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THE DOMESTICATION OF A PARISIAN BOURGEOIS Full story-Feb13 By Monica Graz Author's Note The story is happening in Paris of the early 1970s and is based on real facts. At the time Portugal was still a very poor country and not a member of the European Union. Lots of poor girls and married women were coming from there to work in France as factory workers, cleaners and maids. Many of those girls were working as live in maids in many Parisian bourgeois houses or apartments. If they were working in apartments they had their own separate rooms at the top of the building, usually in the 6th floor, at what was called 'la chambre de bonne' (maid's room). Of course there was no elevator in those buildings of the late 19th century and the maids were going down from the back service stairs to the kitchen door of the apartment they were working. They were not allowed to use the front entrance of the building even when they were out of uniform and not on duty. For them there was the back or side service entrance to come and go, the same way that the garbage was coming down as well. All those apartment buildings had a live in concierge who had a little place to stay either by the entrance or in the basement. The concierge was usually the 'terror' of all live-in maids because she was checking on them all the time, reporting back to their employers. So the term Portuguese maid/housekeeper or 'femme de menage Portugaise' was synonymous to a poor backward peasant girl or woman often illiterate, coming form the rural areas of Portugal to work in the sophisticated Paris. The rich bourgeois Parisians had the tendency of course to look down on them. At the time there were lots of specialised shops in those rich Parisian suburbs, selling 'domestic workwear' for those in live in service. Those shops were called 'boutiques de blouses et tabliers' (overalls and aprons shops). In today's Paris, as elsewhere in the Western world uniformed live-in maids are a rarity. Portuguese women are rich and elegant and go to Paris for their shopping and the 'blouses et tabliers boutiques' are nearly gone. CHAPTER 1 Initiation or how I become a substitute female maid! My wife left me, my beloved Annabelle abandoned me!! I simply can't believe it! It finally happened and it happened just like that. Yesterday she announced to me that she had an affair with a fellow doctor and they were moving out of the country to start new parallel careers in an exclusive private clinic in Milan, Italy! I simply can't believe it, my wife decided to leave her beloved Paris for an Italian city, even if that is Armani's Milan? Later I understood that this was planned well ahead and it was I in my notorious innocence and naivety that couldn't pick the signs. She packed only her preferred clothes and personal things in a haste and left yesterday evening directly for the airport where they had a late flight to catch. She said that she didn't need anything else from the house, which belonged to me anyway, through family inheritance. But in a goodwill gesture, as she said, she left loads of her old clothes behind and everything that we bought together for the house the five years we stayed together. We parted as friends without unnecessary scenes. We both were low-key people and we didn't like screams and abuses. She even managed to convince me that she wasn't good enough for me. She wasn't the type of woman I needed etc. Probably she had a point. I really don't know. Of course after she was gone a terrible emptiness overtook me and I started crying bitterly on my own. It took me some time to calm down and only after I took a sleeping tablet was I able to go into a deep dreamless sleep. I opened my eyes quite late the next day. It was past ten in the morning and I could hear the familiar noise of the vacuum cleaner from the floor below. God I forgot! It was Violetta our Portuguese cleaning lady. I felt uneasy that I had to explain to her what happened. She was coming to the house 3 times a week and we were quite happy with her. All of sudden the feeling of emptiness came back to me. I was still thinking in terms of US, but I was alone now! Tears started welling in my eyes and I desperately tried to control myself. Soon I was in the dining room where usually breakfast was served when Violetta was around. She saw me and I must have looked quite a sight because she stopped what she was doing and came towards me, a concerned look on her face. She looked very neat in her light blue overall dress and her matching bib apron and headscarf. My wife was a firm believer that a domestic in the house should look the part, nothing fancy, just a practical maid's uniform. "Bonjour Monsieur, you look terrible this morning, is everything all right?" "Non Violetta pas du tous, everything is not all right," I said and tears started coming up again. "Pauvre Monsieur, please tell everything to Violetta" And I started and I told her in detail what happened, sobbing softly at the same time. As I was talking she took me by my hand and we went to the living room. We sat together in the couch and she started holding my hand as I continued my monologue. When I stopped I started crying again. God what was happening to me? Was it that strong sleeping tablet that made me so emotional? She put her hand around my shoulder and pulled me towards her. Soon my head was resting on her shoulder and I closed my red eyes for a moment of rest. Suddenly I felt her warm lips kissing my cheeks and forehead and then she kissed me on the mouth in an unexpectedly passionate manner. I was completely taken by surprise but I felt at the same time an increased sexual excitement. She then wiped my wet eyes with the edge of her apron, something that excited me even more. She started talking to me in a quiet but firm manner, definitely forgetting her position in the house. She spoke to me as a friend rather than a servant, "With the little I know you are completely secure financially. You own this wonderful property and you have a steady income from your grandfather's trust. You are 37 years old, you don't have to work for a living and you can organise your life anyway you want." She stopped and looked at me rather sternly I must say, as if she was accusing me for having all those benefits in life. I looked back and all of a sudden I realised that I needed that woman. I said without hesitation, "Look Violetta. Would you like to stay the week with me to help me get over this terrible crisis I face, even if you think that is not that serious?" She answered back immediately as if she knew the answer even before I asked. She said, "I'll stay in one condition, we have to establish a different relationship, not the one of employer and employee to start with. I am Violetta for you, but you are Jean Marie for me." I blushed a bit when she mentioned my double name. Coming from an upper class family I had several names, in fact my full name was Jean Marie Philippe Batiste D' Armagnac. But for my friends I was simply Jean. Now Violetta was using my second name Marie which is feminine but is common for boys in France as a middle name. "Of course I accept Violetta," I eagerly said and at the same time I was wondering what she meant with this 'to start with'. "In that case," she continued "you have to give me access to your wife's wardrobe. You said she left plenty of her clothes behind and I have only my working clothes with me. I think also that I'll be a guest in this house for the rest of the week, so no more housework for me. Do you agree Jean Marie?" I blushed again, this woman had a way of intimidating me that I hadn't noticed before, and a whole new persona of Violetta was in front of me. "Of course Violetta, there are plenty of clothes in my wife's cupboards, she is not going to use them anymore, you can choose anything you want and I think you are about the same size. Please