Part 5: Party Time
…The following day Alice was returned to us with a glowing report and just a little worse for the wear, my hairdresser friend and her husband most appreciative of her efforts, and of course my own charity in lending her out for a good cause. That was her first time out of the house while dressed in her new female Alice persona, and it probably should have occurred to me what a big step this actually was for her, if of course my empathy for her wasn't so low. This was a friendly audience for her though, I told myself soothingly, and her chores familiar ones, although in a new and unfamiliar place. Get used to it sister! I thought cynically in my mind.
It felt quite lofty to do a good deed like this, but if one dwelled on the process just a bit too much it was really just the gift of another's time and services. Both were mine to do with as I pleased though, but the moral implications were many. My friend didn't specifically say so, but reading between the lines I knew I could dump Alice off there again; hard work for her to be sure, but a quasi baby sitting service for me when I temporarily wanted both the house, and Jim to myself.
Alice came home exhausted and quiet, which I initially assumed was due to her extended labors, so I thought that they had maybe worked the little bitch good and hard. But, stepping back from that moment a bit with the luxury of time on my side, I perhaps came to a second conclusion, maybe this was Alice's wake up call, telling her this was her new life, that this was "really" real for her now, and not any game…
The entire subject of "home" was one that would also need to be addressed at some point; sooner than later from my point of view. Home for her would have to eventually be someplace else, someplace that I didn't have to interact with her every day, and if the price for that freedom was taking care of the house chores myself once again, so be it. I already knew the proverbial uniform fit, and wearing it for Jim and serving him in it had been rather wonderful too; something easily repeatable.
Jim and I needed this freedom, it was good for him, good for me too, and even good for our growing relationship. We obviously weren't the traditional family unit, but if we could act just a bit more like one on a more regular basis, I think it would go a long way towards "normalizing" what we had going on together. This of course means that the neighbors will eventually have to go, and the only practical way to do that is for us to find some new ones in a new neighborhood, ones that accept Jim and I as the married couple, because we moved in looking like that. I like this house of mine just fine, but it's only a house to me. I'm just not that attached to it, not to mention the memories stored within these walls, memories of my former husband's lies, of a life that could have been. I look at a room and bitterly remember the specific lie told there, and I just need a fresh start away from all that; a new venue for this legitimately-married act of ours.
I tell Jim privately some of what I'm thinking while nuzzling up close to him; the price I'm willing to personally pay. This is so far away from what he had been accustomed to with the other woman in his life that I think I surprised him. Yes, our home together maybe needed a maid - or at least somebody to do those kinds of mindless daily chores on a regular basis - wherever that happened to be, but it didn't have to be "that" maid. That maid was better off serving elsewhere, but how to work out those specific details was Jim's problem. I would do my part, play my own role to perfection, and all he would have to do was play his.
I was learning here too, Jim had responsibilities to the both of us, although the specific details as they pertained to the newly named Alice were unknown to me, other than there was an actual mechanism in place for "Alice" to end this adventure. If she hadn't yet she likely never would though, or so went my assumptions, concluding - assumption wise - that the price for that was just too steep to pay. Orrrr, maybe Alice thought she was still paying a fair market price for her lies and treachery, repaying me in this uniquely emasculating way, hoping to one day settle her debt with me and move on. There was of course a tamper proof emasculating locked-on device with zero available keys at the moment, but that was still just another detail for Jim to sort out. I personally could care less if it never became unlocked, I was still that bitter!
Anyway, my own thoughts don't really go backwards towards Alice's thoughts and needs all that often, I'm more of the mindset of looking forward to Jim's, and my own happy future with him. I want that badly as I painfully realize the vacuum that I had been living in previously, that part actually has me seriously bitter towards Alice, but I'm trying to project some neutrality here. Really, for her own best interest, Alice is likely better off dealing with Jim, and any others we can lend her off to. It's painful to say, but straight up complete strangers will likely treat her with more compassion than I in the short term. I still have a soul, but it's dark where my former lying husband is concerned. One day it will likely be healed, time heals all wounds after all, but this wound is deep and it will likely take years and years, or some catastrophic life altering event, but I'm getting there…
…The days rush ahead and soon it's party time. I've taken the entire week off from work so that both Alice and I can learn the routine of Sheila's new home beforehand. I've never been there, and fumbling around to find where this and that is during this grand party won't go very far in perpetuating the deception that Alice and I are Sheila's hired help. I also assume that if the place is large, and Sheila hasn't had any help in cleaning it; it will need some attention before the guests arrive anyway. I'm not implying that Sheila is untidy, just that she's a busy woman with a lot on her plate, her ailing aunt included, and perhaps even little propensity towards manual labor. That last part is perhaps some projection on my part, as in my mind I place Sheila on a pedestal, as if she's not only better than me, but much better, much more worthy of being served than I am.
I'm also of the mindset to just have some fun with this, "dress up and pretend" like we did once as children, maybe even let Sheila have her fun too, and above all else maintain the illusion that Jim and she are still a couple, for her ailing aunt's sake. That will be the hardest part for me to be honest, cleaning and serving are just familiar chores, and aren't exactly beneath my station in life. I actually like serving others, but with both a flesh flaunting uniform and a nametag wasn't quite where I thought I'd end up after paying for a secondary education. Everybody has to do something though, and I even worked with a nametag and uniform both back when I was in high school, and beyond, so perhaps this enforced humility will do me some good, remind me of how I got here myself, the path one takes to success and all of that…
I also fear that I won't know how to act in Sheila's presence, or she mine, seeing how we've been intimate with each other, or more accurately that I've already "served" her in that capacity, while getting a playful bound beatdown at the same time. That part was more sexy and hot rather than straight up painful, but the being "helplessly naked and at her mercy" part surely did play its own role there as well; it really, really pushed my buttons. And that part inadvertently led to Jim binding me to that same bed a few days later and taking me so far over the edge of the proverbial cliff that I straight up passed out, and that had been simply magnificent. For that alone, not to mention the gift of that unusual custom bed, I was deeply, deeply in Sheila's debt. And that doesn't take into account the unintentional gift of her former husband, my former neighbor…
Jim has special instructions for both maids, and he gives them to us together the morning of departure as we stand in front of him, side by side, both Alice, and I. I'm working on just trusting him and not asking too many questions, but based on my history with Alice in her previous husbandly male persona this doesn't come easily to me. Anyway, the optics and nuances couldn't be clearer, I'm one of two for the purposes of this next adventure we're to have together; no more, no less. To wear this uniform and serve Jim alone like this for a few hours is one thing; a full week in a strange new location with a bunch of people to witness my servitude is quite another though. To drive this point home and reinforce the notion that both maids are less than those that they serve, we're both to address everybody we come in contact with as sir or ma'am, and travel in uniform to our destination, name tag included.
