After I came back from Brighton I slipped back into my routine with my darling Lucy. Every morning I dressed in one of my maid’s uniforms and prepared her breakfast, which I served to her in bed. Breakfast may be a bit of a grand description; what I actually did was take in a tray with orange juice and coffee.

When she had got up and showered she sat at the kitchen table and ate cereal, toast and marmalade with more coffee. She was human after that.

I had a dozen uniforms now. One I had left in Brighton, showing my intention to return. You probably think I have some kind of fetish, and I suppose I do. I just love those satin dresses with flared skirts down to my knees and two or three layered swishy petticoats underneath. All my necklines are square-cut with lace trimming around the neckline and the tops have puff-sleeves, also lace-trimmed. My aprons are always white and I tie a lovely big bow at the back of my waist and make sure the tails hang down just so, so that when I wiggle a little they swing from side to side as I walk.

I wear seamed black stockings or sometimes fishnets held up by a lacy suspender belt and little knickers with bows on the ruffles (except when I’m being naughty) and, of course 4 or 5 inch black patent heels. I have the dresses in black, royal blue and pink and I always finish off with a big white bow pulling my hair into a high ponytail, unless Angela has given me a style where it doesn’t work, like this week I have a China Doll and my hair is as black as black and only chin length. Dressing like this makes me feel so submissive, obedient and sweet and sexy and I always curtsey to my mistress when I serve her. It’s important to do things correctly, isn't it? I ask you, what could be nicer?

When she finished eating and had cleaned her teeth I would help her dress. We would choose her outfit for the day and I would make sure it looked right when she had it on, zipping her up and straightening her to our mutual satisfaction. She did her own make-up of course and I did her hair. That is unless we wound up kissing and cuddling and going back to bed. Then we both had to start all over when we finished making love. That was one reason I needed a dozen uniforms. They would often get so crumpled.

Anyway, I wanted her to feel loved, particularly now when my boyfriend and other lover Geoff was coming to stay with us in a few weeks. I was so torn. I dearly loved both of them and I didn’t want either of them to be jealous of the other. I wanted them to like each other, to be friends and naturally I wanted them to both keep on loving me. I just didn’t know how or if it was going to work.

So I made a big fuss of Lucy during the weeks before he came and, more days than not, didn’t wear my knickers in the morning. She saw right through me of course, but allowed how she didn’t mind at all.

I told her all about my trip; how Carole had just about emasculated him before she left and my restoring the balance; how I had accidentally run into Carole in George Street and by ignoring her but smiling as I passed her, won a sort of victory, at least in my own mind.

I told her of our trips to the beach and meals at various restaurants, and of course what I had worn, of my cooking for him, cleaning the flat properly, washing and ironing his clothes, and sitting in the lovely garden at his flat, of making love, of the visit to the pub on the Friday night; but I kind of didn’t tell her I would love to marry him. You know what I mean. I was economical with the truth. I didn’t EXACTLY lie. God, I felt guilty.

What is it about us that makes it so hard to tell the truth sometimes? I told myself it was because I didn’t want to hurt her. Maybe I was scared about hurting me. I really wondered if I was being a greedy foolish girl. Could I love two people? If I could how were we going to make it work? He would want me to go and live with him in Hove (actually) and Lucy would want me here in Finborough Road.

My heart said Finborough Road was my home. My body was saying that wherever Geoff was was where I wanted to be. My soul said that Lucy was my mate forever. My mind said that I had to have that man. I wanted to scream. In the mornings I would look at my reflection in the mirror and ask her for an answer but she could never give me one. As the day of Geoff’s arrival got closer I got more and more nervous.

I didn’t let on to Lucy though. Instead I acted happy and as I did my chores I sang along with the Dave Clark Five on “Catch Us If You Can” and the other pops of the day. I thought I did a pretty good job of hiding the confusion that was overtaking me. Shows how wrong you can be.

One night in bed Lucy said to me, “When are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?”

This was about a week before the fateful day.

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong.”

“Oh, honey, we’ve been together too long for you to pretend there’s nothing bothering you. You can tell me, you know. I won’t get mad or anything. It’s him, isn’t it?”

“No! No! It’s nothing to do with him.”

She held me and stroked my hair, and looked into my fear-stricken eyes, “Suzie, you have to tell me. Do you want to leave me?”

“NO! “ I screamed. “I never want to leave you. I will never leave you. NEVER! NEVER!” and naturally I burst into tears. How did she know it had crossed my mind? I had dismissed it but I HAD thought about it. She held me tight and I held her back and sobbed my heart out, all the fear and guilt and confusion that I had been hiding. She let me cry until I calmed a little.