let's go upstairs and sort things out." We reached the master bedroom and to my total surprise she started undoing her apron and overall dress. She saw my look and said casually, "I think I'll have a bath first before I dress in my bourgeois lady's clothes. Would you be a pet and run a bath for me, and please add some of the nice bath oils your wife was using, I want to smell like a bourgeois lady from now on." I followed her instructions like a robot. I was about to finish filling the tub when I heard her voice form the bedroom, "Jean Marie, could you come here for a moment?" I went back to the bedroom half expecting to see her naked, but no she was wearing one of our bathrobes. She looked mischievously at me, "I decided to test your good intentions, I thought that when I'll be having my bath you can go down and finish the housework that I left undone. Would you like to do that for me?" I was about to refuse it, proposing something of the type 'I can wait for you to finish your bath and we can do it together like partners.' But she didn't give me the chance. Instead she continued, "and don't tell me that you don't know how to do things because I know and your wife confirmed it to me that on the days I wasn't around you were doing quite a few things in the house. After all your wife was the professional bread winner in the family and you were a sort of house husband." I blushed again and said meekly, "Ok Violetta, I'll do it, tell me what you want me to do". I thought I saw a triumphant glimpse in her eyes but she kept her cool and said in a 'giving instructions or orders tone of voice', "Just finish the dusting and vacuuming in the living, dining area and then do the kitchen properly. Do the dishes, clean the tops and mop the floor thoroughly. Ok pet?" Now she started calling me pet. I started to go out of the room but she stopped me again, "Did you forget something Jean Marie?" I turned around looking puzzled and with a big grin she indicated to the pile of clothes on top of the bed. "You forgot your working clothes dear!" And she was pointing to her overall dress, apron and head scarf. This time I did turn red from embarrassment. "But Violetta I don't have to be dressed like you to do the housework, I can do it in my T-shirt and jeans." She got red but from pure anger and said to me abruptly, "Listen to me Jean Marie, either you do it my own way or I'll get dressed and leave this instant and you will not see me again!" She stopped to catch her breath. Boy she was angry now, and continued, "I have been doing that all my life and I am over 40 now, cleaning houses and offices and public toilets and being a hotel maid and doing anything menial you can think off. I am fed up of being a Portuguese maid. Maybe you can get the feeling what it is like not to be a rich bourgeois person and be in the other side of the fence." She stopped again and looked at me. I looked back at this angry but sincere face and suddenly I felt a strong compassion for that woman. I felt her strength of character through her rage. I felt her willingness to try the forbidden, for her, the fruit of the bourgeois world. Probably she is right; probably I should see how the other side lives and works. I decided to play her game, I wanted this woman to stay with me, I needed her. I simply nodded to her that I agree and I took the pile of clothes and started going out. She stopped me again, "Oh no Pet, you don't leave this room unless you are properly dressed as the cleaning woman you are going to become. So start removing your clothes and hurry up, we don't have all day." By now I was defeated; I couldn't cope anymore with the strength of character of this woman. Within seconds I was standing naked in front of her and within a few more minutes I was dressed under her instructions. Black cotton panties and vest, black thick pantyhose, and the overall dress that buttoned in front. Those were her clothes, the clothes she was wearing just before. I could smell her body odour in them, nothing repulsive, just a combination of cheap eau de cologne and her mild sweating. "And now the 'piece de resistence mon cheri', Violetta said smiling broadly, "come here I will tie your apron." I approached and she adjusted the large matching working apron on top of my dress. She criss-crossed the bib straps behind my back and fastened them to the strings with two small buttons, then she firmly tied the strings in a big bow in the back. She pointed to the door. "Well, this is your obligatory uniform for working in the house Jean Marie. Run along now like a good maid and finish your chores and then report back here, I want to continue our little conversation and plan the rest of the day." It took me an hour of intense work to finish what I was ordered to do. I was mopping the kitchen floor when I literally smelled the new Violetta's presence in the room. I turned around and she was standing by the door looking at me. God how she changed! She was the epitome of elegance wearing a dark grey silk suit, a light grey blouse, fine stockings and elegant medium heel shoes. My wife's expensive Chanel 5 perfume was filling the air around her. And there I was opposite her the epitome of a servant, sweat running down my forehead, my apron front splashed with water, resting my rubber gloved hands in the mop stick. I looked admiringly at her. "You look fantastic Violetta, I can't believe the change, you are even more elegant than Annabelle my bourgeois wife." She answered back casually, "That proves my theory Jean Marie that finally the garments make the priest and not the other way round. And look at you, after an hour's housework you look all the way the part of a Portuguese 'femme de menage'. We have to work with your hair a bit and do some other adjustments to enhance your femininity". I looked at her aghast, but a peculiar excitement ran through my body like an electric current. I managed to answer in a rather meek tone of voice, "But what are you talking about, what femininity? I am not a woman. I simply agreed to help with the housework and I dressed like this to please you." She looked intensely at me, "We might as well sort things out here and now! Jean Marie, I have a proposition to make to you. Would you consider to change positions with me and become a 'femme de menage', a maid, a cleaning woman for a year and I will be 'la femme bourgeoise', a woman of the high society. You will find out where I come from and I will be able to fulfil my dream and live the life of an upper class lady even for a limited period of time. Imagine, it can be like a sabbatical year for you, you will be able to experience things totally outside of your own milieu, even outside your own sex. For me it is a lifetime ambition to know the world of luxury and wealth, a world where you come from but I know it from the servant's side. For you it is going to be a complete reversal of roles and positions in life." She stopped and looked at me, I could tell she was completely taken by her own words, she was already so near to fulfil her dream, she was already dressed the part and she was enjoying it immensely. But what about me, I was confused as I was trying to think hard for an answer. I knew already that it was either her terms or good-bye Violetta for good. What did I really have to lose? My life was in shambles at the moment with the departure of my wife. I was not working and I was financially independent. I had no immediate family and very few friends, as a matter of fact most of those so-called friends were my wife's friends and I knew very well that they were going to disappear from my life. And that was going to be an experience, probably a hard one but an experience anyhow. And why did I have this inner excitement that was transmitting sexual signals to my body? Did I really get a sexual pleasure out of it? I must have blushed all over because Violetta looked at me inquiringly and