Pamela Camille MacNeal

by

Karen Anne Summerfield

© December 2002

  

"What's in these trunks, Dan?"

I glanced over to see my wife, Katie, standing by my four large lockers.

"Er … nothing… Just some old clothes." I stammered.

We were up in our attic looking for the fall decorations that we'd stored when we'd moved in nine months previously. I gasped when she tugged on the padlock securing one and it fell open.

"Really, Katie, there's nothing there to interest you." I was too far away to prevent my wife from lifting the lid.

"The History of Pamela Camille MacNeal," Katie read aloud. I was beside her when she'd looked at the cover then opened my thick photo album.

"Oh my god!" Katie gasped. "Dan, how could you…"

"Please, Katie, please don't be angry with me?" I started to plead. My deepest secret had been discovered and it was too late to negate that.

She smiled like a cat who'd eaten the canary. "Just shut up!" Katie pressed two fingers to my lips. I'd no ready answer and didn't understand her reaction; certainly I didn't understand the look in her blue eyes and small smile on her pretty face.

"Katie…"

"Be quiet." She patted my cheek as she turned the page. "This explains why you don't have any facial hair."

Katie stood, "I don't want to talk about this now."

"Come on, I'll help you carry these downstairs." We struggled with the heavy trunks and set them in our spare bedroom.

"Unlock the others while I finish looking through your album. Do you prefer 'Pamela' or 'Pam'?"

"Pamela," I answered.

"I've got to find the keys."

"Do so, or get a hacksaw. I want to see everything." Katie was still looking through my pictures when I returned from the den. She glanced at me, but I couldn't read her expression.

"I want to see Pamela. Pick out something then get dressed then do your hair and makeup. I want to watch."

It was a bit embarrassing. To transform myself to Pamela required that I wear a corset laced tightly enough to reduce my waist by at least five inches, otherwise, much of my clothing wouldn't fit. She giggled and shook her head, as I struggled with the laces. Wearing just the white one and a thong, I knelt, undecided about how I should appear when dressed before my wife for the first time.

"I want to see you in this," Katie turned the album and pointed to a picture of me in my little black dress. As I found it, along with stockings, bra, breast forms and shoes, she continued to page through the pictures.

"I see that you and I appear to wear the same sizes, Pamela. We'll need to repeat our wedding vows; only this time, you have to wear my wedding gown." Her tone hinted of sarcasm; she referred to several pictures of me wearing it that had been taken in our new home.

"Where'd you get the bouquet?"

"They're silk. I borrowed them from a photographer friend."

"Can you really walk in those black patent ankle straps?" Katie asked, in a disbelieving tone, as she stared at yet another set of pictures.

"Yes, I really can," I proudly answered.

"Good! Then you wear them, instead of the 'flats' you put on!" her tone made it like an order.

"These have five inch heels; higher than any I've ever seen you wear," I shot back.

"Correct, but I prefer my comfort," she giggled. "I also don't have to wear corsets or girdles, either.

"Where's your jewelry?" I directed Katie to the trunk containing it.

"This looks real, is it?"

"Yes, that was my grandmother's diamond. I traded the gold setting for the silver. Her wedding band in there too. It's platinum, Katie."

She found it, but only handed me the solitaire to wear along with small hoop earrings, a herringbone necklace and my thin wristwatch.

"You're going to have to get your ears pierced, you know?" Clearly, I didn't understand her mood. On the one hand, her words seemed to be mocking, but on the other, Katie appeared to be amused by having me do this. Was I being set up? Still, I obeyed her, rather than risk a fight.

"No, I don't know. With work, I can't," I said.

"What work? Don't be absurd; you were laid off last week, or have you forgotten?" I was still in denial of the fact, that the largest employer in the area had cut its workforce by two thirds, laying off over two thousand of us the same day. Chances of finding work soon, as an aircraft instrument technician, were between slim and none.

"Put on false eyelashes," Katie directed, while I teased my hair and brushed it out. "I'll polish your nails." While looking for my jewelry, she'd found the plastic bag with all my nail care items.

"From these pictures, I see that you're no stranger to going out. Wear my leather blazer and fill your purse with all a girl might need. I'll go freshen up and meet you in the garage in fifteen minutes,

We'll be taking your van."

"Where are we going?" I had asked the question when she turned towards the mall.

"To get your ears pierced." I'd always wanted pierced ears and had been afraid of the reaction at work and just never had done it.

"I really don't want to go in the mall, Katie," I stated honestly.

"Getting your ears pierced is no big deal. Trust me," she countered.

"It's not that," I began, "a mini dress, seven-inch heels and full fashioned stockings are not exactly an everyday afternoon sight in the mall." Katie laughed.

"I said stockings and you picked the seamed ones you're wearing … probably thinking I was going to play with you at home. I want you to check that your seams are straight often and correct them as necessary, Pamela," Katie giggled. "If you wear seams, and you will, I demand that they be perfectly straight. As for the height of your heels… Wait, girl." Her self-satisfied smirk told me not to question.

"Get out!" She ordered after she had put the van in park and exited. I hesitated, but seeing her glare, decided to comply.

Katie faced me when I'd stood. "Check that your seams are straight," she reminded.

Then, I couldn't walk very well in heels as high as I was wearing. I was comfortable with heels five inches high, but even six-inch ones an inch lower were difficult for me. It was only with quick, short steps of only a few inches that I barely managed to keep up with the slow pace my wife had set. Walking across the long expanse of asphalt wasn't anything at all like prancing around the room on the hardwood floor to pose before my camera. Katie giggled, but made no comment until we reached the mall entrance.

"I want to just watch. You're going to do this all on your own, Pamela - three piercings in your left ear and two in your right. I've got your keys and I will give you thirty minutes to obey, or I'm going home." She stared at me, daring me to challenge her order. Katie was becoming the woman of my dreams, far more than the girl I'd married.

Throughout school, my voice had been a curse; it was high and soft and been a constant source of teasing from both the girls and boys. Dressed as Pamela, it was a blessing.

Though very nervous about the consequences of what I was doing and drawing a lot of attention to myself by how I was dressed, I minced through the mall by the way I was forced to walk. Getting my ears pierced was easily accomplished. Katie intercepted me as I placed the ear care instruction sheet in my small purse.

"Very good," she commented after pushing my hair back to inspect the work.

"You'll need to get your hair styled, but that can wait. Here, you can carry your things." I was handed a shopping bag.

"How am I going to explain my ears to my family and yours?" I asked as we drove out of the lot.

"You're soon going to have a lot more that a few holes in your lobes to worry about," was the answer my wife gave.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, fearing I didn't really want to hear the answer.

Katie didn't answer directly.

"Where are we going?" I asked when she exited in the opposite direction from home.

"You'll see. Just be quiet, girl." Katie's firmness was intimidating. I felt very vulnerable and I didn't understand this side of her that I hadn't been aware of. I remained quiet as she drove towards the next town.

"We're going to retrieve Natasha's things. Until now, I'd no idea what to do with them and I couldn't begin to think of throwing them away. Trust me; after seeing your pictures, you'll like her stuff and they should fit too."

"Who's Natasha?" I asked.

"My sister," she spoke in a whisper. Katie didn't have a sister?

With the van facing the gate to Storage City, one of those rent-a-garage facilities, she faced me. "Here we are, get out, unlock and open the gate. C 126," she handed me the key then drove through after I'd opened it.

While walking on asphalt and through the mall had been difficult, moving on the gravel drive was ten times more so.

"Why did you do that to me?" I demanded when I finally reached the opened unit.

"You need the practice. Get used to high heels, girl, you'll be wearing them often," was the reply I received. "If you're going to complain about them, I'll let you walk home."

"Come on, help me load these things in the car."

In all, Natasha's things were in ten, identical trunks. Some were fairly heavy and the load barely fit in the back of my van.

"That's the last," Katie panted.

"You need to go to the office, give them the keys and terminate the rental." I was offered the door key. I'd had enough of putting myself on display for one day, but I saw her expression; daring me to challenge her.

"Is the lease in your maiden name?" I asked as I accepted the key.

"No, Natasha's - Natasha Diamond."

"Natasha Diamond!" I exclaimed.

My wife stared back in question. Natasha Diamond is a female impersonator. I'd seen her show.

"Now go terminate the lease, Pamela.

"Oh, wow! Look at you babe!" The old man was bug-eyed and stood when I entered the tiny office. "Come here, babe and make my day." I was disgusted. I'd interrupted him, jerking off to some porno magazine. He'd not even bothered to tuck himself in and zip his fly.

"I want to terminate C 126, Natasha Diamond." From the door I tossed the keys on the desk, turned and slammed the door so hard, I shattered the glass.

