On a late and sunny September afternoon, the small sitting room at Glendale House is drenched in a warm golden light, flowing through the French windows. The room is decorated with light-coloured wainscoting and assorted furniture in XVIIIth century French style, collected with a discerning taste by successive Ashley generations. An elegant black French Regency desk, embellished with gilded bronze, faces the garden. Opposite the mantelpiece are a Louis XV couch and assorted armchairs, upholstered in stiched tapestry displaying large blue and yellow leafy patterns.

Lady Alexandra is expecting Charles Carrington, a long-standing friend and antique dealer in Chelsea, drawn to pretty women, vintage sports cars and gin and tonic. This seemingly straightforward invitation is perceived as being of vital importance by the mistress of the house, as it will mark Beatrice’s first appearance in public. A restricted public, for sure, and one whose leniency may be relied upon, but the exercise is a test nevertheless. Lady Alexandra is eager to observe for real the behaviour of her servant and the reactions she will generate.

Anticipating this event, she has overseen personally each and every detail, paying particular attention to her French maid’s special “guest” uniform. This is designed at fanning both the desire of men and the jealousy of women. The dressing session has therefore witnessed the customary last-minute recommendations, Lady Alexandra emphasizing the opportunity thus afforded to her servant to display the very best of herself while doing credit to her mistress.

- [The bell rings] “There, there, Madam, I will open at once”

Having adjusted her short white apron one last time, Beatrice trots out of the room just as she has been taught. Having reached the door, she shows in Charles Carrington, smiling politely at him. She immediately perceives in his eyes an expression of interest going beyond simple courtesy. He follows her to the small sitting room. While she takes care to walk with her head held straight, her chest thrown out and her loins arched, she is aware of a pair of eyes scrutinizing her back and stripping her from head to foot.

- How delightful to see you again, Alexandra, it’s as if I had left you yesterday, you haven’t changed, you’re looking splendid!

Lady Alexandra and Charles embrace warmly, like close friends who have shared passions. Beatrice remains standing, her arms along her body and her eyes lowered.

- Neither have you, Charles, as ever the charmer!

They sit down and the conversation starts rolling on the mildness of the weather, the delights of Highcrest, the elegance of the decoration, the harmony of the grounds…

- [Charles, his eyes glued to Beatrice’s legs as she walks away to the kitchen] Your house isn’t the only ravishing object around! [Lady Alexandra pretends to pay no notice, disappointing her guest] Has your faithful Emily left you?

- [Lady Alexandra, deliberately avoiding the question] Sadly, yes, I knew you would miss her!

Beatrice returns, bearing a silver tray with a Minton China tea set, decorated in “Blue Willow” patterns, and an assortment of scones, muffins and other cakes.

- Well Beatrice, what are you waiting for? Put the tray down.

- Yes, Madam. [The maid, who has learnt her lesson, takes care not to bend her knees and leans as far forward as she can while keeping her legs tightly together, thus largely revealing her bosom. As agreed, she remains deliberately in this position, pretending to ignore the interest she generates]

- [Charles, fascinated] All considered, Alexandra, I do believe this is a change for the better! [He cannot resist slipping a hand into the girl’s cleavage and stroking the firm and tantalizing breasts innocently offered to him like ripe fruit ready to be plucked. He rolls the tips between his fingers and pinches them to feel them harden and rise under his touch]

Beatrice remains unmoved. She does her job as she has been taught, discreetly and efficiently. She gives Charles a cup, and places before him a desert plate with a slice of rhubarb pie.

- [Charles, taking the initiative at once] Beatrice, I have a feeling we have met before… or is that just an impression?

- If I had really met you, Sir, I would no doubt have left more than an impression!

- [Alexandra] Beatrice, I forbid you to speak in this tone!

- [Charles] Please, Alexandra, I really enjoy spontaneity, humour and a quick repartee. Beatrice has plenty of all three, not forgetting charm either.

- [Alexandra] Beatrice, go to my room and bring back the Christies’ sales catalogue, there’s something I want to show Mr. Carrington.