asked, "What is it Pet? Do you consider my proposal? You realise of course that by this stage there is no going back. It is either my proposal or I am out of here and your life." I looked at her, took a deep breath and said, "Oui Violetta, J'accepte votre proposition!" and I continued more excited now after I said the ok, "But how is it going to work and we have to talk about lots of practical matters like ...." She stopped me with her hand, "Now let's make your acceptance more formal and from now on I am Madame Violetta, or simply Madame for you and your are 'ma femme de menage' Jeanne Marie or simply Maria, so please repeat, "Oui, Madame, J'accepte de devenir votre femme de menage pendant un an!" Blushing all over again and excited at the same time I repeated, "Yea Madame, I accept to become your cleaning woman for a year!" "Very well Maria, I am your employer from now on!!" she said triumphantly and continued; "Now you asked before about practical matters, you are right we have to sort them out. First of all you will put our agreement in writing and send it to your solicitor. Not everything of course, just write simply that due to a prolonged absence abroad you are authorising me, Violetta Perreira dos Santos to handle all your financial affairs, pay all the bills and run the household paying the domestic staff (that is you!) etc., etc. Then you send a note to all people that you think they might contact you, telling them that you are going abroad for an indefinite amount of time to recover from the shock of losing your wife to another man. Also you will apply to your bank to issue credit cards in my name. Of course I'll take your credit cards, and your car keys, you will be driving a private car only in a driver's capacity, otherwise public transport for you. You will receive all the money that I earn from my various domestic and cleaning jobs which you are going to undertake from now on." She stopped seeing me getting more and more uneasy. "But Viol... I mean Madame how am I going to appear in public as a woman, I am not confident enough and...." "Leave that to me Maria, I'll organise everything for you. I have lots of contacts and trusted friends among the Portuguese community of maids and cleaners, soon you will be part of their world." She looked at me again and became more formal, "Now finish what you are doing here and run upstairs to clean the bathroom I just used and tidy up the bedroom. I have a few phone calls to make, and then we'll talk again." I was blushing again when I said a more formal 'Oui Madame', my first maid's response to a command by my new employer. She turned and walked back to the living room her heels clicking elegantly. She was 'la patronne' now. CHAPTER 2 Meeting Conchita the concierge She was talking to me fast as I was standing in front of her dressed now in her old street clothes! I simply replaced my overall dress with her prisunic cheap outdoor dress. I kept the underwear and black pantyhose and added a pair of flat moccasins that belonged to my wife. It was remarkable that being a small person myself, barely 1.70m in height and 70 kilos in weight I could easily fit in Violetta's clothes, something that pleased her immensely because obviously I was about to inherit her whole trousseau! The shoes were a small problem, she was a size smaller than me, but luck again, my wife's shoes were an exact fit and she certainly left several pairs behind. As I said, she was addressing me, "Now Maria, I talked to my friend Conchita da Silva, she is the concierge in one of those posh buildings in Passy (that was one of the most expensive inner Parisian quartiers in the prestigious 16th arrondissement). She is also a hairdresser occasionally; she is going to fix your hair in a more appropriate manner for your current station in life, as a Portuguese cleaning woman and maid. I asked her to perm your hair and dye it a dark brown. Your current long blond and straight hair is too elegant for what you are going to become." She loved putting me down emphasising my new position in life. Funnily enough, I was getting an excitement out of it as well. She continued talking to me, "instead of paying her she will ask you to clean the public spaces of the building, entrance and stairs up to the 5th floor. She will lend you some working clothes. She has a collection of flower patterned nylon smocks that I am sure you will love. Don't worry, she will tell you exactly what to do. Now you can put on my old coat. It is hanging in the broom cupboard by the entrance. Inside the pocket you will find an old scarf, just tie it around your hair and then we are ready to go." I got panicked dressed like this and going out from the front door in the middle of the day. It was barely past 1.00 o'clock in the afternoon. It just dawned to me as I was looking at my (ex Violetta's} small cheap wrist watch that it was only three hours ago that I was still my old self a young Parisian bourgeois. And look at me now, a middle age low class woman leaving her employer's house. Violetta interrupted my thoughts as she approached me and adjusted the scarf in my head, "You must learn to wear the scarf the Portuguese way. That will be a standard item when you are outdoors and out of your working clothes. Most women of your status are wearing it, so you better get used to it. And something else, it hides up to a point your less feminine features though I am not worried about them. You can improve a lot there. Wait till Conchita finishes with you. Come on let's go. I'll drive you, this time I'll spare you the embarrassment of public transport, but this is only for your first day. 'Allez ouste!' " We arrived in front of the elegant 19th century residential building in Avenue Victor Hugo. She was an excellent driver and she knew how to drive around the maize of Parisian streets quite well. How on earth a 'femme de menage' was so competent in driving? Another mystery about Violetta. What was her real past, I wondered? She interrupted my thoughts, "Allez, out of the car, I leave you here, just walk to the side door where 'concierge' is written and ring the bell, Conchita will let you in. Run along now, I'll come and collect you in about 3 hours. I'll probably telephone before and see how you are doing. Good luck Maria!" She practically pushed me out of the car, my ex car, and sped away. I practically run to the door and rang the bell, looking sideways to see if someone was coming. The door opened and a formidable lady appeared in front of me. She looked at me from head to toes and said casually in heavily accented French, "You must be this bourgeois, Violetta mentioned, who wants to become a cleaning woman. What a weird decision?" I looked at her aghast and surprised. I said hastily, "Can I come in please, I feel uncomfortable in those clothes in public." She looked at me again and laughed a rather loud but good-hearted laugh I must say. "Mais oui, come in, but if you feel uncomfortable now, imagine how you will feel later when you will be down on your knees scrubbing the landings between floors, ha, ha, ha!" She continued laughing. Inside her minuscule apartment I could see her better. She was a big woman, a few centimetres taller than I was and also fatter. She had the derriere of a woman of her class, big bottom in other words, but also she seemed a strong woman, her body was somehow muscular. She was wearing black pantyhose and a knee length blue nylon smock patterned with flowers. You could see below the smock her black skirt and her cheap plastic sandals. She turned again to me and said, "Look, Violetta said to me that you decided to exchange places with her and become 'une femme de menage, une bonniche', is it true?" Obviously she wanted to test me and see if I did things on my own will. How could I say that I was partly pushed into this? Not really, if I was strongly against it I wouldn't have been standing right now in front