This story was posted on another site, in French, in January 2002. 
To a degree, it seems to have inspired "Transformation of a 
Middle-Class Woman," by Conchita.  The following note from the 
translator applies equally to both stories:

I studied French for one year long ago.  To overcome my lack 
of skill in the language, I ran the story through Babelfish 
to produce an English version.  The latter was almost totally 
unintelligible, but did provide me with the meaning of all the 
French words.  This greatly reduced the number of trips that I 
had to make to my French dictionary.  I then compared the 
Babelfish translation with the original French and attempted 
to come up with a version in colloquial English.  Finally, I 
sent it to C. Lakewood, who further massaged it.  The translation 
is a very free one, but I believe that it does a creditable job 
of capturing the spirit of the French version, and it does read 
like English.




                      BECOMING A MAID 

                            by 

                          Annette 

    (Translated by The Nerdly and edited by C. Lakewood)


Part 1

Miriam, a friend of mine, remarked one day during a luncheon, 
"There are two ways of wearing a black dress: with a pearl 
necklace or with a white apron." 

The bon mot piqued my curiosity, so much so that the next time 
I was at the Samaritaine department store, I bought a waitress's 
white apron.  When I got home, I tested Miriam's theory in front 
of a mirror.  First, I put on a pearl necklace and regarded my 
overall image.  Then I exchanged the pearls around my neck for 
an apron around my waist.  The dress with an apron was a 
completely different garment than it had been with the necklace. 

What if I actually WERE a maid?  Me...become a maid?  But how?  For 
whom?  And, above all, WHY?  It was, of course, a truly mad idea, 
yet a strangely pleasurable feeling crept over me. 

I picked up the telephone and dialed a familiar number.  "Miriam?" 

"Madame hasn't returned." 

In my haste, I had forgotten that Miriam employed a black maid.  I 
was disappointed.  I'd wanted to talk about this new desire, this 
caprice.  I caressed my white apron and shivered with pleasure.  I 
put the "Diary of a Chambermaid" in my VCR.  It's a work of no 
little importance to someone wanting to wear the uniform...and 
submit. 

I fell asleep on my leather sofa. 

The telephone awakened me long after the tape had finished.  

"Ah, Miriam?" 

"My maid told me that you'd tried to call me." 

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to disturb you over nothing.  But...it's 
interesting.  I've verified your theory." 

"The black dress?" 

"Yes, and...well...I'd even like to offer myself to go along with 
the apron." 

"Oh!  You're serious?"  There was a long silence.  "Annette?  Are 
you still there?" 

"Yes," I said.  "It would please me to give it a try." 

"You know that it's a dangerous game you are proposing to play." 

"I remember your saying some time ago that only a middle-class 
woman can make a truly well-trained maid...." 

"So.  It's an odd but beautiful gift that you are offering me, 
dear, and I'm touched.  As a matter of fact, I will be giving 
my present maid a leave of absence.  And you think you're ready 
to fill in for her?" 

I hesitated, very briefly, but was overcome by that strange desire. 
"Yes, I swear by our friendship that I'm sincere...that I want to 
try." 

"Mmmmm.  Very well, come over tomorrow morning at 9 o'clock.  Be 
on time, for a good maid is always punctual.  Wear a black suit 
and a white blouse."  She hung up. 

I was committed.  We had just agreed to play a game of dominance 
and submission.  I was to belong to her.

But for how long? 

		****************************** 

Promptly at 9 the following morning, I arrived at Miriam's, a 
large white house surrounded by a high wall.  I wore the suit 
that she had specified.  The front door opened as I approached. 

I was welcomed by her former maid, a young black woman from 
Mauritius, who was dressed in a rather masculine, beige pantsuit 
of impeccable cut.  She smiled. 

"Only this morning Madame informed me that you wanted to replace me 
as her servant, so she promoted me.  Today is my first day as head 
of household and Madame's personal secretary.  You will call me 
'Mademoiselle.'" 

I muttered. 

She looked at me haughtily, then took a step forward.  The door 
whispered shut behind her.  "I will not be indulgent.  Madame 
wants a well-trained girl at her beck and call.  To inaugurate 
your new job, I have a gift for you...my maid's apron.

