Acting as a Cleaning Lady Chapter 11 The Tribunal
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Acting As A Cleaning Lady - Chapter 9 - A Life In Service free porn video
Acting as a Cleaning Lady
An Unfinished Story by Susannah Donim
Chapter 9 - A Life in Service
Life settles into a routine for Maria, the cleaning lady and reluctant
maid. Then a new business opportunity arises.
Saturday was my first day off for nearly two weeks and it had still
been dominated by Maria-time, so I insisted on spending the rest of
the weekend just relaxing. We read the papers; watched TV; and
consumed lots of alcohol. I had two very unladylike pints of real
English ale with Sunday lunch, and we polished off a bottle of Cotes
du Rh?ne between us with dinner.
The abdominal prosthesis came off as soon as we got back from
Transformations on Saturday afternoon and didn't go back on until
Monday morning. In between we made the most of unrestricted access to
Dave's equipment. I was wearing a nightie and peignoir most of the
time, so as usual the fact that everything she could see of me was
entirely Maria drove Sally on to greater passion.
= = =
But Monday morning soon came round and we were off to the third of
Dorothy's friends. We arrived at a handsome four-bedroom detached
house a couple of streets away from us - the first of my clients I
could actually walk to, if I had to. Sally rang the doorbell. I
hovered modestly behind her, an immigrant cleaner deferring to her
betters.
Ruth Baker quickly answered the door. She was brisk and business-
like, perfectly coiffured, and dressed in a pinstriped skirt suit,
nylons and heels. She looked like she was in a hurry to get out and
off to work.
As with our previous clients, Sally had explained over the telephone
what we needed to do. Like Mrs Hunting-Smythe, Ruth had approved of
'being able to deal with management,' as she put it. Anyway she had
heard all about us from Dorothy and Joyce and was ready to show us
round. We followed her as she outlined her priorities for cleaning.
She was keen to have me do her laundry as well, but as she apparently
lived alone, there wasn't much. Unfortunately all her underwear
looked expensive and was probably 'hand wash only'. It was a big
house and it clearly hadn't been cleaned at all for weeks. I told
Sally (in Spanish) to say it would take me four full days. Ruth
wasn't fazed.
As at my other clients, I reviewed her collection of cleaning
products. It didn't include everything I needed, so while she was
discussing times and fees with Sally, I went back out to the car to
collect my basket.
While I was doing that, the garage door opened and Ruth backed out in
her Lexus CT 200h Hybrid Luxury Compact - very nice. She waved and
roared off, the garage door closing automatically behind her. Clearly
she had no compunction about leaving two complete strangers in sole
charge of her home. She was either supremely self-confident or very
stupid. Or she had done her homework about us and spoken to Dorothy
and the others.
"She's given us a key, because she'll need to leave before you arrive
each day and won't usually be back till after you've gone," said Sally
as she was getting ready to go. "Looks like you'll be on your own all
day, but at least with the key, you'll be able to come and go as you
please."
I took the key and put it in my handbag.
"She works four days a week as a paralegal at a big Solicitor's firm
in town," Sally went on. "No sign of any children; no toys,
children's books, or clothes. I think she's separated."
"Yes, I noticed some men's clothes in the wardrobe in the spare room,"
I said. "Looks like he moved out quite recently. I hope he doesn't
come back when I'm here on my own."
"I hadn't thought of that," she said. "If he does, don't let him in.
Call me, and I'll call Ruth. Maybe she's changed the locks."
But nothing happened while I was there all that week. Sally and I
agreed that I would make my own way there and back each day on Carol's
old bike, as it hadn't always been convenient for her to drop me off
and pick me up. She would just be there at five-thirty on Thursday to
arrange the invoice and payment.
I hoped I wouldn't bump into someone I knew on the way over - that is,
someone that Dave knew - but it was very unlikely that anyone would
connect him with Maria anyway.
= = =
Ruth got home at four o'clock on Thursday afternoon and tried to
communicate with smiles and hand signals how pleased she was with my
work. I responded with smiles of my own and 'Gracias, Se?ora' to try
and indicate that I understood.
Sally arrived at the usual time. She and Ruth settled the business
details while I was packing up.
"Dorothy mentioned that Maria sometimes works in a maid's uniform,"
Ruth said. "I think I'd rather like that."
"Well she doesn't on the big spring-clean in the first week," Sally
said, "as it can get too dirty." I shot her a grateful look. "But I
suppose she could come in uniform for any regular visits after that."
Grrr!
"That would be lovely," Ruth said.