The maid leaves the room, swinging her hips under Charles’ delighted gaze, while Lady Alexandra silently relishes the scene. Beatrice returns a few minutes later and places the catalogue on the table, once again bowing deeply.

- Beatrice, you have a ravishing little behind! [Raising the back of her skirt, Charles strokes her buttocks lovingly. His fingers venture under the knickers, snap the elastic band several times on the tender skin, then pull both sides closer to turn the knickers into a thong]

- [Lady Alexandra opens the catalogue] Charles, give me your opinion about this Boukhara carpet. I find it magnificent!

- I’m so sorry Alexandra, my mind was elsewhere and I must have left my glasses in the car.

- [Alexandra, delighted by this unforeseen hitch] Beatrice, quickly go and fetch Mr. Carrington’s glasses.

The maid once again trots away to the entrance hall, taking care to remain within Charles’ sight. She seems to be enjoying herself a lot and even gives the impression of attempting to make her mistress jealous rather than to obey her. Once back, she places the case on the table.

- Don’t move! [Beatrice is leaning forward, her buttocks in the air and her back turned on Charles. His hand slips between her thighs and his fingers linger around the pubic mound, feeling it through the thin cotton of her knickers. The maid appears to enjoy his touch, as Charles feels the material dampening fast] Alexandra, I envy you!

- [Alexandra, knowingly] Beatrice, turn towards Mr. Carrington and lower your knickers to your knees.

- But, Madam…

- There are no “buts”, do as you are told! [Beatrice raises her dress, her cheeks suddenly flushed. She cannot hide the damp patch between her legs and is reluctant to obey fully]

- I said down to your knees! [Crestfallen, the maid obeys with her eyes shut]

- Splendid! You were quite right to have her shaved, she’s a real treat!

Charles’ slim flinger slips in, parting her lips, penetrating her delicately and beginnning to move in and out regularly. Beatrice tries hard not to cry out, especially when she feels that finger leave its first abode to continue upwards between her buttocks. She looks imploringly at Lady Alexandra. But her mistress simply smiles through several long, silent minutes. Finally, she speaks again.

- That’s enough, Beatrice, re-arrange your clothes and pour us more tea.

Relieved, the maid gets back to work but, disconcerted by what has just happened, upsets the sugar bowl, spilling its contents over the floor.

- Oh, excuse me Sir [On all fours, she rushes to retrieve the lumps. Charles takes advantage of this new opportunity to toy with her luscious curves]

- [Alexandra] I’m sorry, Charles, I should have left her in the pantry. I thought she was ready, but she still has a lot to learn. Come here, you clumsy wench! [She grabs the girl firmly by the wrist and lies her swiftly across her knees, chest low and legs off the ground] Charles, you are my guest, would you like to mete out the punishment?

- That’s too kind, Alexandra, but you are much better at these things and I prefer to watch!

- Oh no, Madam, I beg of you, not in front of Mr. Carrington!

- On the contrary, and what is more, with your knickers down, to make you feel really ashamed, I want you to remember this for a long, long time! [She lowers the girl’s knickers half-way down her thighs] Sit down opposite her, Charles, you’ll be far more comfortable on the couch.

- [Charles] Alexandra, do me a favour, take all your time, punish her firmly but slowly. I would like to watch those dainty legs of hers wiggling in the air and hear her screaming like a little girl.

- Of course, Charles, your pleasure is mine!

On the impeccably polished black and white chequered floor of the Glendale entrance hall, Lady Alexandra’s high heels can be heard clicking. She is about to attend a cocktail hosted by some friends, Lord Winston and Lady Camilla Harmsworth, and has chosen to wear her favourite black suit. Sober and elegant, it enhances her perfect figure. She smiles while contemplating the amber highlights of her blonde hair in the looking-glass, placed above a gilded wood Italian console and framed by two superb East India Company vases.

She is feeling in the best of shape. Splendid. A woman’s finest finery is the desire she inspires. Her skirt, short but not exceedingly so, emphasizes her shapely legs, while the basques of her jacket, hanging above the waist to underline its slimness, cross naturally over her bare breasts. The organza lining is there to show everything while hiding all. The promise of a generous cleavage, firm, triumphant. That’s the style she likes, strict but not austere, decently provocative, classical yet original, attractive but never vulgar. A crystal brooch, shaped like a large double knot around a central stone, with a pear-shaped pendant hanging from it, adds a touch of gaiety to her attire.