I'm not even really the "hired" help though, as I'll be doing this for free, or maybe room and board like Alice works for in her present status. In her case she provides more services that she consumes in food, clothing, and cosmetics, so she's a proverbial bargain, for whoever ends up owning her ass in the future; just so long as it isn't me. She eats almost nothing these days, but Jim has had her on a personal tracker fitness system that tracks her steps, weight, and calorie burn, and he's gotten her down to maid's lithe uniform weight with time to spare using them. Alice doesn't necessarily have a womanly shape at this sparse weight, but she presents well enough while dressed in her short A line uniform dress. Natural women come in all sorts of shapes and sizes too, and many aren't blessed with the traditional hourglass silhouette either, so this shape of Alice's in combination with the A line dress still works for her.
We're each to wear one uniform, and pack the others, along with underthings and any cosmetics we'll need for the entire week as well. In my case I'm to pack some ordinary clothes, one change only, and I'm to discreetly pack the tracker electronic scale as well, and all the cosmetics and any other clothing from Alice's room that I want her to have in her new life away from me. In real terms, while she waits in Jim's huge SUV and maybe has a private talk with him about the future, I'm to quickly move her out of her old room, as in permanently. This is easier than it might seem as ever since she was compelled to discard her entire ill-fitting former masculine attire - and attached quasi-masculine persona - she has been living a servant's minimalist female lifestyle in my home.
This message is also clear to me, I'm to behave myself for Sheila and her ailing aunt, and then I'll get the reward that I soooo desire. Alice maybe doesn't know it yet, but she's almost certainly staying with Sheila at the end of this party, or maybe even going home with her aunt for all I know, but she's not coming "home" again, at least in the short term. Never is obviously a very long time, and anyone's heart can change over time, but in my mind's eye I see Jim and I alone someplace, someplace new and happy.
"No glasses, and no contacts either" Jim orders when he sees Alice's gender spoiling "man's" glasses on her otherwise pretty made-up face. She doesn't ordinarily wear them around the house doing her chores, doesn't really need them for close up work either; only driving and reading distant road signs. She's gotten good with the makeup lately too, throwing herself more fully into this costume of femininity around the house with her fresh new hair style, or was it her overnight with our hairdresser that inspired her? I wonder. A big part of me doesn't even know if I like that to be honest, she's pretending to be feminine, as if that's somehow something lesser than the pathetic creature that she was in her previous male identity, but her locked up and emaciated guy parts have to play a part here too, altering her psyche perhaps.
Do guys completely lose their manhood when they lose the ability to physically touch and stimulate their guy parts? I wonder.
Perhaps though this "costume" of submission helps her to more fully submit to others, and if that's the case, and if I don't have to watch it personally, why do I really care, in the grand scheme of things? If I've read things correctly, in a week or so she'll be somebody else's problem, and Jim and I will be alone together to live the rest of our lives in peace; and I'm off the wall giddy at the prospect.
I will more fully gift myself to Jim when it's just he and I, and Alice will likely be gifted to somebody else too, a win-win from almost every point of view…
I'm sitting in front with Jim, he's driving the massive vehicle, and bitching about it the whole time. He hates this thing, hates it's size, hates it's color, hates all the fuel it burns, he even hates the top heavy way it slogs through the turns; "like driving a bus" he complains. The only good thing one can say about it is the big seats are comfortable, and the rear windows are heavily tinted, so that two people could get up to all kinds of mischief back there, as we've done to a lesser extent ourselves, all while our former chauffeur-turned-maid drove. It could also seat six with plenty of room in the back for luggage, and we have some of that back there ourselves, both known, and a surprise to the solo rear seat passenger.
She doesn't own all that much these days, so all her worldly possessions can easily fit into a single suitcase and dress bag; it's a simple austere life of service to others that she now has, one I could almost envy, except for the solitary celibacy/chastity part. She is now officially orgasm free - as far as I know - allowing her to focus more fully on other things, like service to others. Loving pet owners do this to their pets all the time, so they don't accidentally breed; not that that's actually possible here, for a host of reasons. There's no malice in this at all, it's for the good of the pet, and the pet's family even; as in who wants your pet dog humping up on the leg of your guests anyway? Chastity equals a sharp focus and few distractions, who wouldn't want that out of a servant, or even a cherished pet?
In Alice's particular case though this is only making inaccessible - less noticeable - something that apparently doesn't work properly anyway; almost like parking a junk car that doesn't run in the back field in a more rural community. It no longer runs, or maybe never properly did in the first place, so park it and find a new and better one. The old broken one will even be left on quasi-display like that for the neighbors as it rots away and deteriorates, as in "don't buy one of those yourself, they're junk."
The analogy sticks in my head and the imagery makes me smile, junk cars with the "good" parts - like tires - repurposed someplace else, for something else, and what's left maybe eventually filled with trash and debris until it ends up looking like a dumpster with windows. One woman's trash is another's treasure, I think silently. Let Alice be another's treasure though, I want to be rid of her.
