To begin, let me stress, my encounters with Jillian Navjokas were infrequent and unmemorable. Not being the social butterfly such like some members of the Marco's Pizza "family," I felt no strong inclination to play the game --as it were-- with young Miss Navjokas. More over, I felt little attraction to the beacon of youthful sexuality (dare I say "lasciviousness?") that she represented. Call me prudish, call me Republican --such is my taste. Nymphomania is one thing amid the sterile (you heard me) context of pornography, but in real life, simply distasteful. Avoiding a tirade about the socially constructed repressive sexuality arbitrarily imposed on women in this culture, suffice to say, Navjokas expressed her sexuality farther than I would, had I been her. Nonetheless, and let me be quite clear on this: in no way did this preclude the occasional glance cast, lip bit, or pupil dilated. No pretenses: I am a 19-year-old male without a girlfriend, and the dilator pupillae is involuntary anyway. But, as my hypothalamus protested, my opinion remained: I didn't really like her. From all this, it should be no surprise to learn that I actively avoided Navjokas. And from that, no surprise that she found little interest in me. But isn't that the story of my life?

Navjokas was, to make an exercise in understatement, inordinately flirtatious. Her sense of worth --or so I would perceive-- hinged on an ability to cajole or control men. Attention starved, with a delicate ego. To this, she used her sexuality as a lure. Though even if her flirtations were purely social, they defined her character. Often mockingly antagonistic (in one direction or the other), always playful, she rarely wavered from this persona. Sociable --simply-- but in a decidedly coquettish manner, wrought with subtle sexual suggestion. I hesitate to narrate specific episodes, as the exchanges were incessant, and I am left only with: "it happened a lot." Though, obviously, she was but half the equation. The younger men of the establishment (with some exception) participated willingly (or initiated willingly, depending on your perspective.) Apparently the only unwitting participant --or so Miss Navjokas would accuse-- was herself.

Too, beyond the social, was a physical dimension. I cannot know her motivation or objective, but Navjokas regularly and unabashedly brushed, touched, felt and groped nearly every male in the establishment. Not that anyone, including myself, would complain. But these were her actions, and her volition. Employees of Marco's Pizza did touch her --although not necessarily in a sexual or otherwise inappropriate manner. Qualifying that: she started it. I would again hesitate to give specific examples, as the volume of activity left little detail behind. Her body, in one way or another, made surprisingly frequent contact with those of fellow employees --notably those she liked. One assumes the sexually suggestive physical contact was an extension of the social flirtation, perhaps to foster more attention, perhaps to raise the stakes of the game. Nevertheless, her encroachments were quite intentional, numerous, and significantly less reciprocated than the social counterpart. That is, while nearly everyone participated in the verbal flirtations, it was a brave (stupid?) few who reciprocated the physical element.

Habitually, her apparel was revealing --to again extend the limits of understatement. Not that I would attribute significance to this, but her dress was, while not outside the bounds of good taste, salacious. Esoteric obfuscation and craven effrontery being my dual specialities, I thusly gave Miss Navjokas the Latin title Meretrix Sordidus. However, this stinging commentary was not shared with any employees of Marco's Pizza. No need to upset the delicate balance, even if it was funny.

As stated above, my encounters with the girl were rare; I stayed the hell away from her. Neutral conversations were few, and coquettish exchanges even more so. Like I said, it's just not my style. Not being interested, I didn't engage her. And because I failed to play the game, she didn't approach me (wait, why don't I have a girlfriend again?). Perhaps I was not an interesting dance partner, but I like to believe I was ignored simply because I ignored her. This is not to say, however, that I never met her or communicated with her --or that we never grew beyond neutral and mutually impassionate coworkers. No, but it did take time. Yet, it wasn't too long before there would occur a suspicious collision between her left hip and my right hip. If it were any other person, I would attribute it entirely to miscalculation. But with Navjokas, I can only assume the contact was intentional. Flattered --I suppose-- to be included in the shenanigans, I was not in the least way offended. Neither my opinion of the girl nor my reserved interactions with her changed.

Through all of this --her flirtations and palpations spread about the store, and I avoiding it-- I may have felt slightly excluded. Jealous --insecure, maybe-- that my coworkers were the objects of desire, yet I not. But I didn't want it, remember? Then: I have principles (damn cortex!), but I also have a functioning libido. Perhaps not the libido of Jillian Navjokas, but --hey-- it's still there. To wit: on the occasion, once, she required a ride after work, I leapt at the opportunity. She was to meet her family at a local restaurant, and I offered to transport her. It was asked: "Is it on the way?" I lied and responded in the affirmative. That's just my humanity getting the better of me. My intention was to forge some sort of social connection with her --one that had nothing to do with her gushing sexuality. Again, call me Republican, but I prefer my interactions on a slightly higher plane. We chatted idly, I made a dangerous left turn, she was singularly unimpressed by my ability to speak Latin (no, I wasn't showing off), we took turns mocking Marco's Pizza, I asked her about herself, dropped her off at the restaurant, and our brief meeting ended. For the sake of drama, unfortunately (fortunately?), nothing happened. Though the seed was there, and a reason for some kind of association planted. I wanted to meet her, even if I didn't want to flirt, grope, and dry hump her.

Other members of the Marco's Pizza army didn't have to be so conniving; they just had to play the game. Shawn Catlett, under whose general manager auspices Navjokas and myself stood, did. Catlett is, like myself, an 18-year-old male whose pupils dilate for attractive young women. Unlike myself, he wields an understanding of social exchanges and of inter-gender sociosexual interaction. He possess a functional understanding and a practical knowledge of human social dynamics, stemming (I'll guess), from much experience. As such, he knows how to play the game, and (one can only assume), enjoys playing it. He might excuse his participation by claiming: "Well, I was just trying to make friends with her." And that would be true enough. Catlett, social acrobat and loyal manager that he is, does endeavor to befriend all of his employees. Though, I would say he let himself get carried away by the sexuality --in tone and form-- of the Meretrix Sordidus. Catlett engaged Navjokas in her flirtatious exchanges --even: "actively partook."

Such a preamble! You're here for but one thing: Did Catlett grope Navjokas? Did he do anything unbecoming enough to substantiate sexual harassment charges? I can only say, to the best of my knowledge, I don't think so. While he did play the flirtation game, he never touched her where my eyes could see. However, as above, he engaged her rather enthusiastically. Likewise, his actions and intentions are often clandestine, and he is skilled in the art of subterfuge. And yet, never did I see Catlett touch Navjokas. The reverse, indeed --but he never reciprocated. Her claim of assault, by my reputation as a pedant, never occurred --by Catlett or any other employee of Marco's Pizza. I will not speak to extracurricular activities, but I would assume, through what I know of the pair, minimal funny business. To repeat: Catlett, to my knowledge, on no occasion touched Navjokas in a manner I would deem inappropriate, sexually or otherwise. He engaged her always in a friendly and casual --and professional, if I can squeeze that in-- fashion.

A tasty morsel from Noding things you've written before.

This was a court statement I had to write when, during my past life as a pizza delivery driver, my manager was accused of fondling a buxom young employee. And so you know: lawyers and judges just love getting crap like this.