Finally free of Grandma, Gerome begins the adventure of a lifetime. Will reality match his dreams? Maid to be a Man? By Maid Joy

Chapter 1

Gerome had lived all his life beneath his Grandmother’s thumb. She had given orders about how he should dress, what he should eat, where he could go, whom he could see and how long he could be out without supervision. Now that the bat was dead, he intended to change all that.

She had been dying for the last five years. She sitting it in front of the parlor fire, brought there by her nurse, she had continued to run his life as she ran the financial empire she ruled. She issued orders and others jumped to do her bidding. He supposed that when you had a total corporate worth of a billion dollars (and growing) you could do what ever you wanted to and people would bow and thank you for it.

He never wondered where she had gotten all that money. She had been very open with the information. "Hard work. Hard work and effort. Hard work, effort and the sweat of my brow. I never had anyone hand me anything, and I kept the family fortune intact through the Great Depression, despite everything. I married and lost my husband, eventually I lost all three of our children. You're my only surviving relative, and I'll be damned if you waste it as soon as you have control of my dreams. You'll learn how to keep this fortune together and only then will you get your hands on it."

Well, he learned. She never stopped teaching him how to take care of the finances, how to deal with the government and how to deal with greedy executives. She taught him, with her switch sometimes, how to avoid tax pitfalls and what was an item of quality and worth buying, and what he should pass up because it was junk. She discouraged him from having hobbies as they were "just a way to waste time" in her oh-so-bitch-like opinion.

And now it's ALL mine, he thought. I can do ANY thing I want. The reading of the will was today, and probate was being expedited thanks to many measures she had taken while she was alive. Much to his shock the old witch had put everything in his name. He had the distinct impression she had retained her iron-fisted control until the day of her death. To find that he had been legally in charge of the entire empire for the last three years was disconcerting to say the least.

Now he was finally his own man at 25, and could do anything he wanted.

The Bat had made it plain that if he left and struck out on his own he would wind up with nothing from her. That threat alone was enough to keep him firmly tied to her purse strings and living in this mansion with its mothball smell everywhere.

Ding-dong the witch is dead. Which old witch? That damned bitch! Freaking song -- he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head for days. It made him so happy; he started whistling it to himself.

Now he’d a number of things to put into motion, plans he had to delay, waiting for this moment.

First, on the list was taking care of this house. The majority of the staff had been dismissed with thanks for their years of service, and a hefty severance bonus. They should do okay considering they just got paid for a year in advance, without having to work for it. I needn't have anything further to do with them. He kept a few of the staff on, the Stableman to take care of the horses until he could sell them. A few of the household staff stayed on for a couple more weeks. They helped him start the enormous task of going through everything in the place to get it ready and on the market. He wanted something a bit more modern.

It was fine to keep this mausoleum when there was a reason to do so, but now that I'm the only one left, I don't need 20 bedrooms, a formal ballroom, and other such Grand Epoch fripperies. Ten bedrooms will do nicely, he chuckled to himself.

In actuality, he was planning on getting a one or two bedroom apartment someplace FAR away from this place. He wanted to live a simple life. He had managers and company presidents who were competent enough and loyal to the company who could run things to keep the money coming in, all Gerome had to do was send the occasional order and sign the paychecks.

He'd have to buy their loyalty with bonus checks to make sure that they didn't ruin the companies. He'd also have to get auditors to make sure they weren't cooking the books. He knew how easy the money would dry up if he allowed it to be run by greedy incompetents. But once those safety checks were in place, he could relax and take it easy. He could live the good life for a change.

He saw no reason to exert himself anymore than he had to.

The family, a word he had learned to loathe, had actually owned a previous house, burnt down by the Yankees during the War Between the States. His ancestors had been as hard as his grandmother and rebuilt the house bigger and more grandiose than its earlier incarnation. It seemed that every generation thereafter bought more land to add to the estate and added more rooms, furniture and staff to go with the new acquisition.

Gerome sat back in the attic and wiped his brow again with the sodden towel he had brought. He had been up here every night until about 4 AM going through trunks and boxes, putting things away and moving things around. There were things he wanted to keep, simply from a legacy point of view, but more could be burned, recycled or just put in a landfill. It was amazing how much junk could accumulate in 150 years.

