Story: Twins

by Jackie J

Chapter one

Twins, identical twins well physically but concerning personality? One would need a magnifying glass to physically separate Isabelle and Isabella, from early childhood they were like peas in a pod but their personalities quickly diverged. Through school Isabelle was studious attaining the highest grades whilst Isabella did just enough yet still gained high marks. University was no different Isabella making the most of the social scene with Isabelle more often found in the libraries rather than the bars. Both having graduated careers in law were pursued and in their late twenties two fine lawyers they made. Isabelle devoted herself to working with the disenfranchised whilst Isabella took to defending the most questionable of characters.  Despite their diametrically opposed outlook on how their skills should be deployed Isabelle and Isabella remained close.  Whilst Isabelle lived a quite existence Isabella grew more wayward, bordering on arrogant, a fun-loving party animal with an increasing reputation for promiscuity.

It was no surprise when Nazeem came on the scene both were attracted to this handsome and rich Middle Eastern heir to the Mudullha fortune.  Isabella’s rather shallow perspective considering his looks and wealth whilst Isabelle found him charming and considerate.  Both were beautiful young women, Isabella was fun and exciting to be with Isabelle was thoughtful and generous of spirit. Nazeem living and working in London and free from the conservative shackles of his family especially his somewhat pious mother, found the company of the vivacious fun-loving Isabella liberating.  Soon they became a couple to be seen around the exclusive nightspots of town. Isabelle wasn’t jealous, was she? No, she was genuinely happy for her sister, wasn’t she?

Engaged within six months all looked set for a happy every after. Nazeem’s family however, especially his mother, were not happy, not happy at all.  Nazeem’s father, who did not enjoy good health, had met the twins on a number of occasions during visits to his surgeon in Harley Street.  He liked them both, why wouldn’t he? Both girls pretty and enjoying successful careers, under normal circumstances either would make a good match for his son. It was the cultural clash, based in London not an issue but back in Nazeem’s home country?  Nazeem’s father, with failing health, knew it would not be long before his son would have to return to take over the business based back in the Emirates what then for his western wife? Would she cope with the culture shock? Life would be very different for her there.

Story: The White Apron Was The Reason!

Monica Graz has kindly allowed me to share her recent novelette, The White Apron Was The Reason, with you. It is a TG take on Daphne and the White Apron that brings the story much further, taking the main character to Qatar. I enjoyed it immensely and I hope you do too. It's posted for free for this blog's readers, but if you'd like to purchase it to support the author, it is available from Mags Inc both as an ebook and a paperback version.

THE WHITE APRON WAS THE REASON!

By Monica Graz

PART 1 

Dennis Arnellos finished getting dressed and gave an indifferent look at his immense but untidy bedroom. His Polish maid Magda would take care of that later, he thought. He moved to his study and turned his computer on and then went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He knew that Magda would be out at this hour doing her morning shopping.  

He started going back to his study but stopped as his eye caught the freshly ironed white apron’s strings as they were hanging down at the end of the utility room table right next to the kitchen. Instinctively he went in there to check. He picked the apron hesitantly and looked at it. It was a small serving half apron quite pretty with its broderie anglaise trim. He looked down at his slim body noticing his very simple black outfit he was wearing consisting of a pair of black trousers and a black T-shirt and then he remembered his early teenage years when he was helping their Filipina maid with her chores and the thrill he was getting when she was tying an apron around his waist when they were just the two of them in the house.   

The maid syndrome as he called it, together with his crossdressing tendencies that pestered Dennis from his early teenage years, were all of a sudden back as he was holding this simple piece of white material.  

Suddenly he had this strong urge to put the apron on. Magda was out shopping and she wouldn’t be back for at least another hour. 

Story: Managing the Heiress. Chapter 4.

By Charles Ryder

Stephen made me very happy today. He explained how he was very impressed with my work under Mrs Francis. She had apparently explained to him that I was now thoroughly knowledgeable regarding all matters pertaining to the running of the house and that consequently my services as a maid were no longer required. He also explained that I should be schooled in the behaviour expected of the wife of a senior army officer. He has discussed this with Mrs Francis and she is apparently amenable to help ‘take me in hand’. He has also given Mrs Francis a sum of money in order that I might be more appropriately dressed for my new role.

“How long do I have to wait before you tell the silly little bitch?”

Each word was punctuated by a rhythmic thrust as I worked energetically on my Irish minx. I could feel my manhood straining to bursting point. She was almost the exact opposite of my juvenile wife, sexy, skilful and all the tricks of a whore, which she possibly once was. At that precise moment I just didn’t care. I was right on the very edge of a massive climax.

“Tell me again” I whispered. “What are you going to do with Charlotte?”

Story: Becoming a Possession

by Jackie J

Chapter One

The door to Jennifer Jenkins's opulent residence opened and a smiling young woman, two cases by her side, stood on the stoop looking up at the elegant lady framed in the doorway.

“Margret Summers. Maggie, the maid vacancy.” 

Jennifer smiled down at the eager youthful figure: she was gorgeous a figure, not dissimilar to her own, and a lovely smile.

“Do come in, Maggie and thank you for agreeing to start at such short notice, I got all your details from the agency I got their details from a flyer pushed through the door.”

