When Kelly Ann Rogers first visited my Website and began corresponding with me, only a much shorter version of this story existed. I thought it was a finished work, Kelly Ann saw it as an outline of a much more in depth study of a man turned into a maid. Kelly Ann proposed writing a character study out of my sparse, straight-forward narrative.

Finally, because Kelly Ann can be a real pain in the neck when she really wants to be, I said, "Go ahead. If you want to enlarge it, you are welcome to write it yourself." When I saw where she was going with Jacqui, I became excited about the prospects for the story. We agreed to try co-writing this in March of 2001. Neither of us conceived a story that would take nearly a year and a half to write or one that would exceed 131,000 words, but it has. We are very pleased with it. Each authoress has brought her own distinctive skills and talents (we hope!) to harmoniously meld Jacqui into a story that is, quite apart from other works of either individual writer.

If anyone wishes this story as a single work, rather than split into parts, you need only ask me by email and I will attach it in RTF with a return email.
Karen Anne Summerfield - nulicc@bellatlantic.net

 

Jacqui

By

Karen Anne Summerfield and Kelly Ann Rogers
© August 2002

 

Part I - The Beginning of Jacqui

_______________________________________________________________

"John, what the hell is wrong with you lately? You're like this almost every night. Talk to me! I'm sure we can work it out."

I had hardly touched my supper and was now sucking down my third big glass of scotch, staring blankly at whatever was on the TV.

"Work! The fucking job. I'm...."

"You're what? What about work?" My wife, Carla, moved to sit next to me, wrapping a comforting arm around my shoulder and pulling me close.

I don't remember the details of what I said over the next hour or so. I don't even remember going to bed that night, but then I rarely remembered going to bed anymore, I was usually too drunk.

When I awoke, Carla was in our walk in closet. After she had dragged a large suitcase across the carpet, she heaved it on our bed.

"What are you doing?" I asked, worried.

"Good, you're awake. You can save me the trouble of forcing the lid open. Where's the key?" I got out of bed and reached for the handle. Angrily, Carla slapped my hand away.

"Let's not have a fight. I'd like the key. I'm undoing something that I realize only now I never should have done in the first place. Now give me the key."

She said it like it was an order, but the tone of her voice wasn't at all harsh. There was something going on. I got up to retrieve the key. The suitcase was mine. It is just one of three that contained my very personal things. Well, perhaps I should say Jacqui's things.

*****

Ten years ago, right after we graduated from MIT, Carla and I had started our own computer consulting company. We knew that, together, we could 'make it' and make it big. We weren't married then, we weren't even living together or dating. Carla and I were partners and friends - and that was all.

After a very rough startup, we turned a modest profit in our second year. We paid ourselves just enough to survive. Every other penny we made was reinvested right back into the company. By the end of the fourth year, the long hours, sometimes over thirty-six straight, began to really pay off, big time.

We had twenty-nine employees then. Today there are two hundred fifty-eight in three branch locations. In our sixth year, the company netted its first million and we declared our first dividend to the shareholders, Carla and me.

That was when we began to relax and breathe a bit easier, but just a bit. That was also when we began to date and started to fall in love. A year and a half ago, we both said 'I do'. Getting married wasn’t as easy as I must have made it sound. I was a workaholic and Carla was not an easy person to become intimate with. In fact, people who don’t know her describe her as cold. I don’t know about cold, but she was difficult to get to know and has a very hard time showing her heart. That was the main reason we were simply "friends" for so long.

I don’t know the whole story, but I know from my own experience that her dad was not very warm. He was seldom home; like me, he had devoted his life to his business. Her mom was almost the same except she didn’t work. She devoted herself instead to the country club, flower club, junior league, and the like. To her, both her husband and her daughters were simply hindrances, to be gotten out of the way as quickly as possible so she could get on with her life. Then she died when Carla was nineteen. Carla’s dad stayed a distant image in her life, but a very demanding one. Her mother had been there all the time, but she was self-centered and dismissive, paying Carla only the attention needed to get her out of the way. Her dad wasn't there at all, but he demanded that Carla be perfect in whatever she did.

No matter what Carla did, including graduating Summa Cum Laude from MIT, it just wasn’t good enough. Bringing me home to get his permission to marry her was a disaster. According to him, I was nowhere near good enough for her. He mocked both of us because at only five foot six inches tall, I was shorter than she was and this really hurt Carla. I could see her close up and put on her armor. In a flash, she became distant and reserved. It became obvious to me right then that much of what drove Carla was her need to prove herself to her dad, but that he just wasn’t going to give her the warmth and approval she craved.

Needless to say, by the time she got to college, Carla was already emotionally damaged. Because it was never part of her home life, she had never learned to share warmth and affection. Unfortunately, things only got worse. Apparently in response to her mother’s death, Carla sought affection from a string of unworthy lovers, as she stumbled from one failed love affair to another. Each time, she threw herself wholeheartedly at her lover, only to be rejected for being too clingy and overly needy. By the time I met her, she had given up on people and would let no one close to her.

Even after I had broken through her defenses and she started to warm up to me, I could see her turn it off in a second if she sensed danger. Then she would turn cold and treat me like a stranger, but I persisted and she eventually came to trust me; we fell in love and married. I told Carla about Jacqui when we'd first met, and she accepted that I had smallish B-cup breasts, which had developed when I started taking hormones after graduating from high school. Although Carla knew about Jacqui and seemed to accept her existence from the outset, she didn't meet her until we had started dating. In fact, I'm pretty sure she began to feel safe with me just because I had let her in on my secret. I had made myself terribly vulnerable to her and had given her something she could hold over me if she wanted to. In fact, this had been a calculated move on my part. First, I couldn’t have a long-term relationship and hide Jacqui, and second, I was pretty sure letting Carla know about the real me would be a gesture of trust to which she could relate.

At five foot, six inches and a perfect size nine, I pass without question. Even my voice sounds female because I’d worked on it for many years. As John, I wear my shoulder length hair in a ponytail and no one questions that their boss has long hair. Jacqui was invited to meet John's girlfriend and then she spent some time with his fiancé. After we were married, Jacqui visited Carla on just four occasions. Her last visit was an elegant candle lit dinner, which Jacqui had prepared and served, hoping that it signaled the beginning of a real presence for Jacqui in our lives.

I was in heaven that night and dined like a lady in a very nice, black cocktail dress that showed my real décolletage. Sipping brandy by candlelight when the meal was over, I felt closer to Carla than I ever had. Then, very calmly, Carla told me that she did not wish to meet with Jacqui again, at any time in the future.

She said she would have absolutely no objection to Jacqui visiting our home, but that she would simply absent herself from the premises for as long as Jacqui was there; I was crushed, but never let her know that. At the time, the choice between Carla and Jacqui was an easy one. Jacqui was in the house only twice afterwards. Her last visit was over the past Labor Day weekend.

