Lady’s Maid Ch. 08: All Out

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Fun though visits to my mother-in-law now became, life was not, alas, all wine and roses, or even whining and rosy bums. There was the serious business of politics to be carried on.

I know (and Lady Cecily made the same point often) that was Archie’s job, but my husband was busy at the Foreign Office, where his trips abroad seemed, for some reason, to require a stop over in Berlin, and so someone needed to look after the constituency. Besides, at the risk of sounding patronising, I had come to like the people I met there. Literally, I had never met people like that. The only working-class people I knew were the house staff like Annie, and in a way they had lived so long in the orbit of the aristocracy that they were almost assimilated to its ways. The Oldham Mill Girls were quite another matter.

We were, I thought, getting along handsomely, and then came the General Strike. I have to say that initially I was a bit confused – how could Generals go on strike? But, of course, silly me, it was not the Generals, it was a General Strike. I was still confused though, because not everyone was on strike. Annie, my maid-cum-mistress was not, indeed the only striking she did was with her hand on my aristocratic posterior.

Associating, as I now was with politicians, I seldom assumed that sagacity was one of their virtues, but I did, I am afraid, rather think that people who owned businesses and people who ran Trades Unions had a modicum of common sense, so when the talks between the Mine Owners and the Mine Workers broke down, I was a little surprised. The Lord Chancellor, that wicked but witty man, Lord Birkenhead, commented that he thought the former were the most stupid men he’d ever met, until he met the latter; he had, as so often, a good point.

Quite how that all ended in a General Strike, I never really worked out, but then at that date although a 28 year old woman, I did not have the vote, so perhaps no one cared to explain it to me? Archie shrugged his shoulders and went off to Geneva for a fortnight, with a weekend in Berlin on the way. My mother-in-law tootled off the the country by chauffeur as usual, and that left me with a dilemma.

The easy and obvious thing would have been to have joined Lady Cecily, fun would have been guaranteed, but one’s sense of duty called, so Annie and I decided to go to Oldham West and see what, if anything, we could do. Usually we took the train, but as these were on strike (obviously) for once we took the car. As I didn’t think taking the chauffeur was quite the thing, Annie drove. It wasn’t so much that I couldn’t drive (though I couldn’t) as that even with a cushion, I could not both see over the steering wheel and get my foot on the pedal thingy.

Fortunately, Annie was a splendid driver, and so we got there about our usual time on Thursday evening. The Piccadilly seemed blissfully unaffected by the strike, and our new helper, Dot, was also not out on strike and able to join us in our room after supper.

Dot, picking up on tips from Annie, had vastly improved in the make-up department, and her dress sense had also looked up, so she was wearing outfits which went with her ample figure rather than making her look like a sack over-filled with potatoes.

“Dot,” Annie said, “I have to go to attend some business, can I leave her ladyship with you?”

“Oh yes,” Dot giggled.

There was a time, and not a long time ago, that Dot would hardly have dared speak to me; she knew her place. She still knew her place; it was just not the same place.

Once Annie had gone Dot bade me get up and stand in front of her.

“You are just so cute, I never imagined that someone like you would be with me like this.”

She was smiling, happy knowing that I was in her power.

“Get your clothes off, Pixieslut!”

The sheer shame of having this working-class girl order me about had my knickers moist before my dress was off. She watched as I rolled my stockings down and unhooked my suspender belt. Thumbs in my waistband, I pulled my knickers over my tight little bum and slipped them off. Dot was literally licking her lips.

“Are you my slut, Lady Pixie?”

She bursa otele gelen escort smiled as I blushed deeply.

“Yes Miss Dot,” I whispered.

“Come here, little one,” she motioned to me.

I walked toward her. She put her hands out to feel my tits.

“Not much here, don’t you wish you had a pair like these?”

Of course the answer was that I did. It was perfectly clear that what potential lovers valued in a woman’s appearance were things I did not have: big tits, long legs, sexual allure – and a willingness to do rather disgusting things with men’s willies. I was well out of that, and fortunate that my female lovers, endowed with all those attributes, also seemed to like petite flat-chested sweeties!

Dot pulled me into a warm embrace, and as my face settled between her tits, I used my fingers and thumbs to caress her nipples; sometimes being all fingers and thumbs is no bad thing.

As my caresses took effect, Dot staggered back and fell on the couch, drawing me with her. I sucked her nipples, sliding my hand down her generous tummy until I found the forest of hair within which was concealed her soft, wet folds, which I used my fingers to part. Sucking her swollen nipple harder, I thrust my fingers deep into her, making her moan loudly. I bit hard on her nipple, instinct told me she wanted it, and instinct was right. She pushed my face into her breast as I drove my fingers in and out, faster, deeper and harder.