"Get out of here, now!" I demanded. Katie looked past me and her jaw went slack. There was no discussion. The tires threw gravel as she turned towards the open gate.

"What the H was that all about?" Katie demanded. "The creep had his dick out!" She answered her own question.

"Disgusting, dirty old man!" Katie spat.

"Be quiet, I want to share something with you." We'd driven a mile from the complex. "Remember, I told you my older brother died just before our wedding and I started to cry. It wasn't an accident like we tried to convince everyone… Promise me you'll never tell mom and dad. Natasha left me a note, under the pillow on my bed, before she drowned herself in the pool." Mentally, I questioned how that could be accomplished.

"Yes, I said my brother's name was Natasha, not William as my parents had named her. My sister was one of you. Her own expression was, that she was a 'T girl', transgendered, transsexual, or whatever else. I was one of the few she'd ever told and I had known since I was a very little girl."

"Natasha had a lot in common with you, Pamela."

"May I ask why, Katie?"

"Why what?… Why she opted out?" I nodded yes in response.

"My sister and I were the best of friends. She didn't have very many others and her boyfriend was too depressed to even come to her funeral... Yes, Natasha was gay.

"Besides, Mom and Dad would've shit bricks if they knew about Jonathan. He is … how shall I say? Rather obvious."

"I think, that while they'd have been upset that my sister was gay, they, especially my mother, would have been much more, so had they learned that their son was T girl. She just can't understand why some people are that way."

After carrying everything up to the spare room, I sat and removed my shoes to massage my sore toes. My wife opened one of the trunks - they all had a number stenciled on one end.

"You can change to lower heels and you may wear them until bedtime." She knelt to slip the ankle boots on my feet. The red leather, round toed boots laced up; a perfect fit. When she'd tied the knots, Katie passed the two-inch strap over them, did the two buckles on each and closed small padlocks through those.

"There! We'll have no more of you removing your pretty heels without permission," she teased. My feet hurt from all the exercise, but I was still thrilled by the way my wife was behaving. The remainder of our day was spent hanging all of my things and Natasha's in the large walk-in closet, setting out all of the shoes and boots and filling the dresser with our accessories.

"I think your sister had a shoe fetish," I giggled. "Did you ever see her wearing those ballet boots?"

"No, I didn't begin to know the extent of her wardrobe until I cleaned out her apartment," Katie said. "I'm going to look forward to seeing you in them though." My wife gave me a big hug. The first sign of warmth from her since this started.

"We are going to have sooooo much fun together. I can't wait to start."

"You are going to get tits." Katie displayed a wicked smile. "While you had your big secret, I had one too. You fanaticized about being a girl… My ultimate dream is having an affair with a transsexual. Incest never entered the equation; I'm not that way and neither was Natasha, but seeing and being with her, turned me on in the worst way.

"Now …I've got you to play with as much as I want." She wiggled her hips on the seat. "Whee! Girl, am I gonna have fun with you!" I had to admit, what I was being told turned me on too, in the best possible way, but I clearly didn't understand my wife. This was a side of her I'd never seen before and it was a bit frightening.

That evening, sipping wine by candlelight and cuddling close after we'd eaten supper, we talked about the future; actually my future.

"Before your unemployment runs out, you're going to have to get another job … as Pamela, of course."

"What did your sister do for a living?" I asked, without questioning being my real self.

"She worked downtown in an office someplace. She never said exactly. I'll bet she was quite a sensation, as short as she preferred her skirts and with her heels." None that Natasha owned were less than five inches high.

"I'll tell you, it must have paid well; her suits alone cost a small fortune, not to mention all that leather," I commented.

"Natasha lived full-time as a girl. The only time she'd dress drab was to visit our house."

"You stated that only a few knew about Natasha. She was a female impersonator. I saw her show once.

"Was she taking hormones?" I asked.

"Not that I know of. She didn't have breasts and about the strongest medications I found were aspirins and cough syrup."

"You said I'd be taking hormones, Katie. Are you going to make me have surgery to make me a complete woman, too?" She pushed away then straddled my lap, so we were face to face.

My wife stared at me a moment before starting to talk.

"I think I know what you want, Pamela and I want to give it to you. At the same time, I want a little something in return." I parted my lips to speak and her hand pre-empted and covered them.

"Listen… My upbringing suppressed a lot of fulfillment of my desires. I … dreamed of 'making it' with another girl with big tits, not with some BBW, if you know what I'm saying, but one with a tiny waist."

I nodded that I knew what a big beautiful woman was.

"BBW, if you don't know, means big breasted woman." I didn't vocalize that I understood differently.

"I guess I'm really bi, but I never admitted it aloud before. I love making love with you." She leaned forward and kissed me deeply. I enveloped my wife and pulled her close to hug tightly.

"How should I dress this morning?" I asked Katie, when I emerged from the bathroom the following morning.

"Let's discuss it over a big breakfast, honey. With all that exercise last night, I'm famished. Just put on a pair of panties and your robe. I'll meet you in the kitchen." Katie went to the steamy bathroom.

Without a bra, I don't feel whole. I chose a matching set in pastel yellow, with tiny white, embroidered flowers that had been her sister's. Natasha had a heavy quilted green satin robe. It was too long to wear without heels. Finding a pair of clear plastic, platform slides that I doubted I'd ever wear in public, I clicked loudly down stairs to start the coffee and to see what was available for breakfast.

"Delicious," my wife wiped her mouth.

"What do you think about going to a beauty parlor and getting the works this morning, Pamela?" she asked.

"Define, 'the works'?" I asked.

"Your hair really needs a professional styling and the split ends trimmed. I also think you'd look good as a redhead; it would give you a look to match the Irish name you picked for yourself."

"It's Scottish, but that's not important. I don't think I want to be a carrot top."

"Agreed, nothing that bright; more Titian red or auburn. Besides that, your brows are still too thick, in my opinion, and you could get a set of nice nails." She held hers next to mine for comparison. Long fingernails were things I'd dreamed of having, but my previous job had made them impossible.

"Let me think about it. I don't know if I'm ready for the salon trip and being so close to others for that long of a time."

"Chicken!" she giggled.

I smiled. "Yup."

"What style do you think might be good for me?"

"A long softly waved mane, but it has to grow a lot longer before that can happen.

"Leave the dishes and come upstairs. We'll get you dressed and I'll brush it about to see what might look good before you go out."

"Really, Katie, I'm not ready to do that. I need to talk myself into it." She patted my hand.

"OK. Let's get you pretty anyway."

In our bedroom, she told me to put on a corset, while she selected an outfit from Pamela's things in the other room. Deciding to keep wearing the yellow set, I took one of Natasha's corsets in light beige; almost flesh tone.

"What do you think?" Katie held up a plain white blouse with a matching suede vest and skirt to herself (they were mine).

"Very nice," I agreed.

"I'd suggest neutral pantyhose and brown shoes or boots."

"I don't wear pantyhose. I think women should wear stockings." Katie giggled, hearing that.

"OK, girl. Just remember that in the future. I forbid you to wear tights or pantyhose."

"Promises, promises," I teased and stuck my tongue out in mock defiance. I chose a pair of zip-on knee-boots, which matched the cream-colored outfit.

"What? Flats again!" We both giggled at her joke, as their heels were five inches.

As I applied my makeup, my wife fussed with my medium brown hair. We discussed the several looks she achieved and decided what might look good for me. Both of us wished it was longer than shoulder length, but wishing wasn't going to make it happen.

Being a sunny late September day, we'd taken the Sunday paper out on the patio to read and turned on the outside speakers for the stereo system.

It was early afternoon. I was pouring over the classified job ads, circling them and noting any that might offer potential employment. Katie was engrossed in the crossword puzzle.

"Hello, Katrinka," an all too familiar voice called from the corner of the house. I nearly wet my panties. Katie's parents were walking towards us! The look on my wife's face expressed the panic I felt.

"Mom, Daddy. You scared me half to death." Her voice was shaky, but my whole body was trembling. They never visited without calling first! Katie rose to embrace them.

"We did call, but there was no answer. Being such a beautiful day, your father and I decided to go for a ride, but before going out in the country, we drove past to see if you'd come back from the store or wherever and ask if you and Daniel wanted to come with us.

"Since both of your cars are out front, Katrinka, I decided to try the door, but walked mother round to here when we heard the music," her father said while looking me over in an un-fatherly way.

"I'm glad you did. It's always good to see you.

"Let me introduce you to my friend from college. Pamela, this is my mother and father, Valter and Gladys Kaufmann." Having been born in Germany, though living in the United States since a little boy, her father preferred that his name be pronounced as it would be in Germany.

"Mom, Daddy, this is Pamela MacNeal."

Katie's father extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Pam." I remembered to shake limply and not to stand, as I normally would have. That he was so close and was staring intently, was not something I could avoid.