Such was to be the fate of many of the items he found. The waistcoats and christening dresses he figured he could donate to Goodwill, until he saw how much people were willing to pay on the Internet for some of these old garments. He started pulling them out and taking good pictures offering them on eBay. If someone wanted to pay him $500 for a ball gown that had seen better days, who was he to stop them?

The various antique dealers had already been out and hauled off most of the furniture he found in the attic. He was quite surprised that the furniture was worth that much, yet his lawyer had assured him it really was. Apparently much of it was matching sets of bedroom and sitting room items from some locally famous cabinetmaker. He only did a few pieces himself, and since Gerome’s family had been large and generous patrons of this artisan many of his journeyman pieces had resided in their attic, until recently.

For whatever reason, it made the pieces even more desirable.

Artwork was sold, along with many of the house wares. There wasn't much point in having fifteen pots that would hold five gallons of food each when he wasn't going to be entertaining two hundred people a night. He chose to keep the pots and pans he thought he needed to cook with for himself and a few guests, and got rid of the industrial sized things. Those windfalls combined had actually netted him a few hundred thousand dollars. Remembering his grandmother’s secrecy in hiding assets, he placed those funds into separate personal accounts.

On the advice of the real estate agent, he left the rooms downstairs fully furnished. He was told that he would get a higher resale price from the nouveau riche with furniture in it than if he just sold them empty rooms. He had professionals come in to clean the walls, the ceiling, the floors and carpets. The beds and furniture in the rooms were professionally cleaned then arranged by a decorator to show off their best attributes with an eye to restoring and enhancing their value. If he was going to try to sell this place for top dollar, it was in his best interest to make sure that things were actually worth top dollar.

The staff that he had dismissed was certainly up to his grandmother’s exacting standards. But when most of the rooms had been closed up from lack of use, they didn't get cleaned as often as needed.

On the advice of his very expensive estate agent, more modern upgrades were added to the ever lengthening list of projects. To expedite the process that would increase resale value, multiple crews had been in to do those upgrades as well. Grounded three prong outlets in all rooms, internet wiring and improved electrical wiring had all been done at the same time. It had taken an unheard of two months at "price is no object" spending to get it all done.

For the last week he had been rifling the attics for the remaining content, pulling out all the junk that accumulates with 150 years of people piling things in and forgetting about them. There were chests and trunks in one of the four attics where all the old clothing seemed to be stored. All of it was neatly folded and as well preserved as possible, packed in cedar chests and in mothballs to keep them from being ruined. He had found everything from a full evening gown from the Civil War to a Zoot Suit that must have been his grandfather's.

One of the wardrobes he came across that night was solely for generations of servant's livery. There was literally nothing missing. There were complete uniforms for Butlers, Footmen, Hall Boys, Housekeepers, Lady's Maids, Upstairs Maids and Downstairs Maids, uniforms for Nannies and Tutors. They went from the Civil War through Edwardian times, and there were a few bags with uniforms of a more current make. In some ways this was a find of epic proportions for someone who was into historical clothing. PSB would pay a fortune for this, if they had one. Mentally he rubbed his hands together anticipating a tidy sum.

As he had with the other outfits he had come across, he pulled everything out and laid them on the floor piece by piece assembling the outfits completely. He lifted the clothes up setting their hangers in the rafters, looking at all the accessories that were with them. He pulled the outfits over one at a time to the lighted studio he had set up. With advice from another expert it had good flashes and lights, a backdrop and a decent camera and tripod. He started taking photographs of everything. He was very grateful that in this age of digital cameras he didn't have to develop the film in a darkroom.

Time passed quickly and when he had finished with the servant’s wardrobe, he started putting it all away. He looked at his watch and found that it was about 3:30 AM, time for him to get to bed.

He stopped when he got to some of the maids uniforms from the turn of the Century. There were several that seemed about his size and he wondered what it would be like to actually work in the uniforms, given the restrictive garments of the period. He pulled out a top and skirt, the two petticoats that went with it, three of the linen aprons, a corset, chemise, corset cover, pantaloons, stockings and a set of work boots. He found a cap with frills and lace that would be pinned to the head and added that to the pile. He then finished putting the rest away.