To get into the proper mindset I've been sir-ing Jim to death the whole way - I don't think he really minds this - and the maid in back, Alice, hasn't said too much at all, other than to ask for a bathroom break. She and I had to go to the ladies room at the off expressway gas station/convenience store we had stopped at together; talk about an odd experience though, and likely not just for me either. Was this the first time she had ever been in a female only type of place like this? I wonder. She's obviously new to this, and maybe new to the attention of the traveling men that notice us there as well. I'm getting more of it to be honest, but my legs and the shape hugging nature of this uniform that Sheila specifically approved of pretty much guarantees this. It's not straight up slutty, nor a Halloween costume either, but you can easily see what's underneath it's form fitting shape by design. Earlier Jim was even peeking at me in profile on and off as he drove, which was very good for my ego, and it helped put me at ease with all this; Sheila herself a desirable woman with many fine attributes…
There's also something a little deeper going on here too, I'm dressed like a servant; of the proverbial servant class. And even though my mind doesn't work like this - as I don't see myself as anything more than those that bring me food in any restaurant, or those that cook it, or even those that collect our trash every week - I know that some people don't see things like this. A uniform and a name tag denote a lower social status for some, and a sexy uniform that hints at a woman's natural assets punctuates this, reduces her to her noteworthy womanly parts only, as if that's all we are. I'm therefore nothing more than submissive and useful eye candy for a certain kind of man dressed like this - or even a woman too - useful for maybe a single physical purpose or two; and so too now is Alice. I let that thought percolate in my mind; if Alice looks desirable to some of these lonely traveling men, what form would that desire ultimately take? Would they be hot for her, would she be just as submissively hot to do something for them in return; serve them in this manner as well? Could she even bridge that gap, had she even thought about this herself, looking as she must know she does?
…Anyway, she's staying uncomfortably close to me as we navigate towards the restrooms, but perhaps the manly attention she's drawing in this environment is making her feel uncomfortable; welcome to the club sister, I think to myself. She's looking around wide eyed like she doesn't belong here, or maybe like she just landed on the moon, but fortunately the other ladies are more interested in getting in and out of this quasi-clean restroom, and then back on their way again out on the highway. Some of this I can easily attribute to her missing corrective eyewear, but the rest reminds me how fragile and out of her element she is in all this, how new this is for her. I've had almost my whole life to grow into this womanhood thing, get used to hungry adult man-stares even as a teen, ones that were sometimes either creepy, or flattering; where Alice has taken the proverbial Cliff-notes crash course. She has this female persona at home twenty four seven now, and she's even getting pretty good at it, the walk, the soft voice and all. It's almost to the point that I have to remind myself what's under all that pretty wrapping paper. I don't necessarily have a flood of empathy overwhelm me here or anything, but this is a chip in the armor that I've surrounded myself with in regards to her self-inflicted "situation" in life, maybe even the first chip.
Was Jim waiting for this reaction from me, for the empathy that surely must be in there someplace for a man that I at one time shared so much with? Was he disappointed that it didn't happen sooner, or just taking notes and reminding himself never to lie to me like Alice did? What of my lies though?
She's an imperfect human being after all, just like I am. I may have different imperfections, the lying especially infuriating to me, but what about my own lies of omission with Jim in regards to my intimate time with Sheila? Judge others how you wish to be judged, I thought to myself; I remember learning that someplace once.
Anyway, an evil and playful thought briefly invades my mind, origin unknown; what if I just slipped out of here while she was in the stall and Jim and I took off on her? I obviously wouldn't do so for a host of reasons, but the look on her well made face when she realized that we had abandoned her at an expressway gas station in the middle of nowhere would have been priceless. It's almost like I have a good angel on one shoulder whispering good things into one ear, and an evil devil whispering into the other. If I understand how things are to go we'll be leaving her at Sheila's at the end of this party, but it's not like Jim has expressly promised this or anything, everything is kind of fluid and implied. What if Jim, spending all that time in Sheila's womanly company, then learns that she and I have a secret, one that I didn't share with him even though I had the clear opportunity more than once? I wondered. Would Jim abandon me as well, dump me off at Sheila's like a second broken and unfixable car? Did I actually deserve this?
…Alice and I eventually find Jim and the giant refueled SUV way out back, forcing us to walk across the entire parking lot and extending the show both of us are putting on for whoever cares to notice. I feel several men looking so I ham up my strut just a bit - Alice as well as she's in step with me - but I also see Jim watching from inside the SUV, but he's on his phone. We both get in as quietly as possible so as not to disturb his call. I assume it's a business thing, right up until I hear the tone he's using.
"…We'll be there in half an hour, forty five minutes at the most," I hear him say, his tone soft, placating, and sweet. I don't know that I've ever heard him speak to Sheila on the phone before, and while he maybe didn't say "I love you" while ending the call, his tone and sweetness almost said this for him.
I feel an instant pang of jealousy and try to hide it, darkly wondering if all this isn't some elaborate plan of Sheila's to recapture Jim, all while showcasing all that she is, and Alice and I aren't. It only lasts a few seconds, but I can't help to notice the different tone reserved for myself and Alice either.
"Please be incredibly accommodating to Sheila," Jim tells both of us as he starts to drive, "she's really losing her mind over this party thing with her aunt" he finishes.
Suddenly everything is okay again, Jim is just being thoughtful and compassionate with his former wife, likely somebody he still loves in some form or another, just not somebody he can live with any longer.
…Sheila's new home makes my own look like a vacation beach shack in comparison. I won't call it a mansion, but maybe a McMansion is somewhat accurate, as in a mini-mansion. There isn't really anything in the way either of them lived as husband and wife that hinted at this kind of material wealth, or to be honest gaudy, look-at-me taste. I know Sheila is related to wealth, but I doubt that her aunt bought her this massive home as a gift. My husband and I spent pretty much what we made to live in our particular neighborhood back in our happier times - even on the less affluent side of the street - one could even say that we had overspent and were ever so slightly "house poor," anticipating future wealth so we could grow into our home, with both children and wealth that never came. Ahhhh, life can be so cruel at times…
"You like it?" Jim asks when he sees my wide eyes taking it all in. Alice is as well mute in the backseat, but I don't know if she can see all this in her uncorrected vision as we slowly roll up the long winding driveway.