of her dressed as I was. I looked at her and said, "Yes Conchita, this is true, I want to live a true experience of a cleaning woman, a maid, as you said it. Can you help me?" She relaxed and smiled at me broadly. "Of course I can help you 'ma petite', let me look at you, remove your coat and scarf, let me see you face. Look at those hands; they are so soft, so not used to menial housework, 'par contre' look at my hands pet." She was holding her hands in front of me. I looked at those big hands, skin cracked and wrinkly, the nails with remains of a vulgar red nail polish. On impulse I took those hands and held them in mine. She squeezed them and dragged me towards her. Soon she was kissing me passionately in the mouth, I was aroused and excited; God those Portuguese women were coming from another world, so unpredictable and spontaneous, no bourgeois false modesty there! She started undressing me and I did the same to her, she removed my dress, fairly easy for her, I had to undo the buttons of her nylon smock, the zip of her skirt as we were fondling each other in our similar black underwear and pantyhose. We did make love to each other but like two females, she didn't let me penetrate her, instead she made me caress her bosom and her private parts until she started moaning uncontrollably. Finally she made me come inside my panties. It was an explosive and powerful climax of the most unusual kind! CHAPTER 3 Changing my looks, speaking Portuguese "Come Maria, we have work to do!" Conchita pushed me out of bed in a firm but not unkind manner. "But first I am going to lend you some clothes. Your new Patronne Violetta wants you to look exactly like a Portuguese cleaning woman and we can't disappoint her, can we?" I had such a wonderful love session with her that I couldn't refuse anything and after the entire whole situation started to intrigue me both mentally and erotically. Soon I was sitting in a kitchen chair with a not too clean tea towel over my shoulders and Conchita was working on my hair like a very competent hairdresser. I was dressed like her twin sister! Black voluminous cotton knickers, or panties if you prefer, and a matching bra, over my flat chest mind you, an old full slip that has seen better days, an equally old black rayon skirt and thick black stockings that I had to hold with elastic garters just above the knee. On top I was wearing an old but clean nylon smock or overall (une blouse nylon) that had a pattern of dark red flowers over a light blue background. The smock buttoned in front, had long sleeves and was coming an inch or two above my skirt hem. Finally a pair of cheap plastic sandals was adorning my feet. What a sight! She cut my longish blond hair and layered it in a more feminine manner, then dyed it in a dark brown colour and treated it with a special liquid. Expertly and quickly she put rollers of various sizes. Finally she covered them with a scarf in order to let it dry and set. Obviously I was having a sort of homemade perm! She made a point of placing the scarf in my head in a special manner 'style a la Portuguaise' as she said. I was witnessing for the last few hours a shocking transformation. Only this morning I was a blond elegantly dressed Parisian bourgeois and now a few hours later, a peasant looking woman dressed in the clothes of a shabby looking 'femme de menage' was standing in front of the hallway mirror in Conchita's minuscule apartment. Peculiarly enough I was content in my present position. "Before work we have to eat something, you must be starving and I am too" said Conchita with feeling. And she continued, "Go and do the dishes and then set the table. I'll finish the cooking. Here, put this apron on". She picked from a hook an old and dirty looking apron and threw it to me. It was a faded blue full apron in a striped cotton material that also had seen better days. Without protest I tied it around my waist and then I adjusted the bib straps that crossed in the back and buttoned in the apron strings. The picture of the cleaning woman was now complete. I asked for a pair of rubber gloves to protect my hands but she refused them in a rather cross manner. "Violetta thinks that your hands are too soft and need a bit of housework training. In fact she asked to me to not give you any glove protection for later when you will be cleaning the public stairs of this building. I am afraid that in your new station in life soft bourgeois hands are not acceptable, 'allez au boulot Maria" the last sentence meaning something of the type 'come on we haven't all day Maria!' We had a hearty meal accompanied by some red wine. We were chatting and giggling like two schoolgirls. At one point Conchita got more serious and said to me, "I know that Violetta will be able to change you physically, it is already happening, but you have to try and change the way you speak. You speak too correctly, too properly if you know what I mean. You have to develop a coarser way of speaking, to make mistakes, and use more vulgar words, try and copy my way of speaking. You have to sound uneducated like me that I wasn't even able to finish the primary school." She stopped and looked at me as she was sipping some of her wine and then continued, "For instance when you speak of Violetta you can't use her first name anymore, you should refer to her always as 'Madame', she is your employer now. I know you will be able to do it if you try. Then we will become true friends." She said the last phrase in an intimate manner insinuating all sorts of future amorous adventures or at least this is the way I imagined it. I decided to drop my small secret bomb. I started talking Portuguese to her, "I agree with you Conchita but probably I would sound more authentic at least to French people if I speak Portuguese. Then they will accept me more as what I appear to be at the moment!" She opened her mouth in astonishment, "Wow, how on earth can you speak Portuguese, Violetta didn't mention anything to me?" I looked at her in a conspiratorial way and continued in the somewhat childish Portuguese I was speaking: "I never mentioned it to Viol.... I mean Madame, you see until this morning I never came close to her. She was mostly dealing with my wife." I stopped this time for a sip of my wine and continued, " You see I spent 4 years in Portugal as a teenager, my father was the French ambassador there and I went to a French school in Lisbon but we had to learn Portuguese as a second language and of course I had quite a few local friends. I know that at the moment it sounds a bit spastic the way I speak, but with a bit of practice everything will come back." She looked at me still astonished but she recovered quickly and said always in Portuguese, "Well my dear Maria, this little revelation of yours makes things a lot easier for the transition to your new status in life. Wait till Violetta hears the news, she will be thrilled!" She said that last phrase with an emphasis that took me by surprise. I don't know why, but I was thinking more and more that my whole transformation as it started in the morning and continued in great leaps was not as spontaneous as it appeared to be. Was something behind the whole story that I didn't know? But did I really care? I decided that at the moment I was enjoying what I was doing and I couldn't care less if there was a dark conspiracy behind it. Conchita interrupted my thoughts, "Come on Maria, let's clear the table, then you can do the dishes and tidy up the kitchen. We have to rush now; you still have a lot of work to do out in that staircase." CHAPTER 4 My first cleaning job "You will find everything you need under the stairs, right outside my apartment door". Conchita dragged me out of her apartment, I followed reluctantly I must say. After all, this was going to be my first public appearance as a 'femme de menage'. I was still wearing the clothes she made me wear before, including the nylon overall and the cotton apron. My newly cut and dyed hair was still in rollers and the scarf was modestly covering my head and half of my face. In fact those made me feel more 'undetectable' if this is the right word. Conchita was addressing me now in a firmer tone of voice, "You pick from under the stairs, broom, dustpan, rubbish bag and dusters. For mopping the landings and stairs you will use this metal bucket. Inside you will find the mop and the cleaning material. Every second floor there is a tap for filling your bucket with clean water. You clean also the windows between floors and you dust carefully the wooden railings. 