"Nice meeting you too, Mr. Kaufmann.

"Pleased to meet you too, ma'am," I addressed her mother.

"Valt and Gladys, Pam," her father said.

"Daddy still thinks he lives in 'der Vaterland', Pamela," Katie giggled.

"Pamela really prefers that to Pam," she informed her parents.

"You'll stay for dinner of course?"

"Only if it won't be too much trouble for you," Mrs. Kaufmann answered.

"No, no trouble at all." This was almost a ritual between Katie and her folks and I couldn't be upset, as some might have expected. There was however, a new twist to the invitation. Katie's culinary talents are nearly nonexistent. So I did almost all of the cooking in our home, especially if we'd guests, of course it was 'no trouble at all, for Katie'. I saw Katie flinch and briefly look in my direction, as if realizing the situation we were in. It would become much worse a bit later.

"Would you like a beer, Daddy?" my wife offered.

"A martini, Daniel knows how to fix them the best," Mrs. Kaufmann smiled. "I'm sure he'll be happy to come outside to join us."

"Well … Dan isn't home right now," Katie stammered a bit.

"I'm sure he'll return from the store then shortly. My cocktail can wait a few minutes, dear. Run and get your father's beer." Katie started to leave and I stood.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment. I'd like to powder my nose."

"Oh my heaven's, Pamela, I've not heard that expression in ages." I just gave her mother a big smile then followed my wife into the kitchen.

"What are we going to do, Pamela? I don't know how to mix Mom's drink, much less cook dinner," she whispered.

"Mom's drink is one shot of gin with five shots of water, lots of ice and an olive."

Katie started to giggle. "No wonder she can hold her liquor so well."

"I'll offer to cook… Maybe it would be better if you ask me to; compliment a meal I cooked for you once while we were at school, or something?" I suggested. "I should start the roast soon, if we want your folks to be home before dark though."

We talked about the weather for only a few minutes then Mrs. Kaufmann asked about the other me, "Katrinka, I thought your wonderful husband would have returned by now?"

"No, mother, Dan won't be back today?"

"Oh, why is that?" she pressed.

"You two aren't having trouble, are you, Katrinka?" her father turned serious. "You can always talk to us. You know that. Differences sometimes arise in so many marriages today."

"No, Daddy, it's nothing like that. I told you last week that Dan was laid off and they told him not to expect to be called back, as the plant will close, as soon as current orders are completed. There is no work in his field around here.

"Dan has a close friend, his best friend from when he was growing up, out in Seattle and he went to visit and to see if he could get a job at Boeing."

"Oh, so far away. We'll never see our little girl."

"No need to worry about that, Mother," Mr. Kaufmann interjected. "Boeing is suffering hard financial times and in the past few years has laid off more than thirty thousand of their workers." I just sat quietly listening.

"Oh, no!" my wife sounded suddenly very concerned. "The plane ticket was nearly a thousand dollars." She paused, "You can understand, without his income, the mortgage and all the bills…"

"Katrinka, we told you to ask for help should you ever need it," her dad was sincere. He had told me the same thing when we got married and he had put up the down payment and paid the closing costs on our house as a wedding present.

"Anyway, while Dan's out on the coast, I invited Pamela to come visit for awhile. After my wonderful husband and you, of course, mother, Pamela is the best in the kitchen.

"I'm so glad you'll be staying for dinner; Pamela is going to make this scrumptious rib roast she cooked for me once at her folks home when I visited."

"When was that? I don't recall you telling us," her father questioned. He has a near photographic memory.

"Well, Daddy … remember, I failed that one exam my senior year, right after I told you I'd been so sick with the flu and I couldn't call or visit cause they put me in the infirmary?"

Her father started to laugh, "Ha, I knew it. I told Mother you didn't sound the least ill and had snuck off to a big party or something." Mr. Kaufmann was quite satisfied that he'd guessed the 'truth'.

"I best get started," I said when I stood. "May I a get you another beer … Valt?" I smiled and took his glass.

"Why thank you, Pamela," he said with a big smile of his own. I got the beer and refilled his wife's glass from the pitcher.

"Pamela, Mom and Daddy prefer their rib roast, very rare." I knew that, but I had never cooked a roast for them that way, as my wife refused to eat beef that was still red or even pink.

"Katie, do you have an apron I can borrow? I don't want to get my skirt soiled?"

"Look in the big closet in the room next to my bedroom, or in the dresser there; there may be one there," she said after a bit of hesitation.

I found several aprons, but hadn't expected the maid's uniforms of Natasha's that went with them and giggled at the thought of wearing one for her parents. Of course I didn't. I found the plainest apron there, put it on then went to the kitchen.

Thankful to avoid being with her folks, even for a little while, I became engrossed in starting to prepare the meal.

"I'd like to help you. My wife and daughter are talking about one those shopping channel shows and can go on for hours." Having previously patiently listened to Katie tell me about them, I well understood what her father was staying.

"That's a pretty apron. I wonder where my daughter got it."

"Probably one of the shows you just talked about," I laughed and he joined in.

"Would you share a beer with me, Pamela?"

"Thank you. There's a big jug of Rhine wine in the refrigerator; I'd prefer a glass of that, please?"

"Ah, good German wine, even if a product of California. Are you German?" he asked. "I was born there."

"Nai, I bae Scots lassie, sir," I gave a little curtsey with my smile.

"If you'd like to help, put these in a pot, fill it with water, cover with some salt in it and bring to a boil, Valt." There were several pounds of red potatoes I'd just washed on the drain board.

"They need to be peeled first." I glared then he softened. "I should not tell the cook how to cook." I smiled again.

Finding the roasting pan, I took out the meat and started to trim it.

"What do you do?" he asked.

"I'm looking for a job and a place to stay right now. Your daughter offered me the chance to come here and keep her company while Dan's away, until I find a place of my own."

"What happened with your former job?

"What can I do next?" The burner had been turned on under the potato pot.

"Peel me three of the largest onions you can find please?

"The FBI closed the place down and seized all the assets. My apartment building turned out to be one of their assets too."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Pamela."

"Let me have the onions, please?" I reached to put them on the cutting board.

"Why'd they close it all down?"

"They kept it all hush-hush. Rumors flew that it was because of tax evasion, racketeering, drugs, money laundering, stock manipulation and fraud. Take your pick. My guess is any one or all of the above.

"Do you like asparagus?"

"My favorite," he smiled. After preparing that, I put together the first parts of Béarnaise sauce.

To attend to the dinner, I was in and out to peel the potatoes, coat them with Crisco, put the dish in the oven with the roast, etc. and to set the table.

"Valter will be going to Rio for a few weeks. I'm going to spend them with you Katrinka. You know I get so lonely in our home at night while he's away."

"When will that be Mom?" Katie asked.

"I'll drive over on Tuesday, after I see him off at the airport." Katie smiled at her mother.

"That should be fun, Mom. I'll look forward to it," Katie seemed not to grasp what I'd heard.

I'd a big knot in my throat. My mother-in-law had done this once before since we'd married. On that occasion, she slept on the couch. It would be impossible for Katie and me to sleep together and to explain it to her mother.

"Excuse me," I said, "I'll put the final touches on supper. It will be ready in about ten minutes." I felt sick and wanted to cry.

"This is absolutely delicious, Pamela," Katie's father complimented.

"It's even better than mine and Valter always told me that mine was the best. I mean that," Mrs. Kaufmann echoed his thoughts. The way I felt, I could only mumble my thanks.

Throughout the meal, while they held lively conversations, my participation was minimal. It was not because I feared interjecting the personal knowledge I'd gained since Katie and I had started seeing each other and possibly give myself away, but rather the rapidly deepening depression I was sinking into. When everyone was full, I cleared the table, served them coffee then started to do the dishes and clean the kitchen. I really wanted to cry myself to sleep, but more, I sought to avoid any questions about myself.

It was evident that my wife's folks thought I'd absented myself, because I was a relative stranger and only a friend of Katie's who happened to be visiting. No one questioned me on why I'd gone to the kitchen. I stalled finishing things there until it was time for them to leave.

"Pamela, Mom and Daddy are leaving now. Come say good-bye," I heard Katie call. 'Finally!' I said to myself. Forcing a smile, I went to where they waited by the front door.

"It was so pleasant meeting you," I said, as brightly as I could manage.

"And it was a treat to meet you also," her mom said. "The roast you cooked was the best I've ever tasted."

"Thank you."

Her father wasn't going to be satisfied with a handshake, before I could react, he pulled me close and held me tightly with his hands clasped behind my waist.

"Yes, Pamela your meal was a real treat, but meeting you has been even more so.

"I've friends who might have openings in their firms. No promises and I don't know if anything will happen before I return from Brazil at the end of October, but I promise you, I'll make inquiries on your behalf."

