Miss Armani's Maid ~ Anne

by

Anne Bauer

 

Part II – Chores
© April 2003

 

I sorted all the laundry and started another load in the washer and dryer while the iron heated. After finishing making Miss Armani's bed, and assuring that everything in her rooms was as good as I'd the time to make them then, I went back downstairs. The furniture cushions needed straightening, as did the magazine rack in the living room. With a quick dusting completed in the downstairs rooms, I vacuumed all the rugs and carpets.

It was two twenty before I entered the maid's quarters. Stripping off my uniform, I saw I was to wear a fancier uniform, made of what appeared to be black taffeta trimmed with white lace. It was pretty, but I didn't look forward to wearing the still higher heels, which she'd set out with the other accessories for that afternoon. Emerging from the bath, I'd less than twenty-five minutes to dress, dry and fix my hair, put on makeup and be downstairs. At least my guardian, Miss Nikita, wasn't in my room to make things even harder for me.

Just as I was to leave the quarters, I noticed that I'd overlooked the pair of long, white satin gloves I was expected to wear. Fortunately, the long sleeves of that uniform were just loose enough for me to work them up underneath without undressing to put them on.

Miss Armani wasn't downstairs when I arrived with two minutes to spare. Double-checking my appearance, I had to straighten the seam of my stocking, which was difficult with slippery satin covering my fingers. Nothing about my new job was easy!

While waiting, I thought of a nice polite greeting and was rehearsing it in my head, when I remembered things from some stories that I'd read, about a proper maid's performance; phrases like, 'the maid is to be as unobtrusive as possible', 'the maid is to not speak, unless spoken to', 'the maid's job is to attend to the needs of her mistress and her guests, not to be entertained or to be entertaining', etc. I therefore concluded that total silence on my part might be the best behavior. The door chimes interrupted my thoughts and I walked to the front door and opened it with a curtsey.

Moving aside so the couple could enter, I then moved behind to assist the attractive redhead out of her light coat. With it over my arm, I took his windbreaker when it was handed to me. They waited without speaking, while I hung their outerwear in the closet. I could feel both pairs of eyes thoroughly checking me out. He handed me a paper bag that felt like it contained a bottle of wine.

I motioned for them to follow me after straightening from another curtsey and, without other instructions, led them to the living room.

"You must be Anne, Julie's new maid," the woman said as she took a seat by the fireplace. "I'd like Bombay and tonic with lemon." I dipped to acknowledge and turned to the man I assumed to be Mr. Gilmore.

"Chivas, neat," he said. I curtseyed and started to worry as I left the room to get a small tray from the china cabinet. Before starting my job, I had thought I was a good maid; the morning had taught me I wasn't. I had never claimed, nor thought of myself as a bar maid - I didn't drink. I'd no clue what they had ordered, nor even know where the liquor was stored in the house… Yes I did! It was in the entertainment room downstairs.

Behind the basement bar, I started reading labels as quickly as I could; the selection wasn't very large.

"Anne, are you down there?" I heard my employer call for the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Miss Armani, I'm trying to find the right drink stuff."

She came next to me. "You don't even know what you are looking for, do you?"

"No, Miss, I don't." I'd screwed up again. Instead of another lecture, my mistress started to giggle.

"You're more innocent than I'd believed.

"What did they order?" she asked.

"Bombay and tonic with lemon and something called Chivas Neat." She set a large bottle of Flieschman's Gin and Dunheath Scotch on the bar.

"I don't buy them. These will do." She then selected two very different glasses. "As my maid, you do not make excuses, you explain. Say something like, 'the particular selections you requested are not in stock; I trust you'll find these to be satisfactory'. Again, you make no excuses for yourself. It is certainly not your responsibility that I don't stock their favored brands.

"Fix the drinks, Anne."

"Miss Armani, I know nothing about mixing cocktails. I never told you I did."

"There you go, making excuses again." I was instructed how to prepare the drinks.

"I'll have a glass of the wine left from my dinner last night. Wait a minute after I go up, serve the drinks then get started on the meal."

I gave the little speech that Miss Armani had suggested as I served then went to the kitchen. Before even thinking of the dinner, I put on the rubber gloves and pinafore.

With Swiss cheese, sliced ham and enough chicken breasts left to make chicken cordon bleu as an entrée, I also planned Saratoga fries, which they should find different and tasty. I could make a Béchamel sauce, with tarragon and butter enrichment, to go with the chicken. I had all of the ingredients. Frozen, French cut, beans would do for a vegetable. Salad was out of the question; there wasn't enough lettuce or other greens. Serving only three shrimp to each, I would make shrimp cocktails again.

