34 -TV SERIALS, SANDY THOMAS ADVERTISING "A"

When Miss Cindy first saw my smooth, shaved legs in sheer stockings, she whistled and said most girls would be happy with legs like mine.

After I'd gotten used to the clothes and daily routine, Miss Cindy encouraged me to polish my nails and wear make-up and lipstick. Although at first I resisted her, she convinced me I looked silly in my a female maid's uniform without it. "Everyone can see you're my maid, Cissie, so you aren't really hiding anything by not wearing make-up won't look as nice."

—

you just My totally frustrated sexuality had made me quite narcissistic, which played into Miss Cindy's plans for me. I often looked at myself in the mirror, and I secretly cared how I looked in my uniforms. (Miss Cindy's place had lots of mirrors, since she herself was rather narcissistic. But who wouldn't be, with her beautiful face and perfect body!)

I draped a lace underwire bra about my waist and hooked it before slipping it around and snaking my arms through the shoulder straps. I casually placed silicone inserts in my bra cups and adjusted them. (I wore B cup inserts for housework and C cup ones for formal affairs -one advantage to fake breasts.) The weight of the inserts and the tug of my bra straps always felt strangely satisfying.

I should have noticed, but even now, my chest seemed different-fuller and my nipples responded, pointing out stiffly in the lacy cups of my brassieres.

I had been feeling soft and flabby, so sucking in my tummy, I hooked myself into a tight satin waist cincher. The extra flesh had to go somewhere so my already fatty bosom was pushed up and my hips flared out from under the cincher. I slung a lace garter belt around my waist and 'in a snap' fastened it behind me. Intricate little clips and hooks and buttons that would have been a mystery to me just months ago were now quite familiar. I had become quite adept at dressing both my mistress and myself in sumptuous feminine underthings.

I sat in my vanity chair and rolled sheer black stockings up my smooth legs, standing to straighten the seams and attach them securely to my garters. The Epilady deluxe Miss Cindy had given me was painful to use, but it kept my legs silky smooth longer than shaving did. I strolled over to my closet in my nylons and brought out two short, frothy crinoline petticoats. Gingerly I stepped into the girlish petticoats and

MAID IN FORM "A" 35

slipped them up my legs, adjusting their tight elastic waistbands on my cinched-in middle.

The new taffeta uniform Miss Cindy wanted me to wear was the shortest one I had! I unzipped it off it's hanger and dropped it over my head. I stared wide-eyed in disbelief as I saw the full little skirt bunch up at my waist, held up by my sharply flared petticoats.

It was like I just woke up from a dream. I couldn't accept I was actually doing this. It took a little tugging to get the skirt down over the voluminous petticoats making them skim around my thighs. As I eased myself into a chair to slip on my high heeled pumps, the petticoats and skirt bunched up so much it was hard to see my feet. The outfit certainly wasn't designed for sitting, but I rarely got to sit while on duty, so it didn't matter.

My hair which I used to wear just pushed back, had grown and with Sharie's semi-weekly "check-up" visits was becomingly soft and feminine. It was inconceivable to imagine a man teaching another man to be feminine-submissive and charming. But it was happening to me. This man, so girlish in all ways was teaching me what he's learned so well-all about hair, makeup and fashion.

Sharie said, "I will teach you wonderful things and Cindy will teach you to use them. When we are through, you'll be the perfect personal helper."

I found it intriguing but looking into the mirror always gave me a moment of deep shame that I could be so effeminate. I wanted to pull the bedspread over my head. . .but I couldn't-I had work to do. Every hair had to be fashionably in place, no shine on my nose and no crease in my skirt.

I slipped the shiny patent pumps on my stockinged feet, slowly getting up to feel my balance in the spiky five-inch heels. I didn't tie on my formal taffeta serving apron though. Miss Cindy liked to tie my apron on me before a party. She thought the little ritual served to make our relationship as mistress/maid more official somehow.

I had no time to diddle around. Dinner was running slightly behind schedule, so I had to hurry. While I was busy in the kitchen, I heard Miss Cindy call for me from her room. "Hurry up and help me get dressed, Cissie the girls will be here soon!" she yelled in to me.