with your plate piled high. She has an unhealthy interest in your pecker -- she must have a big cave and finds it difficult to get satisfied."

Understandably Jason did not reply.

At little later he found himself embarrassed again. Looking at the two lightly toasted piece of bread on Rose's plate he asked, "Is that really your breakfast?"

"Yes darling. I have to keep trim. However in my part in DSL Miss Fuchs eats big after being fucked."

Jason studied the ceiling.

* * *

Soon after they were sitting in a musty office that smelt of cigar smoke and stale sweat.

"Clay, I want Jason screen tested." Rose said after introducing Jason to the producer of 'Department Store London' Clay Fisher.

"Why are you becoming involved? You are asking me to direct the director and casting director."

"True, but you are aware there are misgivings about my romantic lead yet to appear, playing Larry who comes from Boston..."

"LA I think."

"... Boston to supervise his father's investment package to keep the store solvent."

"Sorry baby. You are a lovely face and certainly we are ecstatic about the rave reviews of you in this morning's press and on the breakfast show. Your first TV interview is in an hour's time so get out of my hair and..."

"Say Clay, you may be the big chief on set but give this baby a break will you? She's a rising star and going to make heaps of money for this outfit. Imagine her on BBC TV saying her producer Clay Athens is a cunt -- I think that's the English term for it. He doesn't understand her or give me due recognition for her burgeoning talent. If this doesn't stop I'll pull the show down single-handedly."

Clay and Rose gaped.

"That sounds to me like a genuine American accent," Clay said, nodding. "Can you really act young man?"

"I intercepted Jason on his way to meet Sidney Phelps for casting discussion."

Sidney Phelps -- Jesus. Off you go for that interview Rose. Meg will take you and brief you about possible questions and give you our replies. I'll look after Jason."

"Okay, I'm off."

Jason called, "Rose... I'll need to see you again."

"If your screen test scores highly you'll be seeing more of Rose as Fifi than you dared hope for young man."

"Clay, he wishes to date me. Here's my card Jason. Good luck -- give me a kiss."

The cool, soft and fleshy lips radiated to Jason's core and what she said almost melted him. She whispered, "Miss Fuchs fucks if she likes the guy; make me adore you Jason."

The screen test halted midday as everyone gathered around the big TV screen to watch Rose on mid-morning TV. She was sensational, so good she appeared to be acting but without a script, ignoring the studio's stock answers to questions. She had the attractive woman interviewer in fits of laughter especially when answering the question, "Rose, does it concern you playing a character called Fifi Fuchs?"

"No, I believe it will associate me with sex, giving my more frisky viewers a greater sense of identity with me. I should think I'll have men waiting in line to date me for the rest of my life, or in the unlikely event until I lose interest in sex."

"Is that all?"

"No, my hope is through that mantle of sex will rise the young woman acting as Fifi Fuchs that people will slowly come to realize is an actress of merit."

"I'm sure they will. May I ask, how did you get this part, being an unknown actress at this level?"

"They offered the part to 200 women before approaching me. None of those other women were prepared to be called Fifi Fuchs -- notice how I pronounce it correctly as FOOKS?"

"Two hundred?" gasped the interviewer.

"Well I might be exaggerating but it does prove there are many shy actresses out there and that must be the surprise of the year."

* * *

Five studio executives watched the replay of the screen test in silence. Clay looked at the company CEO who nodded. Clay said, "Jason describe in one word your reaction to that test."

"Convincing."

"The part is yours if you want it young man. We are planning on a 24-part series. Your arrival comes in episode eight due to be filmed soon. I'll call your agent when you leave. We want the signing by Friday and will have to shell out on this other guy no longer required."

"I feel sorry for him, but just mind you don't deduct that expense from my salary offer."

Clay grinned. "I think we'll like having you around Jason. Referring to what you've just said, you fit the part perfectly. I'll get the origins of Blake the character you'll play changed to Boston. You must do your best to relate to Fifi as in later episodes you two run a tumultuous love affair."

"I ought to be able to play that in my sleep Clay."

Everyone laughed.

Jason called Rose who immediately said congratulations.