RELUCTANT PRESS

"I forgot them, Sister Susie. I'm sorry."

I had decided that for now at least I would try to act subservient until I could decide how I would get myself out of this awful mess.

"Well, this is your first week, but nevertheless, I will have to report this infraction to the others. But make sure that I get two pairs tomorrow hand washed and ironed. Now get along."

Susie's room was a mess! This was the worst I had ever seen it and I had thought that she had been getting better with my help. It seemed to take forever just to pick up all the clothes off the floor and either hang them in her closet or put them in her hamper to be laundered by guess who? Her bathroom was equally bad with the added burden of wet towels and soiled underwear. When I picked up her basket to empty it, the discarded paper wrappers helped explain Susie's bad mood. Or so I thought.

After two hours everything was as it should be; the bed neatly made, the carpet vacuumed, and the bathroom sparkling from top to bottom. Taking one last look to be sure that there was nothing I could be criticized for, and not without a certain amount of pride at the transformation, I went downstairs and told Susie that I was all done.

"All done? Yeah, right," she said. I suppose expecting a "thank you" was unrealistic but she didn't have to be so mean, I thought. "I want you to pick out my clothes for the week and hang them in my closet in the right order. And of course, iron anything that needs it!"

I turned to leave, but was halted by her command. "Wait! What do you say?"

"Yes, Sister Susie," was all that I could think to answer. "Is that all? Don't you think that you should thank me for letting you clean my room, especially being able to fondle all my pretty underwear. You did fondle my things, didn't you, Danielle?"

"Ah no...I mean...ah, thank you Sister Susie," I blustered out, and left the room to the laughter of the two women. Damn it, I had been in no mood to "fondle" her clothes but I was not sure how to answer without getting in more trouble. My first thoughts were to just grab any five outfits that were close at hand and did not need any attention but,

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RUFFLES & CURLES

By Kammi Morton

maybe partly out of fear of further reprimand, I decided to put some effort into this endeavor. After all, wasn't Susie trusting me with some major decisions allowing me to pick out her clothes?

And so, with some sense of excitement I carefully went through her closet picking out various dresses, skirts, and blouses to see what looked best with what. (Susie, and the other members of the Sorority, never wore slacks to school. They always looked like they had stepped out of a magazine ad clothes, hair, and make-up perfect!)

I held the clothes up to me in front of the floor length mirror imagining how they would look on Susie and at the same time picturing myself in them, becoming somewhat envious that I could not dress like my sisters.

After half an hour I had decided on all the outfits for the week. A few things needed pressing so I took them downstairs and without a word to Susie or her mother, I set up the ironing board in the kitchen and began my task.

From the aromas in the room, it was obvious that Mrs. Wales had dinner cooking. I carefully pressed the knife pleats in a lovely white rayon skirt, beginning to sweat from the heat and steam. I heard the phone ring while I was in the middle of a pink cotton blouse but could not hear the conversation very well except that it seemed that Mrs. Wales was inviting someone over for dinner. About a half hour later, when all I had left were a couple of half-slips, which I had saved for last because they were so easy and, I must admit, something I actually loved to iron, the doorbell rang.

Before I could do anything my mother was standing in the kitchen next to Mrs. Wales.

"Almost done?" asked the latter. "I asked Donna to join us for dinner and you can stay too. Finish up there and go get dressed. We'll be eating in an hour."

Mom just smiled and gave me a little wave as she followed Mrs. Wales to the living room.

I was mortified! Sure, I ironed at home and that was certainly nothing new. But to be seen in the awful house dress with a kerchief around my head and ironing someone else's clothes, especially lingerie, was terribly embarrassing.

While I finished this chore I could hear the women in the other room but could not tell what they were talking about.

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