About a half hour after her guests had been served their drinks, I appeared with my tray, collected the empty glasses then moved to stand near the archway separating the living room from the dining room, my eyes on Miss Armani. I had only to wait there a minute or two when I caught her finger, pointed down, make a circle.

I served another round of cocktails then returned to the kitchen.

With the meal completely prepared, requiring only fifteen more minutes to cook, and with the table set using the linen tablecloth and napkins, my chores there were finished. I'd more than an hour to spare before they required my attention again. While I had the chance, I made a ham sandwich then started a shopping list.

Approaching high heels startled me. I started to stand, but a hand on my shoulder pressed me back down.

"Sit, Anne." The redhead sat across at my table.

"I'm Marilyn Gilmore."

"Hello, Mrs. Gilmore," I murmured.

"Walt and Julie are talking investments. My husband manages them for her and I'm bored. I doubt they even realize I've left the room." She stared at what I'd written on the pad.

"Shopping list?"

"Yes, ma'am." I'd already set the pen aside and was sitting with my hands on my apron. Her hand turned the paper to read it.

"Mind if I ask you a personal question?" She didn't await my answer. "How much is Julie paying you?" Desperately I strove to think of an appropriate response.

"I am not a liberty to discuss Miss Armani's financial affairs, ma'am." That didn't sound right, even as I said it.

"Oh come off it," she laughed and made light of my answer, "You're a maid. I'm asking how much a girl like you earns, not how much dividends her stocks yield. How much are you paid a week, girl?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss Miss Armani's arrangement with her servant, ma'am."

"Knock it off. You are nothing but a damn maid." She was belittling me and demeaning my position.

"Is there a problem, Marilyn?"

"You little maid is pretending like the president of a garden club or something … putting on airs. Humph." Mrs. Gilmore rose and strode haughtily from the kitchen. My mistress glared angrily at me and followed her out of the room. I wanted to cry again. I had done nothing wrong! The tea bell summoned me shortly afterwards. All three were staring, as if I were the guilty party.

"Anne, I've been told what you did. Apologize to my guest for your misbehavior," Miss Armani ordered after I curtseyed. 'What? Apologize for what?' I wanted to scream at them - all of them!

"I apologize for my improper manners and behavior, Mrs. Gilmore, ma'am." I bit my tongue and curtseyed deeply. I felt totally belittled and humiliated, by having to apologize for doing something I had no reason to apologize for - I'd done nothing wrong! Holding back my tears, I just stood still, with my eyes lowered, until my employer sent me to serve another round of drinks.

Dinner passed uneventfully; Mr. and Mrs. Gilmore could not praise the meal enough and all the food was consumed; I had nothing for my own supper. All of the compliments were given to the hostess, my employer, and no one seemed to care that I'd done all of the work, even to selecting the menu.

Since apologizing, no one had spoken to me except Miss Armani, and then only to issue minimal orders: 'Clear', 'Coffee and tea'. She hadn't even spoken my name. I cleaned the dining area then addressed the kitchen chores.

Past eight, I curtseyed with my tray then stood quietly. They seemed to be having a good time with lots of laughter, but I had been told I wasn't supposed to listen or notice.

I stood there for some time, before Mr. Gilmore stood. "I'm going outside for a smoke. Excuse me for a few minutes, Julie."

"Sure, Walt. It's time for Anne to walk my girls, why don't you join her? She'll welcome some company, I'm sure." 'Like Hell I would; especially not with a strange man!'

"Thanks, Julie." It was like I had just been given to him!

"Anne, take the dogs for their walk, Mr. Gilmore will accompany you."

I had to do what I was told to do. No one cared about my feelings. I was in no position to complain or argue for what I wanted!

After a curtsey, I set my tray on the sideboard then retrieved his jacket from the hall closet. As I thought appropriate, I held it for him to slip his arms through. When I moved to open the front door, I saw he'd left and was walking towards the rear of the house leaving me no choice, but to follow.

"Here, Miss Nikita, Miss Natasha. Want to go for a walk?" I called. The dogs had been sleeping next to Miss Armani's chair much of the evening, and came jogging to me as I passed them. "Miss Nikita heel. Miss Natasha heel."

