Soubrette: Chapter 14


Chapter 14

Nick was happy playing the system,unemployed and unemployable but it had to end some time.

Mr Blum arrived from Germany in 1939?’ Olivia, my mistress, wanted to know everything about me, to the smallest detail.

‘He was part of the last kindertransport, from Berlin,’ I said gravely.

‘And he has no family?’

‘He married an English woman,’ I replied, a little unsure about discussing my friends, ‘but no one from his German family survived the war.’ Despite myself, my voice caught on the last few words.

Olivia stretched an arm around my shoulder, and took my teacup from my lap. ‘Can I show you something?’

‘Please, ma’am, there must be so much work for me to do,’ I objected limply. But my mistress, why did I think of her in that way, pulled me gently to my feet.

‘You’ve finished the ironing,’ she said, leading me back to the utility room, ‘or should I crumple extra knickers for you?’

There wasn’t much I could say to that, and I followed her to a door adjacent.

‘What do you think?’ Olivia asked, revealing a small room, its walls painted a soft duck-egg blue. Apart from two coat hooks on the far wall, the room was empty.

‘It was to be the Fifi’s room,’ she said, softly, ‘and I thought it perfect for you, as you are perfect for what I’d planned.’


‘What I’d planned before you told me about your home, and how much it means to you,’ Olivia continued, ‘yet I would still like you to work the odd evening, and perhaps stay over when you’re too work the following day.’

‘I’d have to think about it,’ I said, hesitantly, ‘I have responsibilities at home.’ Was this a sex dungeon waiting to be furnished?

‘Of course, Verity,’ Olivia said, ‘but you’d be working directly for me, and I pay you for your time.’

Honestly, pay didn’t mean that much to me, but who would collect my neighbours’ newspapers, and a hundred other errands I did for them. Olivia was very nice, but did she really need my help? I was still pondering about what I’d answer, when we heard the telephone ring in the kitchen.

‘I’ll get that,’ Olivia said, dashing off, and leaving me alone in the corridor. Standing before the open door, my imagination began to run wild, populating the room with all manner of torture contraptions. Or at least those, my limited experience could conjure, and I only eavesdropped inadvertently.

‘Do I have your lucky knickers?’ Olivia asked the phone, ‘if you left them here, Parsons has probably ironed them.’ Anticipating the question to follow, I stepped into the vacant kitchen doorway.

‘Is that the crimson G string, ma’am?’

‘Yes I know it’s a thong,’ my mistress told the telephone, ‘that’s just Parsons, she lives in the 1930s, she’s art deco Amish.’

‘I put them with…’

‘Yes i’ve found a maid,’ she told the telephone, and after a brief pause added, ‘you never once ironed my knickers.’

‘Shall I get them?’ I asked, and when I received a nod, disappeared upstairs, hearing only a snippet of the continuing conversation.

‘She’s very sweet, but not a replacement for you, darling.’


‘Now you know my secret, Mrs Armstrong said, a devilish smile playing over her lips, ‘can I trust your discretion?’

‘Of course, ma’am,’ I answered, my head slightly bowed, and my eyes on the carpet. ‘What should I do next, ma’am?’

‘It’s almost five,’ Olivia said, looking briefly at her wristwatch, ‘it’s time to get you home to your other mistress.’

‘Kirsty isn’t my…’ I began, but Olivia’s smiled and waved me quiet.

‘She spent most of last night sitting on your face,’ mistress Olivia said, smiling. Why did I have to tell her that, Kirsty wouldn’t like that. No man can serve two masters, could a maid fare better with multiple mistresses?


‘Isn’t that Kirsty sitting on your building’s steps?’ Olivia said, as she brought her car to a rest on my street.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said, wondering what my girlfriend was doing there, sitting on me suitcase, with a newspaper open on her lap. Without really noticing what I did, I unclipped my seatbelt, and stepped on to the pavement.

‘Oh Verity,’ Kirsty wailed, and thrust a copy of our local evening paper at me.

‘It’s not so bad,’ I said, looking at the picture on the front page, ‘it’s mostly me kissing someone with blonde hair… I’m even named in the caption.’

‘Turn to page seven,’ Kirsty sounded despondent, i’d never seen her so distressed. And then I saw a photograph of us dancing at the Rialto. It was probably just the angle, but the most noticeable thing in the picture, was Kirsty’s hand gripping my bottom.

‘It’s a nice photo,’ Olivia said, from over my shoulder. I’d never even noticed that she had followed me out of the car.

‘Still, it’s only me that’s mentioned by name,’ I said softly, wrapping an arm around the girl.

‘But I told mum I was going with my new friend Verity,’ Kirsty sniffed, and we had a huge fight about me being a lesbian.’

Briefly I locked eyes with Mrs Armstrong, before lifting Kirsty to her feet. ‘Why didn’t you wait inside?’

‘Because they all heard us having sex last night,’ Kirsty said, through a mist of tears.

‘Perhaps it’s best we all go inside,’ Olivia said, briskly. ‘Parsons, carry her case for her.’ Meekly I retrieved the bank, while my mistress consoled my err… Mistress.


‘Were you really that loud?’ Olivia asked, as I fumbled for my door key.