"No sir, I don't think that I do. It looks nice and all," I offer diplomatically, "and I'm truly happy for Sheila if that's what she wants, but just keeping up with a place like this could be a full time job all by itself. But, I guess that's why the hired help is here, isn't it?" I offer, trying to diffuse my implied envy with some humor. Why hunger for what's beyond your reach; five thousand plus square feet with no children to fill it with? I wonder, ignoring the obvious hypocrisy for myself. It's one thing to dream big, quite another to order steak on a hamburger budget, and then struggle to pay the bill.
"Good point. So, no envy, nothing like that at all?" Jim asks. He's a walking contradiction, sometimes he's just tone deaf with me, and others he's frighteningly perceptive. I sometimes wonder if I could keep a secret from him, but then I remind myself that "maybe" I already have…
"The only way I could see myself living in a place like this is perhaps in the servant's quarters, serving the rightful master of a place like this."
"And you're even both properly dressed for that too. Better be careful though, good help is hard to come by these days, and if you 'girls' do too good of a job here for Sheila, she might just decide to keep the both of you, after the party…"
Jim's words were brilliant. He's introduced the concept of at least one of us staying behind after the party to "clean up," and I only have so much vacation time, where Alice has the rest of her life, or until she offers up her safe-word phrase to Jim. If she hasn't done so yet though, I doubt she ever will, and the Alice persona is truly more fitting for her anyway, at least with her emaciated shrinking guy parts all locked up.
Of course implied in there someplace is the possibility that I as well will be left behind for Sheila's eventual use, and while I still prefer men, being Sheila's bound personal serving wench does have its allure.
Sheila greets "Jimmy" warmly in the circular driveway with a big friendly hug and a kiss. The vibe is "Jimmy's here and everything will be okay now," odd for such an accomplished and put together woman though. I feel a second pang of jealousy, and then a third when I take in Sheila's appearance a little more closely. It's apparent that she's dressed specifically for this, her clothes fit her well and her makeup is even done, and both look good on her. I know that body of hers intimately, and obviously so does Jim, and if I can tell that she's been looking after herself - post marriage - I'm sure that he can too. It's not quite a revenge bod though as she's always looked good, but physically she has a lot to offer that I just don't. She's even wearing a stunning red dress, the proverbial power color, but she's a good looking woman no matter how she's dressed, and I know that I'm simply no competition for her, or so those old fears of mine remind me. This overlarge home of her's also reminds me of my more humble roots, as does my uniform of servitude and simple name tag, not to mention this charade that I've agreed to play along with.
I'm temporarily giving up Jim for a good cause, but such things are much easier to ponder philosophically, rather than in the here and now, on location, at the scene of the proverbial crime so to speak. This is also intended to remove Alice from my home on a perhaps permanent basis, so I also have to keep my eye on my own "brass-ring" prize.
Alice follows my lead and we both get out of the truck-like vehicle, but in Alice's case her awkward exit from up high has her flashing whoever might be watching her stocking tops and panties; again, much to learn for this "new" woman, as in "keep your knees together when you exit, and don't take huge strides." She's got nice enough legs with the weight loss and stockings, thin though, but some guys like thin on a woman. Thin goes with her small padded-bra physique though - the cheap vacuum device to expand her boobs was pretty much a waste of money - but overall the package she presents is more feminine than one might expect, although not specifically "shapely."
The walk and her voice are not at all terrible, but she'll definitely get plenty of practice while she stays in character, for the foreseeable future at least, all to make this work and not embarrass herself. I've since read that this is called "total immersion," as in embrace this new life and experience, because your old life no longer exists. Her attainable goal, in my biased eyes at least, should be full on female impersonation, not my emasculated former husband dressed in drag, pretending to be a woman. Nobody should ever have to know about that little inert glass encased thing between her thin legs; that utterly useless thing that resides - bumplessly - beneath her panties and uniform dress due to it's scant size. She can do this if she tries, she does back at home all the time, but this audience is obviously different, more critical. Jim has already given the first hint that one of us at least won't be going back "home" with him, and seeing how it's also my home, and Alice doesn't have any legal say in anything, I kind of think I know who'll be going where, but…
Jim is the master of my destiny too, and if he were seriously displeased with me and hiding it well, he just might dump me off here with Sheila for a period of time so that I could serve her until I got that worked out of my system; learned my lesson. Maybe I had failed my own honesty test with Jim, and this was to be my punishment, instead of Alice's? Imagine the irony, agreeing to this humbling adventure so as to get rid of Alice, and she instead gets rid of me! What agreement do Alice and Jim actually have? What could possibly allow a husband, even a very guilty one, to allow his wife to date and then be seduced by a wealthy and desirable older neighbor, all as that husband facilitated the affair, to include even playing chauffeur for the loving couple on their illicit dates?
Anyway, Alice and I both walk around the high vehicle to properly greet Sheila, the lady of the house, the queen bee, and when she makes eye contact with me first she smiles approvingly. I've maybe reminded her that she's no longer married to "Jimmy" just by being here, but her warm smile doesn't exactly say that to me. She's put me at ease with that one little gesture, my participation in this little charade is welcome and appreciated, and while she may still have some fun with all this - who wouldn't, under the circumstances? - it's clear that I've done this "for" her and her aunt; and she hasn't done this "to" me. I've already even physically submitted to her just by walking towards her, as a proper servant should greet her master, or perhaps mistress. Alice follows, so from a body language point of view Alice as well has also submitted to this new queen of this distant new hive. That likely means that Alice will follow my lead here, and that also means that while I have a temporarily lower station in life here, Alice apparently has an even lower one than that, beneath even my own very humbling servitude. Will it continue like this? I should have asked myself.
"Jackie, that uniform fits you well," she praises, but is she complimenting my own womanly physique and appearance, or just telling me that being dressed like a humble maid, her humble maid and servant, is more "fitting" for me as well? She's an intelligent educated woman of some means, and saying two things with one sentence likely comes easily to her. I thank her for the compliment in any event, to do any less would be rude.
