Authors Note : The story is happening in Paris of the early 1970s and is based on real facts. At the time Portugal was still a very poor country and not a member of the European Union. Lots of poor girls and married women were coming from there to work in France as factory workers, cleaners and maids. Many of those girls were working as live in maids in many Parisian bourgeois houses or apartments. If they were working in apartments they had their own separate rooms at the top of the building, usually in the 6th floor, at what was called 'la chambre de bonne' (maid's room). Of course there was no elevator in those buildings of the late 19th century and the maids were going down from the back service stairs to the kitchen door of the apartment they were working. They were not allowed to use the front entrance of the building even when they were out of uniform and not on duty. For them there was the back or side service entrance to come and go, the same way that the garbage was coming down as well. All those apartment buildings had a live in concierge who had a little place to stay either by the entrance or in the basement. The concierge was usually the 'terror' of all live-in maids because she was checking on them all the time, reporting back to their employers.

So the term Portuguese maid/housekeeper or 'femme de menage Portugaise' was synonymous to a poor backward peasant girl or woman often illiterate, coming form the rural areas of Portugal to work in the sophisticated Paris. The rich bourgeois Parisians had the tendency of course to look down on them.

At the time there were lots of specialised shops in those rich Parisian suburbs, selling 'domestic workwear' for those in live in service. Those shops were called 'boutiques de blouses et tabliers' (overalls and aprons shops).

In today's Paris, as elsewhere in the Western world uniformed live-in maids are a rarity. Portuguese women are rich and elegant and go to Paris for their shopping and the 'blouses et tabliers boutiques' are nearly gone.

   

The Domestication Of A Parisian Bourgeois

by Monica Graz

  

CHAPTER 1

My wife left me, abandoned me!! I simply can't believe it! It finally happened and it happened just like that. Yesterday she announced to me that she had an affair with a fellow doctor and they were moving out of the country to start new parallel careers in an exclusive private clinic in Milan, Italy! I simply can't believe it, my wife decided to leave her beloved Paris for an Italian city, even if that is Armani's Milan?

Later I understood that this was planned well ahead and it was I in my notorious innocence and naivety that couldn't pick the signs. She packed only her preferred clothes and personal things in a haste and left yesterday evening directly for the airport where they had a late flight to catch. She said that she didn't need anything else from the house, which belonged to me anyway, through family inheritance. But in a goodwill gesture, as she said, she left loads of her old clothes behind and everything that we bought together for the house the five years we stayed together.

We parted as friends without unnecessary scenes. We both were low-key people and we didn't like screams and abuses. She even managed to convince me that she wasn't good enough for me. She wasn't the type of woman I needed etc. Probably she had a point. I really don't know. Of course after she was gone a terrible emptiness overtook me and I started crying bitterly on my own. It took me some time to calm down and only after I took a sleeping tablet was I able to go into a deep dreamless sleep.

I opened my eyes quite late the next day. It was past ten in the morning and I could hear the familiar noise of the vacuum cleaner from the floor below. God I forgot! It was Violetta our Portuguese cleaning lady. I felt uneasy that I had to explain to her what happened. She was coming to the house 3 times a week and we were quite happy with her. All of sudden the feeling of emptiness came back to me. I was still thinking in terms of WE, but I was alone now! Tears started welling in my eyes and I desperately tried to control myself.

Soon I was in the dining room where usually breakfast was served when Violetta was around. She saw me and I must have looked quite a sight because she stopped what she was doing and came towards me, a concerned look on her face. She looked very neat in her light blue overall dress and her matching bib apron and headscarf. My wife was a firm believer that a domestic in the house should look the part, nothing fancy, just a practical maid's uniform.

"Bonjour Monsieur, you look terrible this morning, is everything all right?"

"Non Violetta pas du tous, everything is not all right," I said and tears started coming up again.

"Pauvre Monsieur, please tell everything to Violetta"

And I started and I told her in detail what happened, sobbing softly at the same time.