He collected the outfit he intended to try on later the memory card from the camera and went down to his room. Once he had showered to get all the grime off himself, he decided to shave. He then made sure the clothes were as clean as possible. He wanted to properly get ready as though he were a maid working at the turn of the century.

He sat down on the bed and examined the clothing minutely so that he could see if it was going to be damaged by wearing it. The sturdy satins and linsey-woolsey were old and a bit stained, but he could see they were well preserved and should hold up to him playing with them. If he sold the other sets, he didn't have to sell this one if he accidently ruined it.

He spent some time uploading pictures of the clothes to eBay and putting up listings on every historical and costuming site he could find. He even found a few dozen professional costume shops and larger acting school props departments to send the listings to. At that point it was 5:35 AM and more than time for him to sleep.

When he awoke at nearly 1 PM, he got up and went to the staff kitchen to make himself some lunch. He had been doing the nighttime thing for about two weeks; it was easier and cooler for him to work in the attic then. He poured himself some coffee and added the adulterations he liked to it and thought about his day.

He planned to get dressed in the uniform and try doing the days chores in it, to see how the women of the Victorian time period could actually work in the clothes he had found in the attic.

He finished up his meal, went upstairs and got dressed.

He shaved his face again, as smooth and close as he could, then did his underarms for good measure. He put antiperspirant on and arranged the clothes in the order he would wear them.

First was the chemise. It was just an over the head garment and he pulled the cloth ties to keep it closed. Then on went the pantaloons and the stockings. He reasoned that he might not be able to bend much once the corset was on, so he thought it would be wise to put them on first. He reached for the boots and heard a rattling in one of them. He discovered that it was a buttonhook thank goodness. He’d been worried about how to button them. So he sat on a stool and pulled the shoes on, which actually fit his feet with a little pinching, and used the buttonhook to close it.

He stood and discovered that the two-inch heel on the leather boots weren't too terrible for him to stand and walk in; after all, some of his cowboy boot heels were higher.

Next was the corset. He opened it and put it around his torso and closed the hooks up the front. He found that there was about four inches of slack in the back where the laces were, so he took it off again and worked that much of slack out of the corset. He tied off the laces using a knot that he was sure wouldn't slip, but he could undo if he pulled on one of the laces.

He wrapped the corset around himself again. He couldn't get the front to close; he had taken out too much slack. There was a small gap between the closures of the front busk. Taking a gamble, he blew out all of his breath and quickly hooked it up, starting at the bottom and going up to the top. Once the last hook was latched, he took a breath and found that he could only breathe from the chest, not from the belly as he was used to doing.

He reached into the chemise and pulled up the chest material so that it looked like he had breasts. All his belly fat was being pushed up anyhow, so he just helped it a bit. He stopped and looked in the mirror and was astounded at what he looked like. If you didn't know, you would swear that he stepped out of some turn of the century burlesque picture.

He knew that the corset cover, another vest like thing, would be next since the petticoats would have to be tied over the top of it. He buttoned that cover up and pulled the smaller of the petticoats on first and tied it off around his now shrunken waist. Then he took the other petticoat and did the same, giving himself a proper bell-like shape.

Finally came the uniform skirt and blouse. He pulled the skirt on first. Careful to gently raise it over his head, and buttoned it up. The shape of the skirt was severely cut and forced him to pull a bit at the material to close the waist down, but the blouse was easy enough. The separate white cuffs and collar made it clear that this was maid's wear, nothing more.

Once the high collar was buttoned closed, he looked at himself in the mirror again. He was both disturbed and excited by how much this dress made him look like a woman. Sure his face was shaped like a V, and he had a short haircut, but you wouldn't think that just putting on these clothes would have such a dramatic change, yet -- it did.

The classic S form that was the rage during Victoria's reign was obvious in his shape now. His backside protruded out and his spine was forced forward at the bust. It presented and pushed his "breasts" upwards and outwards. It really looked as though he had breasts, probably a large A cup or a small B. On his short frame it looked right. The hem of the dress was only inches above the floor, showing just the toe and sole of the boots he had on. His hands looked like they were a girl's since he had small palms and relatively longish fingers. He shook his head in surprise.