Carla had taken the long weekend to visit her younger sister, Melissa, in Philadelphia. I wasted no time becoming Jacqui that Friday night, preparing for a big weekend and planning to hit all of the malls.

I set my long brown hair after a hot bath and spent the rest of the evening applying a set of long nails. I shaped and buffed them, and then polished them a bright Chinese red before going to bed.

The phone awakened me from a most pleasant 'Jacqui Dream'.

"Mr. Ingram, this is your answering service. Sorry to awaken you, Sir."

"Why are you calling me? I should be the last one on your call list."

"You are, Sir. I have been trying to reach the others since two thirty." My clock read four o'clock. "Sir, Mark Seven Industries called to report that their system crashed and requested immediate assistance." I swore over the phone.

"Hold on. Let me turn on the light and get something to write on."

Have you ever worn glue-on nails? Do you know how long it takes to remove all traces of them?

I did not arrive at our first big customer until well past eight o'clock. They had been down since eleven. After their in-house people couldn't get their system up, they sent out a Mayday to us. On just a few hours sleep, I worked straight through until Sunday afternoon, first undoing the mess that their people had created trying to solve the problem then solving it myself.

It was between six and my arrival after eight that most of the havoc had been done by their own 'so-called' expert. Had I arrived before six, I could have had them up in less than a half hour, any of our people could have.

Had Carla been there, she could probably have done it in half that time. Had Jacqui not been 'visiting', I would have been there three hours sooner.

We nearly lost our largest customer and it took a lot of wining, dining and sincere promises that it would never happen again to convince them not to cancel their contract and sue us for 'breach of contract'. I could not permit another incident like that to ever happen again.

Tuesday, ten heads rolled before nine o'clock. Now, I had to fill the big hole they helped to dig, find competent replacements and bring them up to speed. That doesn't happen over night.

*****

"What are you going to do, Carla?" I had given her the key ring.

"I answered that question. Go take a bath and get rid of all your body hair. Now!"

When I emerged from the bathroom, not just the one, but all three of Jacqui's cases were open and her clothing was piled and tossed everywhere.

"I put your undies on the dresser. After you put them on, do your face and hair and polish your nails, Jacqui. Coffee is on and I'll have breakfast ready soon."

I didn't know what was going on, but fuck it, if Carla wanted me to be Jacqui, I was all for it. For a few hours at least, I was going to relax.

A half hour later, Carla called me for breakfast. Wearing just the bra, panty brief, pantyhose and a short, full slip under my robe, I sat at the table in the kitchen. Carla greeted me warmly, as she filled my cup. An envelope lay on the plate and I fingered it.

"Go ahead, open it. Sorry I couldn't come up with proper stationary in a hurry."

'Dearest Jacqui,

 

I regret that it has been so long, far too long, since we

talked.

You are cordially invited for, what I hope to be, a most

pleasant visit.

 

Your best friend,

Carla'

 

As I read it through a second time, Carla answered the phone.

"Oh, Hi, Davy." I started to get up. It could only be Dave Crawford, my VP of Operations and good friend. Carla vigorously waved me away.

"No, John didn't page you, I did."

 

Why would Carla page Dave so early on a Saturday?

Carla went on, "No, there is no emergency, but we do have a problem. Listen, we need to keep this top secret, just the two of us, please?

"Shut up for a sec' and just listen will you? I'll tell you. John had a breakdown last night.

"Yes, as in nervous breakdown. Now just be quiet. I made arrangements to get him into a clinic. He's sedated and resting quietly this morning.

"You need to keep everything running smoothly for me until I settle things here and can take over. I'll probably be in before the end of the week, but it may be next week.

"Davy, I know I can count on you. Please don't let me down?

"Thanks, I know.

"If you need me, you'll have to page me because as soon as I hang up, I'm pulling the plugs on all the phones.

"Thanks, Davy, bye." Carla hung up the wall phone and disconnected the jack from the wall. Then she turned to face me. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard.

"Why the big cow eyes?" Carla asked, "You heard perfectly well what I just did. Once you get a little distance from the problem, you may come to understand why I did it.

"If I didn't get you away from work, inside of a month, I'd be having that same conversation and I wouldn't be lying then. I've seen this coming for a while, everyone has. I just didn't put it all together until recently, Jacqui. Now that I understand, I had to do something before everything we've worked so hard for, our marriage, our company and our love, went down the tubes.

"But," I protested, "there are things I have to take care of at work. Things Dave doesn't have a clue about."

"You? You never told me you had a job, Jacqui. I thought you lived off your investments. Well, anyway. It’s done. In ten friggin' years, except for our honeymoon, you've never taken a serious vacation. The shareholders have met and, in John's absence, they just voted the CEO a long, past due, vacation."

"Eat your breakfast, then we're going out."

While I buttoned the back of the yellow blouse Carla had ironed for me, I admired her. At five foot nine inches, Carla was a striking woman. She had long curly chestnut hair, an olive complexion and stunning green eyes that seemed to change with her moods. With full breasts, a flat tummy and curvy hips, she was a knockout, especially when she was wearing high heels. She favored really high ones, three or four inches usually, which allowed her to tower over most people and, in a crowd, she drew attention like a lighthouse on a dark night.

After she met Jacqui and saw what corsets did for her figure, Carla had started to wear them on occasion as well. Corsets are a much loved fetish of mine and even though Carla only reduced her waist by a couple of inches, at most, (I would have preferred three or four inches, although I usually didn't wear mine any tighter) her drawn in waist emphasized her bust and hips even more. Men’s tongues would be hanging out wherever she went. In the black power suit, she was wearing that day; she would leave most men weak-kneed and panting.

Carla had taken complete control of how I looked and had turned me into a feminine dream. My blouse was soft, silky, and nearly transparent, clearly showing the bra and camisole I wore underneath it. Carla had selected a loose, matching, calf-length chiffon-covered pink skirt with pale roses printed on the outer layer. I wore white stockings and heels and my make-up was all pastels. No hard or bright colors at all. She even teased and lightly curled my hair, turning me into the softest most demure little thing you could imagine. It was just the opposite of her bold, sexy, power look.

I forgotten what she'd said and figured I would just be hanging around the house, but it sure looked like she was going somewhere.

"You look like you are going out? You gonna tell me where?"

"Sure, you're coming." Carla pulled a folded piece of newspaper out of her purse and passed it to me.

"We're going to look at a house I think I might buy." Carla had her own bank accounts and investments she had established and built those before we were married. I also had my own accounts. We used a joint checking account to live with since then, but because her mom had left a substantial estate, the pre-nuptial agreement permitted her to keep what she already had as her own. I never asked how much she was worth, though she knew to the penny how much I was.