"Thank you, sir." I'd been startled to learn my mother-in-law would now be staying with us nearly six weeks, but was shocked when he kissed my lips.

At last! I was alone with my wife.

"I'm going to have a real drink, would you like anything?" I asked.

"A small Amaretto."

"You were awfully quiet during dinner; would you like to talk about it, Pamela?'

"Yes and no. Katie, what are we going to do?" I pleaded.

"About what? What's bothering you?"

"Your mother coming to visit on Tuesday, for six weeks and me here, like this. That's what!" My eyes started to tear.

"Oh," her voice was a whisper.

"I wasn't thinking. Pamela, you are just so natural as you, that I gave no thought to there being anything that would upset you over her visit. I'm sorry."

"There is nothing to apologize for. You couldn't have refused, anyway. What are we going to do, Katie?"

"There are a few things that we certainly aren't going to do, of that I'm sure."

"Such as?" I asked bitterly.

"One is, that Dan can't suddenly return and Pamela disappear. Mom would notice your pierced ears in a heartbeat. She's the eyes of an eagle." I had to agree, knowing her as I did.

"Two, until you get a job, we can't afford to put you up in a motel for six weeks." I'd no disagreement with that either.

"This morning, we had talked about you getting a make over. I strongly suggest you do so tomorrow. You were in the kitchen much of the time this afternoon and Mom didn't seem to notice anything, but with six weeks to observe you up close, there is no predicting what resemblance to Dan she'll observe."

"I wish I'd followed your suggestion this morning."

"Yes, me too, but it's a little late," she said.

"Have you any other suggestions?" I asked.

"Yes, while you're out, stop by the rental place and pick up a bed. We can certainly afford that. You can set up in the other room and use the bathroom up there. That way you'll have a reasonable amount of privacy, certainly much more than camping out on the couch would provide. Move the TV and the VCR from our bedroom and it really won't be as bad as you were thinking."

"Be sure you dress at least as attractively as you were on Saturday, when you go out," Katie said before leaving for work Monday morning. "I want you to develop that sort of image for yourself and project it all of the time."

"But…" I began to protest.

"Obey me. Dressing as you did this weekend makes you look a lot different than Dan, a lot different. It's not just you wearing skirts and heels, but it is a very feminine look that few other girls portray. It's one that many men idealize and fantasize that all women should have. Few believe that anyone born with male anatomy could ever possibly achieve it.

"Were you to dress down, with the look of a typical soccer mom or most other women today, they'd stop thinking that and they might detect flaws that cause them to look harder for more. My sister believed this and she easily got away with all she did.

"Once, she dressed down, at my insistence, for a day in the mountains together. I was so shocked to see my brother instead, that I made her change back."

"I don't want men fantasizing about me!"

"But you don't want anyone thinking you're a guy, either! Just do as I told you!" Apparently upset, Katie pecked my cheek and left the house.

With two hours to kill before the beauty places opened at nine o'clock and when I could call to try to arrange an appointment, I carried all of the empty trunks up to the attic, freeing a lot more space in my new bedroom. The room was larger then I'd thought after learning it would be mine for six weeks. Anticipating renting a bed, I rearranged the furnishings for it and set up the TV and VCR there for my use then I moved my toilet things to the bathroom in the hall. I also assured nothing of Pamela's remained in our bedroom for my mother-in-law to discover.

I only had to make two calls to find a salon that could fit me in, but I had to be there in the next fifteen minutes. Already dressed in a plaid green and white wool skirt, white blouse and black sweater, I slipped on a pair of black calf pumps, buckled their thin ankle straps about my black stockinged legs and carefully walked out to my van.

Driving wearing six-inch heels, proved to be a learning experience for me; I had to consciously think of using the brake and accelerator pedals and be careful making turns. I knew just where the place I'd called was located, only a few miles from the house.

"Good morning," I greeted. "I'm Pamela MacNeal. I called for an appointment at nine this morning."

"Hi," the woman smiled. "Shirley will be delighted to work on you, I'm sure. I'm Joan, I'll be with you to do your nails, shortly." She was about my mother's age and I saw that most of their customers were old enough to be our mother's. Next time, I'd need to come up with a diplomatic way to inquire about what type of clientele patronized the salon.

"Third station's Shirley's, Pam."

"Hi, I'm Pamela MacNeal," I said to the teen applying lipstick in the mirror.

"Well, Hi, yourself." She'd looked at my reflection then turned with a grin. "I'm Shirley." She couldn't be more than twenty, if that. She looked me over, but I sensed it was in a professional way.

"Joan said color, style and nails, Pam. What will it be?"

"I was thinking that auburn might look good."

"Yes, perfect for you. What style would you like?" She started moving my hair about, much as Katie had done.

"What do you think of this?" My hair had been combed into full bangs to one side. "A little wispy here on the other side and about this long, but triangle cut on the end." 'This long', was the middle of my right cheek.

"On the sides and back?" I asked. "I'd like to let it grow out."

"K. That would look good. What else?" I told her to thin my brows and explained how thin when asked.

We talked some while what I'd requested was being accomplished and Joan joined the conversation when she started the manicure. Easily, I relaxed under their attention.

"Do you always wear the lashes, Pam?" Shirley inquired when I gave her free rein applying my makeup to give me 'a new look'. I hadn't bothered to ask them to address me as Pamela.

"Yes, I'd feel naked without them." I was quite pleased with my new hairstyle she'd created and was confident her other selections would look good too.

"Gotcha."

In all, my make over consumed the better part of three hours and deleted well over a hundred dollars from my wallet; including the makeup I'd purchased, to duplicate my face. I was feeling so good about the new me they'd created, that I'd made evening appointments with Joan in two weeks for a 'fill' and one with Shirley for a trim and color two weeks after that.

I took another long look at myself in the rearview mirror, before driving to Rent-a-Center. On my own, I doubted I'd ever have applied so much eyeliner and dark shadows, creating nearly 'raccoon eyes' or rimmed my red lips with very dark burgundy, but the total effect worked to create a picture that bore no hint of my former appearance that I could detect.

Later that afternoon, I had the idea to surprise Katie and test if she would be able to pick me out in a crowd. I called and invited her to meet me for dinner at a pub I'd gone to only as Dan and she'd never been to before. It wasn't expensive, but the food was good.

When asked, Katie readily agreed to meet me there after work at five thirty. For the evening, I dressed down just a little in Natasha's things: a black suede, A-line skirt, snug, dark green pull-over sweater and a nice pair of platform knee-boots over opaque stockings which matched my top. I looked good and I felt great. The fat heels of those boots, while more than seven inches high, were easier to walk in than the spikes I'd worn earlier.

This was a place I'd been to before with some of the guys and gals from work, so to avoid questions about my van, in case I encountered any of my former co-workers; I parked about four blocks away then walked to rest of the way.

As expected, I drew the attention of the other patrons when I walked to the bar where I perched on a stool, with a view of the entrance behind me, in the mirror behind the liquor bottles.

"Hi," the barmaid, Janie, greeted me. "What will you have?"

"Do you have Rhine wine?" I asked. I'd almost greeted her by name.

"Sure. A glass?" I nodded and took out some money.

"Buy you a drink, Red?" I turned to see my former supervisor sit on the stool next to mine. It was too late to run.

"If you'd like." I put my wallet back in my purse.

He's fifty-five and has a wife and three grandchildren. As someone to sit with, Mike would be all right and I was confident after the day in front of Katie's parents and now with my new look, that I could avoid detection.

"Mike Miller. I've not seen you here before." I was somewhat surprised that he used his real name. He'd also retained his wedding band.

"Pamela. Thanks for the wine." I gave a small smile.

"You work around here?"

"Looking for work. Know anyone who needs a secretary?"

"Not in this town. They're closing our plant and laying off the last of us in a couple of months. I know, you and a few thousand others, who are looking for work and I'm not waiting 'til I've no job before I start looking myself."

"It's no fun being unemployed, I know," I commented.

"Well, as pretty as you are, you shouldn't have any trouble finding a job at all, Pamela."

I saw Katie enter the room, look around then come to the bar to sit a few stools away. She'd looked directly at me, but turned about to survey the twenty or so people there. Among them, there were only five women besides her and me. A guy came over to her, sat and offered to buy her a drink.

"No thanks, I'm married, just waiting for a friend. She should be along shortly," I heard her say. I debated allowing a few minutes to pass, but canceled it before my wife was approached again.

"My friend just arrived. Thanks for the drink and good luck finding a job, Mike."

"You too. I should be getting home to the wife. Thanks for sharing with me and the best to you too, Pamela." Katie must have heard my name and was looking around the room again, but not towards me when I took the stool next to hers.