'Allez, au boulot Maria'". Without any other word she turned abruptly and went inside the apartment. I was on my own now in a public entrance of a huge building. I managed with some difficulty to pick up all the material and the household utensils as instructed and I started climbing the stairs. My overall and apron pockets proved to be very useful, I managed to squeeze in the dusters, bags and cleaning material. As I was climbing struggling to carry everything without dropping them on the way I realized how any 'class' or 'style' you have as a human being is lost as you try to cope with serious manual work. I was halfway up when I heard voices and the familiar sound of heels on the stairs. From the sound and accent I understood that two bourgeois ladies where coming down the stairs. I stopped on the next landing and made space for them. They were elegantly dressed and a strong channel No. 5 perfume filled my nostrils. They completely ignored me as I was standing in a corner of the landing, but I heard them talking to each other as they overtook me, thinking that I wasn't able to understand a word of what they were saying. "I haven't seen her before" one lady said. "Probably she is one of Conchita's cronies; you know how she picks them when they arrive from Portugal." "Yes", the other lady agreed, "This one seems as if she just arrived and she gets the 'staircase treatment' from Conchita, probably in exchange for getting her hair done, I saw the curlers under the scarf". "No doubt that soon she will be working as a live in maid in the neighbourhood, you know how well Conchita operates her unofficial domestic agency and how..." By that stage I lost the sound of their voices; they were too far down the stairs. But it intrigued me once more what I heard. My feeling that a sort of 'organized plan' concerning me was in full development and was even stronger now. But again my inner reaction was the same. I couldn't care less. What would have been the alternative? Simply sitting at home feeling depressed and miserable for the loss of my wife. Finally I arrived exhausted on the sixth floor. I deposited all I carried in a corner and I filled the bucket with water, rinsing the mop several times. It was badly washed the last time it was used. The water was cold and was picking at my hands that I wiped hastily in my apron. Soon I was about to learn that the apron was going to become one of my most useful 'tools' in my new position as a cleaner/maid. Also it was going to become the symbol of my new station in life. I started sweeping first and then, as any 'femme de menage' I went down to my knees and I started washing the floor with the mop, pushing the bucket forwards as I was moving. My knees were hurting and gradually I started discovering the most comfortable kneeling position without thinking how I looked. I was becoming more vulgar in my movements and positions by the minute. At that moment I heard Violetta's voice behind my back, ?I love the way you display your knickers to the world Maria!" Always on my knees I turned to face her, feeling all red and sweaty. She was even more transformed now. She had been to the hairdresser herself, because her hair was styled in a very fashionable 'bourgeois lady' manner. Her grey suit and high heel sandals (my wife's elegant clothes) made her look like a fashion magazine model. Next to her I felt like I was coming from another world, down to my knees, wearing the old and used overall and apron. I could smell her delicate expensive perfume. I was wondering what she could smell of me. A combination of sweat and cleaning material perhaps? She started talking like 'une vrai patronne', the real boss that she was now, "I have too many things to tell you," she said. I started getting up from my kneeling position. She stopped me with her hand, "You just stay as you are and simply listen. You finish under Conchita's orders the cleaning of the staircase of this building. I give you an appointment to meet me 16.30 hours exactly at the shop 'Blouses et Tabliers' Ave. Victor Hugo No. 145, not at all far from here, in order to choose your new working clothes. Tonight you officially start your new career in service. I invited some people over and you are going to be dressed in a proper maid's uniform to serve them. Tomorrow you are replacing me for the Orly Airport cleaning. I arranged with the cleaning van, they will pick you from the train station at 5.00 AM. I gave my locker key to Ginette, a colleague of mine who knows everything about you. You will find the uniform to wear in my locker and Ginette will explain everything to you." I was full of shame but excited also as I was keeping my head up to look at her from my uncomfortable kneeling position. She continued totally undisturbed, "I think that within the next five days you will know and understand everything about your new position in life, your new uniforms, your new friends and colleagues, your new working environment. She turned to go as abruptly as she appeared. The last moment she remembered something because she said to me in Portuguese this time, "I hear form Conchita that you can speak Portuguese fairly well. This is a pleasant surprise to me because lots of the future procedures, in order to secure your new status and position in life, will be now simplified. For instance when you meet me at the 'Blouses et Tabliers' boutique I'll talk only Portuguese to you and you will be answering very briefly with a yes Madame or no Madame. I'll explain to the sales girls that you are a new arrival and your French is practically non existent." She left without waiting for an answer. CHAPTER 5 Getting my new working clothes The time is 16.45, the place 145 Avenue Victor Hugo. I wait, as instructed, in front of the working clothes boutique for over 20 minutes now. Violetta finally arrives driving my car; she leaves the car in front of the shop and the parking attendant rushes to collect it. I am certain she telephoned before for an appointment. They open the door for her and as she goes in she makes a sign for me to follow. I rush in behind her; the sales girl examines me from top to bottom without saying hello or even smile at me. I must admit that Conchita didn't even let me wear Violetta's dress I had on this morning. She asked me to keep the old black skirt on and she gave me an old pinkish blouse that certainly had seen better days. It must have been a product of the late fifties with lace bordering the collar and long sleeves. I looked seriously poverty stricken. I could see that they knew I was there to be fitted with my new working clothes and the bourgois lady was the one paying. I heard Violetta talking to an older lady, probably the shop owner or manager, "Yes, she is my new 'femme de menage', she just arrived from Portugal. I want the lot for her, overalls for housework, proper uniforms for serving, some practical aprons and caps. Also a couple of simple dresses for outside wear, she has virtually nothing." She lowered her tone of voice, but it still was loud enough for me to hear, "I don't want anything expensive, simple working clothes, some underwear also and thick stockings or tights." She stopped to look at me and then she turned with a smile to the lady, in a louder voice again, "I