‘We were rather, ma’am,’ I said, opening my flat’s front door.

‘Oh God,’ groaned Kirsty.

‘That was one of your favourites,’ I said, struggling not to laugh.

‘That’s enough of that,’ Olivia said, while delivering a sharp slap to my bottom. I had to blink away several tears, before leading them to my settee.

‘Would you like to take tea, ma’am,’ I asked, more respectfully than I had before. Maybe Isabel was right, it was the only way I could learn lessons.

‘You don’t have to call me “ma’am” here,’ Olivia chided, setting Kirsty down before looking around. ‘This place is amazing,’

‘Thanks ma…’

‘Tea now, Parsons, chop chop.’ How was I supposed to not treat Olivia as my mistress, if she continued to treat me as her servant? Getting the tea was probably a good first step.


‘Ovaltine or cocoa. Both women were laughing as I returned with a tea tray.

‘It’s not that funny,’ I said, as I laid down the tea things.

‘Aren’t you joining us, Verity?’ Kirsty asked, her eyes leading mine to the two teacups I had set on the coffee table.

‘Sorry,’ I sputtered, turning on my heel, and rushing to the kitchen for a third. Once again, laughter reigned in my living room.

‘Sit here, darling,’ Kirsty said, patting the cushion between her and Olivia. It was starting to feel like I was being shared again, but I was happy to be close to my girlfriend.

‘It’s simple really,’ Olivia said, between sips, ‘you drop Verity off Tuesday evening, and pick her up after dinner the following evening.’

‘And she is just to be a maid?’ Kirsty asked, dubiously.

‘To serve dinner in the evening, and to be my maid in the morning,’ Olivia said, reaching to pat the back of my hand.

‘Verity gave me a wonderful bath this morning,’ Kirsty said, dreamily, before coming back to the point, ‘I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with her doing that for anyone else.’ I had a few choice memories of that bath myself, and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be doing that for Mrs Armstrong. Shouldn’t I be getting a say?

‘Verity will see me naked, but I bathe myself,’ Olivia said, ‘isn’t having your own maid to hamper you just wonderful?’ Kirsty agreed, and gently ruffled my wig with a free hand.

‘I’d like to ask something, if I’m allowed,’ I asked, a little tremulously, and waited for both women to nod. ‘It’s just that Fifi had such lovely uniforms, and I wondered if I could add lace to mine.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Olivia said, ‘if your other mistress doesn’t mind.’

‘That’s me,’ Kirsty beamed, and kissed me deeply. ‘I don’t mind what you do to your uniform, darling, as long you are in it.’

‘Now how about that tour?’ Olivia asked.


‘I can’t believe you two had sex in a bed that narrow!’

‘I fell off the bed a few times,’ Kirsty said, blushing.

‘Off me,’ I said, failing to fend off a nudge that became a tickle.

‘Well Verity needs a bed for her new room,’ Olivia said, ignoring our horseplay, ‘why don’t we swap this for one of my doubles?’

I hummed and ahhed a little, it had my bed since my teens, but I could see how excited the offer made Kirsty. So I reluctantly agreed.

Olivia didn’t stay much longer, begging off another engagement, which I offered to help her get ready for.

‘You would,’ Kirsty said, playfully biting my ear.

‘Maids,’ Olivia said, rolling her eyes, before addressing me directly, ‘tell Kirsty about Nicky tonight.’


‘We were talking about you in the office today,’ Kirsty said, while I prepared dinner.

‘Is my sluttiness still the hot topic?’ I asked absently, concentrating on the salad I prepared.

‘Helen from adult services was in, and asked how Nick was doing.’

‘Did you tell her I’d been sold to a sex dungeon?’

‘Of course not,’ Kirsty said, pinching a piece of cucumber from my salad bowl. ‘I wouldn’t sully the reputation of Packney House’s saintly unpaid social worker.’

‘Really,’ I said, taking the pan of pasta off the stove.

‘They worship him, but Verity is like an urban legend.’ That least piqued my attention, and I looked inquisitively at my pilfering girlfriend.

‘Everyone here sings her praises, but she’s not on the electoral roll. In fact there is no record of anyone of that name, and half the Department believe she is a ghost, and are scouring parish records to find out who she was.’ Kirsty finished soberly.

‘That will change now been i’ve been in the paper,’ I said, carrying the plates into the living room.

‘Who’s Nicky?’ Kirsty asked, after wolfing down our sparse meal, and I retold the story I had given Olivia.

Still chasing the last forkful around my plate, I wasn’t prepared for Kirsty’s reaction.

‘You were raped!’ Kirsty cried, into my ear, while crushing me with hugs.

‘It’s not like I was forced,’ I said, softly, ‘and I let him do it to me a few times.’

‘And I told you to ignore Isabel groping you,’ Kirsty said, renewing her attempts at squeezing me.

‘I quite like that now, and it’s more like stroking her pet.’

‘I’m so giving you a bath tonight,’ said Kirsty, untying my apron.

‘But why are you taking off your clothes now?’ I asked, when she had removed everything down to my gaff.

‘You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to splash her working clothes.’

author's note: sorry if it's a bit clunky but I rushed to finish

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