I suppose that was quite clever of my wife - a sort of negotiating
tactic to get the client committed to further work. I suspected some
of Ruth's friends and neighbours would be invited over while I was
there in my uniform. I was becoming a status symbol. I observed
(again) that Sally was proving rather good at managing our little
cleaning company.
= = =
It was a good thing that I was able to finish at Ruth's by Thursday
afternoon, as I was due at Anna's on Friday morning in my dreaded
maid's uniform. I hoped that at least I would have time to change
before setting off to Joyce's house for my afternoon shift.
Anna must have ordered the uniforms immediately after our talk on
Thursday. Transformations had delivered them on Saturday morning, in
time for me to parade in front of my sister. At the time I had just
hung them up in Maria's wardrobe. I had pulled the grey uniform out
of its protective polythene sleeve and dressed as quickly as I could
to get the whole embarrassing experience over with, still disgusted
with having to do the whole 'parlour maid' thing for her. I had put
off thinking about the uniforms, or even looking at them properly.
But now the fateful day had arrived. I got up early to get ready, and
to steel myself for my maid duties.
I took out the grey uniform again and hung it on the wardrobe door. I
stood there in my bra, panties and tights, inspecting this horribly
symbolic instrument of my further degradation. The base of the
uniform was a plain grey dress, 100% cotton according to the label,
with a white Peter Pan collar, three-quarter-length sleeves, and
buttons down the front. It was accompanied by a white bib apron, with
frills around the shoulder straps and along the bottom hem. There was
a silly, frilly white maid's cap, which I had to secure with
hairgrips. At least it would keep my fringe out of my eyes while I
waited on Anna and her guests.
I was glad that my wife had already gone to work when I stood and
examined myself in the mirror in my grey maid's dress with lacy apron
and frilly cap. I felt depressed for the first time since I had
become Maria. I hadn't minded the female disguise before. As Sally
had said, I'd worn sillier outfits in my university revue days.
Despite the feminine smocks and slacks, hair and make-up, I could
convince myself I was still Dave, just wearing a costume to earn some
money by acting a part.
But the maid uniform was different. If I was seen out in this,
everyone would know what I was. I could feel myself slipping into the
life of a poor, immigrant female domestic who needed her humble
cleaning job for basic survival. I was going to have to talk to Sally
about this. I felt like I was losing control of my life.
I arrived at Anna's back door at half-past eight. I was still
grateful that I could sneak in the back way and avoid parading myself
in the embarrassing uniform at the front door in full view of the
whole road.
Anna was not in evidence. She was probably still getting dressed.
She had left various notes for me, but the priority was to put the
first load of washing in, and for that I would have to go upstairs to
their bedroom. She was dressed and attending to her makeup.
"Morning, Maria, dear," she trilled when she saw me. "You do look
lovely this morning. My ladies will be so impressed by my pretty
domestic."
"Gracias, Se?ora," I said. "Por favour, no olvides que no hablo
Ingl?s."
"What?" she grimaced. "I hope you're not being rude to me!"
I curtseyed, but didn't answer. She sighed.
"All right, Dave, you can break character for a moment. If you have
something to say, say it."
I stood up straighter with my legs apart and my arms folded in a
probably futile attempt to assert my masculinity.
"I was just reminding you that Maria doesn't speak English, and your
guests will all know that. So there's no point in giving me orders in
English. Have you got your cue cards handy?"
"Yes, yes," she said patting the pocket of her cardigan. "Look, you
will play nice, won't you? You're not going to spill a cup of tea all
over one of my guests or something, are you?
"Of course, I won't!"
"And you will smile?"
"As long as you don't give me a reason not to. I know you're having a
wonderful time humiliating me like this, but I warn you - I do have a
breaking point."
"I haven't forgotten," she said, shuddering.
She was remembering our first real, no-holds-barred, skin-and-hair-
flying fight, when she was thirteen and I was eleven. It was truly
physical and my fury and total lack of control frightened her. I was
the loser of that contest, being smaller and lighter, and was severely
punished by our parents, but Anna emerged far from unscathed. I don't
even remember what the fight was about, but it was the first time she
realised that she had gone too far. Certainly she was never quite so
annoying ever again.
"You should try and enjoy this," she pleaded. "It's another
performance, isn't it? A challenge to your vaunted acting ability?"
"That might have been true a few weeks ago," I said, "but being Maria
isn't a performance anymore, and it's not really a challenge."
That was the first time I had admitted it to myself. I wasn't acting
Maria. I was Maria. But was I still Dave?