"Hi, would you let me buy you a drink?" I said in a different voice and signaled to the barmaid.

"I'll have another and bring her a Chablis, please?"

"Oh my god!" Katie gasped. She turned in her seat and started laughing hard. "I just can't believe how different you look, Pamela." I moved us to a quiet booth in the corner and started to sit where I'd not be seen.

"Oh no you don't! You sit there so everyone can see you." She pushed me out of the way to slide in where I'd intended, forcing me to face the room.

"First, you look fantastic. I really mean that, Pamela. I honestly didn't recognize you and you sure put the icing on the cake, by sitting and talking with a strange man. I doubt anyone else would recognize you now either."

I smiled at my wife. "Thank you. Actually the man wasn't a stranger; he's my former boss and Mike didn't recognize me either.

"I was a little frightened at first, when he sat next to me and offered to buy me at drink, but when I saw who it was and he'd not a clue, I could relax. That really helped lots to build my confidence." Katie started to laugh allover again.

She brushed my bangs aside, "This looks really sexy, the way it keeps falling in front of your eye," she complimented, "but don't you think your eye makeup is more than a little heavy?"

"Yes and no. I've given it a lot thought since it was applied and I agree that it's heavy, but not too heavy for a girl that's supposed to portray the image you said I should with sky-high heels and short skirts or dresses."

"Perhaps you're right," Katie said after focusing on me a moment longer.

Later, Katie and I had one of the most memorable, but exhausting times in bed before passing out, simply unable to continue.

"Mom called me yesterday to say she'd be here about three. I want the sheets and linens changed and the whole house cleaned before she arrives, Pamela," my wife sounded stern, as she was getting ready to leave. "Here's some money. Go to the stores and stock up in the kitchen." The look she gave me was one of challenge; almost expecting me to offer some reason to question what had, in fact, been her orders. I smiled and curtseyed. Though I was somewhat resentful that Katie had issued them instead of asking me, I was also pleased she was again exerting her dominance over me. It was going to take a bit of time to adjust to her in a domme role.

"Very well," she grinned, "I also expect you to look your best for my mother and to be on your best behavior. Remember, you are only a guest in this house for the next month and a half." I again dipped to acknowledge that.

"Now give me a nice hug and a kiss, before you go into that role."

Our home is nearly always clean, so the chores didn't require more than two hours to complete. While vacuuming, I remembered the different uniforms upstairs and I thought about being a maid. It is fantasy that many girls like me enjoy, but I'd never tried to actually do it. I really couldn't picture enjoying myself in that role, for other than a brief game with Katie.

I had all the groceries put away by noon, leaving me three hours to bathe and get pretty.

Having some free time before her anticipated arrival, I thought about trying to get a job as Pamela. It seemed prudent to assemble a resume for myself in my present role. I immediately immersed myself in building a workable history and references.

While working on the computer in my room, I began to have some very serious doubts, about how I could pull this off, that is, getting a job as Pamela MacNeal. I had no identification and no job experience, that could be verified by prospective employers, along with no references. I couldn't picture any company hiring anyone, without at least a perfunctory check.

Using the ads I'd noted on Sunday, I made several calls. I had just been told for the tenth time that afternoon that the job I'd inquired about had already been filled and, no, they weren't accepting applications, when the doorbell chimed or did it toll, ominously? It was half past three.

"Hello, Mrs. Kaufmann," I greeted my mother-in-law at the door.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Why are you in my daughter's house?"

"Pamela MacNeal. We met Sunday." Before speaking, she looked me over carefully then smiled.

"Oh yes, Katrinka's friend. I didn't recognize you." I took the small case she carried.

"May I help you with your luggage?" I offered. I was handed her keys.

"Thank you, please? My back has been bothering me since this morning. I strained it, I think. It's all in the trunk, Pamela."

Gladys was drinking coffee in the kitchen, when I had finished carrying all she'd brought upstairs. Seven-inch heels are not conducive to lugging heavy things up stairs.

"May I join you, Gladys?"

"Certainly," she smiled. "Thank you for helping."

"It's all in your daughter's bedroom."

"I'd planned on using the spare room while I'm here." I debated how I should answer that intention in a diplomatic way.

"Katie told me that I would be able to stay there as long as I wish, Gladys. All of my things are there." I saw her wrinkle her lip, but then a small smile formed in its place.

"Yes, certainly. Valter's trip came up rather suddenly and I hadn't mentioned it to Katrinka until Sunday.

"I best get started on supper," Mrs. Kaufmann pushed back to stand up then looked at me as I automatically rose with her. I'd forgotten, unlike a gentleman, a girl isn't required to be polite and to stand in courtesy when a lady gets up.

"May I help?" I offered.

She started to laugh and stood. "You may do it all, if you want. When I was younger, with my daughter at home, I used to enjoy cooking. Today it is a necessary chore, Pamela, though I do enjoy seeing my husband satisfied. Besides, after that delicious dinner you prepared for us on Sunday, I've no doubts that you are an excellent cook.

"I think I might enjoy my visit, as if I were on vacation, instead of being alone all day, which would be the same as being at home, until my husband returns from work." My mother-in-law's visit just might turn out better that I'd first thought, but I was going to miss spending my evenings and nights with my pretty wife.

Though I was politely included in the dinner conversation, Katie and her mom mostly talked of things Pamela wasn't supposed to know about.

"Clean up here, Pamela. Mom and I are going to watch the news." The ante was about to rise.

"Katrinka, that sounded more like an order, rather that making a request to your friend," her mother corrected.

"Oh it's fine, Mom. It was even Pamela who suggested it, partly in return for using our spare room until she gets a job and finds a place of her own. It was Pamela who insisted that she do all the household chores. She made it very clear that she meant all of them. What with Dan away, who else is going to mow the lawn and maintain the cars?" Katie was increasing the dominant role she'd begun Saturday. "She said that she'd be very disappointed and hurt if I didn't accept her offer."

"You make it seem that she's more your maid, rather than your friend," her mother said.

"Perhaps you are right, but it was all at her insistence, isn't that correct, Pamela?"

"Yes, it certainly is." I tried to sound enthusiastic with all I was supposed to have suggested and agreed too. In fact, I was becoming angry and resentful.

"See, Mom? Why, after you left Sunday with Daddy, Pamela told me to tell you that she expects you to treat her the same way. She wants you to accept her being here and not let her interfere with enjoying your stay with me.

Without saying a word, I started to clear the table. Only a few minutes later, Katie came in the kitchen with an apron.

"Put this on so you don't get your dress wet?"

"Yes, Mistress. Should I also run up and put on the rest of the uniform?" Though I spoke quietly, I did not attempt to suppress my sarcasm with my snide question.

"Look at me!" she commanded. I turned and dipped. "You may not realize it, but I just did you a great big favor."

"I don't see it that way!" I quickly said bitterly.

"Just shut up and listen, smart ass. I just removed you from nearly all interaction with my mother and explained at lot of things here without her ever feeling a need to question them. She's already asked how much rent you're paying and how long I expect you to 'take advantage of my generosity'. With what I just told her, her curiosity should be satisfied.

"You are also excused from feeling you need to 'entertain' her and vice versa. Neither one of you will feel that you're intruding on the other's space or privacy and you can come and go as you please throughout the house without explaining your actions, as well as leaving the house."

My wife was making perfect sense with what I was being told. I was about to apologize.

"Be quiet. My mother isn't that old, but you've known that her back is weak. Being here, she'd feel it was her place to make the bed, clean, do the dishes or whatever else. I'd never be able to stop her, as in her mind, she'd just be 'being my mother' and a polite guest. I don't want to have to deal with being a nurse to her, even if I am her daughter. You will be the one responsible if you let her hurt herself. She and daddy have a woman come in, three days a week to clean and take care of the shopping and chores, so she's not used to that sort of exercise and she is quite accustomed to dealing with servants.

"Have I made the situation clear to you, Pamela?" I felt small and petty for reacting as I had.

"Yes. I apologize. I'm sorry for thinking what I was, Katie. I love you.

"I love you too," she said and left the kitchen.

In some ways, it's good that Mrs. Kaufmann normally doesn't get out of bed until around eight o'clock. This staggered the use of the bathrooms, allowing Katie to use hers and me to perform my toilette in the hallway one, without feeling rushed by another's needs. The other benefit from her schedule was that it gave my wife and me time to talk alone in the mornings.

"I know your day was full yesterday, Pamela, but you're going to have to get serious about finding a job that brings home some income. Unemployment won't last forever and we will still need to pay the bills if we hope to keep our home," Katie reminded me Wednesday morning.

"I already have. I made a bunch of calls regarding the jobs in Sunday's paper, yesterday before your mother arrived."

"Great. Any prospects?" she asked enthusiastically.

