Chapter 19

Sarah Duncan had refused her father's offer to meet her at Penn Station. Although most people fly between Washington and New York City, Sarah — known as Sally — had elected to take the Metroliner. For some reason she wanted the extra time to decompress from the Washington pressures and reorient her thoughts to her parents. She really had not given them any thought in months, a fact that bothered her. Sally had even been remiss about talking to them on the phone. All she knew was that they were now working as domestic servants for a family in New York.

Why this was so was yet another puzzle because with their savings and her father's Army pension there should be no need for money, let alone money earned under such demeaning conditions. The contrast in status between their domestic service and her Justice Department position might have been a major cause of their estrangement, although Sarah had never said a word about it to them.

At Penn Station she grabbed a cab and gave the driver the Taylor's upper-East Side address. As the cab started to move, Sally leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. Seeing her adoptive parents again after so many years created mixed emotions. Beyond the status thing, her biggest problem in dealing with them was that she considered herself to be a liberated woman and a feminist, while she knew her parents were very traditional in their attitudes.

But when her mother had invited her up to New York to visit, it was so close to Washington and so easy to get to, there was no graceful way to avoid seeing them. Moreover, Sally had a deep-seated concern that she could not put out of her mind. Like everyone else in her office — the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice — she read The Washington Post religiously. It was, in fact, the Washington government's trade paper. It really made life easy for her, she supposed. Every day, both the news columns and the editorial pages of the paper told her what was news, what to think, and what the proper positions on all the issues of the day were.

Deep down, though, she was bothered. For example, she was supposed to be a feminist — a card-carrying member of NOW, the National Organization for Women — and she was. The problem was that the organization's leadership was now heavily dominated by lesbians who not only preferred women as sex partners, they actively disliked men. It was this attitude that deeply bothered Sally. Moreover, the organization seemed to be increasingly interested more in lesbian and gay rights than in women's issues, per se.

The cab pulled up to the curb at the address Sally had given the driver. After paying him, she picked up her suitcases and started walking towards the apartment entrance. Then she stopped and looked up at the building for the first time. When she did, she let out an involuntary whistle. Clearly, she thought, this is not New York's low-rent district! Sarah Duncan was five feet eight inches tall and weighed about 160 pounds. Now she was so badly out of shape that just carrying her two suitcases was wearing her out.

Although when she had been living at home she used to be quite athletic and got a lot of exercise, that had all changed when she went to law school. There, the women with whom she associated liked to think of themselves as intellectuals. Moreover, any effort to maintain an attractive body opened one up to being accused of playing to the male sexual stereotype. Actually, she realized, 160 pounds was — in view of her height — the very least she could weigh to escape their criticism. Her hair was worn back in a tight bun, and the suit she was wearing was very mannishly styled and had been carefully selected to obscure her feminine shape. But at 160 pounds, there isn't much shape to obscure, she thought wryly.

As she picked up her baggage again and started to carry her suitcases towards the entrance, a security guard came running out to take them from her and carry them into the building. She was glad to be relieved of their weight.

Entering the building, she was even more impressed. There was a reception desk and, she realized, two more armed guards. "The Taylor apartment, please," she said to the receptionist. "I am Sarah Duncan, and I am expected."

The man checked his list and found her name. Then, to her surprise, he asked for some identification. She pulled out her Justice Department photo ID from her wallet and showed it to the man. After carefully checking the picture against her appearance, he then asked her to sign a blank piece of paper using the same signature as the one on her ID card. After she signed, he again checked it carefully against the ID, then smiled, welcomed her to New York, and directed her to an elevator door set off by itself in the lobby.

Apparently there was some photoelectric eye or a control at the reception desk or something, because the elevator door slid silently open as she walked towards it. The guard with her baggage followed her into the elevator car and smiled. As she entered the car, she remembered that she had forgotten to ask the Taylor's apartment number but now it was too late. Already the doors were sliding silently shut and the car began to rise. On the other hand, with the guard in the car she did not worry.

As the car rose swiftly in the shaft — its motion was so smooth and silent, the only sensation of speed was in her stomach — she realized that the interior of the car was beautiful. The floor was thickly carpeted and its walls were paneled in richly-polished furniture-grade cherry. It even had a beautiful leather-upholstered seat along the back wall with a mirror above it. When the car smoothly and silently glided to a stop, the doors opened and she found herself in an entrance hallway paneled and carpeted in the same fashion as the elevator car.

Only then did she realize that the apartment door was open and a beautiful black girl was waiting for her. As she was about to ask for Mrs. Duncan, Sally realized that the woman was her mother. It was Ellie, but now she appeared to be younger than Sarah herself!

"My darling, welcome!" Ellie exclaimed. "Your father and I are delighted you could finally make it up to visit." Ellie took her adopted daughter into her arms and hugged her, then moved back to be able to kiss her firmly on the lips.