I brushed past her on my way to the laundry basket. "Ahora, disculpe,
Se?ora. Debo continuar con la lavander?a."
Well I didn't know how many loads of laundry there would be, so I
needed to get on with it.
= = =
I was only required to vacuum, clean and dust upstairs so as not to
disturb the bridge players. I was ironing quietly in the kitchen at
eleven o'clock when Anna appeared to request refreshments.
She stood at the kitchen door and tried to say, "Caf? y galletas, por
favor, Mar?a."
Fortunately I knew what she wanted, as an actual Spanish maid would
have struggled with her accent, but no doubt her guests were
impressed. I interrupted the ironing to put the kettle on and prepare
the caf?ti?re and a teapot. I laid out a selection of biscuits on a
large plate and fetched side plates, cups and saucers.
It turned out that Ruth was one of Anna's Friday morning bridge set,
so I saw her again when I took the coffee and biscuits in. As I set
the tray down on the dining room table I realised that the ladies had
been talking about me. I smiled and curtseyed but studiously ignored
their conversation because of course as Maria I couldn't understand
them. Anna was smirking quietly to herself because she knew I could.
"Frankly to find someone who is friendly and obliging and doesn't
steal is a major achievement," said Ruth. "If she does a good job
too, that's a bonus."
"And Maria does a very good job," said one of the others, apparently
called Margie, "based on what I've heard - and seen at Dorothy's."
Ruth hastened to agree.
"Don't let my sister-in-law hear you say that," said Anna, "or she'll
put her prices up."
"Still worth it," said Ruth. "Plus Maria doesn't speak English, so we
can talk about her and she won't understand."
"Watch it," said Anna. "She's learning!"
They all laughed. I refilled their coffee cups and passed round the
chocolate biscuits, giving no sign of understanding the conversation.
= = =
When I had finished clearing up after the bridge players' refreshment
break I went back to cleaning, washing and ironing for my sister. The
ladies left just before one o'clock. At least two of them had to get
back to organise lunch for their families.
I was on the upstairs landing as they were leaving and rushed down to
help them with their coats. Margie was asking Anna for Sally's - that
is, our - phone number. She also wanted to book Maria to give her
house a thorough spring-cleaning and to come for two hours a week
thereafter. At this rate my dance card would be full even after I'd
finished with the major spring cleans. So maybe we got some long-term
benefit from my acting as my sister's maid in front of her bridge
friends.
"Thank you, Maria," Anna said as I was packing up, a smug grin all
over her stupid face. "You did very well. Same time next week?"
"Perd?neme, se?ora," I said. "Yo no hablo ingles. Por favor hable
con mi empleador."
Anna's black look almost made up for the humiliating morning. Not
having to talk to my sister was an unforeseen benefit of being an
ignorant immigrant girl who couldn't speak English. But that was the
first time I had referred to my wife as my employer.
= = =
Friday afternoon was the first of my regular fortnightly visits to the
Woodfords. My time at Anna's had overrun but Sally was able to rush
back from the bank on her lunch hour to give me a lift. Again I
didn't have time to change out of my maid's uniform. Sally explained
but I could see that Joyce had no complaints. In fact she was pleased
and asked if I could always come in uniform. I still wasn't happy
about appearing in public in such a degrading outfit but what was the
point of arguing?
It was two weeks since I cleaned the Woodfords' house from top to
bottom and it was still looking reasonably neat and tidy, but it was
such a big house that a proper clean would take me most of the
afternoon.
Also the vacuuming and dusting had to be interspersed with doing the
laundry. Three full washes were necessary. It was a good thing she
had a tumble-dryer. Then there was a huge pile of ironing to do. In
the end I was there for nearly four hours.
When Sally came to collect me, Joyce asked her if I would be able to
come weekly - in my maid's uniform. Sally quickly agreed. I just
hoped I wouldn't bump into Peter again. He'd started flirting when I
was just in slacks and smock; there would be no stopping him if I was
in my sexy uniform. It seemed everyone liked it except me - even my
wife, who was supposed to be on my side, as I pointed out to her
bitterly that evening.
"Methinks the se?orita doth protest too much," she said, without
looking up from her computer.
Further discussion was interrupted by the house telephone. Sally
reached for it but I was too quick for her. I grabbed the receiver.
"Dave Jackson," I said, in my normal voice.
Sally looked horrified, but what the hell? At home I was going to
take every available opportunity to be Dave, to remind my wife - and
myself - who I really was. The caller couldn't see what I looked like
anyway.
"Hello, Mr Jackson," came an unfamiliar woman's voice. "My name is
Pat Ashcroft. We haven't met, but I used to run Pinner Maids.