"No. I called ten, but the jobs had already been filled," I told her. "I'll call the others this morning."

"What sort of jobs were they?"

"Clerical. Beyond being an aircraft instrument technician, I'm not qualified for much other than working as a retail clerk, or slinging burgers at a fast food place."

"With the unemployment around here now, you might not even find an opening at Mickey D's, but don't get discouraged. So far, all you've done is make some calls. I'm sure you'll find something."

"Katie, I thought of another problem."

"What's that?"

"I don't have any ID or verifiable past. Every application I've ever seen asks for your employment history." She made a face, but brightened when I'd said that.

"The identification papers are simple and easier to resolve than your past."

"Why do you say they are easy?" I questioned.

"All you need to do is take your birth certificate to the court clerk. I think, you pay a nominal fee, put an ad in the paper and, after a short wait while they schedule a date, you appear before a judge and it's pretty much a perfunctory matter. With a legal name change, you can have all your records changed and receive new identification."

"But…"

"But what?" she asked with a grin.

"But that won't change my gender; everything will show I'm a male." My wife's response to that objection was a shrug.

"Probably the only ones that would pick up an 'M' instead of an 'F' or small check mark is the cop who might pull you over for speeding. Almost everyone is going to immediately question why the very attractive red head before them is named Daniel Kraus. Think about it and you'll see I'm right."

"But it's rather permanent and … won't you mind?" I stammered.

"No, I don't mind and I doubt you do either." She stood.

"I've got to leave. Be a good girl and I'll see you tonight after work." We hugged and kissed. I started the downstairs chores.

"Pamela, sit and talk with me a moment, please?" Mrs. Kaufmann asked as I poured her coffee. "Get a cup and join me.

"My daughter talked more with me about you last evening." I was suddenly apprehensive about where she might be heading.

"I understand you never completed your college, but left after three years. She could not provide an explanation however." Obviously, she was asking me to add to her understanding.

"My parents were killed in an automobile accident. I learned that they had borrowed heavily against their insurance policies and our house to finance my education," I shrugged for emphasis. "I could not afford to remain at Wake Forest any longer."

"I see. I understand that you are looking for some form lucrative employment in this area?"

"Yes, Gladys." I saw her frown.

"Now that I have a better understanding of your status in my daughter's home, I no longer consider it appropriate for you to address me in a familiar manner, do you

"No ma'am. I will immediately discontinue addressing you on a familiar basis."

"Very good. The arrangements that you have made with Katrinka are her affair and, although I disagree with the specifics, I shall not interfere. I am quite certain that if you are going serve as a maid in this household then you should also look like one. That matter will be addressed this morning, once your chores are completed.

"While I eat a lightly toasted muffin and sip my orange juice, you may begin here, by scrubbing this floor, so that I may see your work and assure that you understand how that task is properly accomplished to my satisfaction." She flicked her little finger, which I correctly interpreted as her dismissing me from the table. Her statement regarding breakfast was clearly an order that I was to prepare and serve it.

"Get on with the floor, girl," she ordered. Katie's mother demonstrated a side of her that I'd never before witnessed as her son-in-law. She had come from a family of 'old money'. That she held a strong belief in the 'separation of the classes' quickly became apparent. At that time, I was in no position to argue with her.

"What in heaven's is that?" she asked, when I carried in the sponge mop and a bucket then explained. "Pamela, one can not properly clean the linoleum without getting close to the task. Put that thing away and bring a scrub brush and sponge in its place. I see that a girl who chooses to look as you do has much to learn about being a proper maid. Take solace and be thankful in the fact that I have the time and willingness to properly instruct you."

"Yes, thank you, ma'am."

I felt humiliated by how she was treating me. After putting on rubber gloves, I filled the bucket then got on my knees to scrub the floor. Though far from comfortable, I applied myself to the chore and cleaned it diligently.

"You may stand there, so that I might inspect your work." I watched her eyes carefully examine the entire surface.

"Perhaps there is some hope for you, Pamela. I can clearly see that you may have some small capacity to learn." Mrs. Kaufmann gave me a condescending smile.

"Now, I know that you wish to get on with your work and address your other chores with equal diligence this morning; however, it grows late and we must still attend to your uniforms. There will be time when we return for you to clean the bathrooms, make the beds and other tasks before it's time to prepare dinner.

"Now run upstairs to freshen up and meet me here in ten minutes."

"Yes, ma'am," I curtseyed and went to my room to remove my apron, straighten my seams and freshen my lipstick.

"I have made note of your preference for short skirts and rather, ahem, 'attractive' stockings with the highest of heels to show off your legs, Pamela. I know it is your desire to attract a wealthy man who might better your station. I shall not deny you the privilege of wearing them and in so doing, crush your hopes in that regard. Instead, I will keep your chosen desires in mind, when I select appropriate attire for you at the uniform shop and later in the shoe store."

"Thank you, ma'am. I do appreciate your kindness."

"You are welcome, I'm sure."

Damn it! If I'd wanted a dominatrix, Mrs. Kaufmann would fit the role perfectly in nearly every way. Beyond her ever strengthening grip on me and increasing control that she was exerting, she was not an unattractive woman either, but I'd no expectation nor desire of enjoying her performance in that role.

She drove her large Lincoln. I been told to sit in the back and for me to be quiet. Katie's parents live about twenty miles from us, in a rather 'well-to-do' town befitting the wealth they possessed and that was the direction we were headed. We parked on the main street near the center of the shopping area.

"Come along." During the ride, I'd desperately tried to think of a plan to escape from this demanding woman, but had failed to arrive at anything close to being workable. Telling her to just 'f**k off, as I really wanted to, was no better of an option than removing myself from her presence. Our money was tight and I had no place to go. Pamela had no friends to request favors from either; no one who might have been able to put me up for a while. Perhaps my wife would arrive at a solution. Yes, I was sure she would. I saw no other choices then, but to just play along till tonight.

We had to walk only a half block before entering the uniform shop.

"Good morning, Mrs. Kaufmann," a woman about her age greeted my tormentress by name.

"And a pleasant good morning to you, Mary." Mary looked me over quickly then returned her attention to my mother-in-law.

"How may I serve you this morning, Mrs. Kaufmann? Have you hired a new maid?"

"Not at all. Pamela there belongs to my daughter, Katrinka. She's rather untrained, but I'll correct that matter post haste. Katrinka is in need of proper livery, a full set, for her servant."

"Oh, very good. I'm most pleased that you have come to me to fulfill those requirements.

"Anne, come assist, please?" Mary called. A rather plain woman, perhaps my age, was quickly beside her boss.

"Good morning, ma'am. I'm delighted to see you again."

"Good morning, Anne. That is a very pretty dress you are wearing." Anne was costumed; I did believe it was a costume, much like the ones I think of German girls wearing.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kaufmann. We just received a large stock of dirndls from Innsbruck and Mrs. Hopkins thought I should wear some, to advertise them for the Holiday retail season."

"Yes, I do like it and I will look over the offerings to see if one might be suitable for a present for my daughter."

"Anne, measure the girl there." I was not even introduced to the shop assistant. "Mrs. Kaufmann will be selecting a full set of uniforms for her daughter's maid."

"Yes, ma'am." I was frozen into a shocked silence and allowed her to tape the appropriate dimensions, as they moved towards the racks of uniforms.

"Come along, girl," the assistant ordered me, when she'd finished her measurements.

"Thirty- nine, thirty-five, twenty-five, thirty seven," Anne announced. "Size ten, regular. She's corseted, ma'am."

"Yes and rather well endowed. Thank you, Anne." Mrs. Hopkins said. "That will be all for now."

"Yes, ma'am. My pleasure." Anne gave me a small smile, but didn't speak to me.

I could only stand and watch them look over the uniforms for several minutes. The shop owner occasionally made comments about different ones and Mrs. Kaufmann casually glanced in my direction.

"Yes, this will be perfect for her evening service. It will need to be shortened though. I've granted her the privilege of allowing her legs to be displayed to advantage. She has the dream of all young maids, that some man will be so magically enamored by her charms, that one day she can elevate her station. Unlikely, but they do have these dreams."

"Certainly understandable. We can alter them quickly for you, Mrs. Kaufmann."

"I was confident that was so." Anne was summoned. "She'll have three in that style. If anything I choose for her has pockets, I want them cut out and sewn shut."

"But of course. What length would you like her skirt?" Mrs. Kaufmann looked at me before answering.

"Three inches shorter than that one," was the decision. Anne quickly measured the pink skirt I was wearing, took the three uniforms and scurried in back.

This ordeal continued for more than an hour. At no time was I told to change into her selections, nor was my opinion sought. They moved to the circular rack of dirndls. Katie's mother looked at each before pulling one out.