He took up the apron, figured out the arrangement of ties, and soon had it on, with a maid's X on his back and the apron covering the entire front of his skirt and most of the bodice, it looked perfect. He picked up the cap and arranged it until it looked right and then pinned it to his head.

That's when he knew he was in danger.

He remembered when he was little finding some clothes in his grandmother's drawers and trying them on. The fabrics and the stretchy stuff were wonderful on his skin, and he liked them so very much. He also remembered the whipping he received for doing that. He never tried it again, for fear of being caught, but he couldn't help wanting to have them on again. His desires started to overwhelm him; the need so long repressed blossoming with the clothing.

More importantly now he could indulge that need and no one could or would dare to stop him.

He stepped down into the library, with his petticoats swishing around his ankles in a symphony of femininity and went over to the computer. He discovered that he couldn't sit as he normally did in his office chair, but that he had to perch on the edge of it due to the restrictions imposed by the corset.

He opened up his computer browser window and started it searching for several keywords. He looked up "Victorian Maid," "corset," "Victorian Dress," and many related search terms letting the search run all day, while he was working.

He stood again and went down to the kitchen to start his chores.

As he went through the day, he had to stop several times and catch his breath. It was hard working in a corset, but he had resolved to find out for himself what it was like. And now he was enjoying wearing the clothes.

He had to have the Air Conditioning cranked up a lot more to keep the sweating down. He was very warm in this uniform. He did the dishes from his last two meals, put them in the dishwasher and went into the library to look around.

Before long he was dusting shelves to clean the dust that had accumulated after the cleaning crew left. It also gave him a chance to sort and reacquaint himself with some of the hundreds of books there. He didn't mind, although he was somewhat disappointed that he had stained his apron. He stopped long enough to change it for a clean one and then he was back to the dusting and reorganization.

He caught himself looking in the mirror more and more as he went through the day. It was -- not disturbing, but unsettling -- to see how right these clothes looked and how well they went on him. He had not noticed it before, but the shape of his face and body, how well he moved made feminine garb look so right on him. He recalled college and thought about men who had proposition him thinking he was gay, now he had an explanation for it.

He wasn't posing or preening, but he was conscious of standing properly, taking small steps, trying to move with grace and poise through the day. He wanted to do the long-dead former owner of this uniform justice and compliment her. He wanted to look like a proper maid.

While he was in the library he found some books that he thought related to life in Victorian times. The Housewife's Guide to Everything, Servants and Maintaining Control in Your Household, A Housekeeper's Companion and others. He took those books down and set them on a reading table near a lamp to be studied at a later time.

As he kept cleaning, he began to spin a fantasy, about being a poor working girl, picked up off the street and taught how to be a proper maid of all work. It was her responsibility to keep the house neat and tidy, dusted and picked up. Her employer wasn't at home much, so she was trusted to live here by herself and maintain the place in her Master's absence.

A name, Mia, popped into her head. That was the name of a serving girl. She started referring to herself as Mia and with a feminine pronoun. It felt right for her to do so. The game of pretend became more real the longer she played it.

That night she had continued to do what Master Gerome had started, going through the attic and cataloguing all the items up there. Mia made sure to take down several more sets of uniforms for herself, picking all the best ones so that she had nice things to wear. She picked out two sets of uniforms for working upstairs, three sets for downstairs, and two more for kitchen duties. When Mia found uniforms for serving in the dining room, she picked out two of everything for that as well. She hung them all neatly in her closet after moving to one of the servant's chambers in the back of the house. It was small by Master Gerome’s standards since it contained two beds, dressers and nightstands.

She then picked out clothes for a lady friend of Master Gerome's and hung them neatly in a guest chamber’s closet and folded neatly away in the chest of drawers. She knew that it was one of her duties to take care of the wardrobe while she was the only one here, so every now and then she should take them out and air them.

Days drifted past in a wondrous world of make believe she’d created. There were occasions where she would have to let Master Gerome take care of some business detail or other. At his directions to his companies she started taking care of all the callers to the house. The Estate Agent would call with an appointment time when someone wanted to look over the property, and Mia would make sure to greet the Estate Agent and guests at the door and answer any questions they had. She made sure the place was clean and dusted, and would vacuum all the carpets every week.