Perhaps you've heard of us?"
I had the presence of mind to put the phone on 'speaker' so that Sally
could hear the conversation.
"Oh hello, Mrs Ashcroft," I said. "We certainly have heard of you.
To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Well I understand that your wife is starting a cleaning business?"
she said.
I was watching Sally's face. Her eyebrows shot up.
"I'm retired, as you probably know," Pat continued, "but I might be
able to help. Several of my old clients are desperate for a reliable
cleaning service to replace Pinner Maids, and I'm still in touch with
many of the girls who used to work for me. They really need the
work..."
She trailed off, obviously hoping to gauge my reaction. She sounded
quite sincere.
"Well, it's very kind of you to offer, Pat. I'll need to check with
my wife. Just a moment, please."
I looked at Sally. She was thoughtful. She stepped up to the
telephone.
"Hello, Pat," she said into the microphone, "Sally Jackson here. This
all sounds very exciting. I wonder: would you like to come over some
time this weekend, so we can discuss it further? Or we could come to
you?"
I shook my head vigorously. Dave certainly couldn't go to Pat's house
and there would be no point in Maria going instead as she wouldn't be
able to contribute to the discussion.
"No, I'll come to you, if that's all right," she said. "My place is
in a bit of a state. How's Sunday afternoon?"
"That would be great - say, two o'clock?"
Pat agreed and they exchanged addresses and telephone numbers.
"So we're starting a business now, are we?" I said after Sally had
hung up.
"We already have a business - J & J Services."
"But that was the company I set up for my digital currency trading!
We only need it so we can reduce our tax bill."
"Well now J & J Services are branching out into Domestic Cleaning.
It's just that at the moment we only have one manager and one
cleaner." She grinned. "You can have the first 'J' for your app;
I'll have the second for my cleaning company."
She was pacing up and down now. I knew better than to interrupt her
at times like these. My role was just to slam the brakes on if she
went too far, too fast.
"We'll have to do some serious thinking," she said. "We'll need
business plans, financial models..." She looked up at me, her eyes
flashing. "But if it's viable I might be able to leave the bank, and
it could be something to fall back on if the Tribunal doesn't go our
way. We should think about it anyway."
"I guess it all depends on the numbers," I said. "If I do two to
three hours a week for each of Dorothy, Joyce, Mrs H-S, Ruth and
Margie, that's still only about two-and-a-half days - not counting
bloody Anna, of course. I need more clients to fill Maria's week."
"Yes, but as long as I'm still at the bank you'll have to do most of
the admin too - invoices, rosters, corporation tax, etc. I'll be the
Managing Director; you'll be my secretary, as well as a cleaning lady.
We should get you a nice little skirt suit."
"I'm already a director of J & J Services," I protested.
"Dave is a director, but he isn't around, is he?" she said, firmly.
"But I can't help you call all Pat's old clients as Maria."
"I suppose not," she admitted. "Okay, you can talk to clients as
Dave, but by telephone only obviously."
"Well, there's no point in thinking it about any further till we hear
what Pat has to say. I'm a little worried she might be trying to
force her way back in. Dave will have to be out when she comes, of
course, but Maria can serve refreshments, and potter around. If you
meet with her in the dining room I can listen in the kitchen through
the serving hatch..."
= = =
No way was I going to wear a maid's uniform or even a dress on a
weekend if I didn't have to. I spent Saturday trying out the clothes
Dorothy gave me. When we went out to the shops for groceries and a
lot of replacement cleaning materials (which we would charge our
clients for), I was wearing a nice pair of white jeans and a lace top.
Sally was quick to confirm that, yes, my bum definitely did look big
in them. My boobs lifted the delicate lace way up, revealing my
flabby midriff.
As we had some spare time this weekend for once, we experimented with
my hair. Sally helped me braid it and secured the braids round my
head with pins. It felt a little like wearing a heavy helmet but my
hair wasn't in my way for the first time since Sharon put my
extensions in.
I checked myself out in the mirror afterwards and realised my outfit
and curvy figure were likely to attract a fair bit of attention,
especially male attention. Oh well, if you've got it, flaunt it, I
suppose.
= = =
After our shopping we had a lazy afternoon. We cooked dinner together
and retired early.
I was getting quite good at removing my false bottom by now. I washed
it and hung it up to dry on the shower rail. I went back to the
bedroom wearing only a vintage babydoll nightie from Dorothy's
collection. I was just stepping into the matching panties when my
wife called from the bed to tell me not to bother...
