I’m in the mood to be your maid today, to serve you your food, to service your needs and desires.

As I put on the sexy costume, it doesn’t seem complete. This has nothing to do with how revealing the uniform is; it has to do with my head-space. I’ve never dyed my hair platinum blond (of the many colors I have changed it to), but I put on a silvery blond wig. That completes the look in my mind. Like others who have gone before, Marilyn Monroe, Mamie Van Doren, Jayne Mansfield, on and on, I now feel like a sex symbol, a femme fatale. Think about those labels; I do, as I present myself for your inspection.

What tasks will you assign for me to do for you today? The mousy brunette in the middle, Babette, is assigned kitchen duty. The buxom maid with piercing blue eyes, Suzanne, is assigned to scrub floors on her knees all day, so as to remind her of her place. You ask me to be your personal maid. I feel honored, and tell you so. As the other maids leave, you ask me to close the door behind them, a sly smile playing at the corners of your mouth…