Story: How to Find a Maid

By T. H. Enerdly 

Author’s Note

This story is a prequel to “Interview With Madame Nguyen,” a story that appears elsewhere in this blog. It is helpful but not essential to have read that story before reading this one. A portion of this story is in the form of an interview, inspired by a file, written in French, found in a now moribund Yahoo Group, and probably authored by someone who styles herself as “Hanna, femme de chambre.” My translation is quite free and has been altered somewhat to fit the needs of the story.

Prologue

Deep within every woman’s unconscious, a battle rages, a battle between her inner mistress and her inner slave, a battle that decides who she will become: the mistress who commands or the slave who obeys.

My inner Mistress won my battle. Unfortunately, I don’t have any slaves to command—after all, slavery is frowned upon these days—but I have the next best thing: a maid. And make no mistake about it, a maid is a latter-day slave. Consider what Célestine—the maid in Octave Mirbeau’s novel, “The Diary of a Chambermaid”—proclaims:

“They pretend that there is no more slavery. Oh! what nonsense? And what are domestics, then, if not slaves? Slaves in fact, with all that slavery involves of moral vileness, inevitable corruption, and hate-engendering rebellion.”

Story: Lady Harcourt's Rightful Place

by Jackie J

Lady Jenny Harcourt seemed to have everything. She was well educated and pretty, had a bubbly outgoing personality and was rich following the death of her parents. But, like many who outwardly have everything, she was lonely and meeting Simon gave her the happiness she was missing.

Simon was wonderful, handsome, funny and attentive. Soon engaged they were married at Lady Harcourt’s local church and she could not have been happier. Simon had no family to speak of and Jenny, the only child, also had only a small circle of friends so the wedding was a simple affair.

After their short honeymoon Jenny had no problem agreeing to sell her properties in the city and move out to the country to live in Simons, a secluded, rambling manor house at Downway. Jenny had visited the old manor a couple of times; situated just outside the picturesque village of Downway, it was a perfect place to start married life together.

Large trunks containing Jenny’s belongings had already arrived when Jenny and Simon’s, now, Lord Harcourt, having taken the title through the marriage, carriage was driven up the gravel drive to be met by a smiling Francesca, the house keeper.

Story: Molly in Singapore. Part 1.

Finally a sequel to Monica Graz's saga that has taken our heroine Julia - now simply Molly - from Milan to the Philippines and now to Singapore. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, Monica keeps outdoing herself with every new installment.

I know I haven't been a frequent poster and I apologise profusely. Please watch this space for several new stories that I will publish in coming weeks. There is a prequel to T.H.Enerdly's marvelous Interview With Madame Nguyen, stories by Jackie J, the author of The Demise of Lady Charlotte Rhodes, as well as a lady-to-maid story of my own that is set in 1880s England.

Molly in Singapore. Part 1. 

by Monica Graz

The female flight attendant’s voice of the Singapore Airlines flight to Singapore woke me up from a disturbed sleep.

“Ladies and Gentlemen we are approaching Changi airport. We’ll be landing in 20 minutes. All the non Singaporean nationals are required to complete the disembarkation card provided.”

The announcement brought back all my fears and worries and once more I felt the familiar butterflies in my stomach.

I took out of my handbag all my documents including my Filipino passport and I started filling the card with a slightly trembling hand. Another big step down the social ladder I thought, since I was about to enter this country as a Foreign Domestic Worker, FDW for short. This time everything was going to be very real. I was going to be employed as a maid and nanny in Singapore following all the formalities and rules of this very strict and organized country.  

Story: What Goes Up.. Must Come Down

I would like to appologize to this blog's readers for the recent lack of updates. There are a few stories currently in the works that I hope to publish here in the near future. Meanwhile, here is an old favorite of mine.

I first read Joe Doe's sequel to Denise's original on C.Lakewood's site a while ago and I've been fascinated by the "mistaken octoroon" genre ever since. There are very few stories touching on the topic I've located online over the years and this is probably still one of the best.

What Goes Up...

By Denise

Susana Dupree lived a life of luxury and privilege...and she was  bored. She had always belonged to the Jamaican planter class,  and now, in 1730, her life was settled into such a deep groove  that she often thought she was inextricably trapped.

