'What!' said Gwendolen. Then she looked at me carefully. Her eyes widened with amazement.
'It can't be! Stop coughing and stand up straight so we can get a good look at you.'
My eyes streaming, I spluttered, it is, but for Heaven's Sake, keep your voices down.'
'Well, it could be him,' murmured Cecily sweetly to her companion. 'But it's hard to tell in this light and him dressed up like that.'
In desperation, knowing that I had only seconds to make the situation clear to them, I recalled the one thing that was most likely to convince them that I was in fact Andrew. Abruptly I pulled up my dress. Underneath, of course, I had nothing on. Like a faithful hound responding to its master, my cock leaped into sight. Cecily and Gwendolen both let out simultaneous cries of recognition.
'It is him,' said Cecily, 'I'd recognise that Thing anywhere.'
'True, Cecily,' said Gwendolen. She looked carefully at me. 'I did not know that you numbered dressing up in women's clothes among your interests.' She walked up to me, took my engorged prick in her hand and looked back at Cecily. 'Who could overlook something like that,' she said. She began to rub her hand up and down the charged length of my member. 'And to think that we believed we were invited for a quiet meal with our friend Priscilla. Mind you,' she went on to Cecily, 'she has always been fond of contriving unusual entertainment for her friends. This promises to be an excellent evening as long as Andrew is not the only man present. Maybe they are all to be attired in this way.'
'No! It's not like that at all,' I whispered urgently. Quickly I gave the two of them a brief description of the events that had transpired. All the while Gwendolen was playing most teasingly with my prick so that I had great difficulty in keeping my mind on my tale.
'Hetty! Show my guests in,' came Lady M-'s voice.
Pulling myself together, I disentangled myself from Gwendolen's grip, tugged my dress down, and adjusted my maid's cap. 'Not a word in front of the stranger,' I managed to hiss, 'I suspect that he is part of another plot altogether.'
I ushered them into the drawing room and closed the door behind them. Outside I took a deep breath and tried once more to think. The situation was that Lady M-knew that I was Andrew Scott, assistant to Porlock Holmes, the Great Detective. Cecily and Gwendolen also knew that I was Andrew Scott but did not know that Lady M-was privy to this information. And vice versa. The well-dressed stranger, as far as he had noticed me, thought that I was Hetty the maid. Neither Lady M — , Gwendolen nor Cecily had more than a sketchy idea of the events that had brought me to this state of frantic impersonation. I needed help in order to decide what to do next. It would have to be Holmes.
I picked my way carefully down the servants' stairs once more, hoping that I would stumble upon my friends rather than the two scullery maids. The laundry room would be the place to start. I minced towards it.
'Sixpence for a fuck,' said a quiet voice behind me.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Megan! Then I let out a yelp of surprise as an intruding finger was shoved forcefully between the cheeks of my bum, probing through the thin material of my dress. As I turned, she turned with me, nipping me sharply in the nape of my neck with her teeth.
'Not now!' I said, reaching behind me to fend her off. Suddenly a door opened.
'Who are you?' said a new voice. Someone who was clearly a bone fide ladies' maid was looking at the two of us.
'You must be Lady M-'s personal maid,' came a further voice. Holmes had emerged from the laundry. 'Don't worry, my dear,' he said. 'I can explain everything. We are all friends of your mistress.'
The newcomer looked as though she was about to bolt in confusion and fright.
'We must keep our voices down,' said Holmes. 'Are you indeed Esther?'
'Yes-' she said reluctantly, still poised like a nervous gazelle, ready for flight.
'I know from Lady M-that you can be trusted. You have been commissioned to pass on a message from the window to a crossing sweeper in the event of some unwelcome visitor to the house. I am that crossing sweeper and this,' he pointed at me, 'is my assistant.'
'Dr Motson, I presume,' said the maid Esther, relief spreading over her face.
'Scott, actually,' I said. 'Dr Motson is on holiday.'
Holmes took her, still trembling, by the arm and led her into the laundry. Megan and I followed. Rapidly he explained the situation as far as he knew it. When he had finished, I in turn brought him up-to-date with the events upstairs. It remained only to ascertain the whereabouts of the two naked domestics who had been so heartily engaged in sexual congress with the stranger before our arrival upon the scene.
'They are locked in a store cupboard,' volunteered Megan. 'They were hiding inside and I turned the key on them. The stranger must have told them to keep out of the way. They still do not have any clothes.'
Esther, by now more or less calmed, offered her services in furthering our endeavours. 'Her Ladyship's guests are expecting supper,' she said. 'But I do not know if the strange gentleman is also to eat with them. I have to wait on them.'
'And Mr. Scott, also,' said Holmes.
'Noooo!' I howled. 'I can't do that!'
'Yes you can and will,' said Holmes firmly. 'As long as you do not arouse the suspicion of the stranger, you will be quite safe. Everyone else knows of your imposture, if not the whole story that accounts for it, so none of them will give you away in front of him. But I need you to be there to observe what happens and to get a message to Lady M-'
'What is that?' I asked.
'She must be reassured that I am on call below stairs. I also need to know whether she understands that we need confirmation that the stranger is indeed part of the conspiracy with her husband.'
At that moment a bell jangled.
'That will be Her Ladyship,' said Esther, if Mr. Scott, or Hetty, will accompany me, we must serve supper.'
Before I could protest any further, I was shoved up the stairs behind her by Holmes and Megan.
My first venture into domestic service was growing more fraught by the minute. It was not an easy meal. The stranger had indeed stayed for dinner. By dint of great concentration, I managed to perform my duties with a degree of verisimilitude, coached and watched over as I was by Esther the maid. However I had reckoned without the unfortunate sense of humour of Cecilys I was standing dutifully at Lady M-'s shoulder while she helped herself to a plateful of soup when I felt a hand slide under the hem of my dress, run rapidly up my thighs and begin to insinuate itself between them. Instinctively I clenched my buttocks but too late. A delicate hand cupped my balls and began to squeeze them rhythmically.
I lurched forward, slopping the soup into Lady M-'s lap. She shot backwards in her chair, just managing to avoid the deluge but bumping into me as she did so. The soup ladle dropped to the floor and I hastily banged the tureen on to the table before ducking down on hands and knees to retrieve it. My testicles were released but the same hand flipped my skirt over my bum. The strange man was seated on the other side of the table so that at least I was concealed from his gaze. As I groped around for the ladle, I was assaulted in a most outrageous fashion from left and right as Lady M-joined in the sport. I felt a stinging pinch to the cheek.
'Do be careful, Hetty,' said Lady M-. 'You have nearly spoilt my dress. Help her up, Esther.'
Flustered and humiliated, I scrambled up.
'Fetch a cloth and mop up this mess,' Lady M-continued, before turning back to the strange man and resuming her polite dinner table chit chat. I retrieved the tureen, found another ladle and, struggling to regain some composure, went round to serve the stranger.
To my horror, as I bent over him, he also patted me on the bum. Of course I had to submit to his coarse advances without flinching. Such is ever the lot of the servant, I remembered as he managed to press himself against me with impudent familiarity.
By now I realised that I was likely to be grabbed and fondled every time I approached the table. Only Gwendolen had so far kept her hands off me, but I knew her too well to regard her as trustworthy. Esther, bless her, did her best to keep me out of harm's way. Somehow the meal was served and eaten. As it wore on, I became considerably adept at avoiding any surreptitious strokings and intrusions into my private parts.
Then, just as we were serving the dessert, the stranger asked to be excused for a moment. Esther directed him down the hallway to the cloakroom and at last I could speak my mind.
