Interlude: Emma’s punishment

Saturday morning came far too quickly.

She reached the door and knocked softly. A moment later, it swung open to reveal Lauren, barefoot and wearing pajamas, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand. She gave Emma a slow once-over, then raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you certainly understood the assignment,” she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

Emma scowled playfully. “You said wear it.”

“I did. Come in,” Lauren said, stepping aside.

Katie gave her a thumbs-up from the car before backing out of the driveway and heading off, leaving Emma alone in her satin and lace misery.

“Kitchen,” Lauren called over her shoulder as she walked inside. “We’ll go over your schedule while I finish my coffee.”

Emma kicked off her heels by the door and padded after her, the cool floor sending a shiver up her spine. She was painfully aware of every rustle of her skirt, every inch of exposed thigh.

When she entered the kitchen, Emma sighed “Let’s just get this over with.”

Lauren chuckled as she closed the door behind her. “Oh, sweetheart. The day’s just beginning.”

Behind her, Katie honked twice, waving dramatically from the car before peeling out of the driveway and heading home.

She could already hear faint movement upstairs—Sophie stirring. Lauren sipped her coffee and gave her a knowing look. “She’s going to love seeing you like this.”

Emma groaned. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Emma padded quietly up to Sophie’s room, the soft rustle of her frilly skirt brushing her thighs as she moved. She took a deep breath, then gently knocked twice before opening the door.

Sophie was already awake and dressed down to her panties, her elegant pink dress draped neatly over the back of a chair. She looked up, a huge grin spreading across her face the moment she saw Emma in full costume.

“You look so pretty, Mommy,” she said sweetly, her voice filled with amusement and affection.

Emma rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help smiling. “We’re really doing this, huh?”

Sophie nodded eagerly. “You said it’s a tea party, right? That makes you the mommy today.”

“Right,” Emma said with a chuckle. “Let’s get you dressed, little lady.”

She helped Sophie into the elegant, soft-pink dress they’d picked out the weekend before, gently sliding her arms through the short sleeves and buttoning up the back. Sophie slipped on her matching opera gloves and turned to face the mirror, smoothing the dress with careful fingers.

Once satisfied, she looked up at Emma with sparkling eyes. “Can I watch cartoons while you cook?”

“Of course,” Emma replied, brushing a strand of hair from Sophie’s forehead. “Just don’t wrinkle that dress.”

Sophie skipped off toward the living room. Emma glanced down at herself, straightened her apron, and made her way into the kitchen—where Lauren sat at the table in her robe, sipping her second cup of coffee and quietly observing.

Emma didn’t say a word. She moved about the kitchen like she belonged there, opening the fridge, setting out eggs, bacon, and sausage with practiced ease. The morning sunlight filtered through the windows as the smells of breakfast slowly filled the air. She made sure to cook simply—scrambled eggs, evenly crisp bacon, and a few links of sausage—nothing too messy, just in case.

When everything was done, Emma set the table and went to fetch Sophie, gently taking her hand and guiding her to her booster seat. She placed a towel over Sophie’s lap and tucked the ends carefully over her shoulders to protect her dress.

Then Emma sat in Lauren’s usual spot, smoothing her skirt beneath her. Sophie beamed at her. “Thank you for breakfast, Mommy.”

Emma smiled back. “Anything for my favorite girl.”

They talked lightly while they ate—about cartoons, butterflies, and what tea party games they might play later. Emma helped cut Sophie’s sausage into tiny bite-sized pieces and occasionally wiped her mouth with a napkin.

Lauren, from the other end of the table, remained silent. She didn’t speak, didn’t interfere—just watched with a knowing smile and sipped her coffee as the scene played out in front of her. It was Emma’s morning, and she was already proving herself.

After breakfast, Emma carefully lifted Sophie out of her booster seat, holding her gently by the underarms and setting her on her feet. She gave the front of Sophie’s dress a quick inspection, smoothing the soft fabric and checking for stains. To her relief, the towel had done its job—spotless.

“Go ahead and watch your cartoons, baby girl,” Emma said softly, brushing a few crumbs off Sophie’s gloves.

Sophie nodded and scampered off, her dress swaying around her legs as she curled up neatly on the couch. Emma stood for a moment, watching her with a quiet smile before turning toward the kitchen, rolling up her lacy sleeves. She got to work.

The table was cleared with practiced efficiency, dishes stacked neatly beside the sink. As warm water filled the right sink, Emma slipped on a pair of gloves and began washing each dish by hand—scrambled egg residue, bits of sausage, grease—gone. After rinsing and drying, she returned each piece to its proper place, careful not to clatter the dishes.