Suddenly, it was as though our emotions had fully engaged, and she and I felt close. Until that moment it had been just lust – lots of it, but that had been all – but now there was a tenderness. It was as though intuiting what she needed but could not ask for had broken down a boundary, and we were now lovers as well as playmates.

Luxuriating in her fleshiness, my face buried in her breasts, my mouth sucking hard on her, I pushed in and out, and Dot gave way, no longer pretending to the role she had been allocated, of ‘Miss,’ but the one she had craved, that of being loved and taken. So that was what I did,

Using every skill I had developed, I caressed, sucked and nibbled her breasts while fingering her gooey sex. It was wonderful to feel her relax and then tense. I could feel it coming, and it broke like a wave on a shore, my fingers and hand soaked as she jerked and moaned and came.

She calmed down. I eased up to kiss her.

“Thank you, Lady Pixie, that was special!”

I kissed her.

“The game we play is fun, Dot, but I agree, that was special, and you know you can have that any time you like.”

She cuddled me to her, and we were like that hours later when Annie returned.

“Hey, you two, what’s up?”

Lazily, Dot pulled me to her ample bosom and said that she had decided to keep me. I giggled and agreed. Annie took it in good part, but, I could see in her eyes that something was going on. I thought I knew what, but left it for that moment.

The Strike was a peculiar phenomenon. There was tension in the air in central Manchester as we left to tour the constituency. The trams and the trains were not working, and there were pickets outside the depot and the main-line stations – which struck me as odd as there were no passengers trying to go in; but what did I know?

When we got to Springhead for the ‘surgery,’ we witnessed further evidence that the strike was causing tension.

For those who (like me before Archie became an MP) do not know what a ‘surgery’ is, it is where an MP meets those members of the public who need to see him (or even her). Alice Prosser, the former Labour MP joined Annie and I on these occasions to ensure continuity of care, and the first five people we saw were all being affected by the strike because, with no wage coming in, they were unable to feed their families.

Alice explained to me that working people were paid by the week and that with many firms not paying the previous day, there would be widespread problems. Well, really! We couldn’t have that, so leaving Alice to deal with the next few people I went down to the Vicarage.

I had met escort bayan the Rev. Joe, as everyone called him, when I had first visited Springhead. He must have been in his fifties, an austere figure, but a man who was palpably holy. I asked him what the Church was doing about those going hungry, and he said it was doing its best, but money was a problem.

“Right,” I said, “we go down to town and we get food, the hotel has ample supplies and I have an account there!”

Joe smiled.

“You are a woman of action Lady Cynthia!”

Two hours later we returned to Springhead, where Joe had opened the Church Hall. The word had spread that food would be available. Donning a pinny, I joined Alice and Annie as we helped serve out hot food to anyone needing it. It turned into a busy afternoon.

Things were just beginning to calm down when three burly men entered the Hall.

“Who’s in charge here?” They asked, looking at the Rev. Joe.

“God,” I said, “so any questions about feeding the hungry should be addressed to Him!” I said. Joe looked amused.

“And who the fuck are you!”

Gosh he seemed a bit cross, and I could see Alice knew him.

“You must be Fred Smith,” I said, “shouldn’t you be on a picket line, or do you need a meal too?”

For a moment he looked like he was going to burst.

“I want to know who the fuck gave you the authority to set up a food kitchen here.”

“I did,” the Rev. Joe replied, in an even voice, “and Lady Cynthia is right, we do God’s work here, what is your problem?”

Annie and Alice joined us and looked straight at the three men.

“Mr Smith, if you have a problem with us helping people who are going hungry, I would advise you to go the press about it, I am sure it will help!”

At that point several of the women whose families we had been serving joined us.

“Fred Smith, are your wife and family fed?”

Fred looked at the woman.

“Yes, but that’s not the point, there’s a principle at stake.”

“Fred Smith, stop being a blithering idiot.”

The speaker was old Miss Hannay, who had been schoolmistress in the local school for the last four decades.

“You always were a fool, but I never had you down as a bad boy.”

“But Miss Hannay … ,” he began.

“Fred, you should go now before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. And you two,” she said looking at the others, “David and Oliver, isn’t it? You should take Fred away and do something useful with your afternoon.”

The three men quailed before the bird-like Miss Hannay, and without a word, they slunk out.

“Thank you Miss Hannay,” I said, “I was a bit worried.”

“Lady Cynthia,” she said, “you are the sort of aristocrat we need more of, you have a genuine concern for the poor and you do your best, I can’t have fools like Fred Smith stopping the work of the Lord.”

We kept the Hall open for the next week until the Strike collapsed. Archie did not seem to notice that I was absent, and Annie, Alice and I spent our time making sure that wives and children were cared for.