Ellie's kiss, loaded with love, joy, and sheer goodness, almost caused Sally to collapse. Then, although she stepped back for a moment, her mother held both of her hands. Slowly shaking her head, Sally said softly, "Mom, what happened to you!? You are unbelievable! Never in your life have you looked so beautiful. And your dress..."

Sally was stunned. The last time she had seen her mother — over a year earlier — she had appeared matronly. Although, she admitted to herself wryly, not nearly as matronly as I look right now. Now her mother's figure was utterly magnificent and her white sleeveless dress was the most beautiful thing Sally had ever seen. Looking at her mother's body carefully, she realized that her mother's nipples were probing at the material of the dress like two blunt pencils.

"Good grief, Mother," the girl exclaimed. "You're ... you're not wearing a bra! And your nipples show!" Fortunately, the guard had already put her luggage inside the apartment door and returned to the lobby, so he didn't hear her comment.

"Of course they do, dear," her mother replied softly. "Your father likes my nipples always to be turgid and Andy showed me how to do it. It took awhile, but now keeping them this way is second nature. I don't even need to think about it anymore. Now the only time they're flaccid is right after your father fucks me. Although it usually takes only a few minutes afterward for me to get them back this way."

Then she added, "As far as wearing a bra is concerned, why should I? Do you really think I need one?" Looking down at her chest, she cupped her tits and said, "I think they're sort of nice. Now they stand up as proudly as Kelly's or Nita's, or even Andy's own. Their nipples are always erect, too."

While they were talking, Ellie was escorting her daughter through the apartment towards the rear. Although she was listening to what her mother was saying, Sally noticed in passing that the whole apartment was utterly magnificent. But unlike so many homes that were professionally decorated, the whole feeling in this apartment was one of great warmth and comfort.

When they entered the living room, three women rose to their feet. Seeing the three together came as such a shock to Sally that she stopped dead in her tracks. It was all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping open. The three women were physical duplicates of one another. All were five feet eight with identical perfect figures. The only differences were in the color of their hair and eyes. One had dark hair and incredible blue eyes, the second had brown hair with gray eyes, while the third had hair the color of newly-minted yellow gold and the warmest, most brilliant blue eyes Sally had ever seen.

All were exquisitely dressed in conservatively-cut dresses that somehow set off their perfect figures. Finally, all appeared to be virtually identical in age, although the brunette did appear to be slightly younger than the other two. But none appeared to be over twenty-one.

"Sally," her mother said softly, "I would like you to meet my closest friends in the whole world: Anita and Kelly Taylor, and their mother, Andy." Turning to the waiting women she said proudly, "Taylors, this is my daughter, Sarah, but everyone calls her Sally."

What came next was also something of a surprise. In Washington one merely touched hands. Each of these women applied a very firm grip. As she shook hands, she realized that everything about these women was feminine perfection. Their hands were all slim with very long fingers. Moreover, she realized, none were wearing nail polish. This caused her to look at their faces even more closely. When she did, she realized that none were wearing any makeup at all — or certainly none that she could see.

However, although her female friends in Washington wore no makeup, either, in order to look as plain and drab as possible, these women were not wearing any because they needed none. Never had she seen such vibrant beauties in her life. But then her mother's comment registered. The blonde is the other girls' mother? It is utterly impossible!

The surprises were not yet over, though. After she shook hands with the mother, Andy Taylor — An odd name for a woman, she thought — took her into her arms and kissed her. The kiss was like nothing Sally had ever experienced in her life. She realized it was like the kiss her mother had given her at the door, but with far more power. It was a kiss of the purest love and goodness.

When the woman released her lips, she continued to hold Sally by her shoulders realizing that, since her eyes were glassy, she just might collapse on the floor. When Sally blinked and shook her head to clear it, Andy released her and the girl slowly sank down on the sofa.

Then Kelly Taylor turned to her mother and excused herself, along with Nita, to work out and have a swim. They made their excuses to Sally saying that they were sure that the two women had lots of news to catch up on. When they had left the room, Andy offered tea, saying that there would be a late dinner that night.

When Ellie started to rise, Andy glared at her and ordered, "Ellen Duncan, just sit down and shut up!"

"But, Andy!" she protested. Andy just raised an eyebrow, pointed downward with her finger and started to leave the room. "Ah, hah!" Ellie exclaimed, "I've got you now, Andrea Pierce Taylor. Sally is a lawyer in the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice. She'll take care of me!"

Turning to her daughter, she demanded, "Sarah Duncan, this is your case now. I demand that you protect my civil rights!"

The girl had just been watching the exchange between the two women, utterly baffled. All she could do was slowly shake her head.