"I see nothing appropriate for my daughter." A hanger was pressed under my chin and the garments spread and fluffed over my body.

"Let me see this on you." It was the first time I'd been spoken to by her, since we'd entered. Confused, I just held it and didn't move. "I told you to change, Pamela!" Mrs. Kaufmann snarled. Meekly, I went to the changing room, removed my clothing and took the ensemble from its hanger.

There was a white half-slip, a cropped, white blouse trimmed with eyelet lace and black ribbons and the heavy jumper. When I put on the blouse, I discovered that it ended a few inches below my bra and buttoned up in back with very large and full three quarter length sleeves. After stepping into the slip, I tied the strings in back, I slipped on the dress, buttoned it then threaded the lace through the front eyelets of its built in, corset-like bodice and pulled them tight. An inch of the slip showed below the hem of my dress all around and both were very full and short; the hem of my slip didn't quite cover all of my dark stocking tops.

The blouse was medium weight cotton and all other items were labeled 'Leinen', which I assumed was linen. I'd not worn anything made from it before with its soft feel, but heavy weight. The short dress fell beautifully about my thighs. I liked the look. Despite the embarrassment of how I was being treated, I forced a smile and walked out to model, trying to make the best of a very bad situation.

"You've put your apron on wrong." Mrs. Hopkins stated. Anne was immediately in front of me to retie it in front rather than in back, which was normal. "With your dirndl, you tie it there … Pamela, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am, Pamela," I meekly answered.

"Why aren't you wearing the kerchief?" she asked.

"Ma'am, I didn't know how. The strings were too short to tie under my chin and I didn't know what to do with it"

Anne appeared at my side with the small linen triangle in her hand. Because of my heels, I had to bend over, so she could fasten it on my head, with the strings behind my ears and tied under my hair in back.

"We'll be going to Arnald's now, for proper footwear for Pamela; then return to pick up her uniforms, Mary," Mrs. Kaufmann stated. "Bill my account, please?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Kaufmann. It's been a pleasure." I'm sure with all that had been bought for me, my tormentress had, indeed, brightened her day. I was curious about how much Katie's mother had bought from a shop, selling almost nothing other than uniforms for maids, to have established an account there.

While the shoe store sold everyday shoes and boots, there was an area off to one side that was a fetishist's paradise. It had all types of exotic wear, suitable for clubbing or bedroom wear and with low, high and extremely high heels. I was curious if this was the same shop where Natasha had indulged in her fetish hobby.

My mother-in-law knew exactly what she wanted and where it was located. The card said, 'Gibson Girl Oxfords #1746– The Perfect Shoe for Your Maid, Black, Red, White Patent, Black, White Calfskin, Heels – 4", 5", 6" 7" '. I'd no doubt about how high of a heel she'd select for me before I heard her tell the man serving that department.

"I'd like these in black and white calf, with six-inch heels and black patent with seven inch for the maid." I was directed to sit so that he could measure my feet.

"Start with the white ones, young man," he was told.

"How are they, Pamela?" I was surprised that I was actually being asked, after he had laced up both shoes. "You will be standing whenever you're on duty. I want them to fit you properly.

"They're too tight, ma'am. I think that they could be a size wider."

When he didn't move, she said, "You heard the girl – a size wider!" The words were sharp.

If seven-inch heels can possibly be described as 'comfortable, the wider ones were at least tolerable. I was sitting, after trying on all three pairs of the round, baby-doll toed shoes, when she gave the clerk the stock number of a pair of boots, with the 'highest arch available and told him to bring out a pair.

"She'll be wearing thick knee socks with them, so bring out a white pair and boots sized accordingly."

"Remind me when we return to Hopkins's, to select a dirndl suitable for your outdoor chores, Pamela," I was told while we waited for the clerk to return from the stock room. "The one you are wearing is for running your errands while out of the house. I should not have to tell you which uniform and accessories are appropriate in the future."

"No ma'am," I answered meekly.

The boot she'd selected looked like beige high-top work boots, except for their inch thick, lugged soles and the fat, chunky heels that arched my feet as much as the patent shoes I had been wearing last.

"As I'll be selecting your outdoor uniform, wear those for now, Pamela."

"Yes, ma'am."

What she picked was a green linen dirndl, with another, plainer blouse and light beige for the kerchief and apron. The white slip was the same length. I modeled it for her approval then we left. Of course the task of carrying everything that had been purchased was left to me.

"Change into one of your evening uniforms and take a moment to properly put all your others in their appropriate places. The maid feeds herself in the kitchen after we dine, so set the dining room table for two as you prepare dinner. Be sure to busy yourself with other chores as your duties permit. I will not be pleased if I find you idling away the time. Am I clear?" she glared.

"Yes, ma'am." As I carried out her orders, I looked forward to Katie overriding her mother's orders that evening, once I told her how her mother was acting. Sustained by the knowledge that I'd soon be free from this tyranny, I was able to press on until then.

Mrs. Kaufmann, though she offered little instruction beyond polishing of two silver trays and giving me instructions on, how I should greet my wife upon her arrival and how to conduct myself while they ate their meal, allowed me get the evening meal together by myself. She was in my presence, or close by, carefully observing my actions throughout the rest of the afternoon. I'm sure she was ready to pounce on me if she thought that any correction was needed.

"I'm done with the meal, ma'am," I told her after placing the pot of vegetables on the stove. My-mother-in-law checked the time.

"Very well, that will give us almost forty minutes for you to practice your walk and your curtseys, Pamela, but first, I would like a cup of coffee." She moved to sit and watch me from the kitchen table.

"Since one of your goals is to attract a member of the opposite sex, hopefully a wealthy one who takes pity on you, I will instruct you how to use your gait as one of the lures a girl like you might employ."

With all the walking I'd done that day, my feet were killing me. I wanted to sit down, take my shoes off and rub my toes, but that would have to wait. Mrs. Kaufmann instructed that her idea of a proper walk was to actually cross my ankles a little as I placed one foot before the other. There was no need to tell me to take only short steps; my heels assured those. I was also told to swivel my hips in a way that felt very unnatural.

"When you reach the far wall, Pamela, turn around and curtsey. There are three curtseys you will employ and I should inform you that a short little dip," she stood and demonstrated, " is not a proper curtsey.

"The first curtsey is the one you will employ most often and for most purposes." She moved away from the table then curtseyed.

"Note that my right toe is directly behind my left heel about six inches and my foot at a right angle. Follow me as I demonstrate." I took the position.

"Now, grasp the hem of your uniform only, not your slip or petticoats with just your thumbs and middle fingers directly to your sides and lift it out with your arms straight as you lower. When carrying a tray, use only your left hand to carry it on the tops of your fingers and your right one to lift your dress. Bend your knees smoothly then straighten without pause," she lowered in demonstration. "Go down until your knees are about forty-five degrees and keep your head straight and your shoulders back." I was made to practice several times.

"That requires further improvement, but it will do for now. Walk to the other end of the room and curtsey. Continue until I tell you to stop." That not only was tiring, it was humiliating, but I dared not express my sentiments. I saw her fill a martini glass nearly to the brim with water then place it on a napkin on the small tray and carry that towards me.

"Left hand - fingers up and spread," I was told and the tray was placed on their tips. "Center that for balance. Don't spill and don't drop it." She waited until I was ready.

"Resume."

"That will be all. Set the tray aside." Mrs. Kaufmann faced me again after more practice.

"You will now learn to curtsey to others when you greet them. We begin much as before, only your right foot is much farther back and to the left. When you go down, continue until your left knee is at right angles, pause and say your greeting, count slowly to three then rise." I know it wasn't perfect on my first attempt, but I was pleased with my execution. Her smile indicated that she was too, though nothing was said.

"If you are opening a door, as you will be when greeting your mistress shortly, that hand remains on the knob until the door is closed.

"Go to the front hall and await her arrival then demonstrate what I've attempted to teach you today, Pamela." Even her voice sounded satisfied when she'd spoken. I hoped I was pleasing then I cursed myself. 'Why should I want to be pleasing? I wanted no damn part of being a maid and this wasn't fun!'

It was only about five minutes that I had to wait for my wife to arrive and my mother-in-law's timing was perfect. She stood in the background, undoubtedly to check that I did as she'd ordered. Upon hearing Katie's approach, I opened the door and curtseyed deeply to her. This was my wife and I was behaving like a servant! I saw no choice then, but to continue until she put her mother in her place. 'Not too much longer, Pamela." I said to myself.

"Good evening and welcome home, ma'am," I said softly.

"Oh my god!" Katie started to giggle. "Just look at this." Still giggling, she turned her back to start shedding her jacket. It was clear that I was expected to assist and to hang it in the hall closet.

"Hi, Mom. How was your day?"