When the landscapers came, Mia was a bit nervous going outside with them, but soon became comfortable with showing them where work needed to be done. She called to have groceries delivered, made all the meals and ate them as well.

It was not terribly strenuous for her. She enjoyed her work. It was fulfilling and she could revel at being able to see a concrete goal reached at the end of each day’s labor. She was exhausted every night when she went to sleep in her room sleeping more soundly than Master Gerome had for years. Each task accomplished left her glowing with satisfaction.

Four weeks after she pulled the uniforms down and started working in them, there was a visitor at the door. A young lady was waiting when Mia opened it.

"Good afternoon," Mia said with a curtsey. "May I help you?"

"Yes, I was sent here from the Temporary Domestics agency? Mr. Gerome Phillips needed a live-in maid temporarily? Am I too late?" She looked worried.

Mia smiled. "Please come in. I'm Mia Warner and no, you aren't too late for the position."

"I'm Angela Reynolds. No offense, but when you opened the door, I thought my job had been given away. I hope this isn't going to cause problems?"

Mia looked at her. "Mr. Gerome isn't here at the moment, and I've been here as a maid-of-all-work for a while. I certainly understand why he felt we should have two maids in the house, as big as it is. Please follow me." Mia closed the door behind her.

They went into what once had been the Drawing Room, just off the foyer it was a receiving room, similar to a parlor, but more public. This was where the family would receive their guests. As the ladies and gentlemen went their separate ways, the women would enter the drawing room. The "Withdrawing Room" was accessible through a small door in the back. The ladies would go there if they needed a few moments of privacy to gather their wits again, or to sniff at their smelling salts from being too tightly corseted.

Mia motioned for Angela ("Please call me Angie.") to take a seat on one of the divans in the Drawing Room. She took the opposite divan and started looking over Angie's résumé. She went on to look at the recommendations that were attached. Finally she looked at Angie and started the interview.

Mia had already decided to hire Angie. The résumé was good and the recommendations were even better. She was fully bonded through her agency and that would have included a criminal background check. Really for the work that needed to be done, a maid didn't need to be a rocket scientist.

Mia and Angie spent the time chatting about many things, life, her goals, what she could do and what she needed to learn. Angie seemed to be ready to buckle down and work as she should.

They spent some time discussing Angie's duties and her compensation. What it boiled down to was minimum wage for 40 hours, no overtime, but full compensation for medical, dental, vision, retirement fund and one day off a week. Uniforms would be provided and her term of employment was to be until the house was sold.

On the subject of uniforms, Angie asked "Forgive me for being blunt, but am I going to have to wear a uniform like that one? It looks like it is from the turn of the century."

Mia smiled. "It is. Mr. Gerome had found an extensive collection of servant's livery in one of the attics while he was sorting through things, and thought I should wear this one. It is mostly for pretend but also for a bit of Victorian charm when the house is shown to potential buyers. Someone mentioned that doing it might increase the value of the house, since it would serve as a reminder of the historic cache of owning this estate.

"I believe that I will recommend to Mr. Gerome that you also be given a uniform set like this so that you will fit in. It shouldn't be for very long. The house has been on the market for three months now, and there have been several people out to look at it, so there should be offers soon. Just think of this as a piece of costuming for a short period of time."

Angie was satisfied with that answer, Mia could tell by the smile on her face. "Mia, let me ask you this, why isn't Mr. Gerome interviewing me? Are you also the housekeeper?"

"Not exactly, I don’t hold the title of Housekeeper, but I am the senior maid. Mr. Gerome had mentioned a while back that he expected someone to come by, and told me that I could make the decision on whether or not to hire the person who came as I will be the one most closely working with that person. I like what I see and I will be recommending you be hired.

"Now, with that done, would you care to take a tour of the house?"

Angie and Mia spent the rest of the day going through the house. Since no one was actually living in most of the rooms, they only needed dusting and vacuuming. The rooms that they used required more through cleaning as a matter of course. The major work would be in the attic and in the basement which were both used as storage for more than the last hundred years.