If Carla wanted to buy a house, Carla could buy a house and I couldn't stop her.

"You're joking, right? You can't be serious?" A quarter page ad from the real estate page of a Sunday paper showed a mansion.

 

 

Elegant fully restored, two story Victorian, set on five secluded acres. Six bedrooms, eight baths, four fireplaces, living room, formal dining room, ultra-modern, spacious kitchen, library, den, entertainment rooms, separate servant's quarters, full basement, detached five car garage. Must be seen. Will not last long at this price. A steal at five hundred thousand. Complete furnishings available. Call for appointment, etc.

 

"You must be kidding, a half million dollars, Carla? We can't afford that?"

"What is your wager please, Jacqui?" I shut up. Except for the 'Jacqui', Carla used that exact expression whenever anyone challenged her about something and she knew she was absolutely right.

The Realtor was over two hours away, on the other side of the city. During the drive in Carla's Turbo Supra (I had the ‘family car’ a big Mercedes sedan - plus a bemmer for fun), we talked about Jacqui like never before on a whole variety of Jacqui subjects.

"What hobbies do you enjoy?"

"I used to sew, knit and embroider. Embroidery was, I think, my favorite way to relax and unwind. Took my mind off of everything for a few hours."

"While looking through your things this morning I found two interesting items, a super denim mini with an embroidered leopard on the front and a Suzi Wong dress with embroidery all over it. I especially like the dragon on the back. Did you embroider them?"

"Yes. A lot on my clothes have embroidery on them. My cheetah skirt was my first major project. The cheongsam took more than five hundred hours to do."

"I see. Here we are." Carla parked and stopped me before I got out.

"I am buying this house. You are just my friend, whom I invited to tag along today. Be a good actress and play your assigned role properly. You'll be rewarded later if you behave." Carla exited before I could respond.

"Hi, Charlie. How are you today?"

"Fine. Good morning, Ms. Martin." I was taken aback hearing Carla's maiden name.

"Charlie, this is my friend, Jacqui. She came with me to see the house."

"Hi, Jacqui." Charlie was a big man, old enough to be my father. He extended his hand to shake. I remembered to do it limply.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir."

"Charlie, Charlie."

"I talked to the title company yesterday, Ms. Martin. Everything is cleared. Have your attorney give me a call. We can close this week, if that's convenient?"

"I'm sure it will be; Stuart's expecting your call. He'll be happy to get this over with just to get me off his back. What's it been, seven months?" she asked.

"Something like that. Estates are always a problem." From his drawer he handed her a set of keys.

"Why don't you just keep them this time? It will be yours soon anyway. You know the way and don't need me to tag along. Will I see you at closing?" Charlie asked.

"Looking forward to it. Just remember, not a word to my husband."

"I just wish that I could have completed this as quickly as you wanted. It would have been a wonderful Christmas present to him," he apologized. I was shocked.

"You heard far more than I was ever going to tell John. So just keep your thoughts to yourself, Jacqui," she said after she had started the car.

"May I know what's with the 'Ms. Martin' bit, Carla? We had an agreement."

"I suppose we did. I'm not getting into it now," her matter-of-fact tone caused me to sit quietly.

The house was a half hour back, in the general direction of home, only North of the office. Carla stopped along an empty road, wooded on both sides.

"The house is on the left. You always said you wanted privacy. You can't even see it from the road."

The driveway emerged from the trees to unveil a magnificent turreted house, not quite as large as I'd imagined, but very impressive. Parking in front, we mounted three steps to reach the entrance.

"I'm buying all the furnishings too," Carla stated, as she pushed open the front door.

We went to the second floor first and under Carla’s direction, toured each floor, ending in the modern kitchen. I couldn’t help, but notice that she didn't show me all the rooms.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I'm impressed. It's gorgeous. I even love most of the furnishings. The previous owners did a magnificent job. The place wouldn't be the same without them.

"Carla, we'll need to hire someone to handle the grounds, they're so beautiful, it would be a shame not to keep them that way. And we'll probably need to hire a maid just to keep the house looking good too."

"I agree," Carla said, "Let's find a seat and talk." She took my hand and led me to the library where we got comfortable in two big, leather wing back chairs. I marveled at the books and antique knickknacks that filled the shelves. It would take a whole morning just to dust them. I settled in, pulling my hem down as far as it would go and smoothing the top to make sure I was neat. I then crossed my ankles and pulled my feet off to the side. When I looked up, shaking my head to throw the hair off my face, Carla was looking at me strangely.

"You really are very feminine, aren't you, Jacqui?" She tilted her head to the side as if to see me better. I just blushed. I hadn't realized she was watching me so carefully. Then she smiled and said, "Okay, down to business. I'll need a good outside contractor to handle the yard work, for sure. As to the maid, that's what I want to talk with you about.

"I want you to hear me through ... everything ... before you interrupt, Jacqui; try not to at least, please?"

"I promise to keep quiet."

"I doubt you'll be able to, but please do? What I'm going to say will be heavy. OK?" I nodded agreement as an anxious lump rose up in my throat.

"Since I stopped working, I've become as bored as you've become stressed. I was serious about what I said after I talked to Davy. You would have killed yourself if you had kept up that pace. John does not deal with stress well. All it does is stress him more.

"Jacqui, not only are you completely stressed out trying to do everything yourself, but ..." Carla paused to look at me, "you have an alcohol problem."

I was immediately ready to argue that point. Like most alcoholics, I didn't see it that way. Maybe three, liter and a half bottles of Scotch a week plus a case of beer on weekends is a drinking problem. I didn't think I got drunk and I never felt hung over.

Ha! I just passed out every night and didn't feel that well on many days. I could see by Carla's determined look that she was ready for me to deny it again. Instead, I nodded agreement. I wanted to see where this was going to go.

"You know it and I know it; no bullshit about it. For a time, we are going to try a much different way of dealing with the company and our lives, especially your life. You won't want to hear this," Carla warned, "but I'm stepping back in while John recovers at the clinic. It is a sound cover story and I've already laid a solid foundation for it," Carla paused, studying my face, then she went on, "we both know, I handle stress well, that I feed off of it, and the more I'm constrained, the more I'm pushed, the better I perform.

"John, on the other hand, likes calm and peace. He can rise and meet any challenge, then beat it down. Best I know, he never lost a battle once he entered the fray, but he is most productive and happiest when things are calm. John prefers structure, discipline and order; peace and quiet all the time."

Without acknowledging it, I had to agree.

"Ever since that Mark Seven incident, my husband has lost faith in nearly everything having to do with the business and in me too, I'm afraid. Ten key employees let him down and his ship nearly sank. It ruined everything he thought he had going for him at work and for reasons I don't understand, he never turned to me for help." Tears started to form in the corners of her eyes. I started to get up to comfort her, but she waved me back down.