"Hello, Katrinka. I think that the day has been productive. I'll wait until you freshen up then tell you all about it."

"I can hardly wait. Give me a couple of minutes." Without a word, or even a brief look in my direction, my wife went upstairs. Her mother motioned me to follow her with her head and we went to the kitchen.

"I believe my daughter would like a glass of wine while I have another coffee. Start the supper then prepare them and serve when the coffee is ready. After you have put everything in place, move to the side of the room and pose there, to await orders to serve us, Pamela. Do be sure to curtsey and to not speak unless spoken to."

"Ma'am?" Her look was one of instant anger. I pressed forward anyway, "Ma'am, your meal will require some infrequent attention until it is done."

"I know that! Use your pretty head and see to it as needed, but also obey the orders I just gave you." My wife's mother left the kitchen. I felt defeated.

"I believe I was wrong in my initial assessment of your maid."

I heard when I entered with my tray.

"After being with her all day, I must say that she responds well to her training and seems to possess some intelligence." I curtseyed beside my wife and saw her turn only briefly to see why I was there then her attention returned on her mother, at the opposite end of the couch.

"She is a quick learner and not quite as I'd first thought." Mrs. Kaufmann hadn't paused at all with her conversation. I set the wine on a coaster, with a napkin beside it then moved to the other end of the couch and repeated the maneuver to serve the coffee on a saucer. "What with as much makeup as the girl prefers, I thought her nothing but a bimbo and floozy.

"I'm the first to admit when I am wrong," I moved to stand near the bookcase, "and I was incorrect in my initial judgment.

"She conducted herself properly when I took her out and brought me no embarrassment."

"Where did you go, mom?" Katie asked.

"As my gift for allowing me to stay while your father is away, I've outfitted her with a full compliment of proper livery. Should you require her in others for special occasions, a French maid's uniform for entertaining your friends perhaps, I'll provide that too."

"A French maid uniform really won't be necessary." I was relieved to hear Katie tell her that and I'd not be wearing one in front of our friends. "She already has three and a rather plain gray uniform, suitable for heavy chores which might ruin her prettier ones." It was unbelievable, hearing them saying what they were. Even worse, it was as if I weren't even there!

"I've taken it upon myself to see that the girl is thoroughly trained; you'll find no fault with her performance by the time your father returns."

"Thank you. What's Daddy doing on this trip, Mom?" My wife changed the subject and hadn't offered even slight resistance. Her mother had just been given free rein with me!

As they talked, I debated offering more wine and coffee, but kept silent instead. I was supposed to be a maid, not a waitress hustling drinks for bigger tips; if they wanted something, logic told me they'd ask, or just tell me to do it.

"Dinner will be served in five minutes, ladies," I curtseyed before them then returned to the kitchen.

"Her walk is much better than this morning, mom," Katie observed.

In the kitchen, from the food I'd cooked, I prepared what I considered appropriate portions on two plates, set these on the larger tray then carried that to the sideboard in the dinning room. I served both of them then stood off to one side.

"What are your future planes for Pamela, Mom?"

"First, I'll set her to cleaning the entire house.

"Oh, before I get into that, have you heard from Daniel?"

"Yes, he called this afternoon. Daddy was right about Boeing. Dan has another friend who works for Air Canada. He was going to take a bus up to Vancouver to see if there's any opportunities there."

"That will be good. It will give me the time to train your maid properly.

"Since it appears that your husband will be away for several weeks, at least, with your concurrence, I'd like all of his things put up in the attic, so that I can properly unpack and stop living out of my luggage, Katrinka."

"I've no objection, Mom. The maid will be able arrange her chores to accomplish that. Dan's staying with his friend there and I think he said, that it will be at least a five or six weeks for a work permit and other bureaucratic paperwork to clear. Do make use of Pamela to do whatever she can, to make yourself comfortable here, so you can best enjoy your vacation."

"Thank you. I'll set the maid to the task, once her morning chores are completed."

"I'm sure Pamela will be happy to perform anything you want, in return for you devoting your time to properly train her. Oh and I thank you for the uniforms. She looks very good in that black one, you've wonderful taste in clothes, Mom." My wife smiled at me then returned her attention to her mother.

"If no opportunity arises in her field, once you have her trained, perhaps you know of someone who could use the services of a maid, Mom?"

"Yes, Martha, only recently, told me that she was thinking of retiring to Florida and living with her son's family. Pamela is getting along with me well enough that I might consider giving her part time employment." I silently sighed. My situation was turning from bad to worse.

"That's very considerate of you, Mom. I'm sure Pamela will welcome the opportunity to serve you."

"I learned today that she wears a corset, Katrinka."

"Yes, I know. She has since before we first met," Katie acknowledged.

"I'm happy to hear that. It's a shame she hasn't devoted those years to seriously improving her figure though. She's lucky I'm here."

"Pamela?" my mother-in-law turned her head to me. "How much of a gap is in your laces now?"

"About two inches, ma'am." I hated knowing what I was about to be ordered to do. My corset already pinched five inches from my waist and, after wearing it all day it was very uncomfortable.

"How many corsets do you own?" she asked.

"Seven, ma'am."

"Are they all the same size?"

"No, ma'am. Five are two inches smaller then this one." Those had been Natasha's.

"Come close to me and turn around." When I had, I felt her fingers examine the laces and the gap between the edges, from top to bottom through my uniform. "Return to your place." I did.

"Properly, a corset should be laced with a uniform gap along the entire length. At the top yours is open more than three inches and a bit less at the bottom. A tight lacing program mustn't be rushed, but give the body the opportunity to adjust.

"In the morning, when you dress, I'll expect that the opening to be the same as your waist is now and allow two weeks for you to adjust, before we begin improving your figure." I remained silent. I hated this woman and everything she was inflicting on me.

"You should be thankful that Mother is here and for all she's doing for you, Pamela," my wife giggled. 'How could Katie do this to me, allow it to happen and encourage her mother with my torment?'

They changed the subject, to my wife's job as a financial planner, for the rest of their meal.

"You may clear," Mrs. Kaufmann said as she stood.

"Mom, I'm going to talk with Pamela, if you don't mind."

"No, not at all."

Finally, I was going to be alone with my wife.

"You heard, Mom, clear the table." Katie went to the kitchen. She was placing food on a plate.

"Leave the dishes, until after you eat your supper. Sit," she said. Setting the plate on the table, Katie went to sit on the other side.

"Before you start talking with me, I want to make it absolutely clear, that I'll tolerate no complaints about what my mother does with you and the training she is giving you. No petty bitchiness. Am I clear?" Katie was firm and not willing to listen to anything I had to say.

"Yes, that's clear, Katie, but you have no idea the torture she's inflicted all day and..." My wife interrupted me.

"Stop right there, Miss MacNeal. From now on, you will address me as 'Mistress' and refer to me the same way. Take note, you will not refer to me as 'my Mistress', just 'Mistress'. 'My' implies the possessive.

"As to this allegation of torture; it was you, who has preferences for high heels, short skirts and a small waist. You, who bought only skirts that would fit if you laced as tightly as you are now, otherwise you'd have acquired more comfortable attire.

"Eat your meal," she paused to say that and pointed at the plate.

"You had no job, now you do. You wanted to see if you could find work as a girl. Well, it seems the job has found you instead.

"You worried about not having job references. Mother is quite pleased with how you've accepted her training and her recommendation should go a long way in helping you secure a job. She is quite active in her community and I'll add mine, once the time comes," she said, "so you'll have your job references.

"I had the time today, to take a serious look at doing for us, what I do for others all day. I was quite pleasantly surprised to learn just how much that life insurance policy, your grandparent's took out when you were born, was worth. I cashed it in and placed the monies into more lucrative investments. I'm in the process of consolidating all of our debts and have initiated the refinancing of the mortgage.

"My boss has hinted that I'm in line for a good promotion and a substantial bonus this year. I'm confident that I will have enough income, that I'll not need yours from full time employment any longer," she went on.

"My husband is going to find a job in Canada and sometime later he's going to be transferred to Australia. I see no need and certainly have no desire to relocate there." I was absolutely shocked to hear what I was being told.

"You will be getting your name changed and I'll expect you to start that process before the end of the week. I've also gotten you an appointment with an endocrinologist, but that's two months away, so you'll have your new name by then. I checked …the wait for a court date is about two weeks." She pushed back to stand, but hesitated.

"I opened a new bank account in my name then transferred all the money in the joint one and while I was at that, I canceled all the old credit cards as part of the debt consolidation.

"When you finish, clean up here then put yourself to bed." Katie, now 'Mistress', left me alone.

I felt sick, but no tears of regret flowed until I entered my room; then the dam burst. I cried myself to sleep that night.

(continued)

  

  

  

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