Mia spoke. "My instructions are to keep this house in shape to be sold. We are to make it as clean as it is possible to be, to get the full resale value. I was informed that the house appraises for 13.5 million dollars along with the grounds and outbuildings. There are work crews that have been hired to get the outbuildings fixed and in top shape, but we are responsible for cleaning and maintaining inside this house, and probably in the future we will be overseeing the other houses cleaning on the property as well.

"The heavy cleaning was done in the first month of Mr. Gerome inheriting this house, and all we need really do is to maintain that level of cleanliness.

"Mr. Gerome travels all over for pleasure. As such, most of the dealings that we will have are with lawyers and other officers of his companies. I do get instructions from him via an encrypted email account, so I know the orders are actually coming from him. We have a top security setup so that I can also send him anything of a financial nature that comes here."

"So this is just a place to keep his stuff while he goes out and acts as a playboy?" was Angie's shrewd guess.

"I guess you could say that."

"So how is our pay taken care of? If Mr. Gerome isn't here to sign our checks, how do we get money for the various things we need?"

Mia thought quickly. "Before he left, Mr. Gerome made me a co-signer on an account that is for household expenses. A set budget is deposited into that account monthly. It’s enough to cover all the normal operating expenses and a bit more to take care of emergencies. I’m supposed to contact Mr. Gerome or his lawyer if I need more money for some reason. Our paychecks are included in that account, as well as checks to all the various people Mr. Gerome employs to maintain this place. All the household expenses come out of that account, including groceries."

Angie was nodding. "That makes sense. Do we get to use the house and cars and such as well?"

Mia smiled. "There are vehicles we are permitted to use for household chores. If you have your car, then it is yours to do with as you wish. I have a car of my own as well. I was told that I wasn't allowed to have parties here, but a few friends over occasionally for a night of being together was allowable. Mr. Gerome waggled his eyebrows at that, so I assume he was thinking about my sleeping with the delivery boy or something."

Angie giggled. "Okay then that sounds reasonable enough. Now, where’s my room?"

Mia smiled. "The servant's quarters are at the back of the house." She took Angie there to let her choose the room she wanted for her own.

There was enough room to allow for a fairly large staff. There were a total of 8 rooms for maids and kitchen staff some had a double bunk bed to sleep a total of four. Body servants naturally slept in a small alcove within the guests bedrooms. Mia showed her around, and expected Angie to pick one of the empty rooms, but instead, she sat down on the unoccupied bed in Mia's room.

"These are very nice. I'll make sure that I bring everything over tonight. Can you help me store things and move in here when I start bringing them in?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess I can. But are you sure you wouldn't you rather have your own room?"

Angie smiled. "Why? We’re the only people in the house, and I really don't like big empty places, I've seen too many horror movies. Besides, this way we will only need to tidy one room instead of two every day." She stopped and looked at Mia. "Do you have a problem with me staying here with you?"

"No, not a problem," Mia said.

Angie nodded. "Good. I'll leave my bank information with you so you can let the lawyers know and a direct deposit can be set up. I'll go get my things in the meantime."

Angie spent the next couple hours filling out the requisite employment paperwork to satisfy the lawyers and make everything legal. Mia would fax it all to the lawyers to have things set up for a new employee. Then copies would be made and the originals sent by messenger to the attorney’s office. Mia told Angie that she would contact Mr. Gerome and that he would probably have a personal contract drawn up for Angie to sign and to be put on file with the "legal eagles," so that everything was laid out plainly.

Mia offered the use of the household mini-van to bring all of Angie’s belongings back in one trip. Angie smiled and thanked her fairly bouncing out of the house with excitement.

Mia smiled as she went into the main study to contact the lawyer and set things up. She spent a while enumerating points in an employment contract that the lawyer would have to draw up and let the law office know that they would need to messenger it over to the house as soon as possible.

Once she got that done, she thought of the story she had just concocted on the spot, and then did a bit of work to flesh it out. She had to create an email account for herself as a maid and not as "Mr. Gerome." Finally she set up a bank account for household expenses. She then contacted the service and informed them that Angie was hired and that they would get their commissions.

Having finished up those chores, she went into her now shared room to make ready for her new roommate.