In the early days, she had been occasionally diverted by  interesting news from Europe -- but the War of the Spanish  Succession had ended half her lifetime ago, and there hadn't  been anything of similar importance since. Local pirate raids  and outbreaks of pestilence had their moments, but there had been none near enough or remarkable enough for a long time. In her early teens, she had been intrigued, briefly, when she'd come across her grandmother's journal and its allusions to some  mysterious "Family Secret," which apparently involved Susana's French great grandmother. But Susana's mother denied knowing anything about it, and, shortly thereafter, the journal vanished. 

(The family motto was not "Out of sight, out of mind," but it might as well have been.)

When she was 16, she had married Jack Dupree over the objections of her parents. He was less wealthy than her family, but was such a devilishly attractive rakehell, and his very character defects  made him particularly exciting.

But it was not long before the boredom returned. Jack was always gone some place or another. She was lonely. There were a few opportunities to socialize, but she was always alone. After all,  a married man could have any number of affairs and still remain a  "gentleman," but a lady was not so free. The wild abandonment of her early relationship with Jack was soon enough replaced by his  indifference. She longed in vain for their lost passion. No matter what she did to rekindle his interest failed miserably.

Story: Departing from Manila

By Monica Graz

PART 1

I heard with trepidation the supervising officer’s sharp voice, “Mollie Apuya, in my office this instant.”

I hastily wiped my hands in my large white working apron as I abandoned my hand washing sink and rushed to the other side of the large ‘classroom’ where the office of Miss Renata Vigo, my immediate supervising officer, was behind a glass panel.

I slightly curtseyed in front of her saying in my trained voice, “Yes Ma’am, you asked for me, Ma’am!”

“Yes, Mollie, I asked for you because I have news,” she looked at me as my legs started trembling, what news I started wondering. At this stage in my life any kind of news was scary for me. What next I wondered?

“There is a job offer for you from Singapore!’ She said that phrase looking at me expectantly. It was well known to all students at Manila’s state-run Housemaids Academy that to get a job in Singapore was quite prestigious for a maid. Much better than those harsh Middle Eastern Muslim countries.

Story: Arriving in Manila. Part 3.

by Monica Graz

“Pumasok mutsatsa!” I heard Juanita’s voice inviting me in as I arrived in front of the kitchen door which was facing the garden. Later I found out that mutsatsa meant something like ‘girl-maid’ from the Spanish word ‘muchacha’ - a girl. 

Juanita and two young boys were already sitting around a large kitchen table as a young man in a ponytail wearing a pretty feminine bib apron was doing the serving bringing the food to the table. Juanita pointed to a chair and I sat down as she made the introductions.

“Those are my two young boys Mollie, Alphonso who is twelve years old and Ruperto the younger who is 10. Benito with the pretty apron on is my eldest son and my joy and pride at the same time; he is just nineteen and my best assistant both in the house and in the hairdressing salon. Without him I wouldn’t be able to cope.”

I said hello politely but the two young boys simply ignored me, either because they were too hungry or because they were too shy. Benito on the other hand gave me a big smile and said in English with the characteristic Filipino accent, “Hi Mollie, glad to meet you, my mother was eagerly waiting for your arrival. Now I’ll be able to work full time at the beauty salon, the house is yours to run.” He finished his sentence with an effeminate laugh.

Story: Losing Valentina

by Idea Factory

My name is Valentina, well... my name was Valentina.

My story of how I lost my name and my identity begins back when I was 25. At the time I was fresh out of business school, and I was determined to make it in my career. Several headhunters offered me jobs, I decided to go with a growing firm out of Chicago. I was working on a high floor in a building located in the heart of downtown, my window had a great view of Lake Michigan. But my gaze wasn't set on the water, it was on the corner office that I wanted to be in by the time I was 30.

I was a fourth-generation Latina, my great grandparents came over to the United States during WWII when there was a labor shortage. My parents had both have advanced degrees and they put a lot of work into making sure I would be a success. My father, a bit of a bleeding heart, is a doctor and I think he was a bit disappointed that I chose finance over medicine.

I kept myself in good shape, image is important in the professional world plus I loved the way I looked in jeans.