Fashionably Late

[Celedriel]

It was just so hard to find good help these days.

Lady Elizabeth Miriel Rodgers Bathcourte drew an indolent, upper class finger through her precisely-curled auburn tresses.

Yes, tresses. She insisted on calling them tresses. This, among any other examples of haughtiness, no doubt played a small part in her divorce to the erstwhile Baron Robert Hampton Bathcourte IV.

Whatever the case, she was now firmly ensconced in her fashionable Upper West Side apartment. She had her settlement, she had her looks and her youth (early thirties, though a few words in the right ear got that down to 29 on her New York driver's license), and she had a car at her beck and call.

Now all she needed was the right maidservant to wait on her hand and foot, and all would be well.

Frowning, she turned back to the pile of resumes. Would any of these applicants answer the call?


ooc: needs another female character.

 

[plainjane]

I was a struggling artist trying to make it in New York. Living in a walk-up loft with no heat and no running water and sharing space with a bunch of dope addicts, drunks and losers was getting old and my rope was getting to its bitter end when sitting in a McDonalds I picked us a cast away newspaper and read the want ads

Under help wanted as an interesting ad for a ladies maidservant. I could do that, and the ad promised living quarters as a bonus, so I took an old resume and cleaned it up and sent it in although I realized the lady had no way to contact me with no phone or mailing address

Her address was on the upper east side and so after a few days, I cleaned up the best I could and donned my best clothes, and went to her plasce. Sweet talking the doorman he let me in, mostly due to my promise of special benefits if I was lucky enough to get the job, I knocked on her door hoping that being first in line she might just hire me.

 

[Celedriel]

"Well hello there," Elizabeth said, running her hand through her long auburn tresses as she surveyed the girl standing in the doorway, taking a good look at her, up and down.

Elizabeth herself was dressed rather informally. Informally may be too light a turn on it. She was wearing a white satin chemise covered over her slenderly regal frame, the solidity of the fabric the only nod to modesty. Not even slippers adorned her bare feet, she had no one to put them on for her! And to be forced to open the door for herself, for shame!

"Hello, you are...?" she asked, awaiting the girl's name as she glanced back at the resumes scattered haphazardly across her coffee table. "But come in, please, make yourself at home."

She smiled winningly and awaited the girl's next move.

I was a struggling artist trying to make it in New York. Living in a walk-up loft with no heat and no running water and sharing space with a bunch of dope addicts, drunks and losers was getting old and my rope was getting to its bitter end when sitting in a McDonalds I picked us a cast away newspaper and read the want ads

Under help wanted as an interesting ad for a ladies maidservant. I could do that, and the ad promised living quarters as a bonus, so I took an old resume and cleaned it up and sent it in although I realized the lady had no way to contact me with no phone or mailing address

Her address was on the upper east side and so after a few days, I cleaned up the best I could and donned my best clothes, and went to her plasce. Sweet talking the doorman he let me in, mostly due to my promise of special benefits if I was lucky enough to get the job, I knocked on her door hoping that being first in line she might just hire me.

 

[plainjane]

Jane

Suddenly the door opened and there stood an attractive lady whom I hoped would be my mistress. I told her I was Jane and that I had submitted a resume but knew that since there was no way for her to contact me with no telephone and no really fixed address, I came to see her personally and ask for the job

She inquired if I had any experience as a handmaiden, and honestly I told her "No, but my mother had a servant and she and I became very close friends and I know what the job might entail"

I was asked "How close friends?"

I responded "so close that we became lovers and that after hours I used to sneak down to her room and sleep with her every night"

The mistress then inquired if I was a lesbian and I told her I was bisexual. She looked me in the eye and told me to show her.

Dropping to my knees I leaned down and kissed her bare feet and murmurred that I was ready to serve her every need whatever they might be, while looking at her crotch with the fabric covering her only to the extent that her pubis only inches from my nose made it difficult to resist burying myself in her private folds and proving my skills at cunnilingus

She held out her hand, helped me up and led me to the room that woukld be mine, and then led me to her master bedroom and bath and instructed me to draw her bathwater, and prepare her for her bath.