"When he told me about what had happened, all of the details, I wanted to cry. I wanted to tell him to screw the whole fucking thing. I wanted to say, Jacqui was OK. Shit! I'm so stupid. She really is an attractive little thing. She should spend more time with me."

That got my attention. I still didn't know where Carla was going, but I started to get excited by some of the prospects as Carla paused to wipe away the tears that were threatening to run her mascara down onto her cheeks. I opened my purse and handed her a packet of tissues from inside. She managed a little laugh, between a few sniffles that seemed to be turning into giggles.

"You little wench, Jacqui." She held up the tissues as if they signified something really important. "Shit on me. Why was I so fucking stupid?" I started to open my mouth even though I had no idea what I was going to say. It didn't matter. Carla cut me off before I got a word out.

"Just keep quiet. Please?" she repeated; her tone now much more a plea than a command. It took several minutes for her to regain her full control and I watched her while I fiddled thoughtlessly with the hem of my skirt and marveled at her beauty, something I'd forgotten about over the past several months.

"Anyroad," she went on. Where she had gotten that expression from, I'd no idea, but she used it constantly. "I watched things start to come apart for you and I couldn't understand why. Then it became obvious, you had started to do everything yourself again, just like you did when we began. Only now, we weren't there together. You had excluded me from the business. Things just got worse and worse."

"Your key people let you down, no question. But you never again trusted anyone to do things properly on their own. You felt nothing would be done right unless you did it yourself. You couldn't do it all though and it was destroying you and would eventually kill the business, because the kind of people we need to succeed would never work long for an obsessive micro-manager.

"Last night I just said, enough! I love you and I'm not letting go," Carla stood, walked about the room then sat back down to continue. She was very agitated. I was biting my tongue at this point, trying to stay quiet. "I'm not going to watch all that I worked so fuckin' hard to achieve crumble because one person thought he could handle it alone, because he, you, can no longer trust people.

"I am going back in and I am going to begin to manage our company."

"Like I wasn't managing?" I challenged, finally losing my self-control.

"I asked you to be quiet." She pursed her lips and stared at me. I settled down. "No, Jacqui, most certainly, you were not. John was not managing.

"Management is defined as 'getting things done through other people'. John was not getting things done through other people; he was trying to do everything himself and demoralizing the staff and killing the business in the course of this. Mostly, he was killing himself." She paused for effect.

"Still with me on this, Jacqui?"

"Yes." I couldn't argue. Being Jacqui and sober somehow gave me some perspective on John. I could see that Carla was right.

"Good. This house was to be my Christmas present to John; you heard that. Well, that didn't work out. I've a much different proposal now." Carla paused to look at me.

"You mentioned that to keep order here, we'll need to hire a maid. That's why I'm going to ask Melissa to come up from Philadelphia.

"When Mom died, Melissa was just fourteen; I was just starting college and was nineteen. My little sister, at a mere fourteen years old, took control. I don't know how she did all of what she was able to accomplish, but that little girl did it - all on her own.

"Melissa took over doing most everything in the house that Mom had always handled. She cooked, shopped, cleaned, did the laundry, handled the bills; you name it, my sister did it.

"As a gag gift for her sweet sixteen party, I bought her a French Maid's uniform.

"Well, my sister seemed to fail to see the humor in it, I guessed it had sailed right over her head. She ran into her room and locked the door. We waited a half hour before my guilt made me go and knock.

She opened the door with a deep curtsey and an ear-to-ear grin, wearing the cheap costume. Cutting a longer story short, Melissa started wearing a uniform at home from then on, until she entered college."

"Melissa is going to play maid here then?" I asked.

"No. When she puts on one of her uniforms, I think she has more than thirty now, Melissa is a maid. There is no playing involved.

"But there is one key role she will play. In addition to her other duties I'm going to ask her to train the new maid, Jacqui."

"Sounds like she'd be a perfect teacher."

"I hope so. My sister is not the bubble brain she puts on and most think she is.

Carla stopped talking and seemed to be having an internal discussion, as if she was psyching herself up to do something difficult. Then she turned her attention back to me.

"Jacqui, honestly, playing Mrs. Rich Bitch, executive wife never thrilled me. I was sorry I ever let John talk me into it. I was bored to tears. While John 'recovers' from his breakdown, I do not want Jacqui to have to deal with that level of boredom. Besides for her it could be dangerous."

"I'm not following, Carla."

"Look, Jacqui, John screwed everything up. Are you willing to trust that I might know what the key to happiness for both of us is? I'd like you to, please?"

I sat there for a few seconds trying to understand what was going on. Okay, I had screwed things, up and, okay, maybe I did need a rest and Carla could run the business for a while. What did that have to do with this house, or with Melissa?

Carla was looking at me the whole time, pleading with me with her eyes. I rubbed the leather of my chair and gazed for a moment at a small female bust on the shelf opposite my seat. She didn't tell me anything. I was tired; I gave in. "I'll give it a try." I didn't sound convincing and Carla's face protested for a moment, but then her look of dismay vanished. She just blurted out what was on her mind.

"I'd like to offer you a job here - as my maid."

"What?" That set me back, but not for long! "Your maid? You must be kidding." I stopped for half a beat, looking for some information in her face, but none was there. Then I thought I understood. I smiled knowingly. "Oh, I get it, you're like everyone else and think that every girl like me has a maid fantasy. Well, guess what? I don't. Melissa might want to be a maid, but not me, I would have thought you'd understand that."

"I know. You would have told me. I'm not offering some fantasy fulfillment trip. You might find it fun; after all - fun is where you find it. I'm offering you much more. I'm offering you the opportunity to live and work as a woman."

I looked at her face. Carla was serious. She wasn't making fun of me, so I couldn't get mad. I didn't know what to do, so I fell back on my training. I tried to get more information without agreeing to anything

"Carla, I understand that I need time off from work and that I need to stop drinking, but what does that have to do with you turning me into your maid. Why don't I just go to a spa for a month? What's in this for me? If I say yes - then what?" I was very skeptical. My voice dripped with doubt.

"When you say yes," she emphasized the 'when', "it means that you are relieved of all stress; no more calls at off hours, no travel, none of the bullshit personnel problems, all of that, gone. It also means that you will be in a controlled environment that will keep you from drinking."

Well, the drinking part made sense, but I still didn't understand the rest. I pressed her again. "Carla, I still don't know what you want me to say 'yes' to. I feel like you're avoiding my question." She stood and extended her hand.

"Come upstairs and I'll explain."

At the end of the hall, on the second floor, Carla opened one of the doors that had remained closed during the earlier circuit. We were in the turret that I had seen from outside. At the center, an iron, spiral staircase led up and down.