actually forgot, Maria can't really understand French, just a few basic words and that's all. So, what I was saying is that she is used to a very low level of life, so we don't have to spoil her immediately. Let her find out later for herself." The manager answered back in a very polite manner, because she could see that a large order and profit was on its way, "Of course Madame, we will give your new maid all she needs. We will make her look very smart and neat. Could you please tell her to go upstairs in the fitting room, one of my assistants will be there shortly with some clothes for her to try on." They offered an easy chair to Violetta to sit comfortably and they sent me upstairs to the changing/fitting room. CHAPTER 6 Conspiracy theory? "In about half an hour the caterers will be here, so hurry up girl and finish mopping the entrance floor. You don't want them to see you down on your hands and knees, do you, Maria?" I looked up form my kneeling position to Madame Violetta. She was very elegantly dressed again, using another dress from my wife's large collection. I have to admit that this woman had a flair for elegant clothes. She was coming from a poor background yet she knew how to be a lady. I managed to answer in a polite manner, "Yes Madame, I'll be finishing here in a couple of minutes and then I have to go to the kitchen and start sorting out the cutlery for tonight's dinner. How many guests do you expect Madame?" I said that and all of a sudden a feeling of panic went through me, like I have been electrocuted. Who is coming tonight, how many people are invited to 'my own house'? Am I a complete fool? What I am doing here down on my hands and knees taking orders form my ex domestic, dressed as a poor servant myself. Should I act now and stop this masquerade before is too late? Violetta's antennas picked immediately my uneasiness because she acted instantly. "Maria, stop this instant what you are doing and come to the living room I want to make clear to you a few more conditions concerning our mutual agreement and arrangement." She turned and left walking very elegantly in her high heels. I finished mopping the last corner and managed to stand up with some difficulty. I now started realizing how painful it can be to try and work down on your hands and knees. I had a quick look at the hallway mirror, fixed my little cap and straightened my apron and walked fast towards the living room. She was sitting in one of the sofas and as I came in she motioned me to go and sit down at the sofa opposite her. In her usual manner she went straight to the point. "You shouldn't normally be seated, in particular in this room, but I feel I should tell you a few more things about our mutual arrangement, which so far works to my full satisfaction." I was quite conscious how I was seated, at the edge of the sofa, keeping my legs together and my hands neatly on top of my white apron. I was already feeling that it was somehow not correct to sit in the living room opposite my new employer. It is amazing what a servant's uniform can do to you. But on the other hand I was eager to hear what Madame Violetta had to say. She continued in her very assured manner, "As you have noticed Maria lots of things happened in only a few hours, your transformation is amazing, you look so much like a proper housemaid now. And of course nothing could have happened without your full cooperation. Do you agree so far?" I answered in a quiet but definitely affirmative way, "Yes Madame, I agree so far and I do not regret my decision to swap positions with you Madame!" I said it spontaneously and that pleased her because she continued more enthusiastically now, "I am very glad you still feel so positive, but I can tell you that gradually this is going to be more and more realistic and I hope you will be able to cope with it. You are here to stay as Maria the maid for at least a year, and you are going to feel more and more pressured in your new station in life. Nobody ever said that being a domestic servant is going to be easy so I truly urge you to maintain the same positive attitude towards your new found role in life even when you will be feeling tired and worn out and humiliated and defeated, because I am afraid you will get those feelings and quite soon, in particular when you start appearing in public as a domestic. Do you understand that?" Another question for me and another instant answer, "Yes Madame I understand fully that in the future I am going to have strong feelings about my new lowly position in life, but I truly hope that the novelty of it, plus my naturally submissive nature will allow me to face it as bravely as I can manage. You know Madame by now that I like being 'une personne soumise' There it is, I said it finally! I accepted in front of Madame Violetta that I am a submissive; I never said that to anyone so openly, even to my own wife, though I suspect that she knew it for quite some time. Of course Violetta's phrase hadn't gone unnoticed to me before 'being the maid for at least a year'. Did she have in mind, a longer period possibly? Here it goes again my conspiracy theory. She must have read my thoughts in her usual super perceptive manner because she continued vigorously, "Well, Maria, I want to be completely frank with you at this point, I wouldn't be able to initiate any of the things that happened to you today if I didn't have those long talks with your ex wife. She said to me that you were always a bit effeminate, you always liked housework and you always made a point of wearing an apron when working at home. In fact I know where you keep your collection of feminine clothes, mostly aprons I must say!" She stopped and looked at me sharply, as I became increasingly red and looked at her in disbelief. Now all the pieces of the puzzle appeared to be in the correct position. Violetta had prepared quite methodically for today's transformation and in some sort of agreement with my wife. God this was beyond belief! She understood again my uncertainty and confusion because she continued in a haste, "Yes Maria, I accept that I manipulated things towards the direction I wanted them to go, but I repeat again, nothing could have happened without your full participation and collaboration. And Conchita confirmed that to me, she said you were like putty in her hands, and by the way I gather you had quite a time with her." I blushed all over again and said in a meek voice, smiling at the same time "Yes Madame, I enjoyed Conchita's company in bed and I appreciated all her efforts to transform me to a convincing 'femme de menage'. I briefly stopped playing nervously with the edge of my apron but I continued before Violetta had the chance to resume her speech. "But may I ask you Madame what exactly my wife said to you? I never realized that she knew that much about me, I thought I kept some of my secrets well hidden." She looked at me a bit annoyed now, "I don't intend to open that discussion with you now Maria and I said what I had to say. Probably some other time I'll be more obliging to you." She stopped and looked at her beautiful wristwatch, another piece from my wife's collection. "It's getting late girl, the caterers will be here shortly, so before they ring the bell let me tell you a few things about my guests tonight. Four people are coming, two gentlemen and two ladies. They belong to the 'milieu artistique' of Paris, they know nothing of Violetta the cleaning lady, they know me as Violetta an eccentric and rich lady of mixed parentage, Portuguese father, French mother who shares her time between her Parisian mansion and her family house in Lisbon. They are invited to my Parisian mansion tonight and you are Maria 'ma soubrette Portuguaise', my Portuguese maid. They are very open minded, some gay some lesbian, I leave it to you to decide who is what. You don't have to say much, in fact I'll be addressing you only in