As I was talking she took me by my hand and we went to the living room. We sat together in the couch and she started holding my hand as I continued my monologue. When I stopped I started crying again. God what was happening to me? Was it that strong sleeping tablet that made me so emotional? She put her hand around my shoulder and pulled me towards her. Soon my head was resting on her shoulder and I closed my red eyes for a moment of rest.

Suddenly I felt her warm lips kissing my cheeks and forehead and then she kissed me on the mouth in an unexpectedly passionate manner. I was completely taken by surprise but I felt at the same time an increased sexual excitement. She then wiped my wet eyes with the edge of her apron, something that excited me even more. She started talking to me in a quiet but firm manner, definitely forgetting her position in the house. She spoke to me as a friend rather than a servant, "With the little I know you are completely secure financially. You own this wonderful property and you have a steady income from your grandfather's trust. You are 37 years old, you don't have to work for a living and you can organise your life anyway you want."

She stopped and looked at me rather sternly I must say, as if she was accusing me for having all those benefits in life.

I looked back and all of a sudden I realised that I needed that woman. I said without hesitation, "Look Violetta. Would you like to stay the week with me to help me get over this terrible crisis I face, even if you think that is not that serious?"

She answered back immediately as if she knew the answer even before I asked. She said, "I'll stay in one condition, we have to establish a different relationship, not the one of employer and employee to start with. I am Violetta for you, but you are Jean Marie for me."

I blushed a bit when she mentioned my double name. Coming from an upper class family I had several names, in fact my full name was Jean Marie Philippe Batiste D' Armagnac. But for my friends I was simply Jean. Now Violetta was using my second name Marie which is feminine but is common for boys in France as an in between name.

"Of course I accept Violetta," I eagerly said and at the same time I was wondering what she meant with this 'to start with'.

"In that case," she continued "you have to give me access to your wife's wardrobe. You said she left plenty of her clothes behind and I have only my working clothes with me. I think also that I'll be a guest in this house for the rest of the week, so no more housework for me. Do you agree Jean Marie?"

I blushed again, this woman had a way of intimidating me that I hadn't noticed before, and a whole new persona of Violetta was in front of me.

"Of course Violetta, there are plenty of clothes in my wife's cupboards, she is not going to use them anymore, you can choose anything you want and I think you are about the same size. Please let's go upstairs and sort things out."

We reached the master bedroom and to my total surprise she started undoing her apron and overall dress. She saw my look and said casually, "I think I'll have a bath first before I dress in my bourgeois lady's clothes. Would you be a pet and run a bath for me, and please add some of the nice bath oils your wife was using, I want to smell like a bourgeois lady from now on."

I followed her instructions like a robot. I was about to finish filling the tub when I heard her voice form the bedroom, "Jean Marie, could you come here for a moment?"

I went back to the bedroom hoping to see her naked, but no she was wearing one of our bathrobes. She looked mischievously at me, "I decided to test your good intentions, I thought that when I'll be having my bath you can go down and finish the housework that I left undone. Would you like to do that for me?"

I was about to refuse it, proposing something of the type ' I can wait for you to finish your bath and we can do it together like partners." But she didn't give me the chance.

Instead she continued, "and don't tell me that you don't know how to do things because I know and your wife confirmed it to me that on the days I wasn't around you were doing quite a few things in the house. After all your wife was the professional bread winner in the family and you were a sort of house husband."

I blushed again and said meekly, "Ok Violetta, I'll do it, tell me what you want me to do".

I thought I saw a triumphant glimpse in her eyes but she kept her cool and said in a 'giving instructions or orders tone of voice', "Just finish the dusting and vacuuming in the living, dining area and then do the kitchen properly. Do the dishes, clean the tops and mop the floor thoroughly. Ok pet?" Now she started calling me pet.

I started to go out of the room but she stopped me again, "Did you forget something Jean Marie?" I turned around looking puzzled and with a big grin she indicated to the pile of clothes on top of the bed. "You forgot your working clothes dear!" And she was pointing to her overall dress, apron and head scarf.

This time I did turn red from embarrassment. "But Violetta I don't have to be dressed like you to do the housework, I can do it in my T-shirt and jeans."