Mr. Gilmore was holding their leashes in the mudroom when I entered with the dogs. "Here," he said, as he extended them to me.

"Thank you, I must put on my cape first, sir." I slung the doodoo bag, covered my satin gloves with latex ones then took the cape from its peg. He moved in front and took it from my hands.

"I'll help you." He had a big grin on his face. I saw no harm in letting him. What he did next sent a bolt of fear throughout my body. He pulled the cape down, nicely enough, but then he grabbed me and pulled me too him in a tight embrace.

"Now, I've got you trapped in that, and you'll never get out." I was kissed on my lips and his tongue penetrated my mouth. As quickly as it had happened, he let me go then he laughed at the control he'd just demonstrated over me. Though somewhat loose, the cape has only slits to put my hands through; and before I could push out through them, my hands had been trapped inside.

The dogs were still at heel, and I trembled with fright while trying to clip their leashes and lifted the lantern. Then I took my key lanyard as he opened the door for me. I was determined to do whatever I could, to protect myself from my unwelcome companion.

"Miss Nikita, guard maid. Miss Natasha guard maid." I'd no clear idea what that command would cause the dogs to do if I were threatened with harm, but it gave me some confidence by saying it.

Mr. Gilmore was a pipe smoker and filled his as we walked down the driveway, side by side, with Miss Natasha between. The night before, both of the dogs had taken positions slightly behind me. 'Was this change because I'd told them to guard maid?' I wondered what the dogs would do next, when I told them to 'walk'.

I had to giggle when I found out. Miss Natasha used her head and shoulder to push Mr. Gilmore aside. The tactic had moved him about ten feet from me then the dog moved back closer. Miss Natasha would emit a low, warning growl when he moved any closer to me. I heard him mutter, but couldn't make out the words.

"Call her off, Anne. I won't molest you." Very confident from what I'd witnessed and certain that the dogs would, indeed protect me, I got a little bold.

"Apologize, Mr. Gilmore." I'd said it softly, without emphasis.

"I apologize, Anne. It won't happen again, I promise." I believed it wouldn't. That I was in-charge brightened my spirits for the first time since the earlier incident with his wife.

"Miss Nikita, Miss Natasha heel." I stopped my slow walk.

"Come closer, Mr. Gilmore." Both dogs started to growl.

"Miss Nikita, Miss Natasha," I pointed to him, "friend." Miss Armani hadn't taught me all the commands for her dogs. Still, after I repeated it, they relaxed.

"How do you like your new job, so far, Anne?"

"So far it has been a lot of work, sir."

"Call me Walt," he said.

"Sir, I think it best if our relationship remain a formal one." I didn't know how he would accept that, but felt, even though I was only a maid; I'd the right to assert it. As a person, I'd clearly stated that I'd no desire to become his friend.

"Sure.

"Other than your job is a lot of work, do you like it?"

"I'm very pleased to be working for Miss Armani." That sounded like a good answer.

"You could make a lot more money doing other things, you know?"

"Money isn't the same driving force in my life that it seems to be for others. In the way I've chosen to do it, I like pleasing others."

"What's that mean, Anne - 'in the way you have chosen to do it'?" he asked.

"Well, being a prostitute is a profession that depends on the girl pleasing others in her own way. Being successful in my profession is also dependent on my pleasing others in my own way. Mrs. Gilmore told me that you are an investment manager, or something like that. To be successful in the career you've selected, you don't so much have to be nice; all you have to do is make more money for your clients.

"Excuse my language, sir, but you could be one nasty son-of-a-bitch and, so long as their net worth increases at a satisfactory rate, most of your clients will tolerate it. If a maid acts like a bitch, regardless of how well she does her job, she'll find herself out on her derriere with bad references."

"You've a unique philosophy. Most people don't have nearly your understanding.

"But don't you find it … well demeaning? Most wouldn't think of making toilet cleaning their career."

"No, I suppose they wouldn't, sir, but most take life far to seriously." I had an idea.

"Bet I can make you laugh," I challenged.

"How?"

"By showing you how much fun cleaning toilets can be. If I make you laugh, you give me a hundred bucks. If I don't, I'll give you a blow job, right here," I giggled. My offer was spontaneous. Had I thought on it, I could never have made it.

"You're on!" Already he was chuckling. Most definitely I was going to get my hundred dollars and not have to go down on him to earn it.

"Miss Nikita, Miss Natasha, sit." I handed him their leashes. After turning on the lantern, I passed that to him also.