Portuguese, so you don't have to worry about being read or ridiculed." A huge feeling of relief overtook me and I instantly became calmer. I managed to say to my new Mistress in a voice full of gratitude, "Oh thank you Madame for telling me that, I already feel much calmer now and..." She didn't let me finish, but in her usual manner, she simply said to me, "All right girl, here are you final instructions, you receive the food from the caterers then you set the table for six, it's you former house anyway so you know exactly where everything is. Then you go and change to your black and white uniform and two inch black shoes. I expect you to be ready to receive our guests by 8.00 o'clock sharp. Off you go now." She dismissed me abruptly as usually but as I was rushing to the kitchen she added something more. "Don't forget your job at Orly tomorrow, I'll give you more instructions about that after the guests depart later tonight, then tomorrow evening we will sign together some papers. I took the initiative and asked Maitre Gareau to prepare a general 'Pare of Attorney' and some other paperwork so we can make more official your new status and my introduction to 'la grande vie bourgeoise'. But more about it tomorrow girl!" She did throw her bomb at the end! She had already contacted Maitre Gareau, our family lawyer? And how she managed to do that without asking me? I suspected again my wife's finger there; she must have given her all the necessary information and contacts to deal with all that paper work which always was a great nuisance for me anyway. My wife was handling all those matters usually. As I was entering the kitchen the doorbell rang. I took a deep breath and rushed to the door. The caterers must have arrived. As I was opening the door I remembered to use my heavily accented broken French, I was just the Portuguese maid after all! CHAPTER 7 Serving dinner properly dressed The first guests arrived a bit after eight. I rushed to the door to let them in, two very chic and elegant ladies came in and with a brief 'bonsoir' handed me their coats and bags. Mme Violetta rushed behind me to welcome them with a kiss on each cheek, the French way. I could smell her Chanel no5 very strongly. "Bonsoir Monique, bonsoir Annette, ca va bien?" she said in a very friendly manner, leading them towards the living room, 'la grande salle' as my ex wife was calling it, a very elegantly furnished room with a taste indicating 'old money' without any touch of the 'nouveau riche' vulgarity. I was following behind as instructed, ready to take an order for drinks. The ladies were looking around admiringly, "Wow, what a house 'chere Violetta', Monique said, with true admiration in her voice, "You have some very nice pieces here, real 'objects d'art'. "And look at those paintings in the wall" added Annette. She stopped and looked at a small gouache painting above a 19th century dresser, "Wow, this is a Picasso, come and look at this Monique, a true Picasso of the early period!" Mme Violetta, gave me a questioning look, as if asking me, 'is this really a Picasso?' I nodded silently as she approached them with a big smile, "Yes, it is a small Picasso, my father bought in Lisbon before the war, nothing big though, there are quite a few of those small Picassos in private collections, you know what a workaholic Picasso was, I bet he did that in an hour." She is good I thought to myself, she is very quick and adapts wonderfully in any situation. "Would you like something to drink ladies," Mme Violetta asked them as they sat down. They both asked for a glass of white wine and Mme turned to me and said in a slow voice, as I was an imbecile, "Two glasses of white wine for the ladies Maria and bring also some of the little hors d'oeuvre you prepared before." I curtsied as elegantly as possible, but with a certain hesitancy saying "Oui Madame, tout de suite Madame." As I was heading for the kitchen I heard her saying to her guests, 'Yes, she is new here, yes she needs quite a bit of training, yes she is Portuguese and her French is elementary.' Within the next half hour three more people have arrived, a middle aged couple Mr et Mme Bubois, as they announced themselves, a very pompous and arrogant bourgeois couple, and a gentleman in his early forties, Mr Gaston Patou who obviously was flirting with Mme Violetta. I served them all drinks and as they were chatting happily in the living room I organized the last details of the meal. It was quite tricky, because I had to keep everything warm and inviting looking, thank God I knew that kitchen so well. By the time they sat down to eat it was past nine thirty. I was indeed very busy and fully alert during dinner, but I have to admit that Mme Violetta helped me a lot, guiding me continuously and very expertly. 'You can clear the table now Maria, you can bring the main dish now, please fill the wine glasses, Mr. Dubois needs some bread please, etc, etc I was very relieved when they all went back to the living room and Madame asked me to prepare coffee for everybody. As I was getting ready to start the dishes, I heard a little bell ringing, I hastily dried my hands in a tea towel, removed my working apron, and rushed to the living room where I found them all sitting comfortably. "Ah, Maria, there you are," said Madame in a patronizing manner, and continued, "I know your French is not good, but Mlle Monique wants to know if you have any friends or relatives in your village back in Portugal in need of coming to work as maids in Paris. Mlle Monique runs a small agency of domestic help and she often thinks that the best way to find new people is through domestics who already work here. Do you understand what I just said to you girl?" I felt all the eyes on me! Mme Violetta did it again. She put me on the spot in front of all those people. I had to say something and I had to sound foreign and a bit stupid. "Oui Madame, je comprends" I said in my softest and stupidest voice, "I can check with my relatives Madame, I have two cousins a bit younger than me who probably would be interested, I have to write a letter to them Madame." I said all that with a heavy accent using one or two Portuguese words, which Madame translated to the others. Mlle Monique turned to me and said also in a slow voice, influenced by Violetta, "That would be good Maria, but please do it as quickly as possible, I have a few excellent clients requiring domestic help the earliest possible and the market in Paris at the moment is not good.' At this remark, the arrogant bourgeois lady, Mme Dubois turned to Mlle Monique and said, "It is true my dear, good help in so hard to find those days, and you can't get anymore a nice provincial French girl, you have to use those uneducated foreigners who are not always trustworthy, the other day..." At this point Mme Violetta turned to me and said, "Thank you Maria that will be all." "Merci Madame," I said curtseying as Mme Dubois continued her accusations against foreign domestic workers. I could feel more and more what it meant to be in the other side of the fence. CHAPTER 8 End of my first day as a domestic By the time the guests had left and I tidied up the kitchen it was well past midnight and I was dead tired. It certainly had been a long and exhausting day for me and as I was putting the last glasses away Madame entered the kitchen holding a small envelop. "You did very well tonight Maria, though the guests said that you are a bit crude and rough, I explained to them that you are new in Paris and you are very eager to learn and become a well trained domestic." I blushed as I answered with a polite 'Thank you Madame' "Now then," she continued more firmly now, "Tomorrow is your Orly day and you have to get up very early. You take the night bus at the corner of our street; it passes exactly at 4.30am, for the Gare de Lyon, where you get off. There you will be picked by the cleaning van that