Next came the counters. She grabbed the disinfectant spray and a clean rag, wiping down every surface, scrubbing with extra focus around the stove where bacon grease had left its mark. Once the kitchen sparkled, she retrieved the broom and swept every inch of the floor.

Emma dropped to her knees and scrubbed the tile by hand, determined to leave no speck behind. By the time she finished and mopped the entire kitchen, a soft sheen coated the floor. She backed her way out, careful not to step on the wet tiles.

She peeked into the living room—Sophie was still snuggled into the couch, entranced by a cartoon. Emma smiled to herself before grabbing the duster and moving through the living room.

She dusted shelves, baseboards, and every surface within reach, working with care and rhythm. After dusting, she vacuumed the large rug, catching every crumb and speck of lint. She swept the surrounding hardwood and finished with a fresh pass of the mop, the scent of lemony cleaner rising into the air.

The downstairs was beginning to gleam and Emma—though sweating lightly and starting to feel the ache in her back—carried herself with a quiet sense of pride. This wasn’t just punishment anymore—it was a test and she was determined to pass.

It was nearing eleven when Emma set the kettle on the stove and began arranging the tea set in the living room. The small porcelain set gleamed in the morning light, set atop a delicate lace runner with matching napkins and tiny saucers. The soft scent of fruit-scented tea leaves already filled the air.

As she moved back to the kitchen to check the water, the doorbell rang. Emma took a breath, quickly smoothed the front of her maid uniform, and padded to the front door in her stocking feet. The crisp morning breeze greeted her as she opened the door to find Olivia, Jessica, and Erica Michaels standing there in pastel-colored dresses, frilly socks, and shiny shoes, their faces glowing with excitement.

“Good morning, ladies,” Emma said warmly, giving a short curtsy. “Please, come in.”

The girls stepped inside, giggling amongst themselves as they caught sight of the tea setup and the fine China waiting for them. Behind them, their mothers gave Emma a wave and returned to their cars.

Sophie, already sitting primly on the couch in her pink dress and white opera gloves, lit up the moment she saw her friends. “Welcome to my tea party!”

Emma offered them a polite smile and motioned them toward the living room before retreating back to the kitchen. The kettle began to whistle.

She poured the boiling water into the porcelain teapot and let the raspberry-hibiscus blend steep for a few minutes. The smell was sweet and floral—perfect for the occasion. Once ready, she carried the pot carefully into the living room and set it in the center of the table. One by one, she poured tea into each of the dainty cups and placed them on matching saucers in front of each guest.

“Your tea, ladies,” she said with a graceful nod.

She returned to the kitchen to prepare the snacks—finger sandwiches, cookies, crackers, and fruit—all neatly arranged on a silver tray. Emma carried it into the living room, presenting the tray first to Sophie.

“Would you care for a snack, Miss Sophie?” she asked with a playful tone.

Sophie grinned and took a napkin and a cookie, careful not to smudge her gloves. Emma made the rounds with the tray, offering it to each girl with the same courteous gesture.

Once the girls had been served, Emma placed the tray on the coffee table within reach and pulled a small brass bell with a carved wooden handle from her apron pocket. She placed it in front of Sophie with a slight bow.

“If you ladies need anything, please ring the bell, and I’ll be right here.”

Sophie gave a quick nod and giggled. “Thank you, Mom.”

Emma froze for a half-second at the word, her heart skipping unexpectedly. Then she smiled, gave Sophie’s shoulder a light squeeze, and turned back toward the kitchen.

There was still plenty to clean—and a whole house to manage.

The tea party was in full swing, with Sophie, Olivia, Mia, Jessica, and Erica around the elegantly set table. Emma moved gracefully among them, ensuring each guest had what they needed.

After finishing the downstairs bathroom and hallway, Emma headed upstairs with a sigh of determination. She began by stripping the beds, gathering armfuls of sheets and pillowcases. The fresh scent of fabric softener from Lauren’s linen closet tickled her nose as she carried the bundles down to the laundry room, the hem of her short maid skirt swaying with every step.

The washing machine hummed to life as she added the detergent and started the first load. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and made her way back upstairs, wasting no time getting to work. Each bedroom was dusted and tidied—the plush toys straightened on Sophie’s bed, the nightstands wiped clean, and the trash bins emptied. She scrubbed the upstairs bathroom until the mirror gleamed, and the scent of lemon cleaner filled the air.

Downstairs, a delicate chime rang out as Mia picked up the silver bell and gave it a gentle shake. Emma approached less than a minute later, offering a polite curtsy. “Yes, Miss Mia?”