“You have to tell me, darling. If you keep it all bottled up inside you we won’t be able to find an answer. Think about the times we’ve had a problem between us. It’s always been because one of us wasn’t communicating with the other. I learned my lesson when I gave you the hormones without telling you. Now we’re both older and supposed to be smarter. Do you think I can’t tell you’re hiding something?”

“Oh, Lucy,” I wailed, and it all came out. “I love you. I love him. I don’t know what to do. He says he wants to marry me and I want to marry him too, but I ought to be married to you. In my mind I AM married to you. And I can’t marry him anyway because I’m still really a boy. I love you. I wouldn’t be here without you and I owe everything to you. Oh, tell me what to do. I don’t know....I just don’t know.”

I started sobbing again and clung on to her like a life-raft in a shipwreck. I didn’t want her to abandon me, faithless bitch that I was, guilty of betraying her when I had sworn that I never would.

“Suzie, sweetie, I won’t tell you what to do. I never have, except once, and I regretted that and you forgave me. Let’s go to sleep now and you remember that I love you too and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

I snuffled and sort of nodded and snuggled right into her and trailed more tears into her nightie, but I quietened down a bit. She was so much wiser than me and I felt a little better before I drifted off into a restless sleep, where my mother and father jeered at me and Geoff pushed me away and called me a queer and Lucy threw me out on the street because I liked dressing as a girl, and Carole sneered and said only a real woman could ever win. But somewhere in the night I reached a quiet place.

She woke me up in the morning with a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee and all my pills on a tray.
“Madame,” she said. “Your petit dejeuner est arrive.” Her French was about as good as mine.

She was wearing one of my black maid’s uniforms! And the stockings and heels!

I goggled at her in disbelief and then doubled over laughing as she put the tray down on the side-table.
She grinned at me and said, “See the lengths I have to go to to cheer you up.”

“Have you got knickers on?” I asked.

She lifted her skirt and petticoats so that I could see the answer. Then I grabbed her and pulled her on to the bed.

“Huitres Francaise?”

“Ooh lah lah, yes please!” and that finished the conversation for the next ten minutes, except for the gasps and whimpers. Then it was my turn, and then we 69ed. After that I begged her to get the double-ended dildo and she did.

The old saw says laughter is the best medicine but love-making must be close to it, and when they are together, well, I dare you not to cheer up and feel better.

Sweaty and sated we lay in each other’s arms and kissed, still joined by the dildo.

“Well, that’s one dress that’s going to need a good cleaning,” I said.

“Your coffee is cold, Madame,”

“I don’t care. I have this wonderful maid who will make me another one when I want it.” I looked into her eyes. “Thank you so much.”

“What for?”

“For loving me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do. Now drink your juice and take your pills and we’ll go and have a shower. Then I’ll make you another coffee and we’ll talk. OK?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” We pulled apart and the dildo released us with a sort of wet plopping sound, making us both giggle. We were absolutely dripping.

So we had a shower, her leaving my clothes on the bathroom floor. I’d never wear those stockings again. They had more ladders than a fire station, and I reckoned I would raise a good blush when I took the dress to the cleaners.

Afterwards we put on dressing-gowns and went to the kitchen. She DID make me another cup of coffee and we settled down to talk. I remembered another morning long ago when she was the one needing forgiveness after giving me hormones without telling me. I felt a surge of hope. Maybe this time she would find it within herself to forgive me.

We sat and looked at each other and she reached across and took my hands.

“Tell me then. No, on second thoughts, let me start. You went to Brighton to try and square things with your parents. That was a total failure. They didn’t want to know their beautiful daughter; they were only interested in their dear departed son. Then along came Geoff and rescued you from the depths of despair and you fell head-over-heels in love. Did it ever occur to you that it might have been on the rebound?”

“Yes, it did. That’s why I wanted to go and spend some time with him, to find out.”

“You’re kidding yourself, love. You’ve still only spent a week with him and you want to get married! You have to put a bit more thought into this.”

“I loved YOU from the first moment I saw you, and I wasn’t wrong then, so why should I be wrong now?”

She chewed her bottom lip. “I will have to give you that point, but this is more complicated. You have baggage here. He was your best friend for six years as a boy, so you were predisposed to connect with him, particularly in the circumstances and, don’t forget, he was on the rebound too.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t get me wrong. I want you to be happy, and he is obviously good for you because he has brought out a new dimension in your being. You have found out that you can at least like some men, and you’ve rescued him from the wreckage of his marriage. It’s no wonder you feel all protective about him. Just think about how I feel about you. I want to make sure you don’t get hurt and that you don’t hurt him too. You’re getting so wound up over the whole situation. I want you to sit back a little and think things through.”