goes to Orly. Ginette will look for you. The cleaning van has a sign at both sides, 'N & M Badoit - Cleaning Services'." She stopped momentarily and handed me the envelope she had been holding, "There is an Orly Pass Card in your new name which is Maria Magdalena Delantal. The photo is missing, but as soon as you arrive at the airport Ginette will take you to one of those automatic machines and then she will take the Pass with the photo to the Airport Maintenance Office (AMO) for proper stamping and registration." She stopped because she saw me looking concerned and worried again. How on earth she was able to provide for me an Airport Pass to a name not legally existing? Of course she understood my worries because she said immediately, "Maria Magdalena Delantal exists officially and has a file with the French police as a legal immigrant. For reasons that don't concern you at this moment she left France for Portugal, 'through the back door' as we say in the immigrant argot, meaning that she left the country without a Passport control through borders, so I have her passport and you simply take her place. I will shortly organize for a Passport for you as soon as I have appropriate photos." That terrified me even more because I managed to say in a very worried tone of voice, "But Madame I might end up in prison for forgery of important legal documents, plus I will be constantly vulnerable in case I am stopped by the police for the regular inspections in the Metro or the train or in other public spaces, you know how paranoid the French authorities are with illegal immigrants, in particular after the collapse of the French Algeria. I think...." She stopped me again with her hand and said in a very strict manner now, "Now listen to me girl, you must realize that you are entering the world of cleaners and maids and lowly domestics that usually are exposed to Police controls and harassment, but this is exactly what I have been trying to tell you all along, you have to feel to your skin what it means to be a lowly laborer, a domestic, a cleaner, you have to feel to your skin what is means to be afraid that the police might catch you and find something wrong with your papers, you must feel the fear of it, otherwise, you simply act as an impostor and actor. Do you understand Maid Maria?" She emphasized the last phrase so strongly that I had to back off, she had such a strong character this woman I certainly was not a match for her. I managed to say again rather meekly, "Yes Madame, I understand what you say, but please Madame could you promise me that you will be behind me and protect me if something goes wrong? After all you are my primary employer." That last phrase I said spontaneously and instantly I was worried I was asking too much, but surprisingly enough Violetta said to me in a rather sweet tone now, "But of course Maria, I strongly believe that any correct employer should stand firmly behind their staff, domestic or other and try to provide security and protection." Again she managed to convince me and pacify me. Soon after that she said good night and departed for her luxurious bedroom as I was taking up the steps to my small and cold new room. I was going to spend my first night as a maid in my new uncomfortable room. And I realized of course that I barely had the chance for a proper sleep. Four hours was the most I could hope for. Soon I was tucked in my small cot, wearing a cheap cotton nightie of Violetta, keeping my bra and breast forms on to get used to them, as instructed accordingly of course. I never felt so physically tired, practically all my body muscles were aching. I fell asleep very shortly, among mixed and confusing images and thoughts of what happened to me during the past fourteen hours. CHAPTER 9 Cleaner at Orly Airport I got off the bus at ten to five in front of Gare de Lyon main entrance. I was very conscious of my appearance and how I was moving, but nobody else seemed to pay any attention to me. I was one of the many men and women, mostly menial and domestic laborers, going to work so early in the morning. Dressed in one of ex Violetta's, former cheap dresses, a coat, flat shoes and a head scarf, tied firmly under my chin 'the Portuguese way', as I was taught by Conchita, I was standing hesitantly on the pavement, looking for the cleaning van. It was a miserable damp day and I was getting a bit worried. The cold was quite penetrating at five in the morning. All of a sudden I heard a fast beep and a little van stopped in front of me, a side sliding door was opened and a female voice from inside said quickly, "Bonjour, vous devez etre Maria, le remplacement de Violetta?" I answered immediately with a " Yes, I am Maria, Violetta's replacement," feeling quite relieved that they turned up and the next moment I was sitting, quite squeezed, among five women plus the driver. A mixture of soap, cheap perfume and garlic made my nostrils quiver in a searching way, new unfamiliar odors for my bourgeois sense of smell. The woman next to me said in a rather husky but pleasant voice, the voice of a smoker, "I am Ginette, Violetta talk to me about you, I am going to be your 'guardian angel' for today, we are going to work together, this is the Airport policy anyway, the cleaners work in pairs. You shouldn't worry, for as long as you follow my instructions and keep your voice low you will be fine." I managed to answer back in a equally quiet and husky voice, "Thank you Ginette, I'll try to be as correct as possible, I am aware that hundreds of passengers' eyes will be looking at us, something that makes me quite nervous." She said in a more animated tone, "Let me tell you a secret girl, I do this job in the airport for several years. After sometime you realize that nobody really looks at you, nobody except for your supervisor probably. The passengers are looking through you, you don't exist for them since you are part of the furniture of the departing lounge! Cleaners are invisible, so you shouldn't worry about that. By the way do you have your Airport Pass Card?" "Yes Ginette, I have it in my bag, Madame Violetta, gave it to me last night." She smiled mischievously, "I see Violetta trained you well, you are already thinking of her as your bourgeois employer, she must be thrilled." She stopped to blow her nose, something that slightly annoyed me and continued, "By the way, you mustn't forget that your are a Portuguese woman recently arrived and your French is elementary, so if the supervisor appears to check on us let me do the talking. If he asks you directly simply say, 'Oui Patron'. He likes to think of himself as the big boss. After that we stayed silent until we arrived at the airport. We went through a back gate and after walking in some basement corridors we arrived at a room with lots of lockers and toilet facilities. There was an inscription at the door, 'personnel domestique feminin'. Ginette took me to a locker, produced a key and told me, 'This is the old Violetta's locker, now yours for as long as you work at the airport, here keep the key and don't forget the number 168; I am going to change now and you do the same, white sabots, very comfortable thank God, blue overall dress, checked matching apron and head scarf, then we go for you photo." It took me only a few minutes to change; I removed my dress keeping my slip on. Then I put the overall dress on which buttoned in front and that smelled slightly of Violetta's body odor, which this time was a bit exciting for me. I tied the apron with a bow as symmetrical as possible, I was learning my lesson now and I looked at Ginette at the other end of the room to see how she was going to wear the head scarf. It was a head triangle of the same checked material as the apron and the dress' collar. I adjusted it to my head; I locked my locker and put the key to my apron's pocket. I was ready for work. I couldn't fail to notice as I looked at myse