She ordered me to give her my suit jacket and, in exchange, she 
handed me the apron and told me to put it on.  My white blouse 
and black skirt were transformed when I added the white apron. 

"Isn't it amusing how a little white apron changes one's social 
status?" she drawled. 

I simply smiled in silence. 

"First lesson.  You are responsible for opening and closing the 
front door." 

There on the front steps, she made it abundantly clear that she was 
my superior and that I must obey her.  I opened the door, and she 
walked by me, deliberately stepping on my foot.  I didn't make a 
sound, but obediently closed the front door.  She turned to face 
me. 

"Miriam has asked me to make you a perfect maid, and I am 
determined to do exactly that."  Her grin was wolfish.  You 
will not be allowed to loaf or render slip-shod service.  
Moreover, understand that a maid must be impeccably groomed.  
She must not, for example, have dirty shoes."  She threw my 
suit jacket in my face.  "Clean your shoes." 

I did so in silence. 

"You know your way around the house, so go to the kitchen and make 
some tea.  You'll serve it to me in the office.  We'll talk about 
your duties then." 

"Okay." 

"Yes, Mademoiselle," she corrected me.

"Yes, Mademoiselle...sorry," I murmured. 

		****************************** 

I was familiar with the kitchen, which was spacious and airy.  The 
young woman of color who had just become my governess had kept it 
spotless.  And now that would be MY responsibility. 

Instinctively, I buttoned the top button of my blouse and 
mechanically smoothed my apron.  For some reason, I felt at ease. 

I made some tea, put it on a silver tray, and climbed the stairs 
to the office.  The door was closed.  I knocked.  Silence.  I 
knocked a second time. 

"Yes?" 

I entered. 

She leaped up from behind the desk, scowling furiously. 

"Did I give you permission to enter?  You must announce yourself 
like this: 'It is your maid, Madame (or Mademoiselle).'  Only 
when you are given the order to enter, do you come in." 

She gestured for me to try again. 

I knocked again. 

"Yes?" 

"It's...it is your maid, Mademoiselle." 

The word "maid" was more difficult to say than I expected, but, 
from today on, that was who I was. 

"Enter!" 

I managed the entry balancing the tray on my hand (rather 
gracefully, I thought) and set it down on the side table.  
I waited until Mademoiselle finished the letter she was 
writing on her computer.  I didn't want to displease her 
further, so I remained immobile while I awaited her wishes.  
I was gradually learning proper servant's behavior. 

Ah, the pleasures of education. 

She finally lifted her head from the computer.  She smiled at me. 

"It's good that you buttoned up your blouse.  It presents the more 
formal appearance that is proper for your new station....  But, 
back to business.  Second lesson." 

She crossed her arms on the desk and stared at me for a long time. 

"Never look your betters in the eye unless specifically commanded 
to do.  Habitually keep your eyes humbly downcast when you present 
yourself to me." 

I complied. 

"You must learn to be obedient, helpful, and servile.  Understand 
that this is your station now." 

She fell silent and drank some tea. 

"Yes....  Yes, Mademoiselle," I said, softly. 

She smiled again. 

"Remember what I just told you.  Take it as your present job 
description." 

She stood up, walked around the big desk, and stopped in front of 
me. 

"I must report to the Mistress how devoted you are to us.  Show me 
your devotion." 

Under her haughty stare, no longer smiling, I slowly sank to my 
knees. 

"I believe that you like leather.  Kiss my shoes." 

I obeyed. 

"Now follow me like grandma's lap dog." 

She began walking, and I followed, with difficulty. 

"I wouldn't lower myself to undergo this sort of nonsense.  
You make me sick.  Understand that I have little sympathy 
for you...and no forbearance at all." 

In the hall, she turned and ordered me to get up.  Then, with 
a nasty smile, she spit in my face. 

"What do you say, Mme. maid?" 

I trembled...I wanted to run...I had had enough. 

She slapped me. 

"Learn to answer when I ask a question." 

"Thank you...Mademoiselle." 

