Chapters 6-9

Note: Each chapter is from the POV of the named individual.

***** Chapter 6: Millie ****

I was distracted all day Monday as I pondered the cryptic note. I didn’t know who it had come from, nor was I sure what it meant. I couldn’t ask my retinue because I couldn’t show them any weakness or ignorance. I kept looking for Greg the Weirdo to abuse him for wearing a dog’s collar, but he was keeping a very low profile.

I agonised so much over the identity of the person who put the note in my locker that I felt a headache coming on. It had to be someone who had seen my pussy recently. That ruled out my family and the hired help so I all could think was that the author was a girl who had seen me in the changing room before or after school sport. But none of them would dare. Or was that the reason the note was anonymous? Being in block capitals, I couldn’t really compare the handwriting against that of my classmates.

Stumped by one question, I agonised over the other. What did the note mean? I considered asking my mother about shaving but only for about one millisecond. She took me to a salon once a month to have my hair done and my legs waxed. She personally went weekly but said that at my age once a month was quite enough.

If I asked my mother, she would probably deduce that I was sexually active, and that would lead to embarrassing questions about precautions. And since I hadn’t seen Brad for over a week, that might lead her to speculate about who I was being sexually active with. No, that was one door I was not going to risk opening.

At home that evening, my parents’ noticed that my concentration was elsewhere but refrained from asking about it in case I bit their heads off, just like I had done for most of the weekend. Then, over dinner, I suddenly realised a possible source of help was staring me in the face.

***** Chapter 7: Penny ****

I served the Cypress family with the meal I had cooked. When they were sated, I cleared the dining table and served tea of coffee according to preference. Then I retired to the kitchen to eat my own dinner. It was one of the perks of the job, getting to eat a share of the meal I’d just cooked for the Cypresses.

I was just about to tuck in when Millie came into the kitchen. My heart sank. She was the spawn of the devil: nothing good could come of this.

“Penny, when you’ve finished here, please would you come up to my room? I’d like your help with something.”

I was shocked. Millie was actually polite. It was most unlike her to say ‘please’. Still, my sense of foreboding only grew.

“Yes Miss,” I meekly answered. I needed the job so refusing wasn’t an option.

With a satisfied smile on her face, Millie turned and stalked out of the kitchen.

I thought I had lucked out when the university accepted me. I knew I wanted to be a manager in the entertainment business and I knew I wanted food to be involved somehow, but I didn’t want the demands and stress of being a full-time chef. The university I had chosen was very flexible about course content, so while the main focus of my studies was Business Administration, I was allowed to mix in courses from other fields including Food Hygiene and Regulations.

Even with maximum student loans, money was very tight because I was living away from home and running a small car.

Luckily I was the recipient of a double-dose of good fortune. Student Housing had pointed me towards Lesley, a student nurse taking a five year sandwich course, who had been looking for someone to share her tiny two bedroom apartment. Despite our different backgrounds we had hit it off immediately and since the cost was similar to that of sharing a room in the oversubscribed university dorms, the decision was a no-brainer.

The second stroke of luck was landing a part-time job with the Cypress family. The hours were variable but I had to cook evening meals for them two or three times a week, depending on the schedule of Mrs Haskins, their full-time cook and housekeeper, plus other evenings and weekends if the need arose for them to cater for social events such as dinner parties. There was no conflict with my university schedule and the money was very good.

Mr Cypress was okay, although very quiet and reserved. Mrs Cypress was a snobbish social-climber, but she knew the value of loyal, dependable staff so she always remembered to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, and I think she was mostly responsible for the generous pay, as if to say ‘we’re rich, look how much we can afford’. The one person I couldn’t stand was their fifteen year old daughter, Millie. Her angelic looks completely belied the venom which poured from her mouth. She was arrogant, rude and condescending towards everyone, including her own parents. I avoided her like the plague.

After I had finished eating, I scraped the edible leftovers into a couple of plastic containers to take back for Lesley. Mrs Cypress had given me permission; I think the idea amused her. Non-salvageable leftovers went into the food waste bin for recycling, then I loaded up the dishwasher and set it running for Mrs Haskins to unload in the morning.

After cleaning up the dining room, my duties were finished. I considered making a run for it, pretending I had forgotten Millie’s request, but I knew that someone so evil would never let me get away with it. So with a heavy heart and no little trepidation, I made my way to Millie’s bedroom. I knew where it was, although I’d never been in it before.

I knocked timidly on the door. “It’s me, Miss.”

***** Chapter 8: Millie ****

“Come in,” I called back.

Penny entered my room.

“Please shut the door,” I requested.

Penny looked very nervous as she shut the door. Normally it was a good thing for hired hands to know their places, but in this instance I needed her to be relaxed and thinking of me almost as an equal.

“What can I do for you Miss?” Penny asked.

“Firstly, when we’re alone like this, please call me Millie.” That was a little trick my mother had taught me. Hired hands were more likely to be forthcoming if you were on first name terms.

“I’d rather not, Miss. I might forget and call you that when there’s company.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll make sure you don’t get into trouble for it. I want to ask a favour as a friend.”

I’m pretty sure ‘friend’ was just about the last label Penny would use to describe me, and she stood there mutely, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“Hypothetically speaking,” I said, “suppose a girl got a request to shave, what would it mean?”

Penny obviously had difficulty suppressing a smirk. “What’s your personal grooming regime?”

She’d seen straight through my hypothetical. Oh well, I was committed now.

“Mother takes me to the salon to have my hair done and my legs waxed once a month. She says I don’t need them done more often at my age.”

“How do you maintain your pussy hair?”

“That hasn’t been a problem until recently, but I trim it with scissors when I’m going to wear a bikini.”

Penny looked around the room, seemingly deep in thought. She seemed almost nervous. Perhaps she felt a little intimidated. A 48” plasma in her bedroom was something she could only dream about. Finally she seemed to come to some sort of decision. I didn’t like the way her lip curled up at the side as though she had thought of a way to get one over on me.

“It’s probably easiest if I show you,” Penny said. “Do you think you could come back to my place this evening?”

I didn’t want to come across as too eager so I made Penny wait a couple of seconds before answering. “I guess that would be okay. Let me tell my parents where I’m going.”

By parents I meant my father, more of a pushover than my mother. I knocked on the door of his study and walked straight in without waiting for a response. Father was sitting at his computer and looked extremely discomfited by the interruption. From anyone else, such behaviour would make you suspect they were viewing porn but no, he had a spreadsheet open.

“Father, I’m going out. Penny wants to show me something in town.” It wasn’t a question.

Father pondered for a couple of seconds. “Have you done all your homework?”

“Yes,” I lied. There was only maths left and I could get Sophie Perkins to do it for me. She owed me a favour for letting her fondle my Gulci & Kumbayana designer book bag.