"Alice, is it?" she then addressed my coworker, after taking in her nametag, making Alice look up from the driveway at which she's been staring. "I couldn't possibly imagine you in anything else" Sheila again compliments; but this time her secondary meaning is quite clear. I couldn't either to be honest, so on this at least we're in total agreement. She knows who, or should I say, "what" Alice really is, but no matter that, I'm sure her service will also be appreciated, it's the duration of that service that's up in the air…
"I appreciate what both of you 'girls' are doing for me, for my aunt, so thank you both for that. You're each from the temp agency, there are contracts in each of your rooms, so sign them in front of James to make it look official, and know who you're working for in case anybody grills you on the details. Alice dear, you have the pink room with the canopy bed at the back of the top stairs, the princess room I like to call it. Jackie, you have somewhat more modest accommodations off the butler's pantry, the smaller of the two rooms there. It's really not much more than a bed and a closet, but you'll be quite busy so you won't really notice."
"James is my aunt's head of household by the way, and he's agreed to come here a bit early to help us out, but he knows nothing of our deception, so you're the contracted extra labor for this event as far as he's concerned, so please behave like it. On that note, James is very old school and can be a rather severe taskmaster, so for the next week… or so, your asses belong to James, once he actually gets here, which should be shortly."
"Any questions girls?"
"Excuse me ma'am, but what exactly does it mean that James is a 'severe taskmaster?'" I ask. I see Jim smile out of the corner of my eye when I ask that; he knows something I don't, I just feel it. It's not evil though, just a playful little thing that he knows, and I'm about to find out. Implied in there someplace too is that Jim is okay with whatever is about to happen, or potentially could happen.
"Well, let's put it this way, when I was younger I saw James discipline one of my aunt's younger maids with a strap on her bare ass for something. I don't remember the something that led to the punishment, but I remember seeing and hearing it through the half open door I was peeking through; that specific memory is burned into my mind. That girl was just a few years older than myself at that point too; any other questions dear?"
"No ma'am," both Alice and I answered in harmonic unison. I didn't really know what to expect from all this now, but for Alice it was even more vague as to what was happening here. This was different to be sure, I, an educated woman, was about to play maid for my manfriend's former wife, who also happens to be my former neighbor. To make things even more outlandish, I had volunteered for this treatment, after having Sheila strap me to Jim's bed and whip me playfully. She also had me do a few other things as well, things that I wanted to keep secret from Jim, because I feared he wouldn't approve. So while I had maybe been manipulated into "volunteering" to serve Sheila in humility like this, I'm kind of oddly looking forward to it. I can't exactly pin down why just yet, but maybe it has something to do with my own growing guilt, and my deep desire to be forced to do things that I want to do anyway.
Anyway, Alice, our new maid, didn't volunteer at all, she's been training for this for months anyway, although she maybe doesn't realize this yet. She has a secret safe word phrase known only to her and Jim, the man who bought out her share of her debts for almost nothing, pocket change for him. She hasn't used it yet though, and at this point I doubt she ever will as she really has no other life to return to. That part as well might sound needlessly cruel, but she had planted those seeds herself, and the proverbial crops are now ready for harvest.
Alice and I may have something in common here, other than our matching maid's uniforms and a trouble with outright candor, as other than Jim and Sheila, nobody else apparently knows us for who we truly are. For me I think it's part of the excitement of all this, an almost sexual excitement, because a part of me is surely looking forward to getting directed and bossed around a bit, maybe if for nothing else than to ease my conscience as to the cold way I've treated Alice. I'm not looking forward to Sheila and Jim pretending to be married again though, acting all lovey-dovey with each other, but I also know this is for a good cause, again some much needed tonic for my troubled soul.
I'm also demonstrating something else here; I'm not too good to do what I expect Alice to do. Jim, Sheila, and even I have a vested interest in treating Alice like any other maid, not badly, but as if her feminization and occupation are both genuine, and not just an elaborate act. Outing her won't do a thing for any of us, and a part of me thinks that Alice is slightly frightened at what kinds of punishments Jim could think up if he ever became seriously displeased with either of "his" girls. I'm not frightened of him myself, but I really don't want to disappoint him either…
We both excuse ourselves from our new mistress' presence to lug our luggage and find our rooms, Alice's second bag with all her worldly possessions to remain in the back of the SUV for the short term, as is Jim's. We split up at the grand staircase, Alice going up, and I going on to the back of the house, perhaps a hidden message in that? I wonder. I find the kitchen easily with my nose, it's a grand affair fitting a large home, and there is a chef and an assistant already there. While staying in character I introduce myself - using my maiden name - and get directions to the butler's pantry and my little hopefully temporary room; so far so good on my first act of deception. My uniform and I got a long look from both, but men will be men. As to the room itself, Sheila wasn't kidding when she said that it was small, it really was no more than a walk-in closet, and just big enough for a single bed, while still being able to swing the entry door. The bed is unmade, but the linens are easily found.
There was a tiny half-dresser inside the tiny closet, and I put my few things away and hung my second uniform, then I found the fictitious contract from the agency, ironically enough named Visiting Maids. The document looked quite official, but the name told me that this was Jim's side hustle business concept, or at least the name was. I was to print, sign and date the contract in James' presence, and then he was to sign and notarize it himself; quite a bit of effort for something that was more for show than reality. I did read the short contract first obviously, it was essentially room, board and "training" for an unannounced salary in exchange for duties to be announced, at a location to also be announced. There was a clause for immediate dismissal and removal from the premises "for cause," as was there a corporal punishment clause as well for misbehavior. I found both playful and titillating to be honest, even with Sheila's warning that James could be heavy handed. I of course then wondered if Alice's contract looked exactly like mine.