"Change your clothes.  Your skirt is dirty from using it as a dust 
mop.  Return to the kitchen.  You'll find a wardrobe whose contents 
are arranged by number.  Put on number 2 and return to the office 
in ten minutes." 

She closed the door.  I was alone in the hall.  What had I done?  
I wanted to run away.  But I knew that the thrill that I had just 
experienced would keep me here.  I would learn to obey her. 

		****************************** 

As ordered, I went to the kitchen, opened the wardrobe, and put on 
outfit number 2.  It was a long, adjustable servant's uniform, pink 
with narrow white stripes, long sleeves, a white collar, and white 
cuffs.  There was an apron that I tied around my waist.  I arranged 
my hair into a chignon to hold the white maid's cap.  

I paused to rest a moment....  My fantasy had been realized. 

I returned to Mademoiselle's office door and knocked. 

"Yes?" 

"It is your maid, Mademoiselle." 

"Madame has returned.  Go to the front door and help her." 

"Very well, Mademoiselle." 

My heart was beating as I descended the stairs to report to Madame.  
Her BMW was parked in front of the house.  I hurried out the front 
door and down the steps to help her from the car. 

We looked at each other. 

She was wearing a denim trench coat over a black leather pants suit. 

"Has my secretary found a maid's name for you?" 

"No....  No, Madame," I said, hesitating slightly. 

Miriam smiled. 

"You'll need one.  Fetch my packages and put them in my bedroom." 

I obeyed her order, while Madame, her hands in the pockets of her 
trench coat, slowly climbed the stairs.  Her secretary greeted her. 
The two women kissed tenderly while I waited with the packages. 

The black looked at me haughtily. 

"Don't loiter about like that, put the packages in Madame's 
bedroom." 

Miriam said nothing.  In fact, it seemed to give her pleasure to 
see her former maid scold me. 

Miriam's bedroom was in a rear corner of the first floor.  I put 
the packages on the unmade bed and took it upon myself to begin 
making it when I heard Miriam's footsteps on the marble floor.  
She shoved the door open and stalked to the middle of the room, 
her hands still deep in her coat pockets. 

"I see that you didn't have time to make the bed." 

I straightened up to speak. 

"Hush....  Be quiet, little soubrette.  You need to learn that, in 
your profession, a maid is always wrong." 

She beckoned me to approach her. 

"Your makeup should be more discreet." 

She then looked at my hands. 

"And I don't want to see jewelry from now on.  It is not your 
place to strut about." 

I lowered my head and swallowed. 

She fell silent, took my head in both hands, and placed a tender 
kiss on my lips. 

"You have given me a wonderful gift by entering into my service, 
but now you must never forget that I am going to treat you as a 
simple maid." 

I began to cry.  She licked my tears. 

"Now help me off with my coat." 

I did so in silence.  She gestured vaguely, to show me where to 
hang it. 

She then sat on the edge of the bed. 

"Now my boots." 

I got on my knees to help her off with her boots. 

"I imagine that you didn't plan on returning home this evening.  
There is a room for maids that will be suitable for perfecting 
your education." 

While at her feet, I didn't dare look at her.  Even though she 
jostled me as she got up, I remained in place.  She turned around. 

"Are we in agreement?" 

"Yes, Madame." 

"Prepare me a hot bath, then go see Mademoiselle....  Oh, by the 
way, you will vacuum this room, change the linen, and, of course, 
clean the bathroom." 

"Very well, Madame...." 

		****************************** 

I closed the door to Miriam's bedroom behind me and sighed.  I 
was finding this very hard sometimes.  I wanted to ask her if 
she always treated her maids this way...but I suppose she hadn't 
tyrannized Mademoiselle.  I paused by a mirror to adjust my 
collar and cap and to smooth my apron. 

I stopped in front of the office door and knocked. 

"Yes?" 

"It is your maid, Mademoiselle." 

"Enter." 

I obeyed. 

She was ending what apparently was a pleasant conversation. 

"I have to hang up now, dear....  Naturally I will call.  I 
know....  I must give our new maid some orders." 

She hung up and regarded me for a moment.  Without a word, she 
glanced at the clock. 