- Let’s hurry up, Beatrice, is the car ready?

- James has been warned, Madam, he should be here any minute now. [Just then, the tyres of the Bentley can be heard on the gravel outside, at the bottom of the steps].

- See you tonight, Beatrice, don’t forget to prepare my bedroom for when I return.

- No, Madam. [The chauffeur opens the door, cap in hand. Lady Alexandra gets in. The maid, standing at the top of the steps, and George at the door, in the background, watch the limousine move slowly away towards the gates].

Without wasting a second of her freedom, Beatrice swings round, swiftly climbs the stairs leading to the first floor, and locks herself into Lady Alexandra’s bathroom. This is her favourite place. She can share the intimacy of her mistress, in a cosy atmosphere, conducive to silence and peace. The pastel colours of the walls and of the material bathe the room in subdued light. A sensual and greedy scent pervades everything, a heady fragrance blending tuberose and heliotrope. Everywhere, on the shelves, impeccably lined up, are row upon row of bottles, all shapes and sizes, of pots filled with makeup brushes, hair-brushes and combs, of tubes of foundation cream, bottles of eau de toilette, eyelid shades, eye-liners, eye and eyebrow pencils, mascara- and lip-sticks, powder testers, nail-polish, hydrating lotions, body milks, makeup remover lotions, radiance face packs, complexion sublimers, embellishing balms…

Engulfed, her eyes closed, in the secret world of female beauty, Beatrice settles before the mirror, surrounded by lamps like a theatre dressing room. She has pulled her hair back with a narrow pink elastic band and is observing her face. From the front. The side. Three-quarters. She remembers the expressions of her mistress. She takes an obvious pleasure in imitating her gestures and half-closes her eyes as she does, catching just shadow and light between her lashes.

- [Talking to herself] Now, relax, Beatrice, Madam will not be back just yet! Don’t hurry, take your time and try to remember how she does it. First, the face. She cleans it, before applying a fluid and melting foundation cream, using a soft sponge. Go right up to the roots of your hair. While you’re at it, cover up a budding shadow, a touch of redness on the edge of the nose, the slightest wrinkle at the corner of the lips. Don’t forget the neck. Now, a slight film of powder with the puff to give your skin a matt and satin-like appearance.

Under the lights, her face looks firmer. Beatrice smiles to herself. Face and body are her best assets, the only capital she can rely upon.

- Now, the eyes. Quite essential, the eyes. You’re lucky they’re blue. The shades of the entire make-up must be based on this dominant colour and to enhance it, you must choose an eyelid shade in the same hue, or a complementary one.

The maid carefully examines several shades, compares them, hesitates and finally goes ahead. She covers her upper eyelid with a shade of iridescent white before applying a halo of very light blue with a smaller brush. While she is carefully eye-lining her lashes, the bathroom door opens all of a sudden. Blandine appears, feather duster in hand, astonished.

- What on earth are you doing here?

- Mind your own business and get out!

- You can be sure I’ll tell Madam about this when she gets back!

- Tale-telling indeed, that’s your line, you do nothing else, just to give a good image of yourself!

- And you, always playing the bimbo, wiggling your bottom!

- I warn you, Blandine, if you mention this to Madam, I’ll make sure she finds out about your goings-on in the barn with Edward, the farm hand, while I do your work!

Exasperated, Blandine shrugs and leaves the room, slamming the door furiously. Beatrice smiles, sighs deeply and moves her face closer to the looking-glass to extend her eyelashes with a blue mascara.

- Where was I? Ah yes, now the cheeks. Of utmost importance, the cheeks! But with my rather round face, better apply a stronger shade of blush in the hollow of

the cheekbones. A slight blush, like a child caught in the act, men love that!

The maid imagines the scene, puts on a modest mien, demurely lowers her eyes, then raises them with a fake guilty look.