"That goes down to the kitchen. Go up, Jacqui. I climbed the stairs to find a full bathroom in one half with two theatrical style, lighted vanities near the stairs facing in opposite directions. The other half was empty racks on either side of two, long, large dressers.

"As you can see this is for the maids to bathe, get properly uniformed and fix their faces and hair." She motioned me up. "Bedroom's on top."

The top floor of the turret, four stories above the ground, was mostly a ring of French doors that led out to a four-foot, cantilevered balcony surrounding the top of the turret. The view of the grounds was spectacular. Near where the stairs emerged, there was a set of narrow, but cozy looking bunk beds. Beyond the sleeping area, a full kitchenette and a furnished living room, with a large screen TV, full rack of stereo gear, a desk, two comfortable armchairs, a love seat and three tables.

"What are you thinking, Jacqui?" Carla asked.

"All this is very nice. The tower is one of the nicest features of the entire house and the view, wow! But Carla, I'm just having ... well more than a bit of trouble."

"Trouble with what, dear?"

"Well first, I still don't know what you want me to agree to and second, I'm having more than a bit of trouble accepting that you want me to share these quarters, so... intimately with another girl. Especially with your sister."

"Perfectly understandable, dear. I'm ready to go home. Why don't we talk in the car?"

Despite some of the bizarre details, by the time we parked in the garage at home, I had agreed to accept Carla's offer for three months, on a trial basis. During that time, I was to be one of the maids in Carla's house and Melissa, Carla's sister, was to be offered the other position. Carla had explained, since I had no experience, I would be paid minimum wage, with room and uniforms supplied. We were on our own as far as food was concerned and were expected to prepare our own meals in our quarters.

One day a week, we'd be off duty along with one afternoon each, subject to Carla's schedule. Melissa would have first choice of the day and the afternoon. We were expected to both be on duty Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays.

We were to be on duty from seven AM until ten PM, except when Carla asked us to stay up later or when she was entertaining. That wasn't quite as bad as it sounded at first, because we would get a four-hour, staggered break in the middle of the day. If she wanted one or both maids during off-hours, we were going to be required to attend to her desires. At Carla's discretion, we'd be given off, 'once we had settled into a routine and everything was in order'.

I would be paid for only forty hours per week at five fifteen an hour, minimum wage. All of the extra hours, above that, were in exchange for the rooms and uniforms; what arrangements for compensation that Carla would make with Melissa, I'd never know, although it would turn out to be far more than I could ever have guessed.

Nearing home, Carla had surprised me yet again, something I'd thought impossible, given everything else that had already happened today.

"In addition to proper uniforms, both of the maids will be required to be wearing full chastity belts. Melissa has her own. She's used it to protect herself on previous jobs. It will simply require that I hold her keys. I had one made for Jacqui before that horrible Mark Seven weekend, which sent her into hiding." My jaw dropped causing her to laugh.

"You want to know what my problem was with Jacqui then? I thought that when you dressed, you did very un-girlish things in your panties, Jacqui. I had it made to offer you a deal. Wear it and I'd have let you play whenever you wanted. I just could not accept the idea that you would give Jacqui gratification in place of me."

I could only blush. Of course, I had masturbated when dressed as Jacqui. I no longer did it as repeatedly and compulsively as I had when I was younger, but I still took care of myself when the need arose. Before I could say anything, Carla plunged ahead herself.

"Hear me out on this. I do want you to agree to my plan." Carla began, "Most guys let their dicks do too much of their thinking. I do not want a guy thinking in place of Jacqui. If you think you might want to be a woman..." I started to object, but she waved me off, beginning again with a sharply arched eyebrow, "and anyone who's taken hormones and grown breasts like you have must be thinking that, you have to start thinking like a woman."

"Not having access to your penis will help you do that, because it won't all be about jerking off." She arched that brow at me again, giving me a quizzical look and daring me to tell her, she was wrong. I couldn't.

"Plus, a belt is needed, to keep you from wanting, or worse, engaging in sex with my little sister. I think you can understand that bit of logic, even if you don't buy the first part, and it would be more than unfair if she wore one and the other maid didn't. Agreed?" I nodded agreement. Her logic was impeccable.

"Good. This is not some perverted punishment. I want you to dry out and start to think logically again - like in the early years. You have not seen things very clearly lately and sex with me certainly hasn't been on your mind because of the way your have been overworking and drinking."

"Will you cool it!" I protested. "OK, I drink too much! There, happy? I said it!" I blurted. "Just cool it, Carla, you made your point!"

"Yes, but it has to stop. That's why I want so much control over your time. You have to dry out and prove you won't drink heavily anymore. You're a half step away from becoming a full blown alcoholic and I won't lose you to that." She glared at me, shaking her hair away from her face to make sure I could see her eyes.

"Back to the chastity, there are a couple of reasons why it's important. First, I simply can't have you sharing quarters so closely with my sister without protecting her and having her be the only one to wear a belt is unfair," Carla restated. "But there's another thing. You have to agree to all this voluntarily, so you're going to ask me to put a belt on you as a symbol of your commitment to this plan. If you should start to waver, you will have a constant physical reminder that you made a commitment to me. And …if you ask me to remove the belt before the three months are up, I will, but I'll throw you out and that will be the end of our relationship. I'm adamant about this, Jacqui."

My chest felt tight and I was having trouble catching my breath. "Carla, let me think it through, please?" I squeaked, "you've just dropped several large bombs on me, and they've hit me pretty hard." It didn't take her a heartbeat to respond. She didn't seem particularly concerned about my obvious anxiety.

"Well think fast, because I want to get my sister here as soon as possible."

I think I really knew what I would do right then, but I went over it in my mind anyway, trying to analyze it objectively. I could live full time as Jacqui and wouldn't have to worry about that interfering with the rest of my life - it would be my life. Of course Carla was right. If I didn't take a long break soon, I would have a breakdown, plus I just had to stop drinking, but never would if I kept working.

Would it be better to do it as 'Maid Jacqui' or should I just take myself off to some rehab program? After all, I didn't want to be a maid. In fact, it seemed rather demeaning. At that point, the image of myself in a black satin uniform with lacy white ruffles all around invaded my mind. It made me tingle. I pictured myself in high, black heels curtsying to Carla and that made me tingle even more.

But, a chastity belt? How could I live with that, without any sexual release for three months? Then I thought back over the past six months. I had made love to Carla only a few times in that whole period and our coupling, that's all you could call it, was really rather perfunctory. In truth, my behavior had in effect put her in a chastity belt. I had ignored her terribly, yet she was trying to save me from myself. Guilt about my own selfishness started to wash over my thoughts. The thought of wearing a chastity belt made me quail, but the guilt I was feeling was just as strong. I needed to expiate it. Maybe wearing the chastity belt would be a kind of penance and I guess it would only be right - fair to Carla.