"Will work for food" was a dark concept associated with hard times and few other options, but here I had just signed a fictitious contract that promised little more than that. If Jim owned the Visiting Maids trademark and business name, had I just in effect legally sold myself to him with my signature, like for real? What if I really had? I wondered. What if Sheila owned it as well though, what if this was just another joint venture between these two powerful people? Why have us sign those contracts anyway? I then asked in my mind. Love and trust I told myself, If either of them meant any harm they could find far more entertaining ways to do so than this, and I did have some festering guilt that I still had to deal with at some point…
…I felt his powerful presence before I turned and made eye contact with him, this James fellow apparently looking in my open door and just studying me silently from behind like a stalking cat. He was maybe sixty years old with gray hair, but well groomed and dressed in a black jacket and slacks, and also fit, like the kind of man that might be advertising investments on the commercials for those Sunday morning money shows. The kind of man that other men would just love to emulate, if they only could. He was handsome in his age too, like the timeless chiseled perfection of a Greek sculpture, and I only hoped my eyes didn't give me away with the extra second I had spent taking it all in. I can't say that I was romantically interested, at least with Jim already in my life, but one can appreciate the masculine form without necessarily wanting to sleep with it.
Powerful men I reasoned, or more accurately power people, they just did something for/to me, but in this particular instance I knew I had to resist…
I hadn't heard him approach, nor had he rudely broken the plane of my open tiny bedroom door and blocked my egress, so he hadn't actually invaded what I considered my temporary personal space; so really no harm, no foul. It was odd though, but he was perhaps studying this lesser creature before him; what was supposed to be this temp agency girl that may or may not know anything about the duties he's ultimately to be responsible for. I'm not a professional either, but could this handsome man somehow already know this?
…What had Sheila and or Jim already told this James fellow about myself, or even Alice? Was it "these are the two best girls that V.M. had," or was it, "this is what was left to select from?"
"Hello there, I'm James" he calls softly; it's a deep manly voice that he has muted so that he didn't startle me, but I can tell that there is a practiced power in that voice too. Big dogs bark the loudest I remind myself, sometimes right before they bite.
"Hello, I'm Jackie," I greet in return, walking the few steps towards him and shaking his hand while maintaining eye contact like a businesswoman might. I came to him though, which shows perhaps some level of submission - or perhaps only his reluctance to enter my temporary room uninvited - but I then shook his hand like an equal, confusing body language to be sure under the circumstances. My inclination was to maybe bow my head and mumble something instead, but at the office that just won't fly, and here I somehow reverted to my more professional office persona, perhaps because he had surprised me and this was a more familiar mask for me to wear.
"A pleasure to meet you Jackie. You have nice hands by the way, what do you ordinarily do for a living, when not doing this?" he asks seamlessly. I can tell that my handshake has perhaps taken him aback slightly, but it's hardly perceptible. The man is like a witch, or perhaps a professional gambler; in other words, perceptive as hell. I can either level with him straight away, or attempt to lie to his face; which I am almost certain will be unsuccessful. I don't do all that much housework any longer, so my manicures last, and not doing some work on those nice nails of mine to tone them down a bit beforehand was a huge mistake. My hands are soft as well, not exactly suited to the hard daily work that real maids and serving staff do all the time. I half think about tearing up that contract and getting myself out of there before I ruin everything, but I gave my word on this good cause, and that means something to me, not to mention the grand prize of being rid of Alice.
"I'm a middle manager in an office building with a lot of vacation time to burn, it can be a little boring though, so I thought this might be a challenge, something different." I've not only answered his first question honestly, but the second one he hadn't even asked yet. Such implied candor, or so I had once read in Psychology Today.
"Married?"
"That part gets a bit complicated," I tell him, again another truth, but he no doubt already noticed my ringless hands; and if I were married, what was my husband off doing while I was here playing maid? That part obviously gets very, very complicated…
"No worries Jackie, I'm not looking for a date or anything. I just like to assess the goals of those I work with, so that maybe I can help them get what they're looking for." This whole time James is looking into my eyes, and I his, but his words remind me that there are others in this equation. I feel deficient and selfish in his presence, here this man has made a life out of serving others, all while being the proverbial top dog of the house, this in itself a very good trick. How honest to be with this man that I just met though? James maintains eye contact, clearly waiting for something from me next…
"Lets say, hypothetically, that I had a housekeeper once, and that I treated that person very badly; some of it maybe even earned though? Let's also say that I carry some lingering guilt over that, and maybe I want to be put in my place here for the week, used and humbled. I could maybe burn off a week's vacation here working for the temp agency, and maybe atone for my past sins all at the same time, a win-win so to speak."
"I shall have to ponder that a bit, to be honest. What of your coworker upstairs?"
"I would not presume to speak for her sir."
"Very well Jackie, did you read that contract; all of it?"
"I did sir."
"Good, sign and hand it to me and let me do my part. Then make your bed to perfection, tight corners like a military bed, I will be down to inspect your work and let you know what I can do for you going forward. Make sure you're standing at attention next to your bed when I return."
"Yes sir."
I signed with my maiden name - the one still on my office door and perfectly legal - and then watched James stamp the document officially, he apparently a notary as well. Yes I read and signed that contract, but that official stamp and the way James was treating all this had me feeling just a bit "committed" here, more so than this fleshy uniform and name tag, and of course the fact that I hadn't driven myself here. My own car wasn't in this driveway, and if I gave James a good reason to confiscate my phone, specifically written in the contract, I wouldn't even be able to call for a ride back home… hours away.
I googled "military bed" so that I had the right concept; not wanting to ask such an obvious housekeeper type question and reveal my ignorance on this most basic chore. I had no coin on me to bounce and test the wool blanket's tension, but I suspected it would pass all the same.
Done and standing at attention - also googled - I heard familiar male footsteps approaching, but instead of James I eventually saw a smiling Jim peek in on me; he was also careful not to break the plane of my temporary doorway, which I again found curious.
"'Parade-rest' Jackie, you'll pass out if you stand like that for too long," Jim tells me with a chuckle.
"Yes sir."
"How are you getting on with old James?"
So far so good sir, what is 'parade-rest' by the way?"
"Feet shoulder's width apart, look straight ahead, right wrist in your left hand behind your back… kind of like you're handcuffed," he adds, with a chuckle. I don't need the imagery of that further submission in James' rather sexy presence, but thanks to Jim, there it is. I feel my breasts push at the fabric of my snug uniform dress like this, it's a very chesty, flattering pose.