- Perfect, I must practice blushing on request and keeping my eyelashes lowered on my eyelids. I’m almost ready, I just need to do my mouth.

She widens her mouth by redrawing her lips with a violet pencil, then gives them volume by applying the lighter shade of lipstick to the middle and the darker shade to the edges. A touch of gloss glazes them overall, like a candy-coated sugar-plum.

- Smiling at men, drawing their eyes to my mouth, letting them fantasize on that pearly sea-shell, half-open on a chasm of sensuality. There, I’m done. If only I dared, I would also paint my nails. Oh, well, better not in my job, let’s remain discreet: invisible complexion, lush and well-separated eyelashes, impeccable mouth. I think Madam would approve, if only I could show her.

Immersed in her thoughts, and continuing to admire herself in the looking-glass, Beatrice hears some noise, beyond the partition, in her mistress’ room.

- Blandine, you’re really going to make me angry, I told you to leave me alone!

The door opens suddenly. Instead of Blandine, it’s Lady Alexandra who bursts into the bathroom. Petrified, the maid stands up.

- But Madam, you are back already? I wasn’t expecting you so early! You told me you would be in very late!

- Well, you stupid little goose, you simply shouldn’t believe everything I say. There’s nothing I love better than springing surprises on my servants, and I knew only too well you would be getting up to mischief behind my back! Was I mistaken?

- I’ve done nothing wrong, Madam.

- Silence, insolent creature, come here. Do you specialize in war painting? Have you seen how you are made up? Do you think this is a circus? [To herself: if this is a first attempt, the girl’s really gifted!] Have you forgotten that I strictly forbade you to make-up? Kneel down in this corner at once, with your hands on your head.

Drawn by the loud voices, a beaming Blandine promptly intrudes upon the conversation.

- That’ll teach you a lesson, Beatrice, you really deserve it! What’s more, I didn’t even have to accuse you!

- [Lady Alexandra] George, now where on earth has he vanished again?

- [Cunningly] Madam called me?

- Yes George, install the rack in the small sitting-room and bring me my flogger, we’ll join you there in a few minutes.

- At once, Madam. The small flogger with a yellow handle or the long-lashed one?

- Both.

- Yes, Madam. Does Madam wish to see the punishment meted out before the other servants?

- Naturally, George, summon them all and hurry up!

Lady Alexandra is having her French friend Marie-Gabrielle de B. to stay for a weekend. They used to attend art classes together at the Ecole du Louvre, when Alexandra was a student in Paris. Marie-Gabrielle is now a clothes designer for a leading haute couture house. Dark-haired, very elegant, a trifle snobbish, she could have become a model. She has the figure and deportment for it, a blend of natural ease and calculated restraint, sprinkled with an original touch of fancy. Undoubtedly, she is more comfortable in a cocktail than in the countryside. Impeccably made-up, her nails painted, surrounded by a cloud of oriental and sensual perfume, she is seated on the couch in the small living-room, her legs crossed. The raw silk colour of her suit enhances her tan. Her spencer, short and taken in at the waist, elegantly discloses her neck and the sweep of her shoulders. It is closed by a parrot-shaped button, fluorescent green and yellow, incongruous-looking but placed there to unconsciously draw the eye to her cleavage. A scent of Virginia tobacco pervades the room. It’s September. While the logs crackle in the fire-place, Lady Alexandra has left her guest for a few minutes to give instructions to her maid.

- You know, Beatrice, my friend will be delighted to meet you. It’s a unique opportunity to improve your education. But I must warn you, she adores the company of attractive women. I think you’re going to appeal to her enormously. Therefore, expect her to make passes at you and to ask that you be most… attentive to her, if you see what I mean.

- I see perfectly, Madam, but I won’t know what to do, a man would certainly be far more suitable.

- Will you just forget men for a while! Most of them know nothing. All they want is to get their own pleasure, rather than give it. Only a woman can experience that type of feeling and share it with another woman.

- I will endeavour to do my best, Madam.

- Don’t worry, I’ll be there to guide you. What is more, you cannot argue, this is an order. Never forget you are here as a maid of all work. Of all work, did you hear?