"So you get a good show."

Stepping back some, I dropped a dramatic curtsey to start my act. With exaggerated feminine moves, like some comedians prone to mocking effeminate gay guys would use, I opened the bag to look inside then turned with a big-eyed look of surprise over what I'd seen. Removing the chromed trowel, I looked at it pretending to be first questioning it then showing understanding by scooping daintily in the air and nodding. The baggie followed.

Miss Nikita had messed on the grass. With my arms out from my sides and my wrists bent upwards I shimmied over to the target. He was unsuccessfully attempting to suppress his laughter. Though I'd already won my bet, I carried it to conclusion, so my audience got his money's worth.

Mr. Gilmore was actually doubled up on the path holding his sides - he was laughing so hard. I helped him up and took the leashes.

"Now tell me, is my menial job demeaning, Mr. Gilmore?" I giggled.

We were laughing as we entered the house. Our mirth drew my employer and his wife to the mudroom.

"I needn't ask if you had a fun time with Julie's maid." She and Miss Armani were clearly not amused.

"Yes, we did. I challenged her to prove that her job was as much fun as she claimed it to be, Marilyn."

"And just how did she do that - by giving you head?"

"No, I lost that bet. Let's go sit down and I'll tell you, dear." Mrs. Gilmore glared at me accusingly.

"Anne!" my employer barked. I'd a thought I could use the bag, if asked for a demonstration.

They were all still laughing as I closed the front door when the Gilmore's left.

"That will be all for today, you're dismissed for tonight." 'That was it, no compliment, no thank you, nothing?' My feet were killing me, and I was far too tired to worry about it then.

Miss Armani was again sitting in the breakfast nook with her coffee when I returned with the dogs after our morning walk. I greeted her, 'good morning'.

She didn't return my greeting. "Sit there. Fix yourself tea if you'd like."

She waited until I sat facing her across with table with my tea.

"I'm sure you've things you'd like to talk with me about, but first I wish to hear your version of the conversation that set Mrs. Gilmore off yesterday." I truthfully related it to my employer.

"It is just what I'd thought," she said matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me, Miss Armani, if that is what you believed, please explain why I was made to apologize, when I'd done nothing wrong?"

"It's simple; because you're my maid, that's why." I started to get angry, but she continued. "It brings me to why I initiated this conversation." She smiled, but I was fuming.

"Yesterday you worked your little ass off, well maybe its not so little with that girdle you have to wear. Be quiet!

"You have to wear it, because your employer decided it is part of all your uniforms. Your choice is to quit, or wear the required uniform… I digress.

"You worked your butt off. The harder you worked, the more I heaped on you; at least I believe you were thinking that. I wasn't thinking anything of the sort; and I in no way added to your workload yesterday." I didn't believe her!

"Let's review what occurred, OK? I gave you very minimal instructions Saturday when we toured the house and almost none on Sunday.

"Sunday morning, my new maid, gets out of bed, oh before I forget, 'Kita was not told to sleep with you. She gets herself presentable and starts the day doing exactly what she was told to do - walk my pets. I never instructed you how to turn off the security system either, but you figured it out.

"I was angry with myself for forgetting. That is what really upset me - not being awakened so early; I'd come down to show you how to do that, but it was already off.

"Throughout the morning, I continued to give you minimal instructions and very few orders. Think about it; I didn't.

"You resented the way I talked to you in my den. Yes, I purposefully was stern, but I did not 'chew your ass out', like you probably believed at that time. I didn't even reprimand you for leaving the phone off the hook, but merely caused you to think about it.

"When you volunteered that you'd heard that I expected my guests at three, I only used it as a timely example of what I'd consider improper behavior and that you should not repeat the error.

"You chose what chores to do and assigned priorities to them. I think I'd have reordered your list, but you accomplished what was needed, regardless.

"With my guests, throughout the afternoon and evening, you were hardly spoken to. You did what was needed, when you needed to.

"Let me address the incident with Mrs. Gilmore, so you understand it, and can handle it better in the future. I should not admit this to a servant, but I do think it will be beneficial for you to see it properly.

"My friend is more than a bit nosy. It's admirable that you defended my privacy, but there's big no secret about the compensation packages you working girls earn in this neighborhood; they are all pretty much the same. A few of them, like little Joi, across the street, you should meet her by-the-way, earns a bit more for herself by providing extra services for 'Doc' Rivers, but that is their affair. Most of the rest of you get the same: room, board, livery and minimum wages. What varies, are your working conditions and for whom you work. Yours are about the norm.