“What do you mean *wound up*?”

“Suzie, for the last ten days you’ve cleaned this flat until the glare was so bright that I thought I would have to wear sunglasses inside. Everything is shining and then you go and clean it again. I’m scared to sit down in case I make something dirty and you leap out with a cloth. I’m afraid you’ll clean ME if I stand still too long. And if you’re not wound up what was last night about?”

“Was I really doing that? The cleaning thing? I didn’t know.”

“Darling, if I didn’t know it was caused by something wrong it would have almost been funny. You were like some kind of demented robot.”

“Umm. I see, I think. OK, deep breath time. Look, Lucy, maybe you’re right and maybe I should take more time, but I KNOW I love him, just like I love you. I’m sure he loves me too. If you could have seen his face when he sort of proposed. Damn! I didn’t tell you that bit. It was when I said that I’d leave my maid’s dress behind and it just slipped out. He said I would have to promise not to stop the Saucisse Anglais and the Huitres Francaises after we were married, and then he realised what he said. He got all embarrassed and it was so funny.

“But now it started to rip me apart, because I told him you were always going to be there, so we had to find a way. I love you both and I want you both to love me, but what if you don’t like each other? How are we going to make it all work? I simply can’t choose one of you and I promise I’ll never leave YOU. Please forgive me for being such a silly cow.”

She squeezed my hands. “Suzie my love, there’s nothing to forgive. Why don’t we start by waiting until he gets here and then we can see if we like each other? I already like the sound of him. From what you’ve told me he’s a lovely man, even if you’ve exaggerated a teensy-weensy bit. Also there would be complications in a marriage so just promise me we’ll all slow down a little and give the matter some serious thought. Is that a plan?”

I released my death-grip on her hands and reached over and hugged her. “You’re always so much smarter than me. Yes, it sounds like a plan.”

So I guess we put the main worry on the back-burner and for the next several days I concentrated on being ready for his visit. Lucy stopped me from making his room too spick-and-span. “We want the poor boy to be comfortable, don’t we? Besides, you’ll mess it all up the first time you leap into bed with him.”

That made me blush like a traffic light, and she laughed. “I will be disappointed if you don’t, but let’s try to keep your sound-effects down. I don’t want any complaints from the neighbours.” I don’t think I’d ever really met the neighbours, just smiled at them occasionally.

So I went grocery shopping and bought twice as much of everything as we would need for the week, especially when you considered we might eat out most evenings. Lucy pulled me back on that before I got totally out of control.

So what was left? I went SHOPPING for me. I got half a dozen new outfits, cocktail frocks and smart-casual dresses, new gay geometric-patterned tops and some of the mini-skirts just coming in, three to four inches above the knee, and, of course, shoes; chisel-toes and almond toes were in and stilettos still were the thing, although fashionable heel-heights were coming down, with kitten-heels being very popular; a couple of pairs of boots since it was winter clothing in the shops now. It almost took my mind off of him.

And I cried all over Angela. What hairstyle was she going to give me? It just HAD to be the loveliest style she had ever done for me. The romantic in her came to the fore. What style did I have the last time I met him? It was the Britt Eklund. Did he like it? Well, you know what men are like. He probably never looked that high, but I thought he did (like it that is). One night he said I looked gorgeous. OK, then we’ll do it again. Men hate to be surprised. And this time I’m definitely looking for that wedding invitation. Maybe not quite so blonde. Let’s see now.....

Then DER TAG arrived. On the last Friday in September Lucy and I went to Victoria Station to meet the train arriving at 6 p.m. As it was a weekend and we were both nervous (yes, Lucy too. She took the week off from The Lyric) we decided we had better not terrify him by dressing up too much, so we both wore jeans and loose floaty scoop-neck tops in those fabulous Mary Quant patterns, you know, the ones with the big bold blocks of primary colours and black-and-white swirls and, naturally, heels.

He came through the ticket barrier and waved his British Rail pass, dressed straight from work in a suit and tie, carrying a case. As soon as I saw him I called his name and waved madly, clip-clopping forwards to greet him with a kiss and grabbed his free hand to tow him towards Lucy.

Grinning like a fool I said, “Geoff, this is Lucy and Lucy, this is Geoff.”

They looked a little uncertainly at each other for a second or two. Geoff put down the case and stuck his hand out tentatively and then Lucy stepped forward and gave him a hug and kissed him on the cheek.