"I have to go now, we won't be able to talk too much more now that James is actually here, lest he comes to the conclusion that I have something going on-the-side with the hot looking hired help."
"Thank you sir. By the way, was that contract real?" I ask. My mind then drifts towards the feeling I had when I first put on that uniform, and then even more so when Jim gave me my nametag. I felt a little like his overwhelmed newest junior employee, just trying not to mess up in front of the big boss on my first day. Jim and I had started out a bit more equal, or perhaps with me giving something to him; the gift of my time and attention. In other words we started out on more of an equal footing, but we then kind of drifted into this thing that we have going on now.
I feel a little of that same thing with old James too, oddly enough, although on an accelerated timescale and mostly without the sexual component, but then again there is that handcuff imagery. James is a handsome enough older man with or without handcuffs, and there is certainly a power to his presence in any room, but I'm not necessarily here to whore myself out either, just to play maid for a bit, for Sheila, because I think that deep down she might have gotten the short end of the stick here.
"As real as it needs to be," is my cryptic short answer, but then Jim departs with a smile and a friendly wave; like waving to a visiting relative who's in their car in your driveway and just leaving, and the time you're to see them again is not set.
"…Your coworker is quite interesting to me," James tells me while standing at my door once again. He's waiting for me to say something, again, the man is like a detective, very intimidating, especially if you're hiding an unspoken truth. James didn't say he or she either, he specifically avoided that, I'll assume intentionally.
A thousand things go through my mind, but not taking the time to communicate a little better with the recently named Alice is front and center. We could have worked out our stories for how we both came to work for Visiting Maids, if we knew each other and had worked together before, even if I realized Alice's unique status, all of it. But, just like in our failed marriage, that didn't happen, and it would be disingenuous to place all the blame exclusively on her for that. This new thought gnaws at my conscience, this perhaps the second chink in the armor that I've surrounded myself with…
"We didn't get a chance to talk much in the truck on the ride up here, I sat in the front with Jim… well, Mister Jimmy I suppose; and Alice sat in back," I explained. It was a further truth, and I hoped it obfuscated the other truth that I was trying to keep hidden.
"So, am I to presume that you two 'ladies' don't get along?" James askes logically.
"Perhaps it's a personality clash sir?" I offer, telling him yes - and an additional truth - without really saying so. He seems like a man that prefers direct answers to his direct questions though, most especially from his underlings, but here I've again taken the vague approach, subject to interpretation and all that. When we first met it was "work with" me, but now this feels more like an established superior/subordinate relationship. It's just a feeling at this point, something James is perhaps projecting; or am I doing that myself, putting the people I find powerful into a certain box in my mind?
"Odd though, as you two 'ladies' seem to have so much in common," James just left his observation hanging in the air like that.
I know James wants me to say something further, but I dare not for fear of ruining this thing not only for myself, but for Sheila and her aunt as well. It wasn't all about me, but I had to remind myself of this, especially coming off being the sole focus of Jim's wonderful manly attention lately.
…After a long few seconds looking into each other's eyes James apparently comes to some kind of conclusion: "as to perhaps treating you as my least favorite temp employee here for the next few days… or so; I can easily do that for you as well, if that is still your desire."
James has just told me so much with just a few words, but I can't truly tell if he respects me, or loathes me for my desires; and of course for the true reasons for them.
"Thank you sir, I am in your debt."
"Yes, I suppose you are… Do not take your cell phone out of this room, have it anywhere but here and I WILL confiscate it, also have it on silent too, even in your room, so it's not an unnecessary distraction if you're nearby. Also knock those pretty nails of yours down some, you'll just break one anyway, and not only can that be painful, but it will impact your service here as well. Any questions Jackie?"
"None sir, other than what shall I do after I finish that?"
"Come and find me. I have two other ladies here with me that I've worked with for a very long time. I trust them and may turn you over to them to see what you can do."
Was I so repugnant to James that he had just chosen not to work with me personally, turning me over to his underlings instead?
…Doing as I was told I find James in the open great room and he asks me directly if I have my phone on me. I don't and tell him so, half expecting he might want to frisk me to be sure, just like an authoritative cop; it's now that kind of quasi-hostile vibe between us. I think to raise my arms and spin in place to demonstrate that there are few good hiding places with the way this Sheila-chosen uniform fits my particular body, but I fight the urge because there is no mirth here with him; my sexuality is of zero interest to him now. Be careful what you ask for, I think with little mirth of my own. Truthfully though, my rather mildly provocative uniform has little hiding places for either excess weight, nor a full sized cell phone. Satisfied with my answer he hands me a pager with an alpha numeric display on top, I not knowing that they even made these things anymore; this is just so 1990's to me. He then explains his code system for the messages, K1 means go to the main kitchen when you're free, K1 stat means go right now, B1 means go to the master bedroom, B1 recovery means prep the room for use, or reuse I suppose, things like that.
This is information flow in one direction only, but suited to how James operates, and if he or the others had more complex directions, I'm sure he could tell me so in person once I came into the room I was electronically summoned to. No smartphone, no distractions, no legitimate reason to be looking at it ever while working, or even when out of one's room. It's very old-school authoritative, but then again James is old-school too, and he's likely more used to working with people who already know what to do, and only need some guidance on scheduling to avoid conflicts. I could have been a near equal in his employ, maybe his second in command, but I had instead chosen this…
Vacuuming, dusting, windows and mirrors, nothing that I haven't done before - although not recently - and nothing this grand home needs urgently either. James has also brought two other women with him to guarantee success here, and English is their second language. We greet each other in passing as I start my work, but I also hear the "ladies" speaking something rapidly between themselves that I just can't follow; except for the single word "puta," which I actually know. Their looking at me and rapidly talking - and then smiling - kind of tells me that they're maybe amused by my presence, or even my sexed-up version of their uniform dress. It's still technically a uniform, but it doesn't fit like theirs; these after all aren't "small" ladies, but big and strong enough to be slightly intimidating, especially as a pair. I wish I knew what else they were saying to each other, but then James sneaks up on them and I expect that he'll chastise them and put them straight. He doesn't, and instead chuckles at something that the ladies have said quietly between themselves, telling me that he has a firm command of their primary language; which is both logical, and practical. James says something just as fluently and rapidly, and all three laugh together.