I had made up my mind before we got out of the car and told Carla to call her sister. As soon as we walked into the house, she plugged in the kitchen phone and dialed.

"Hi Sis, listen. I need you here in a big way. Pack for a long stay and I do mean a long one and get that cute little fanny here today."

"Family emergency; remember what we talked about? Yes, that's right. He's bought it all. The Chairman granted you an extended leave of absence. The office will be notified Monday.

"No, I'm fine Melissa. But I need you like I have never needed you before." So get your butt up here."

"See ya'."

Melissa, five years Carla's junior, worked in our Philly office as the receptionist, though she does hold a degree in art. She's a cute, lovable kid with an effervescent personality you could not help but to like. Though she is obviously very bright, receptionist was about all she was qualified for in our firm. If she were not Carla's little sister, she would not have been hired for that.

"What am I supposed to do if she finds out the truth about Jacqui?"

"No, 'if' about it, Jacqui, Melissa will be told the truth." We sat and had a light lunch and chatted about the next three months. Then she took me into our office and pulled a sheaf of papers from the desk. "I need you to sign these," she said.

"What are they?" This was making me very nervous.

"You're going to sign over to me your power of attorney and we're going to put your financial holdings into a trust. Jeffrey has approved the wording and you are well protected financially. Call him if you'd like." Jeffrey was my attorney. He was an old friend of mine and Carla had never really liked him. If he said everything was okay, I could believe it.

Three hours later, I had just finished reading everything and was trying to figure out what to do when I heard a car pull into the driveway. Then I heard Carla, "Oh look, Melissa's here."

I peeked out the window and saw a cinnamon Xterra SUV in our drive. With a big sigh, I quickly signed on the dotted lines and ran into the downstairs powder room to check my makeup and hair. When I came out, Carla was outside talking animatedly with Melissa.

John had only met Melissa three times, once before, once at and once shortly after our wedding. I'd not seen her in over a year. Now, I barely recognized her. She must have lost nearly eighty pounds, if not more. She seemed tiny. Her black hair was longer and glistened in the sunlight and her face, always pretty, was free of the earlier blemishes that had always seemed to plague her.

After breaking their hug, Carla introduced us, "Melissa, let me introduce my friend, Jacqui. Jacqui, this is my little sister, Melissa. She is a lot littler now."

"Hi, Jacqui." Melissa just gave me a small, casual wave as she moved to unload her baggage. I, or was it John, felt that I should say something and help her.

"Pleased to meet you, Melissa. I'll help with those."

"Thanks. You don't have to help, Jacqui."

"I think I do." It just came out. I'm not sure what was going on in my mind, but somehow it seemed right that I should be helping her. Ever since Carla had unveiled her plans, they had been becoming more and more attractive to me and I was starting to gear up my mind in that direction.

Melissa had already assumed that she'd use our guest room and that's where I headed, preceding her. I froze at the top of the stairs. The door to our bedroom was open and all of the clutter of Jacqui's wardrobe was still in full view from when Carla had searched that morning for what I was wearing. In retrospect, my reaction was stupid, Carla had already made it perfectly clear that Melissa would learn who I was, but for some reason, having my secret revealed this way made my heart freeze up.

"Come on girl, move your butt! These are heavy." Melissa had almost bumped into me and could see the bedroom as well as I could. I just threw a final glance at our bed and went to the guest room to set the bags down.

"Look. I've already figured it OK, Jacqui? I may behave like an airhead, but I do have brains between my ears. John, Jack, Jacqui. The clothes are all over your room. Keys are still in the lock of one case. 'John's in a clinic'. You don't even need to be a computer geek to put that little puzzle together."

"It's cool. If I had met you in the ladies room someplace, I would never have guessed." I blushed furiously and wished there was an open window I could jump from. Melissa picked up on my feelings right away and moved to put me at ease.

"C'mere," she said, moving to the bed, "sit next to me." I sat, smoothing my skirt first. Once on the bed, I just couldn't look her in the eyes and stayed quietly with my eyes cast down and my hands folded in my lap. After a few moments, Melissa took my hands and said, "Look at me, Jacqui. Would you please tell me what's going on? I'd rather hear it from you than my sister."

I let go a big sigh and looked up; her face showed only concern and not the derision, which I had feared. "I'll tell you. I'd rather you hear my side first."

I had just finished most of the story when Carla came upstairs. Through the open door, I saw her freeze for a moment at the sight of our bedroom, just as I had, but then she broke out into a strange smile. It was a little scary, but I didn't have time to think about it because Melissa saw her too. She went just to the door.

"Carla? Your two maids are having a chat; we'll be on duty shortly, if that meets with your pleasure ma'am?" Carla came to the room and pushed her sister back in, but didn't actually enter herself.

"Sit. Tell me, please, the extent of your understanding?" she asked.

Melissa had put together much more than I had told her. I was really impressed, because there couldn't have been any other way for her know everything she had pieced together. Most definitely, despite how she had come across in the past, Melissa was no ditz.

"Jacqui was just starting to tell me about the maids' quarters at the new house, ma'am, and had mentioned that you desired that your servants don't dip at the feed trough. Chastity belts are okay with me. I've used ‘em before to protect myself." She looked at me and grinned.

"Should we put them on now?" Carla just nodded and went off to get mine. I started to become very queasy. I didn't realize things would progress so rapidly.

Melissa had started to undress as soon as Carla left and was almost naked when Carla reentered the room. There was no pretense of hiding anything or asking me to turn around.

"Your turn, Jacqui. I'm not hiding anything."

I couldn't move. "But, but …" I stammered; I wasn't sure I had agreed to what was happening; my reservations started to overwhelm me.

Melissa interrupted me, "It's too late for second thoughts now, my dear. C'mon, snap to it." She reached over, pulled me to my feet and began to unbutton my blouse as Carla looked on with a slight smile.

"Okay, I'll do it"," I said with more than a little resignation in my voice. When I slipped my white bra down, Melissa let out a delightful squeal.

"They're real! Well, twiddle my twat, this just got very, very interesting."

Melissa went out of the room, full, buck naked and returned with another of her bags. By the time she had retrieved her own chastity belt from it, I had finished undressing. I sat on the bed feeling humiliated to be stripped naked in front of this relative stranger. I was panting quietly, trying to retain control over my galloping anxiety.

Melissa stood in front of Carla and curtseyed. Even naked it looked very graceful. "Sis, I'd like a favor, please? I'd like to fit the new girl and would like her to fit me, please?" She offered Carla the stainless steel contraption and stepped back. My head jerked up and I looked at Carla with pleading eyes. We hadn't discussed this.

