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Her Lady’s Maid
She smiled and there was kindness in her eyes. So much like Ginger. Like her ghost come back to haunt me. “Yes, ma’am. I heard there was a position here. I am a trained lady’s maid. I have references.”
No, no position. Sorry. There’s been a mistake. “Yes, of course. Well, you’re very… well presented.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Would you like to see me naked?”
I tasted blood as my teeth pierced my lip, felt faint, my clothes suddenly too restrictive. “What?”
“My references, ma’am. Would you like to see them?”
“Oh.” God, but she’s pretty. Around my age, perhaps a little older. Twenty-three. Ginger would have been twenty-three by now. “I thought you said… never mind. No, that won’t be… how old are you?”
She took a step forward and I could feel the heat radiating from her breasts. Her head tilted back, her mouth opened, just a little, waiting for my lips. The dress slipped from her shoulders easily, such flimsy material. It caught on her nipples, hardened like marble.
“Ma’am? Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I forced myself to take a breath. “I need to sit…” I glanced around and stumbled to my soft chair, falling into it. “…sit down. Gin- I mean, Petunia. Would you mind fetching me a glass of water from the… from the kitchens? Please?”
“Of course, ma’am. Does that mean that I have the job?”
“Yes. Yes, of course, the position is yours for as long as you want it.”
She hesitated for a moment, then curtsied. “Thank you, ma’am.”
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