These stories & excerpts are posted in draft form every week, and may contain adult themes and content. Each story/excerpt will be available for one week, until the next one is posted. Enjoy!
Meeting George
I barely recognized myself when Jessica and the other girls were done with me.
There were three dresses in the closet of my new ‘blue’ room, all low-cut, thin strap affairs with only a single petticoat to go underneath. All the gowns were blue, and as Jessica pulled a light blue frilly number over my head, she explained that we all had different color themes and rooms. There was makeup on the dressing table, and the girls did my face, patting rouge on my cheeks and lips, and face powder not only on my face, but my décolletage as well. They even showed me how to put rouge on my nipples, explaining that men liked such things, and piled my hair in a dark blond mass atop my head to expose my neck. I let them do whatever they thought best, and when I finally saw the results of their labors in the mirror, it was like I was looking at an entirely different person from myself.
The kind of person who would seduce men for money. Or fun. Both, preferably.
There were several gentlemen in the parlor when we finally returned to the parlor. When she saw us, Queen Bea rapped her fan in the palm of her hand to get everyone’s attention.
“Gentlemen! May I introduce to you our newest protégé, the lovely Eleanor. She is young and somewhat inexperienced, so you may want to be gentle with her for a time.
Everyone laughed at that, and the girls giggled as the music started again. I stood there trying not to wring my own hands, feeling very much exposed and out of my element. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t excite me a little too, especially when the men all started leering at my body. I’m not really sure the makeup was necessary, since no one was looking at my face.
The other girls all started mingling with the gentleman, laughing and drinking while I just stood there, not really sure what to do. Queen Bea waved at me, and somewhat impatiently gestured towards a younger, handsome man in a navy pinstripe suit sitting by himself at the fireplace, reading a paper and smoking an ornately carved pipe. Taking that to mean that I should go offer my services, I approached with what I hoped was a suggestive smile on my face.
“Good evening Sir,” I said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
He looked up from the paper and took the pipe out of his mouth. “I’ll take a scotch on the rocks.” And then he put his pipe back in his mouth, looked back down at his paper, and acted as though I’d never said a word.
I looked around for a bar with a tender, but didn’t see anything of the sort. I went to Queen Bea and in a lowered tone, asked where I should get scotch. She looked taken aback at first, and then annoyed. She pointed to a sidebar on one wall of the room that held an array of cut glass bottles partially filled with all manner of liquids, and several shapes and sizes of glassware to serve in.
“Just there,”” she pointed to the table, hurriedly. “You’ll have to make the drinks yourself. The scotch is in the blue container.”
I had never poured a drink before, having always had servants to do that. My father had expressly forbade us girls from touching decanters. I went to the sideboard, got a tall glass, tried to look as inconspicuous as possible while I tried to figure out which container held the ice, and then put a few cubes in the bottom with ice tongs. Luckily I had heard my father ask for drinks on the rocks, and I knew that was code for “over ice”.
I grasped the cut= blue container, pulled the stopper out, and filled the glass halfway with the amber colored liquid before replacing the decanter in the stopper on its tray. Then I took the drink to the man with the paper, with as pleasant a smile as I could on my face.
“Your drink, sir.” I held out to him, and he looked up from his paper, glanced at the glass in my hand, and shook his head.
“Wrong glass.”