"That's a very interesting offer, Melissa, but I already told Jacqui that I wouldn't put her belt on her unless she asked me to. Perhaps if she asks you nicely, I may allow you to do it." The tone of her voice and the look in her eyes left no doubt about what she expected from me, but I was still too scared to move. Carla put up with that for only a few moments.

"Jacqui!" she snapped sharply to get my attention, "You know what we agreed to, if you can't hold up your end of the deal, you know what the consequences will be." By the time she finished, her voice was strangely empty of emotion. That scared the hell out of me. I raised my hand and nodded my head, silently asking for a moment as I tried to compose myself. I was afraid I was going to cry. Tears had already formed in my eyes.

I got up and stood in front of Melissa. I felt more than naked; it was as if my very soul was on display and, for the first time, I was deeply embarrassed to have both breasts and a penis and testicles. Now tears were streaming down my cheeks. "P… Please Melissa, would you put my chastity… chastity b ... b ... belt on me?" I could barely get the words out!

"Jacqui, my dear," Melissa replied, gently, but with authority, "I would be pleased to fit your belt, but you must learn to ask the way a proper maid asks. Do you know how to curtsey?"

I tried to curtsey for her and discovered depths of humiliation I never knew existed. I felt ridiculous standing there naked and when I dipped my knees, my penis swung up and then flopped down in the most ridiculous manner. I couldn't even begin to imagine just how foolish I must have looked. My mind was so conflicted, I couldn't think of anything at all. I was lost now, I would do whatever they told me to do.

Whatever Melissa and Carla might have been thinking, the only thing I heard was, "That's really not quite right dear." It was Carla!

"Melissa would you please show her and work with her until she gets it right. Then she may have her belt."

Melissa said, "Watch me hon’, it's really very simple once you understand it." I thought her curtsey was really very elegant and smiled shyly. It took less than five minutes, I guess, before I could perform up to Carla's standards, but it seemed like two hours. The only good thing was that by the time I finally got it right, I no longer felt embarrassed by what was going on. That was because neither woman took any advantage of the situation. They treated me like someone who needed training in a particular skill and they trained me, discussing some of the finer points of my performance as if I wasn't there. Their tone was lightly amused, but never demeaning.

When I finally had asked properly, Melissa got my belt on, as if she had been doing it all her life. She knew exactly what she was doing. She coated my surprisingly flaccid member with K-Y jelly, which she just happened to have in her bag, and slipped it into the tube. The rubber lined belt fitted over the pin on this and about the top of my hips. Its front shield covered my groin and narrowed to pass between my legs. There was an enlarged area with a hole directly over my anus that she had to spread my cheeks wide to press it close.

With the contoured hip band and back strap fastened, Melissa worked the pin up in the slot for the tube and inspected everything with her eyes and fingers, before she fit the mechanism to hold that in place.

"How's it feel, Jacqui?"

"Tight. But, I don't feel pinched or anything."

"Because I'm a real girl, mine has to be even tighter or neither of these are worth the price of sand in the Outback." Melissa closed the two locks. The loud click of mine seemed ominous.

"My turn." She handed me her own belt. She had to pull her lips through the slot herself because I, quite frankly, did not know what I was doing. Other than it's secondary shield to secure access to her nether lips, our belts looked remarkably similar.

"Sis, they make a false secondary shield for a belt like Jacqui's. If you get one of those, we'll be an even better match," Melissa offered.

"Thanks. I'll check into it," Carla said.

"Look," she went on, "it's going on four. Let's all get dressed and straighten up here a bit. I'll treat both of you to dinner out. I really do not want to start with the maid thing today."

"Twist my arm." Melissa shot back. "What's she gonna wear?"

"That's up to Jacqui. It's her choice. She has a green Suzi Wong dress I'd love to see on her," she threw me a big smile, "but I'm not insisting."

"Jacqui, you have a cheongsam? Great! Wear it. I have one too. Hey, what a neat idea! Let's do our makeup chionsoir too. Bet we could look like sisters if we try really hard."

That sounded like fun! When I'd first met Melissa, I had thought that I looked more like her than Carla did. Carla has green eyes and dark auburn hair. My eye and hair colors were a closer match to Melissa's. I'd seen this even more clearly in the wedding pictures with the two of us side by side. The only real difference had been her weight, which was now a mute point.

We got to know each other much better in the two hours it took us to dress and do our hair and makeup. Melissa's dress was much different from mine. It was plain red satin with gold piping and frogs, mine is a dark green on green brocade with silver in place of her gold. Then there was all of my embroidery on mine to further set it apart.

We both wore sheer black pantyhose and black, four-inch pumps, mine patent and hers calf. Melissa did a great job of matching our makeup and had trimmed my hair a little to create bangs, so even my hair looked more like hers, although hers was a foot longer.

Carla had cleaned up Jacqui's wardrobe, so when we entered and curtseyed, much to her delight, the room was neat. She had chosen a dark gray, silk power suit that looked elegant in any setting.

"OK, maids. I've changed my mind. I want you to go into character. Starting now, for both of you. I am 'Ms. Martin'. I am to be addressed as 'mum' by you, nothing more, nothing less. When you are talking about me, alone together, or not, you are to refer to me as 'Ms. Martin'. You are not permitted to use my first name under any circumstances.

"I've made reservations. Melissa, I'd like you to drive John's car, and Jacqui, I'd like you ride in front and attend to the doors."

"Yes, mum." Melissa curtseyed and I imitated her to acknowledge our orders. Carla, Ms. Martin, smiled at my efforts.

"Jacqui, I'd like you to continue to follow Melissa's lead and her instructions, please?"

"Yes, mum."

In the car on the way to the restaurant, I was given more orders. "Except for me and Melissa, every female over puberty is 'ma'am' and every male is 'Sir'. You curtsey to everyone except Melissa when you address them or they address you.

When we got to the restaurant, it was already crowded. Ms. Martin took my hand and said, "I want you to go to the hostess station and introduce yourself as Jacqui, one of Ms. Martin's maids and see if our table is ready. Go."

Following Carla's instructions embarrassed me. I felt foolish curtsying to the teen hostess in front of all the other people waiting for tables, and describing myself as her maid brought a hot flush to my face. Everyone nearby was staring at me as I returned to Carla and curtseyed to tell her we could be seated.

When we got to the table, I helped Ms. Martin to sit and was about to sit myself when Melissa stopped me. Following her lead, I stood, burning with embarrassment because I knew we were making spectacles of ourselves for the staff and other diners.

"You may be seated, girls," she said after a couple of moments. Neither of us was given a menu as Carla had stated that neither of her 'maids' could read English, though we'd learned to speak it.

