The taller of the two named Roger, I learned was dressed in a simple mauve house dress, ending just below the knees and made of cotton I think. Below the hem of his dress I could see that he was wearing flesh-tone pantyhose and sensible shoes.

His friend Dave on the other hand, a man of about my height and build but a few years older, was decked out in a low-cut evening gown of green satin, showing off a generous expanse of his shaved chest, and sweeping nearly to the floor. As he walked, I got flashes of matching emerald heels on his feet.

Lost as I was in wonder at their bizarre appearance, it took me a few moments to realize that they were staring back at my own outlandish attire! I blushed all over again as Mavis made introductions.

"Girls," She said, "Meet Roger and Dave, our hostesses for this evening," Both men smiled and offered their hands as Mavis turned back to us. "And these are my friends, Claire, Sylvia, and of course Patty!"

I bobbed in a sort of curtsey, still keeping that incongrous smile on my face.

"Pleased to meet you," I forced my voice to sound pleasant, "I'd shake hands, but I'm afraid that might be a bit immodest!" I was standing with my knees slightly bent, trying to minimize the view beneath my poncho, and everyone smiled at my comment.

"Do please excuse our Patty's apparent rudeness," Mavis said, "The poor girl lost all her clothes while skinny-dipping and that's the only thing she has to

wear!"

"What a pity," Roger clucked in polite sympathy, "But I think we can help her out. What do you say, Dave?" "Certainly!" The shorter transvestite agreed, "I'm sure my things will fit her just fine. There is one -ertradition we sort of have here, though...."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be just fine with Patty," Mavis replied, "After all, beggars can't be choosers, you know."

"Well, Roger and I are into role-playing," Dave explained, and we've made a sort of rule that you have to act the part of whatever you're dressed as. I mean, if you have any objection, we certainly don't...."

"Why that sounds wonderful!" Claire interrupted. "In fact, I don't see why we can't all do it. If you have enough costumes to go around, that is."

"We surely do!" Roger beamed, "Tell you what: Why don't you girls go upstairs to the guest suite and

shower off, and we'll bring up outfits for the four of you. What fun!"

It was about two hours later when, freed of my bondage and showered off, I got my first look at my costume for the evening. The øker girls had already cleaned up and dressed before me; Sylvia colorful and gaudy as a frnch tart, in tight black skirt, tight red sweater, seamed nylon stockings, patent-leather heels and a cute beret; Claire looked more dominant than ever in traditional Scottish regalia: kilt, heavy shoes and knee-socks, white silk shirt and natty green jacket. As for Mavis, she was appropriately attired as a Goddess, with a grecian gown of flowing white, trailing majestically behind her, simple sandals and a shiny tiara. I myself had just finished towelling off, revelling in the freedom of my arms and the luxurious feel of warm water, and

I padded barefoot into the bedroom to see what sort of clothing they had picked for me. I didn't really care. After twenty-four hours of constant nudity and bondage, the prospect of wearing anything simply delighted me. I looked at the clothing laid out on the bed.

It was a Maid's Costume.

All the objections, all the outrage started to rise in me again. A Maid? Me!? After a whole day and a half as a Slave anyway? Why couldn't one of them wear

it?

But one look at my companions, and the words died in my mouth. They were still calling the shots, and if I wanted to return to the City any time at all soon, I realized I better do my best to get along with everybody.

Smiling as well as I could, I picked up the panties. They were sheer, black, lacey, and cut so as to show much more than they concealed.

"How pretty!" I heard myself say.

"Isn't it, though?" Mavis replied, "Here, we'll help you into it!"

They helped with a vengeance. First the corset,

a skimpy but strong affair of heavy black silk. Claire and Sylvia wrapped it around me and took turns pulling on the laces until it met in the back, compressing my middle once more into a classical wasp-waist, and accentuating the flair of my hips and bosom below and above it.

There were garter straps attatched to the corsetbottom, and Mavis assisted me with these unfamiliar items, pulling long black-net stockings up my smooth legs and clipping the tops to the garters, adjusting