A Date With Miss CY

 
 
Standing in Miss CY’s bathroom in her bra and pantihose and black bikini panties, Panties pondered all the other maids across the world throughout history who once stood in the unfamiliar bathroom of the mistress of the house, their expectations for the succeeding hours so very different from any boyfriend’s or guest’s. Panties zipped up the front of her maid’s uniform, tied on her apron and freshened her makeup, barely noting the tiny decorated mirrors hanging by the towel rack. Within ten minutes she was polishing them diligently while Miss CY and Miss D sat on the couch drinking wine. Next, Miss CY took Panties into her bedroom to hang and arrange a big pile of clothes on her bed. She was almost apologetically appreciative as Panties sorted her sweaters and tops according to sleeve length and style. Panties then was taught how to make the bed, adjusting the duvet just the way Miss CY likes it. She was thrilled to see Panties taking such care prompting Miss D to comment: “She is your maid. She should thank, you.” In the kitchen, Miss D was pleased to hear that Miss CY had let her sink fill up with dirty dishes in anticipation of Panties’ visit.
When Panties was finished with the dishes, she discretely asked Miss D whether she might have some wine. Miss D handed Miss CY her pocket video camera which she had been using to record Panties’ training. She poured a half cup of wine into a saucer and placed it on the floor.
“Panties? You asked for wine and I said I’d rather you didn’t drink, but then I said I think (Miss CY) would like to see you drink out of a dish on the floor....”
“Please," implored Panties, hesitating.
“Panties...”
I’m sorry, I don’t,” pleaded Panties.
“I know,” said Miss D, “Panties... Aren’t you glad I’m not making you crawl on the floor—“ (Sit, now!) She mouthed silently.
Panties dropped to her hands and knees.
“There,” said Miss D, “Isn’t this better? Let’s see. Panties, you’re drinking wine out of a dish on the floor. You don’t have to drink it all at once. You’re going to tire yourself out and you’re going to get drunk and you’re not going to do a good job cleaning.”
Panties kept her face in the saucer of wine.
“So Panties, may I show her that you’re wearing panties? Or is it too extreme...?
“At Burning Man I’ve seen many things,” said Miss CY.
Panties felt her dress being hiked up in the back.
“Look at the lace, there, see?” said Miss D.
“Nice choice,” said Miss CY.
“And she’s wearing a matching bra and these, what do you call them, bikini panties?”
Panties felt her skirt being replaced.
“And she’s wearing pantihose and she’s wearing a slip...”
Panties again felt the hem of her dress being lifted.
“Are these the kind of pantihose with a line up the back? Noo, Panties. Because when she’s dressed as a secretary she wears pantihose with the line up the back, but when she’s dressed as a maid she wears, hardier ones.”
“That would make sense,” said Miss CY.
Panties sat up on her knees.
“I had her drink from a dish partially to symbolize that she can’t sit around drinking wine with us. She’s not on equal terms with us, she’s here to clean.”
Which Panties did, dutifully. She was sent back out into the rain to pick up takeout from a nearby Thai restaurant, after which the girls watched television while Panties filed and painted their toenails.