"Had I not made you apologize, Mrs. Gilmore would not have enjoyed herself as much as she did. I do like my guests to have a pleasant time when I entertain in my home. Based on yesterday, I do think I'll be doing that more often, starting soon. Had I allowed you to present your side of things, it would serve no purpose towards my guests having an enjoyable time.

"I trust that I've added to you understanding about yesterday, Anne. I would now like to hear your complaints regarding any of it, please.

"Would you like another cup of coffee, Miss Armani?" I bought time to think about all I'd just been told.

I began with a question. "So yesterday was all a big test for me, Miss Armani?"

"I did not initially intend it to be, but it turned out as one. You were the one who made it so."

"I don't understand, Miss Armani?"

"You could have asked for some relief, even asked me for help, simply by calling me aside for a little talk. Instead you tested yourself beyond any limits you thought you had. You could have even asked permission to wear more comfortable shoes to walk the dogs, but you didn't. In chat you'd told me that the highest heels you'd ever worn before had only four-inch heels, but you were comfortable in those with heels an inch less.

"You were the one who decided that, no matter what, you were going to prove to me that you could 'cut the program'. Instead, it was you who expanded the program and proved to yourself you could cut it and probably more.

"I never expected the 'silent maid' performance; not until much later anyway.

"Please continue, Anne?" she urged.

"Did I pass?" I asked with a small smile.

She shrugged. "What else would you like to discuss?" Her tiny smile was only evident in her pretty eyes.

"Shopping needs to be done soon. I managed to assemble a small list yesterday, between my chores, Miss Armani." She smiled and shook her head side to side.

"Let me review it and bring a pen." Before reading anything, my employer counted that there three pages.

"Best not ever let you lists become more than short ones. Recall who in this house does all the grocery shopping." She started to read the items. When having completed that, she filled in two more pages.

"Almost none of the local maids make enough to afford their personal cars and pay the insurance, fuel and maintenance costs. Little Joi is the only exception I know of. You do need to meet her."

"I did yesterday, returning from the park, Miss Armani." She smiled at me.

"I know you have a car, but I'm only going to let you keep it until the end of the month. Once you have decided this is the life you want, you are to sell it." I was angered! She'd no right to tell me to do that. While I glared, her face displayed a smile. Wisely, I kept my temper under control.

"What did you ask me to do with you in this, Anne?" She asked, but didn't await my answer. "You asked for me to hire you as a real maid. You told me that you had played several scenes as a maid before, but they were for less than a day and never really satisfactory, because you could only pretend.

"You said you felt you didn't want to just pretend to be a play maid anymore, you wanted it to be real, that you felt being maid was the only thing which you wanted to do and what would satisfy you.

"I told you that if you were sincere, I might just give you that opportunity.

"Where did you and I go with that, Anne? I told you to get your head together, send me a resume and I'd take it from there.

"Well, that conversation led to where we are now. The other real maids do not have cars available for their use any more than you will and most of them manage to perform well enough to remain employed.

"Was I wrong in believing that you were not lying to me by saying you wanted to be a real maid; or do you want to just want to return to being an unsatisfied play maid?" I had no argument to offer.

"I wish to be a real maid, Miss Armani," I managed to say.

"Very well. Since we seem to be communicating well, let me cover one more subject before it arises.

"You are an attractive girl. I'm not going to lie and tell you that you're some knockout beauty, but you are one hundred percent passable. What is in those panties under your girdle is of no interest to me in any way. What you do with it outside my house is for you to decide. Here, you are a girl and you are to obey my rules. Need I tell you what my rules are about that again?"

Miss Armani's voice was calm, but sincere. I didn't need to rehear her beliefs regarding her maid masturbating and had seen the camera in the bathroom too.

"Is there anything else you'd like to discuss, Anne?" I thought it through before answering her and risked making requests.

"Miss Armani, may I please be permitted to wear more makeup?"

"What," she feigned surprise, "you don't like looking like a real maid?" her giggles told me she was teasing me. "Now you want to challenge me. I've walked my dogs in the park at the same time of day that you have. Yes, I know how the other girls look. Consuela works a couple of blocks over and looks particularly attractive. You want to look like her, Anne?"

"I don't think I've seen her, Miss Armani."

"I'm sure you are wrong. The Goldberg's own the only Alsatian hound." She laughed when my face must have displayed recognition.