“I’ve been waiting to meet you. This one here,” nodding towards me, “gave you a big advance billing. You’ve won her and that means you’ve won me too. Come on. Let’s go home.”

She grabbed his spare arm as he picked up the bag and headed for the taxi stand, leaving me galloping to keep up, but a great load fell from my mind. It was OK!!

We got a cab after a short wait. Lucy talked to him non-stop, embarrassing me no end by telling him how skittish I had been in the last week or so and how obsessive I had been with cleaning the flat, but he shouldn’t worry, it WAS all right to sit down and relax; guests were exempt from housework, and soon he was laughing, but he reached over and squeezed my hand. I didn’t mind being got at a little. I was just so pleased that Lucy seemed to like him and was going out of her way to put him at ease.

We arrived at Finborough Road and Lucy immediately gave Geoff a Cook’s Tour. I could tell he was impressed, and so he should have been. It was a lovely flat and it definitely looked its best after my efforts. Nobody was going to call me a sloven like that rotten Carole, but, you know, now that he was here, that compulsive urge to clean was gone.

We took him to his room so he could unpack. I wanted to stay and help him but she wouldn’t let me.

“Give him a couple of minutes on his own, just to wind down. He’s pretty nervous too, you know. You didn’t do him justice, darling, even though you were raving on about him all the time.”

“What do you mean?”

“God, he’s sooo good-looking. I can see how he used to attract the girls. He should be in films or on the stage. I’m jealous of you already. Don’t worry, I’m only joking. He seems as nice as you said too, although I haven’t given him much of a chance to talk. When he comes downstairs we’ll have a drink and a chat,” and she gave me a hug and a big full-frontal smooch. “That’s for being you. Now, how about getting us a nice big glass of white wine. I need to relax too and so do you.”

Off I trotted and got the two glasses of wine and we sat down in the lounge room, smiling at each other. I felt truly relaxed for the first time in weeks.

“Do you really like him?” I asked her.

“So far, so good. I do feel really good about him. I’ll have to let him do some talking and get a feel for him over the next week, but you can relax. I won’t bite his head off.”

“So what happened to my favourite black widow spider?”

“We only do that AFTER we’ve made love to them, darling.”

We were still laughing when he came down the stairs and into the living-room. He had changed into a pair of jeans, a black skivvy-type polo-neck sweater a la Beatles and grey suede loafers. I could have eaten him there and then, but I definitely wanted to make love to him first.

He smiled. “You must have been talking about me, something good I hope?”

“Come and sit down, Geoff,” said Lucy.

“A beer or a glass of wine,” I asked.

“Thanks, Lucy. Beer please, love, a lager’ll be fine,” and he lowered himself into an armchair.

I went and fetched a bottle of Carling’s and a glass plus a couple of beer mats, which I put on the little table beside him. I filled the glass, leaving a nice head, proving I still remembered my days at The Lyric, and handed it to him, leaving the bottle there for the refill.

“Thanks, darling.” He smiled at me before taking a swig. He continued talking to Lucy, a conversation they had started when I was in the kitchen.

“All a quantity surveyor actually does is measure building parts, so that the builder gets paid for what he actually does, like the number of doors he puts in, because they may be of different sizes and quality, or maybe the architect decides he wants to put in teak doors instead of pine. They cost different amounts so we have to catch the changes and calculate the new price. Things like that.”

“It sounds terribly responsible,” said Lucy.

“Not really. You just have to make sure you don’t miss anything. We group the bits into categories and trades, like Concretor, Carpenter and Plumber and we have checklists so we can make sure we’ve got everything there before a job starts and then it’s easy to pick when the builder tells you he had to do something different.”

I knew what she was doing. If you want to put someone at ease you get them talking about something they know. She had the knack and people always seemed to eat out of her hand. Me, I don’t think I am much good at it. We all sipped our drinks and I could almost see and feel residual nerves draining away all around. The time was a little before eight.

“What will we do for dinner? If we’re going to go out we’d better make our minds up soon. Do you want pub-grub or something posher? We can go up West if you like,” looking questioningly at Geoff.

“I’m quite happy with a pub if you are. We’re already dressed casual.”

“Well, there’s The Ifield across the road, The Brompton Arms five minutes away or The Kings Arms in Earls Court. They’re the best round here. What do you think, Suzie?”

“Any of those is OK. They all have reasonable food. The Kings Arms might get a bit crowded on a Friday with all the Aussies.”

“You’re right. How about The Ifield then?”

“Suits me,” said Geoff. “I’ll bow to your local knowledge. I’m just a hick from the sticks.”