= = =
Pat arrived promptly at 2 pm on Sunday. I was wearing a demure floral
housedress (one of Dorothy's) with Carol's red cardigan and a
brightly-coloured, Spanish-looking apron. When the doorbell rang I
scurried into the kitchen, while Sally went to answer the door. She
showed Pat into the dining room, as planned, opened the serving hatch
and called through to the kitchen (in Spanish) to request tea for two.
She left the hatch open so I could hear the conversation.
"Before we begin, Mrs Jackson..." said Pat. She had a very slight
North London accent.
"Oh please call me Sally," my wife said.
"...Sally, I just want to stress I really don't want anything out of
this for myself, if you were worrying that I'm trying to get back in
through you." She smiled, clearly a little embarrassed. "I'm quite
secure, financially. I just want to help out my old clients and staff
- and you with your new business."
That was actually quite a relief. We'd been wondering if she had an
angle. Pat continued.
"You probably know that we got in trouble because a couple of my girls
started thieving," she said, clearly upset by the memory and the
admission, "but the police caught them, you know, and all the rest of
my maids were honest as the day is long. It's not right they should
suffer."
"No, no," Sally said. "I quite agree."
"I had my suspicions about the two bad girls when I first met them,
but I'd taken on too many clients and I was desperate. That would be
the only advice I'd give you, by the way - you need to learn to say
no, and not get greedy as I did."
At that point I came in with a tray of tea and biscuits. Sally
introduced me.
"This is Maria, Pat." She turned to me and introduced Se?ora Pat
Ashcroft to me, in Spanish.
"Maria's actually my only cleaner at the moment. I can't really call
it a business yet, and I hadn't intended to expand until you called."
"Oh, I thought..." Pat sounded surprised. "Your sister-in-law
said..."
At that point I nearly dropped the tray. A teaspoon clattered against
a side plate, interrupting Pat's flow. So Anna was going round
telling everyone we were starting a cleaning business. Was she
genuinely trying to help, or just trying to embarrass me in front of
more people?
"Yes, Anna's been very helpful," said Sally smoothly. "I didn't know
you knew her...?"
"Oh everyone knows Anna," Pat smiled. "She and Dorothy and I were
talking at the Women's Institute the other day. You must come along.
Everyone is saying how good Maria is, but I didn't realise she is your
only cleaning lady. I understand she's from Spain and is learning
English?"
"Yes, that's right," said Sally. "Slow progress, I'm afraid."
In Spanish she instructed me to introduce myself in English. They
both turned to me. I handed Pat her teacup.
"Myee nem eez Maria," I said haltingly. "I ham ferry pleeze to mee
choo."
I did another of my not-quite-a-curtsey curtseys and scuttled back to
the kitchen where I tried to sound busy while Sally and Pat laughed at
my accent.
Pat got a small notebook out of her handbag and started reading
through a list of potential clients.
"You can have this," she said. "I originally started the business...
oh, nearly thirty years ago now, after my husband died suddenly. It
was just me and my two daughters. We were none of us any good at
schoolwork, so we didn't have much in the way of qualifications and we
didn't like the idea of working in an office anyway. The business
grew really quickly - I'm sure you'll find the same round here. Most
of the ladies work, and those who don't are too posh to clean their
own houses."
Yep, that describes my sister to a 'T,' I thought.
"At one point I had more than twenty girls working for me," Pat
continued, "mostly part-time of course. We had clients all over
Pinner, Watford, Harrow, even as far as Rickmansworth. Both my
daughters ended up working in the office, only going out cleaning to
fill in for the regular girls being sick or on holiday. Eventually
two of my grand-daughters started working for us. In fact, they're
the girls I'd recommend you talk to first - Chloe and Fleur. They're
good, hard-working girls and I know I can trust them. They also need
the money! If it takes off as I think it will, I can recommend
another couple of really good girls."
"Well, why don't you bring Chloe and Fleur round?" Sally said. "Any
evening this week would be fine. I'm still working full-time, but my
husband, Dave, will be helping me. He's out at the moment. I think
this is very exciting! I'll start ringing round the clients you gave
me. If even half of them want to hire us, there'll be enough work for
Chloe, Fleur and Maria. But are you sure you don't want anything out
of this for yourself?"
"If you can give my grand-daughters some gainful employment, that will
be quite enough for me..." she said. "Well I suppose there is one
thing. I'm not as young as I was, and I really struggle with the
housework myself these days. Perhaps one of your staff could clean
for me too?" She smiled.
"I'm sure that could be arranged," Sally laughed.
Libbie
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