Maggie eyed the forty-something lady of the house expensively dressed in a tailored skirt tight on her hips firm breasts cocooned within a pristine white silk blouse, perfect makeup and flowing blonde hair hanging on her shoulders brushed by the wind and entered the secluded residence.

Taken through into the lounge Maggie sat and Jennifer offered a drink which Maggie gratefully accepted. 

“So, what will you want from me, Miss Jenkins?”

Story: Managing the Heiress. Chapter 3.

by Charles Ryder

The following week saw a very subdued Charlotte. She carried out her duties without a murmur. She accepted the many criticisms she received from her mentor with little or no dissent. On the Friday she was called into the former sitting room which was now Mrs Francis’s office. 

“I have two pieces of good news young lady. The first is that I’m very pleased with your behaviour this week and as a result we’ll be going on an outing tomorrow. And the second is that your husband has been able to secure the services of an experienced house maid. The young lady is called Mary, I believe. She will be starting with us on Sunday.”

Charlotte could hardly believe her ears! Mrs Francis was actually pleased with her. She would be going on an outing and she would, after all this time, be finally getting a housemaid. This was simply marvellous news. Stephen would be so proud of her. She could hardly wait to tell him.

The following morning she woke early and washed herself. She dressed herself in one of her new uniforms, reminding herself that the skirt was maybe a little too short and tight for her and that Mrs Francis may allow her to have it taken out a little. Timidly she knocked on Mrs Francis’ bedroom door, and when answered she entered and placed a cup of tea on her bedside table as required. At first this had seemed an intolerable imposition but now Charlotte regarded it as just one of her many duties. Thankfully though this might be the last time she carried it out. From tomorrow that would, she imagined, be Mary’s job. She smiled to herself. She’d done it. Her husband would be bound to be impressed by her efforts. She’d proved to him, and to Mrs Francis, that she could learn her lesson and was now in a position to run the household as she wanted it run. She would have such fun instructing the new girl in her new duties! What sort of mistress would she prove to be? Certainly, she would be fairly strict. If she’d learnt anything from her mentor it was that servants had to be managed. They were most assuredly not friends, they were subordinates.  Perhaps not quite as strict as Mrs Francis maybe? Not a disciplinarian with a cane but certainly strict, strict but fair.

Social Downgrade Apology by the British Press

A reader pointed me to a recent story in The Mirror titled "I walked away from a high-flying £45K job to become 'the dregs of society'" .  Interesting find and I think it adds nicely to other stories I shared in the past such as the one about Chinese office workers forced to become maids amid the crisis or How was your day, fallen aristocratic lady? 

Sadly, the lady in question does not become a maid, but the social drop is quite severe nonetheless (even though it's a big of an exaggeration to call someone making less than $60,000 equivalent in London "high-flying") after Claire, the heroine of the story, becomes a care home worker making minimum wage.

As is always the case with embellished "true life" stories like this you really have to read between the lines (or at least beyond the typically misleading first paragraph), but it still somehow pushed a few right buttons for me. 

Parts of the article do read like a lady-to-maid story even though Claire states right away it was the best decision she ever made:

Just a few months earlier I was living the high life as a City lawyer, power-dressed in black and white as I commuted every day to my central London office.

My position impressed those I met and won me new friends who saw me as a professional, successful woman.

Today, I was a humble care worker, cleaning up incontinence-prone elderly people in a home for dementia patients.

I was embarrassed to tell people what I did for a living, and when I did I would often get a disdainful look of “what’s gone wrong with her?”

Back then, I was earning £45,000 a year with bonuses and had a full-time childminder to look after my kids as I worked ten-hour days doing personal injury claims with a big law firm.

Now, as team member at the Meresworth Care Home, I was on the minimum wage and taking home less than £160 a week.

My friends and family were horrified when they told them that I’d given up my career as a solicitor to become a care worker.

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Story: A Simple Act of Delegation. Chapter 11.

by Jackie J

There was no doctor like there was no Mustapha of course but Sheila trusting of Jenny believed every word she was told. Two weeks, then three weeks went by with regular convincing updates from Jenny. Mustapha had confirmed what he had told Jenny in an email. He was being threatened by just communicating with Jenny and must not be contacted again and reiterated that Mrs. Ross’s family wanted nothing more to do with their cursed relative. 

The fictitious toxicology reports had come back negative and that Mrs. Ross’s condition was a mystery, likewise fabricated psychological tests had also failed to discover what could have resulted in such a drastic change in her personality. She could be sectioned if that what was thought best but of course Jenny had dismissed this out of hand telling Sheila she was not willing to let Winnie be probed and experimented on behind the confidential walls of an asylum.

It was agreed that Jenny should move in at Long Acres, Sheila unaware she already had and to organise some care to help Winnie to rebuild her life.  Sheila was happy in the knowledge that such a caring person like Jenny was going to look after Mrs. Ross. 

It was agreed that the business would carry on as normal, it had run well during Mrs. Ross’s time away in the Yemen so why shouldn’t it. Other directors and staff were advised that on doctor’s recommendations Mrs. Ross would be taking extended leave sparing them the details of her true condition.