"No real eyebrows, but the ones she paints on her forehead, those long eyelashes, she must glue on four pairs, those luscious red lips outlined in black and all the rest. Is that how you want to look?

"OK, you are excused from chores this morning; they'll wait. Go to the maid's quarters, put on that really short maid's uniform in the closet, pluck your eyebrows out completely and makeup like her. I'll even permit you to go shopping without wearing your girdle. You'll find seamed, black fishnet tights in one of the drawers. The patent heels go with that uniform. When you get back from completing the grocery shopping, I'll discuss other, more made-up looks I'd like to see on a real maid."

"Run along, Anne."

I didn't move, "Miss Armani, please, I don't want to do that." I was again near to tears.

"And I don't want you to either, Anne. But that is how one of the other neighborhood maids looks. Why Issac and Ruth allow it, I don't understand."

"Wear your makeup as you wish in the evening. I do suggest it be much less than what I saw Saturday. You do not want to draw that much attention to yourself. When doing your day chores here in the house, I do not wish to see red on your lips, understood?" I curtseyed.

"More?"

"No, Miss Armani."

"Do your morning chores then you may go shopping. The bus stop is across from the park entrance. It's the Number one twenty-four. They run every twenty minutes, I think, and will stop at the big shopping plaza you passed driving here." I did remember seeing one about five miles away.

"That will be all then." She rose from the table and quickly left the room with the dogs getting up and starting to follow.

I wasn't thinking at all. "Miss Nikita, heel. Stay with maid." My mistress turned with a grin from ear to ear displayed, and then left.

I cleaned up the kitchen then went to her rooms to do what was required there. It was well past ten when I'd finished all I thought appropriate. In the maid's quarters I used the toilet and added just a hint of blush and red lipstick to my lips - I had permission, and I felt better. I'd no orders regarding what was an appropriate uniform to wear when out. Looking through those on the closet rod, I considered my options. 'What would the other maids wear?' I asked myself.

I decided, after careful consideration of all that were available, that the pale pink one I was wearing was appropriate, but the shoes, despite being comfortable, I still considered to be ugly. I changed into a pair of white oxfords even though they'd four and a half inch heels.

"Miss Armani," I began, when, after keeping me waiting five minutes, she acknowledged my presence in her den, "may I please borrow a white purse, please?"

"I've provided all you need, Anne." She paused and looked away from the monitor to scan me. "What's wrong with the drawstring purse that's in the drawer in the maid's quarters?" I'd seen the small white bag made from the same fabric as my protective pinafore.

"My error, Miss Armani. I didn't realize it was a purse and the one you required I use for shopping."

"I don't require it; I provided it for your use. If you want to use that black one, I don't care. If you want to buy another with your own money and use that then it's fine with me too.

"There's two hundred dollars on the table with the shopping list. I'll expect you to account for every penny of my money you spend. In the garage there's a collapsible shopping cart hanging on the wall. Your house key fits the side door. Dismissed."

I went back upstairs, found the small bag and transferred what I needed, wanted and would fit then I left to do the shopping.

A black maid and an Indian one stopped their conversation to watch me push the wheeled cart across the street to where they were waiting at the bus stop.

"Hello, it is most pleasant to be meeting the new maid. I am Maid Chrau. Be most pleased to be meeting Maid Mwangaza," the attractive Indian in a pink uniform, reminiscent of a sari, bowed her head to the black one as she introduced. Mwangaza's was pale blue.

"Hello, I'm Anne." I dipped slightly. I didn't think to say 'maid' with my name. They both curtseyed too.

"You are new, Maid Anne?" The very dark-skinned black woman asked.

"Yes, I just started, Mwangaza. I hope I pronounced that properly?"

"Close, Maid Anne," she displayed distorted, but pure white teeth when she smiled. "The maids in our neighborhood treat each other respectfully." She seemed to not approve of something. "We address each other and refer to ourselves with our titles. It signifies that we respect each other, even though we're only servants."

"Oh, my apologies, please accept them, Maid Mwangaza, Maid Charu." I curtseyed and both returned it.

"You're Miss Armani's new maid, I saw you with her dogs this morning."

"Yes, that's right. I just started on Saturday."

"Miss Armani has been looking for 'just the right' maid for almost nine months, Maid Charu," Mwangaza giggled, I couldn't see Charu's face, her veil concealed it from just below her exquisitely made-up eyes. I felt uncomfortable because of my ignorance of what appeared to be an inside joke.