“You know, Pixie,” Alice said as we were doing the fourth lot of washing-up on Thursday night, “Miss Hanny had a point, if all posh girls were like you there’d be no need for the Labour Party. Are you sure you won’t join us?”

Annie giggled.

“Oh she Labours hard, you know Alice. I don’t suppose there is a little tart’s union?”

Alice blushed.

“Well there is some talk of trying to help our fallen sisters, but it’s proving difficult.”

Annie looked amazed.

“Really, wow! A tarts’ union. Would they come under the General Workers bit of the TGWU?”

“Well,” said Alice, “they don’t do transport, so I guess so.”

“I like a woman who talks dirty,” Annie said, as she leaned in and kissed Alice. “Pix, finish off, I need to finish Alice off.”

I knew that look, and giggling, I got on with the drying up as Annie took Alice back to our rooms for wetter work.

Some of the Mill Girls joined me tidying up, and the Rev. Joe joined us.

“Lady Cynthia, I hope I am not speaking out of turn, but I mudanya escort must say something to you.”

Golly, I thought, I was going to be for it now!

“The Church tells us that homosexuality is an abomination, but it also tells us God is love. I can see your love for Annie, and I can see no abomination. God bless you for your kind heart and love for this community.”

Gosh! Whatever I’d been expecting it was not that. Impulsively I flung myself at him and hugged him.

“Thank you,” I said, “I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

“God alone can judge you my daughter, but the notion that you will go to hell because of where your love goes is not mine, Lady Cynthia. You have a good heart.”

“I do my best,” I said, “and I think that at times like this, and MP should be with the people he serves, and if he can’t be, I can.”

“Have you ever thought of standing yourself, Lady Cynthia?”

I blushed.

“It’s funny, Mr Baldwin asked me that too. But apart from not being old enough to vote, I couldn’t possibly talk in the Commons, that’s not my sort of thing.”

He smiled sweetly. He was such a kind man.

“God go with you Lady Cynthia.”

By the time I got back to our rooms, Annie and Alice had sated their mutual lust, and they were in each other’s arms. They looked so comfortable together.

I brought them a cup of tea each.

“Should we talk?” I asked quietly.

“About what?” Annie asked.

“I was thinking about the two of you,” I said, smiling, a little sadly, but glad I had finally plucked up the courage to do so,

“What about us?” Annie asked. I could see Alice holding her arm and looking anxiously.

“Darling, for some time now two things have been clear, and now I think it is the time to see what can be done about them.”

I could see Annie was about to get defensive and so put my hand up to stop her.

“Annie my love, I have always known you were far too intelligent and talented to be a maid, and I suspect that but for us, you’d have sought something better to do. No, stop, let me go on, this is hard enough,” I went on, stopping her from interrupting my flow. “The other thing that is clear is that you and Alice love each other.”

Alice was blushing; it made a change from it being me, I thought. Annie looked surprised.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Pix, it’s just well, Alice and I are more equals. I couldn’t openly be with you, it would be hard to be with Alice, but is at least possible. There’s an opening at the College, and Alice thinks I could be the right woman for the job. But I don’t want to leave you Pix.”

She burst into tears.

Embracing them both I said:

“Why would you have to? I will still be up here every week-end, and you could also take on the post of constituency secretary, which would supplement your pay. Would you live with Alice?”

Alice looked at me.

“Pixie, that was the most generous thing I have ever heard anyone say or do.”

I looked at her face, red with emotion, her eyes tearful, and then I looked at Annie, who was smiling at her, and I knew at that moment I was doing the right thing. To the marriage of true minds there must be no impediment.

“Pix,” Annie said, “you know that doesn’t mean we have lost each other, right?”

“I know,” I smiled, “but you are right, you and Alice fit like a, well I shan’t say like what in a what, but you get my drift? We have had, and will have fun, but you and Alice have a life here, and mine lies elsewhere, for the most part. You know I will always love you both.”

Crying is such a mixed thing. I was sad, so were they. A period in our lives had come to an end. But they were happy, and so was I, their palpable joy made me glad. It was nice to share.

And so it was, as the Strike ended, I went back to London alone, leaving the motor with them for when I came up at week-ends. As I sat in the comfort of first-class, I reflected on how far we had all come. London would not be the same without Annie, but I smiled as I thought of how happy she and Alice were. They would, I though, be even more content when they realised that a dowry was on its way to them.

As the train pulled into Euston, I gathered my bags and, disembarking, saw Smithers, the chauffeur, at the barrier. Time to be swallowed up by Town for a week. Who knew what I should find there, or what I should find back in Oldham? It would, though, be fun.

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