After a cold supper, she sat at the dining room table with the cook, who was called Lucy, and the young black girl who was about her age. "I have thre... people coming over this week," she said. "A cook and her daughter and a very old man. I do not need two cooks. Nor two maids or kitchen helpers. What shall we do?" I'd like to stay and be your maid," said Miranda. "Your momma had her own maid, didn't she?"Anne nodded. "She did, but things were different then, trade was good, and I do not think I. ” She shifted towards me and spread her legs, in an already short skirt. I quickly saw that she wore no panties, and either sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose or just skin. “That’s what I wore to a social evening with friends.” She cupped her breasts, and wiggled them enough, in the clingy top, to make it evident she wore no bra nor did she need one. “Let me be explicit. I want to have sex with you, as a part of getting to know you better. My undergraduate work was at Smith College, and there was. For a boy though, she had to admit, he didreally well.They posed, giggled, and she brought him by the hand to the clothes andrealized something wasn't right. She stopped, tapped her chin and shookher head. "Okay, don't walk around like you're wearing your work boots.See? Watch me. You feel small inside. You feel like a girl inside. Youfeel delicate and sweet, and you just kind of slink a little. See? Youdon't jump up and down, and you put out your leg just until you feel thelittle tight skirt. But youspend as much if not more time focusing on their clothing than them. Doyou remember what we ended last session with?" The woman on the stairs." Yes, the woman on the stairs. You told me she was wearing," as shelooked at her notes, "a white short-sleeved top, full pink print skirtand white heels." I remember." I hate to keep going back to the comparison, but my husband would notremember those details. He'd remember that she was wearing heels, andif she had been wearing a short skirt, but.