The arrival of the bus ceased our encounter. Though we all boarded it, they chose to sit together.

When the bus pulled up in front to the large supermarket and stopped, I asked the driver where to catch it for my return. "Right here, girl, on the quarter hour." Miss Armani had erred; they ran thirty minutes apart.

Just as I had two days previously; when I was made to check out of the motel wearing a maid's uniform for the first time in public, I felt very exposed and embarrassed. I'd felt the same my first morning in the park, too. Having seen the other neighborhood maids out in uniform and noticing that no one seemed to pay us any special attention had eased my mind a little.

Charu and Mwangaza hadn't gotten off; and, unlike in the park, I seemed to be the only uniformed maid there. Other patrons were staring and looking at me. Though I tried to ignore them, and not think about it; I again was embarrassed because I had to wear a maid's uniform in public.

I debated using one of the supermarket's carts to place my selections, but canceled that. It would be easier to maneuver just the one and I'd not mistakenly accumulate more than would fit. Though the supermarket was unfamiliar to me, I found all I wanted and was quite pleased to discover they offered a good selection of quality items, especially in their meat department. By the time I entered the checkout line, I was much more relaxed than I had been after getting off the bus.

Someone tugged my dress from behind. "Why are you dressed funny like that?" I saw it was a boy about eight years old with his mother. The brat repeated the question and pulled instead on my apron string; untying the bow.

"She's a maid, Johnny," the woman said.

"She looks really stupid in that costume, mommy." As soon as I'd retied my apron, he pulled it open again.

"It's not Halloween. You're stupid for wearing a costume if it's not Halloween!" he said to me.

"It's her uniform, Johnny," the mother explained. "She's a maid."

"Why is she wearing a silly uniy form. That hat looks silly." Though I'd put my cart between us, he ran around to undo my apron strings a third time then ran to hide behind his mother.

"Maids are stupid. Maids are stupid," he'd started to chant.

"Why does stupid maids wear uniy form costumes, mommy?"

"They are required to be in their uniforms, Johnny," his mother again started to explain.

"Required, mommy? You told me solders are required to wear uniy forms.

"Are maids like solders? Do they defend our blessed country?"

'The brat's been politically, if not religiously indoctrinated.' I thought.

"No, Johnny, maids aren't soldiers. They clean peoples' houses."

"Is that all they do? Maids are too stupid to be solders defending our blessed country, mommy. That's not a solder uniy form. It's a silly, stupid dress with an apron like Nana's."

I kept silent. Nothing that I wanted to say would possibly change this situation for my better. He pulled apart my apron strings once more before the narrower aisle between the registers and my cart blocked his access.

The bus was just pulling away when I exited the store pulling my cart. I went across to the empty bus shelter to stand and wait the half hour before the next one would arrive. My girdle made sitting just too uncomfortable, if I didn't have to. With nothing else to occupy me, I'd time to think of all I'd done the past few days and of my current situation.

Though it was nothing but hard work, which had provided me with absolutely no time for myself, and left me exhausted by the end of the day, my job wasn't one I was ready to quit. I was twenty-six years old; my life as I would choose, was before me. I was living and working full time as a girl; something I'd never been able to do before. I'd not had the courage to try it all the way in the past. In previous jobs, my identity had been questioned, both overtly and covertly.

While the boy had questioned my status, my gender had not been questioned since I'd become Miss Armani's maid, or had it? What was it, exactly, that Mwangaza had meant when she'd told Charu that, 'Miss Armani has been looking for 'just the right' maid almost nine months' with that giggle?

I changed the subject, as I didn't want to delve deeply there. I knew I was taking a job as a working maid, but I had always thought of wearing much fancier uniforms than those I'd been provided. The uniform I'd worn the day before was nice and fancy enough, but the knee-length hem wasn't my choice; I'd have cut it at least six inches shorter. Or would I really?

I was out in broad daylight and had shopped in public for the first time. My plain pink uniform with its white trim and accessories had certainly drawn an uncomfortable amount of attention to me. It labeled me, and had clearly indicated what I was; leaving no doubt about my occupation and status. Did I really want the added attention that exposing another half foot of my legs would draw? To do so might cause people to question if I was really a maid? Would they then question if I were really a girl, just pretending? I wasn't pretending any longer' I am a girl and I'm a maid!

 

The End of Part II

  

  

  

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