"Mum, would you like me to spice it up, tossing a few Chinese sounding words about and speaking to Jacqui in that way?" Melissa whispered.

Carla, in response, "No, not tonight. Just speak normally. Let's all three of us get used to our positions before we complicate things too much more."

"Good evening, ladies. My name is Tim. It will be my pleasure to serve you this evening," the young waiter announced.

"Good evening, Tim. It's my pleasure to accept your service. I'm Ms. Martin. These are my maids, Jacqui and Melissa." Carla ordered a bottle of wine and had started to scan the menu, when Melissa broke in.

"Ms. Martin, mum, if it's not to much to request, may I be known as 'First Girl' please?"

"No, it is not too much, Melissa. I'll take your request under consideration, but do be quiet while I decide what to order." Carla was really falling into her chosen role, even with her own sister.

"That will do fine. Thank you, mum."

Carla tasted and approved the wine she had ordered after performing the usual ritual. "I should have asked before," she said to Tim. "My first girl," she indicated Melissa, who smiled, "prefers plum wine. Bring her a small glass, please. Jacqui doesn’t drink at all. Bring her a Shirley Temple." Had Tim been a real professional, he would have taken the orders without even batting an eye, but he wasn’t - he looked at me in wonder. My mouth was still open at hearing what Ms. Martin had ordered for me and I flushed bright red when I saw the look on his face. A Shirley Temple! He thinks I want it! I started to stare at Carla angrily, but the look in her eyes stopped me dead. I just hung my head, feeling shamed. Tim left to get out drinks.

"A few rules while we wait. Unless your duties require it, neither of you are to meet my eyes. My anger caused me to glare at her again, but she was ready and simply stared me down. She had set a trap and I fell right into it. My face still burned with shame, but I was looking into my lap.

"… And you cannot curtsey too often. Jacqui still needs to work on hers. See to it, First Girl."

"Certainly, mum. Thank you, mum."

Though Carla had taken a few sips of her Liebfraumilch, I followed Melissa and did not touch my glass when it was set before me.

"Thank you, Tim."

"My pleasure, Ms. Martin."

"I'll order now." Declining appetizers and salad, Carla ordered a rack of lamb for herself then sweet and sour chicken for us.

"Why not clear their tableware, Tim. They are both used to just chopsticks. Don't forget to bring them."

When he had left, she turned her attention to me. "Jacqui, my dear, you may have your darling little drink now." Melissa giggled while my face burned yet again. I had no intention of touching that glass. I felt stupid enough with it in front of me. I wasn’t going to compound that by actually sipping on it. Carla watched for a moment and then went on.

"Girls, let me continue with the rules. When I ask you to do something, I am being polite. Don’t misunderstand me, those requests are orders." She paused for a moment, "Do you understand me, Jacqui?"

I did, but I wasn't happy about it. Just because I'm TG, I’d never had the submissive fantasy, especially the maid one. I was feeling anything but submissive right then. I defiantly looked up into her eyes. "I signed up to be your maid, Ms. Martin," I coated the 'Ms. Martin' with as much sarcastic disdain as I could, "not to be humiliated by you in public places."

She looked at me evenly and spoke without emotion. "If you are to be my maid, you will learn to obey me. I thought a little shock therapy was a good way to start. If you can’t obey me, our deal is off. You may leave any time you wish.

"Now, my dear," she was now talking to me as if I was a demented four year old, "would you like to sip your Shirley Temple?" She had me and she knew it. I wasn’t going to force her to throw me out over something as trivial as this. I swallowed my pride, picked up the drink and took a sip through the tiny plastic straw.

"Thank you mum, it’s very tasty." Without any response, she turned to Melissa. She didn’t speak to me for the rest of the meal.

"Melissa, honest answer - I'm not forcing you. Are you willing to get your hair cut short? A beautiful long mane like yours may be fine for playing a French Maid at a party, but not for the real thing."

"May I know how short, before my answer is required, mum?"

"You may. I think smooth, blunt cuts or bubble cuts with much thicker bangs would be appropriate for both of you. I want the bottom third of your cute little ears to show." I saw Melissa exhale as if as if the wind had been knocked out of her, but after only a second’s hesitation, she answered with aplomb.

"Yes, mum. I have considered cutting it, just not quite that short. I'll attend to it as soon as my chores permit, mum."

"That will be in the morning, Melissa. Take the other maid with you and assure hers is the same. I also want her ears pierced, just like yours. Have one more hole put in your left, to signify your higher status. Her earrings are to be silver and you will retain your gold. Once the piercing has healed, I will give you a one-carat diamond to put in the extra hole to signify your status." We both gasped and looked up, only to be confronted with Carla’s disapproving stare. As I was looking down however, I saw her wink at Melissa and twist a lock of hair around a finger. The diamond was to be a payback for cutting her hair!

"I really like this look-alike image that both of you achieved for tonight, Melissa, do whatever necessary to make it more so, tomorrow."

"Yes, mum."

Carla told her sister about the house, including a detailed description of the turret or 'maids' quarters. Then she told us what she was going to require of us.

"In addition to everything else, Melissa, the house needs a top to bottom cleaning and spit polish. I will require that it be brought up to museum showplace standards and then kept that way at all times. I'm going to further require that my two maids, at all times, present a perfect image of grooming, attire and deportment.

"Just because you are First Girl, Melissa, does not mean that the other maid gets all the dirty jobs. I will expect that there will be a very equal distribution of the chores and work. Equal, in my dictionary, means you both are to work at similar chores, for similar amounts of time. That includes cleaning the bathrooms, washing the windows, whatever.

"I already told Jacqui that duty hours are seven in the morning until ten in the evening. I expect that both of you will take breaks during the day, but I want at least eight and a half hours of solid work from each of you. That is correct, eight and a half hours a day, six days a week. Both of you are to be on duty from Friday through Sunday evenings. You get one day a week off. At all other times, you are to be on call with less than a one-hour response time, if I require.

"There will be no days off, for either of you, until the house is presentable."

"You are laying all of this on pretty heavy, all at once, mum. Those are rather excessive hours."

"We will privately discuss your compensation, Melissa. I doubt you'll bitch after you hear my offer.

"Jacqui receives minimum wage for forty hours. Hours worked in addition to those go to cover room and uniforms. Both of you are on your own as far as your food.

"I am prohibiting alcohol, in any form, in the maids' quarters. Jacqui is not allowed to drink at all and if you see her drinking you are to tell me at once." I didn’t look up, but I could sense both of them looking at me. "Tobacco is banned from the entire estate. I don't think I need discuss my feelings on illegal substances."

I left dinner a very unhappy girl. I did not like what I'd heard and had not agreed to any of it.

End of Part I

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Karen Anne Summerfield and Kelly Ann Rogers. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.