She got red but from pure anger and said to me abruptly, "Listen to me Jean Marie, either you do it my own way or I'll get dressed and leave this instant and you will not see me again!"

She stopped to catch her breath. Boy she was angry now, and continued, "I have been doing that all my life and I am over 40 now, cleaning houses and offices and public toilets and being a hotel maid and doing anything menial you can think off. I am fed up of being a Portuguese maid. Maybe you can get the feeling what it is like not to be a rich bourgeois person and be in the other side of the fence."

She stopped again and looked at me. I looked back at this angry but sincere face and suddenly I felt a strong compassion for that woman. I felt her strength of character through her rage. I felt her willingness to try the forbidden, for her, the fruit of the bourgeois world. Probably she is right, probably I should see how the other side lives and works. I decided to play her game, I wanted this woman to stay with me, I needed her. I simply nodded to her that I agree and I took the pile of clothes and started going out.

She stopped me again, "Oh no Pet, you don't leave this room unless you are properly dressed as the cleaning woman you are going to become. So start removing your clothes and hurry up, we don't have all day."

By now I was defeated, I couldn't cope anymore with the strength of character of this woman. Within seconds I was standing naked in front of her and within a few more minutes I was dressed under her instructions. Black cotton panties and vest, black thick pantyhose, and the overall dress that buttoned in front. Those were her clothes, the clothes she was wearing just before. I could smell her body odour in them, nothing repulsive, just a combination of cheap eau de cologne and her mild sweating.

"And now the 'piece de resistence mon cheri', Violetta said smiling broadly, "come here I will tie your apron." I approached and she adjusted the large matching working apron on top of my dress. She criss-crossed the bib straps behind my back and fastened them to the strings with two small buttons, then she firmly tied the strings in a big bow in the back. She pointed to the door. "Well, this is your obligatory uniform for working in the house Jean Marie. Run along now like a good maid and finish your chores and then report back here, I want to continue our little conversation and plan the rest of the day."

It took me an hour of intense work to finish what I was ordered to do. I was mopping the kitchen floor when I literally smelled the new Violetta's presence in the room. I turned around and she was standing by the door looking at me. God how she changed! She was the epitome of elegance wearing a dark grey silk suit, a light grey blouse, fine stockings and elegant medium heel shoes. My wife's expensive Chanel 5 perfume was filling the air around her. And there I was opposite her the epitome of a servant, sweat running down my forehead, my apron front splashed with water, resting my rubber gloved hands in the mop stick.

I looked admiringly at her. "You look fantastic Violetta, I can't believe that change, you are even more elegant that my bourgeois wife."

She answered back casually, "That proves my theory Jean Marie, that finally the garments make the priest and not the other way round. And look at you, after an hour's housework you look all the way the part of a Portuguese 'femme de menage'. We have to work with your hair a bit and do some other adjustments to enhance your femininity".

I looked at her aghast, but a peculiar excitement ran through my body like an electric current. I managed to answer in a rather meek tone of voice, "But what are you talking about, what femininity? I am not a woman. I simply agreed to help with the housework and I dressed like this to please you."

She looked intensely at me, "We might as well sort things out here and now! Jean Marie, I have a proposition to make to you. Would you consider to change positions with me and become a 'femme de menage', a maid, a cleaning woman for a year and I will be 'la femme bourgeoise', a woman of the high society. You will find out where I come from and I will be able to fulfil my dream and live the life of an upper class lady even for a limited period of time. Imagine, it can be like a sabbatical year for you, you will be able to experience things totally outside of your own milieu, even outside your own sex. For me it is a lifetime ambition to know the world of luxury and wealth, a world where you come from but I know it from the servant's side. For you it is going to be a complete reversal of roles and positions in life."

She stopped and looked at me, I could tell she was completely taken by her own words, she was already so near to fulfil her dream, she was already dressed the part and she was enjoying it immensely. But what about me, I was confused as I was trying to think hard for an answer. I knew already that it was either her terms or good-bye Violetta for good.