"You don't speak any Spanish; do you?" James asks me privately, after walking over to me and letting the smiling ladies get back to their chores. He's friendly with them, it feels like one big family, and here I could have maybe had that feeling too, instead of what I had opted for here. What of Alice in my own home? I wonder. Was her treatment nearly as cold as my own, in what should have been her home too?
"Just a few words here and there, if they're spoken slowly," I tell my new employer honestly, keeping the puta thing to myself.
"They're a little put off by your appearance and uniform; thinking you'll get special treatment from myself, or even the guests because of this. I told them that upstairs-Alice was off limits, but I'm thinking of putting you under their direct supervision. They're both named Maria by the way, just to complicate things a bit."
"They don't like me? We've just met, how is that possible?" I ask.
"I've told them what you've told me, that you've been less than kind to the hired help before. They'll work you hard, have both a bit of fun, and an easier time because you're here, and you'll get what you're after as well, so as you would put it, a win-win for everybody."
James was right, the ladies, the two Marias, worked me hard. "What took so long? You missed THIS! Maybe you're better at sucking and fucking, because you suck at this!" It should have been torture for me, being bossed around by the two Marias, but something inside of me got off on the simple servitude of it all. If for nothing else it made the day go fast, and I did catch both James, as well as Sheila watching me getting worked hard and bossed around by the ladies. At one point Sheila even caught my eye and winked at me, reminding me that I was doing this for her, for her aunt, that she knew this.
Maybe it was envy even, but the ladies were definitely having fun at my expense, perhaps just following James' orders to work me hard, or perhaps even using me as their whipping girl for every client that had ever treated them badly over the years. I was only visiting this uniformed life of theirs for a brief period of time, for purposes that they couldn't know, where for them this was their life, although a life that James seemed focused on making as nice as possible. Just as Alice was to be Sheila's gift after this party was over, I was the ladies' short-term gift, a kind of working vacation for them.
The other, perhaps unintended benefit from getting worked so hard by the ladies was that I had no thoughts of what my Jim was off doing with his ex-wife Sheila. He had stayed out of my sight since his brief visit to my tiny room, but getting caught following me with his eyes, visually lusting up on me in front of either James, or the ladies, would cause serious problems for all. Then of course is the look I'd likely be giving back to him, and James the witch might not miss that either.
By early evening the house is in good shape, there will be perpetual work to maintain this look, but anything resembling "catching up" is complete, a great deal of those labors mine alone, but the ladies did help. Upstairs Alice has had their help too, or so I assume by the little clues I've gathered, but these are things that she's well practiced at actually doing. Later in the evening the "husband and wife" are to have a romantic little candlelight dinner at a small veranda table on the back porch area, overlooking the grand back yard area. The chefs are to prepare their meal, really several dishes as a test to be served the following evening for the party, a kind of finalizing the menu as it were. The staff, including myself and upstairs Alice are to eat together and do much the same, but yours truly has been requested to serve the happy couple their many small courses. This is quasi-torture for me, but it also allows the three of us to have a few private words,while the other staff members get a chance to bond over their own meal.
Sheila even has a little hand bell to ring when she or Jim want service, the bell loud and sharp enough to hear, even in the kitchen where I'll be eating as well; when I'm not hopping up to serve or get this or that. The others are amused by my interruptions, and Alice even graciously offers to help me so that I can actually eat something before it gets cold, but James waves her off, saying that this is what the mistress and master of the house desire.
…The first time out with the happy couple's wine and fresh bread, pouring from the right as I know is proper - but reminded of such by James anyway - I am introduced to Sheila's bell, telling me playfully that when she rings it I'm to come straight away. She smiles when she says this, and Jim smiles too, he's definitely in on this little joke as well. As to the happy couple, they are acting like one might expect a married and in love couple to act, so good for our deception, but not so good for my green eyed monster as I already have a serious inferiority complex where Sheila is concerned.
"So, do you like being our maid here at the estate Jackie?" Sheila asks playfully while looking my handpicked costume of sexy servitude up and down. I don't know who's actually listening in, so I stay one hundred percent in character and tell both her and Jim that I'm grateful for this opportunity; just exactly what somebody looking for some side hustle cash might be expected to say.
Sheila then tells me that both of her new hires, both Alice and I, are on probation here, and reminds me that James has full authority to discipline either of us as necessary. I had thought that was more of a hollow threat to keep in mind, rather than a serious condition of employment, but the fact that she's reminded me of this, and that Jim hasn't so much as made a peep about this himself, tells me they have discussed this in depth, and have come to a mutual consensus on this. Then much lower, at a near whisper so that I need to lip read her, Sheila explains that for her to do anything else would draw suspicion; and while it's my proverbial ass on the line, this also makes logical sense to me.
"By the way," Jim tells me playfully, speaking with Sheila and presenting a united front, "Alice actually signed the Visiting Maids contract first, before you did."
"I don't understand Sir," I tell him, wondering if James is somehow listening.
"Visiting Maids is a real joint venture for us," Jim pointed, in a hushed conspiracy between Sheila and himself, "and seeing as we've been told that you signed last, that officially makes you the FNG."
"FNG?"
"Fuckin New Girl," Sheila finishes for him almost silently with both a smile and a laugh. "You're our last official new hire, so you'll get all the shit work until there's another!" Both of my new employers smile at the look on my face, this as well injecting some humor back into this adventure of ours; but obviously at my expense.
"Now hurry along and let us enjoy this romantic little meal in peace Jackie, we have some things to discuss," Sheila tells me while shoeing me away with a backhanded wave of her manicured hand, "but be sure to come promptly when my bell rings with the next course;" Sheila then ringing it to remind me of its unique tone. "It would be a shame if we had to give a bad report on you on your very first day on the job; I hear that you're somehow already on James' shit list…"