JESSICA MARKHAM<br/><br/>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Jess_Avatar_01.jpg)<br/><br/>I'd been shown to my room in this elegant - and somewhat Potterized - place by a young man in butler's attire. I'd seen no-one else since driving though the park gates ten minutes before the house, if you can call it a house, came into view.<br/><br/>The butler opened my car door, took my bags, invited me inside then requesting my car keys, disposed of the vehicle. I waited in a large imposing hallway. If Bella Lugosi had swept down the long elegant curvng staircase in bat-wing robes and with an evil grin on his face I wouldn't have considered him the least bit out of place.<br/><br/>It was<em>that</em>kind of mansion.<br/><br/>Seconds later the butler reappeared, or it might have been another one, they all look the same don't you know? He picked up my bags and with a cordial gesture of his arm, led the way up the stairs to a long thickly carpeted corridor. We went around corners, up other small sets of steps and down more, further corridors branching off in endless directions. The whole place was lit only by naked flames secured in sconces on the walls. It was halfway between a Scottish Keep and an Indiana Jones set. Nevertheless I rather liked the gothic madness of it all.<br/><br/>Stopping outside a door seemingly at random, the butler (or it might have been butler #2) put down a bag and opened it, gesturing that I should enter. The room within was breathtakingly gorgeous. Rich dark drapes framed the evening sky at a tall lead-paned window and thick rugs were scattered with enthusiasm over the stone flagged floor. To one side a huge four-poster bed hung with russet curtains and to the other side a massive stone mantle spanned a deep fireplace within which about half an acre of pine logs seemed to be roaring away. Again the only lights were naked flames, plus the flickering fire of course and the room seemed at the same time cosy and welcoming yet spooky and austere. It wasn't cold, far from it. It was just... unusual. Theatrical. I looked at a portrait on the wall, half expecting a pair of B-movie real eyes behind the face to be watching me.<br/><br/>Butler #2 deposited my things on the bed, indicated the en-suite bathroom with one pale grey gloved hand, and a tall dark wood wardrobe with the other.<br/><br/><strong>"Please dress for the evening in the clothes provided in here, Madam. There are additional items in the bureau. You are required downstairs in the Hall at nine. Good evening."</strong><br/><br/>With a bow he withdrew, zooming backwards surprisingly rapidly as though he were yanked by unseen stage hands to whom he was linked by ropes around his waist. My eyes widened in surprise but the door closed behind him. I was alone.<br/><br/>I took a few minutes to explore my surroundings. Night was falling outside and the windy evening showed me only lawns and dark trees and in the distance a rocky hillside. I closed the heavy curtains.<br/><br/>The bathroom was a surprise. Expecting something ancient and roll-topped on a pedestal I found the large room sumptuously appointed and brightly lit in clinical white. White tiles, a white suite and mirrors everywhere. Fluffy warm white towels and a hint of something fresh and natural scented the air - mown grass, that was it! The invigorating scent of mown grass. Lovely.<br/><br/>In addition to a shower big enough for three there was a semi-sunken tub reached by two tiled steps. Again, bathing alone in there would be a waste of three quarters of the space. His and hers sinks, a toilet and bidet completed the suite. It was a lovely room. I turned on the shower and let the place fill with steam while I went to the bedroom and quickly undressed, throwing my pale grey silk suit casually over a chair.<br/><br/><em>Butler #17 can deal with that.</em><br/><br/>Half an hour later I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a thick towel around myself, tucking the end in under my armpit. Padding into the bedroom I checked the time. I still had forty minutes to dress for... dinner? Had the butler said dinner? I couldn't recall that he had though obviously there must be a dinner somewhere.<br/><br/>I dried myself, brushed my hair and let the towel fall, striding over to the wardrobe and throwing the doors wide.<br/><br/><em>Eh?</em>I stared at the big empty space. Empty except for a single hanger and on it hung...<em>what?</em><br/><br/><em>Wear that? For dinner?</em>Elaine had said George Ellison was kinky but this was... well! It was kinky.<br/><br/>I reached in and took the dress out. There was no mistaking it. A French maids outfit. In black satin with ruched white underskirts of tulle, a low cut bodice and a little white cotton apron that tied in the small of the back with a big bow. And a lacy cap.<em>Hmmm. Definitely kinky.</em><br/><br/>If I were to put this on the result might be... my mind wandered...<br/><br/>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/ee/Maid.jpg)<br/><br/><em>Am I eating dinner or serving it?</em>