What did I really have to loose? My life was in shambles at the moment with the departure of my wife. I was not working and I was financially independent. I had no immediate family and very few friends, as a matter of fact most of those so-called friends were my wife's friends and I knew very well that they were going to disappear from my life. And that was going to be an experience, probably a hard one but an experience anyhow. And why did I have this inner excitement that was transmitting sexual signals to my body? Did I really get a sexual pleasure out of it?

I must have blushed all over because Violetta looked at me inquiringly and asked, "What is it Pet? Do you consider my proposal? You realise of course that by this stage there is no going back. It is either my proposal or I am out of here and your life."

I looked at her, took a deep breath and said, "Oui Violetta, J'accepte votre proposition!" and I continued more excited now after I said the ok, "But how is it going to work, and we have to talk about lots of practical matters like ...."

She stopped me with her hand, "Now let's make your acceptance more formal and from now on I am Madame Violetta, or simply Madame for you and your are 'ma femme de menage' Jeanne Marie or simply Maria, so please repeat, "Oui, Madame, J'accepte de devenir votre femme de menage pendant un an!"

Blushing all over again and excited at the same time I repeated, "Yea Madame, I accept to become your cleaning woman for a year!"

"Very well Maria, I am your employer from now on!!" she said triumphantly and continued, "Now you asked before about practical matters, you are right we have to sort them out. First of all you will put our agreement in writing and send it to your solicitor. Not everything of course, just write simply that due to a prolonged absence abroad you are authorising me, Violetta Perreira dos Santos to handle all your financial affairs, pay all the bills and run the household paying the domestic staff (that is you!) etc., etc. Then you send a note to all people that you think they might contact you, telling them that you are going abroad for an indefinite amount of time to recover from the shock of losing your wife to another man. Also you will apply to your bank to issue credit cards in my name. Of course I'll take your credit cards, and your car keys, your are not allowed to drive a private car anymore, only public transport for you. You will receive all the money that I earn from my various domestic and cleaning jobs which you are going to undertake from now on." She stopped seeing me getting more and more uneasy.

"But Viol... I mean Madame how am I going to appear in public as a woman, I am not confident enough and...."

"Leave that to me Maria, I'll organise everything for you. I have lots of close contacts and trusted friends among the Portuguese community of maids and cleaners, soon you will be part of their world." She looked at me again and became more formal, "Now finish what you are doing here and run upstairs to clean the bathroom I just used and tidy up the bedroom. I have a few phone calls to make, then we'll talk again."

I was blushing again when I said a more formal 'Oui Madame', my first maid's response to a command by my new employer.

She turned and walked back to the living room her heels clicking elegantly. She was 'la patronne' now.

 

 

CHAPTER 2

She was talking to me fast as I was standing in front of her dressed now in her old street clothes! I simply replaced my overall dress with her prisunic cheap outdoor dress. I kept the underwear and black pantyhose and added a pair of flat moccasins that belonged to my wife. It was remarkable that being a small person myself, barely 1.70m in height and 70 kilos in weight I could easily fit in Violetta's clothes, something that pleased her immensely because obviously I was about to inherit her whole trousseau! The shoes were a small problem, she was a size smaller than me, but luck again, my wife's shoes were an exact fit and she certainly left several pairs behind.

As I said, she was addressing me, "Now Maria, I talked to my friend Angelita da Silva, she is the concierge in one of those posh buildings in Passy (that was one of the most expensive inner Parisian quartiers in the prestigious 16th arrondissement). She is also a hairdresser occasionally; she is going to fix your hair in a more appropriate manner for your current station in life, as a Portuguese cleaning woman and maid. I asked her to perm your hair and dye it a dark brown. Your current long blond and straight hair is too elegant for what you are going to become." She loved putting me down emphasising my new position in life. Funnily enough, I was getting an excitement out of it as well.

She continued talking to me, "instead of paying her she will ask you to clean the public spaces of the building, entrance and stairs up to the 5th floor. She will lend you some working clothes. She has a collection of flower patterned nylon smocks that I am sure you will love. Don't worry, she will tell you exactly what to do. Now you can put on my old coat. It is hanging in the broom cupboard by the entrance. Inside the pocket you will find an old scarf, just tie it around your hair and then we are ready to go."