"Lesson number 3.  When you enter a room, don't forget to show 
respect by bowing to Madame, myself, and our guests.  You must 
learn to venerate those you serve, since you exist only through 
them.  Do you understand?" 

Once again, I lowered by eyes. 

"Yes, Mademoiselle." 

"Likewise, you must bow when we dismiss you.  It is an important 
ritual in domestic service." 

She got up and walked behind me. 

"I am going to show you your new accommodations.  By the way, 
you will tidy up the office here.  And you will also wash the 
windows." 

"Very well, Mademoiselle." 

We entered the garage.  An exterior staircase led to a dark but 
clean hallway.  Mademoiselle stopped in front of a door and handed 
me a key. 

"Your new kingdom." 

The room was clean and contained a bed, a wooden armoire, a night 
stand, a shower, and, just above the door, a red light.   She 
seemed very satisfied. 

"I had the light installed especially for you.  If it comes on 
while you are here, it means that you are needed.  You should 
come running immediately.  I am going to give you an hour to 
settle in, and then you will return to the office wearing number 
3." 

"Very well, Mademoiselle." 

I silently bowed.  Mademoiselle broke a smile and swaggered out, 
slamming the door behind her.  She had humiliated me.  Sitting 
on the bed, I didn't know what to think.  Things were moving too 
fast.  It was something of a roller-coaster ride.  One moment 
I was content in my role as a servant, and the next I felt 
uncomfortable...but I still didn't want to break my chains. 

		****************************** 

After several trips back and forth to the kitchen, I had all my 
servant's uniforms laid out on my bed, ready to put into the 
armoire, and then the red light came on.  A few moments later 
I was standing in front of the office door. 

I knocked. 

"Yes?" 

"It is your maid, Mademoiselle." 

"Enter." 

I entered and bowed. 

"Why are you here?" 

I blinked, not knowing how to respond.  Finally I replied, "I saw 
the red light, Mademoiselle." 

"Oops!  I must have pushed the button accidentally....  Since 
you're here, though, take away the tea service you forgot to 
remove.  Come back in an hour." 

I obeyed, remembering to bow before closing the door.  In the 
kitchen, I cleaned up the tea service and left it to dry.  

Returning to my room, I arranged my uniforms by number.  Each 
type of serving task had its own number, and each number consisted 
of three identical uniforms.  Opening the armoire, I was surprised 
to discover a garment that would serve as my nightgown: a red, 
sleeveless, three-quarter-length nightshirt.  (At home, I had five 
pairs of silk pajamas.)  

I decided to make my bed later.  I hung up the number 2s next to 
the number 3s, one of which I removed.  It was a short, gray maid's 
uniform with a high mandarin collar, discreet French cuffs, a 
white bib apron, and a maid's cap.  I redid my chignon. 

Back in the kitchen, I quickly put away the tea service and 
returned to the office.  I knocked. 

"Yes?" 

"It is your maid, Mademoiselle." 

"Enter." 

I entered and bowed.  Mademoiselle had obviously been chatting with 
a large female whose back was to me.  I had a chill premonition.... 

"I believe you know our guest." 

My blood froze when the "guest" turned.  This corpulent woman was 
none other than my own concierge, Mme. Yang.  I was overcome with 
humiliation...caught in a trap of my own making, a prisoner of my 
uniform.  I wilted under the fat Oriental woman's amused and 
vengeful stare.

"Hear me, girl," Mademoiselle said, forcibly.  "Madame has invited 
this lady to dine with us this evening.  Make sure you remember 
your place while you are in Madame's service.  You are only a maid 
and subject to the orders of your betters...which includes just 
about everyone." 

She glanced at Mme. Yang and flashed her a brilliant smile.  When 
she looked back at me, her expression softened momentarily. 

"Don't worry.  This can remain our secret.  But, to avoid a 
scandal, you must render Mme. Yang a few hours' service...." 

When I heard that, I knew that I would be kissing Mme. Yang's feet
and.... 

"Madame, I await your orders." 

I discreetly bowed, exited, and closed the door.  I used my apron 
to dry my tears of rage and humiliation. 

[Annette's story stops abruptly here.] 