When she did, her mother said, "This is so damned typical, daughter, you have to do something! Whenever I offer to do anything, all Andy does is to tell me to sit down and shut up. Is that fair? Is that right? Is it?"

Before the still-baffled Sarah could reply, Andy said, "That's not true! When I'm cooking, I not only allow you to stand and watch, I even permit you to ask questions!" With an emphatic nod of her head and after daintily sticking out the tip of her pink tongue, she turned on her heel and went out towards the kitchen.

"But, Mom," the girl protested. "I have never understood this arrangement at all. Why are you and Dad... servants? I mean ... My Lord!"

Instead of answering Ellie asked the girl to follow her. Taking her around the apartment, she opened a door that, to Sally's surprise, had a fully-featured front door, complete with normal entry hardware and locks. As they went into the apartment beyond, she asked her mother about it.

"This is just one of the problems, Sally," Ellie replied. "Andy and Jack just absolutely insisted that we have our privacy. This is a full apartment within their house. We even have our own private entrance off the elevator lobby. Just look!"

"But ... but ... but, I don't understand," the girl stammered. "It is utterly magnificent. What's the problem?"

"The whole thing is the problem!" her mother wailed. "Would you believe it? These are the servants quarters! We have a three-room apartment along with a bath that could have come from House Beautiful — you would never find anything nearly as nice or as complete in Apartment Living. It has a bathtub the size of a small swimming pool..."

Then she grinned and interjected, "Now your dad even takes me in the bathtub ... It's just so neat! We're both supported by the water as I feel his huge sex start to penetrate my cunt."

Continuing, she said, "It has two lavatories and even a separate shower — also large enough for both of us. And it has a fully-equipped gourmet kitchen, too. But, of course, it's never been used!" Then she wailed, "And these are the servants' quarters!"

"How much does it all cost?" Sally asked diffidently. The whole exchange with her mother was utterly baffling to her. One of the things that had bothered her from the very first time she had heard about it was the idea of her parents working as servants. Sally was honest enough to recognize it as a status thing. Now she was listening to her mother complaining ... about not being able to serve!

"Cost?" her mother exclaimed with a sardonic laugh. "That's a laugh and a half! It's $60,000 a year ... that the Taylors pay us! And, of course, that's in addition to room and board and every conceivable other expense covered on top!"

Turning to her daughter she said, "Would you believe we had a big fight over money? Do you know what it was all about? Andy was trying to pay for the birthday gift your father and I bought for her! Can you believe it? Paying for your own birthday present? But that's really what she wanted to do, and we could barely talk her out of it. On the other hand," she added with a little grin, "I guess it was the only battle your dad and I have ever won with her."

The women took a quick look around the apartment and Sally was again astonished. It was the most beautifully furnished and tastefully decorated home she had ever seen. The most obvious element was that the same care and attention — and money — that had been spent on the Taylor's apartment had been spent on her parents'. They returned to the library as Andy came in carrying a large silver tray which she set down on the coffee table.

For Sally, in spite of the occasional embassy party she attended, it was the first time she had ever actually seen a tea and coffee service used. And, she admitted reluctantly, Andy handled it with a grace and dignity that suggested it was all she ever did. In addition to the tea and coffee, there was a small platter of the most elegant tea sandwiches the girl had ever seen. Each was different and each was an individual work of culinary art. When she asked where they came from, all her mother did was laugh.

As the three women talked, Sally became aware that she was doing all the talking. Then she realized that Andy had the very rare ability quietly to ask a few questions and soon get the other person — Sally, in this case — to tell her full life story. To her surprise, Sally even found herself talking about her experiences with NOW and her problem with the lesbians who seemed to control it. Nevertheless, the dislike she was feeling for Andy Taylor crept into her voice and manner.

Suddenly, Andy changed the subject dramatically. "Sally," she asked softly, "why don't you like me? In fact, that really isn't accurate, is it? The question should be, why do you hate me? Have I ever hurt you?" Her next words utterly stunned Sarah: "I have hurt a great many people in my life, and some of them very badly, but I don't think you were ever one of them. Were you? Did I ever hurt you?" she repeated.

At first Sally was struck dumb by the question. Then she blurted, "It's not you, Mrs. Taylor ... It's ... It's what you stand for! I cannot abide women who spend all day, every day, just looking beautiful. Mrs. Taylor, you are utterly worthless! You do nothing positive for anyone, ever. With you, life is all take — no give! Yes, Mrs. Taylor, you are correct. I do hate you! Women like you are a national disgrace!"

Ellie was so shocked at her daughter's words, she could say nothing. Just then, they heard the sound of the front door opening and Jack Taylor calling out a greeting. Andy's only reaction to Sarah's words was the tiniest blush that only someone who knew her well as Ellie did would ever even notice. Then, without saying a word about Sarah's outburst, she just quietly excused herself.