I got panicked dressed like this and going out from the front door in the middle of the day. It was barely past 1.00 o'clock in the afternoon. It just dawned to me as I was looking at my (ex Violetta's} small cheap wrist watch that it was only three hours ago that I was still my old self a young Parisian bourgeois. And look at me now, a middle age low class woman leaving her employer's house.

Violetta interrupted my thoughts as she approached me and adjusted the scarf in my head, "You must learn to wear the scarf the Portuguese way. That will be a standard item when you are outdoors and out of your working clothes. Most women of your status are wearing it, so you better get used to it. And something else, it hides up to a point your less feminine features though I am not worried about them. You can improve a lot there. Wait till Angelita finishes with you. Come on let's go. I'll drive you, this time I'll spare you the embarrassment of public transport, but this is only for your first day. 'Allez ouste!' "

We arrived in front of the elegant 19th century residential building in Avenue Victor Hugo. She was an excellent driver and she knew how to drive around the maize of Parisian streets quite well. How on earth a 'femme de menage' was so competent in driving? Another mystery about Violetta. What was her real past, I wondered? She interrupted my thoughts, "Allez, out of the car, I leave you here, just walk to the side door where 'concierge' is written and ring the bell, Angelita will let you in. Run along now, I'll come and collect you in about 3 hours. I'll probably ring before and see how you are doing. Good luck Maria!"

She practically pushed me out of the car, my ex car, and sped away. I practically run to the door and rang the bell, looking sideways to see if someone was coming. The door opened and a formidable lady appeared in front of me. She looked at me from head to toes and said casually in a heavily accented French, "You must be this bourgeois, Violetta mentioned, that wants to become a cleaning woman. What a weird decision?"

I looked at her aghast and surprised. I said hastily, "Can I come in please, I feel uncomfortable in those clothes in public."

She looked at me again and laughed a rather loud but good-hearted laugh I must say. "Mais oui, come in, but if you feel uncomfortable now, imagine how you will feel later when you will be down on your knees scrubbing the landings between floors, ha, ha, ha!" She continued laughing.

Inside her minuscule apartment I could see her better. She was a big woman, a few centimetres taller than I was and also fatter. She had the derriere of a woman of her class, big bottom in other words, but also she seemed a strong woman, her body was somehow muscular. She was wearing black pantyhose and a knee length blue nylon smock patterned with flowers. You could see below the smock her black skirt and her cheap plastic sandals. She turned again to me and said, "Look, Violetta said to me that you decided to exchange places with her and become 'une femme de menage, une bonniche', is it true?"

Obviously she wanted to test me and see if I did things on my own will. How could I say that I was partly pushed into this? Not really, if I was strongly against it I wouldn't have been standing right now in front of her dressed as I was. I looked at her and said, "Yes Angelita, this is true, I want to live a true experience of a cleaning woman, a maid, as you said it. Can you help me?"

She relaxed and smiled at me broadly. "Of course I can help you 'ma petite', let me look at you, remove your coat and scarf, let me see you face. Look at those hands, they are so soft, so not used to menial housework, 'par contre' look at my hands pet."

She was holding her hands in front of me. I looked at those big hands, skin cracked and wrinkly, the nails with remains of a vulgar red nail polish. On impulse I took those hands and held them in mine. She squeezed them and dragged me towards her. Soon she was kissing me passionately in the mouth, I was aroused and excited, God those Portuguese women were coming from another world, so unpredictable and spontaneous, no bourgeois false modesty there!

She started undressing me and I did the same to her, she removed my dress, fairly easy for her, I had to undo the buttons of her nylon smock, the zip of her skirt as we were fondling each other in our similar black underwear and pantyhose. We did make love to each other but like two females, she didn't let me penetrate her, instead she made me caress her bosom and her private parts until she started moaning uncontrollably. Finally she made me come inside my panties. It was an explosive and powerful climax of the most unusual kind!

To be continued

  

  

  

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