“And we’re sophisticated London birds, so don’t you forget it. Pull that straw out of your hair before we go out, will yer. We don’t want to be embarrassed,” I got in, faux-haughty.

“We just need a couple of minutes to freshen up. Would you like another beer while you wait?”

“No thanks, I’ve still got a bit left in the bottle. I’ll just sit.”

Lucy and I went upstairs to the bathroom in her bedroom. You must go to the loo before you go out. Lots of them in bars and restaurants, even classy ones, are really gross. Wiping the seat before you sit down doesn’t seem to make them feel any better. Ugh! Icky! When we’d been and washed our hands we fixed our make-up and brushed our hair and then inspected each other to make sure we were presentable before going back downstairs. I’m sure we didn’t take more than about fifteen minutes.

We didn’t do all this in silence, of course. Lucy was squeezing my arm all the way up the stairs and hardly waited until we closed the bedroom door.

“He IS lovely,” she said. “I think you did a great job setting him right.”

“Thanks for putting him at ease, Lucy. It relaxed me too.” I hugged her. “You really are nice to me.”

“Heh, heh! Don’t bank on it, child. I’m thinking about seducing him and taking him to bed. You will be allowed to bring us breakfast in bed in the mornings,”

“OK. If you want to be like that I won’t wear any knickers and then we’ll see who gets the last lick of the cherry.”

“You shameless hussy. I might just throw you out on the street.”

I stuck my tongue out. “I dare you, witch. You can’t look after yourself without me.”

Suddenly we were kissing passionately. It was just as well we hadn’t done our make-up yet.

“What are we going to do about him?”

“Would you really like to go to bed with him? Honestly?”

“Hey there! Steady on! It’s me that’s been telling you to slow down. I only just met him. I don’t drop my drawers for any passing stranger.”

“Answer the question.”

“Darling, he’s your man, not mine.”

“Answer the question.”

“Oh, all right. I wouldn’t mind. He’s very attractive. That’s only theoretical of course. I’m allowed to have a dirty mind too.”

“Mmm. It would be quite kinky, me being your maid and bringing my master and mistress breakfast in bed and being ravished by both of them. Yes. I’ll definitely think about that.”

“Oh, shut up, you. You’ll make me wet and we’re supposed to be getting ready to go out.”

So we carried on with the business at hand. A little light bulb, or maybe just a candle, started flickering in my head. ” I wonder?” but I don’t think I’m much good at manipulating people.

The rest of the conversation was focussed on making sure that we were fit to go out.

Geoff was sitting patiently waiting when we went back downstairs.

“Sorry we took so long,” said Lucy.

“Oh, that’s OK. After a week with Suzie in Hove (actually) I think you set some kind of a record. Maybe two women together can get ready faster than one on her own. I wonder if that works exponentially? You know, like one of those trick exam questions, “If it takes two women fifteen minutes to get ready, how long does it take fifteen women?” and the answer is “one minute”. Nah, I can’t believe that.”

He cowered in mock fear as we both hit him. Actually he was partly right. Girls do help each other out in the loo and check that they are all right. Can you imagine a guy zipping up another one’s fly?

We grabbed our coats and jackets and walked across the road to the pub, but not before Lucy gave Geoff a set of keys to the flat so he could come and go anytime. I would have done it but I thought it was another nice gesture coming from her.
We entered the Saloon Bar and it was about half full, the atmosphere getting a bit smoky already. The barman greeted Lucy and me by name. We were irregular regulars in there. Lucy beat me to introducing Geoff to Stan the barman. They shook hands and Stan said;

“I know what the ladies want. What can I get you, Geoff?”

“Pint of Red Barrel, please, Stan.”

“Coming right up. Are you eating tonight? The steak and kidney pie is going fast.”

We all looked at each other and nodded.

“OK, Stan. Sold. Three steak’n’kidney.”

“Right. That’s nine bob for the drinks and I’ll take for the grub when it comes.”

Geoff beat us to the punch for the drinks. Girls always fumble in their purses for money. It’s one of those little tricks we have. We carried our drinks to a table and sat. One of the reasons Lucy and I liked The Ifield was that you could get a nice Chablis by the glass. Many pubs in those days didn’t even know wine existed.

When we were seated we all raised our glasses and clinked, “Cheers.”

“Here’s to a lovely week,” I said, and the other two mmmed agreement. Geoff grinned at me.

I KNEW WHAT I WAS GOING TO DO TONIGHT.

To be continued

Thanks Kristina, as usual.

Grovelling doesn’t work so comment or vote as you like, and if you don’t like.........use your imagination.