- Yes, Madam.

- And that my guests, be they male or female, have full rights. They can ask you anything they fancy. You are simply here to satisfy them.

- Right, Madam.

- In any case, if you manage as well as with men, I’ll have nothing to teach you. [The mistress of the house slips her hand under the front of her maid’s skirt] Have you already caressed another woman?

- Err… yes, Madam, my best friend, when I was in boarding school, at night in the dormitory.

- [Lady Alexandra’s invisible hand becomes more insistent] And you enjoyed it, didn’t you?

- Oh yes, Madam.

- I knew it, You’re nothing but a little slut. Mind you, that’s precisely why I hired you. Meanwhile, get your clothes into order, adjust your apron, check your hair and join us at once.

A few minutes later, her breasts jutting forward, prim on her stiletto heels, her short black skirt barely hiding the top of her thighs, Beatrice steps into the room. Her “appearance” suddenly interrupts the conversation. Marie-Gabrielle hurriedly puts down her cup of tea, while a beam comes across her face.

- Come here, don’t pretend to be shy, I won’t eat you!

While Beatrice moves closer, their eyes gauge one another. Fascinated by the magnetic gaze of pupils that bore into her without blinking, the maid feels stripped from head to foot.

- Well, my pet, what are you waiting for, remove your blouse and your skirt!

Lady Alexandra, who has remained silent, frowns imperceptibly, signalling to Beatrice that she must obey. The girl is soon standing in a brassiere and white knickers. Contrary to what she was expecting, the presence of this beautiful woman, sitting before her, does not leave her cold and she begins to feel a slight uneasiness. Impatiently, Marie-Gabrielle pulls the front of the maid’s knickers away and slips first one, then two fingers into her sex. The girl blushes deeply. Ashamed, she closes her thighs but is prevented from doing so.

- Will you please spread your legs and stand straight!

The caresses continue, interminably. Marie-Gabrielle delights in toying with the tender inner lips, forcing them to open wide. Then, turning the maid around, she pulls the knickers together between her buttocks. Increasingly confused, the young girl feels a damp and gentle warmth bathe her vulva. The guest pretends not to notice and, pressing home, also pulls the material upwards, in front, uncovering Beatrice’s shaved sex and its pink lips. She plays at sliding the material backwards and forwards, to excite the girl further. As her intimacy increasingly dampens the material, Beatrice feels her throat tighten.

- It’s good, isn’t it?

- Oh yes, Madam!

Marie-Gabrielle, who is also beginning to feel tense, stands up and like a model on a fashion show cat-walk, gracefully removes her jacket before sitting down again. The transparent material of her black brassiere reveals firm breasts with wide brown halos.

- Don’t stay still like that, get down on your knees and show me what you can do.

Beatrice obeys. She takes care that each of her gestures is as sensual as a caress. The skirt slithers down on a silk-like skin. Her mistress’ friend wears nothing else now but a black and transparent garter-belt. Holding up a pair of see-through stockings, it frames the carefully cropped fur of her pubic mound, like an engraving. Legs spread, eyes half-closed, Marie-Gabrielle smiles. The maid’s hands begin to explore her all over. One of them grasps her breast, feels it, and rolls the tips between its fingers until she feels them harden. With its sharp nails, the other scratches the inside of her thighs, where the skin is most tender.

- Go on!

The fingers continue on their course, delicately brushing the pubic mound, stroking the fur, slowing down ever so gently, making it unbearable to wait and heightening desire, before slipping inside the moist sex and delicately skimming the pearly bud of flesh, causing it to swell. They withdraw briefly, as if it was all over, just as the sex opens and shuts, like a mouth deprived of tender kisses, then return and increase their pressure, while tweaking the small lips to close them.

- Stop, I can’t bear it any longer!

Beatrice, excited by her groans, smiles and continues. Her face is now deep between the woman’s thighs, drawn by the powerful fragrance – a blend of coriander and patchouli – of the pubic hair. Marie-Gabrielle cries out when the maid, delicately parting the finely rimmed lobes of the small lips, begins titillating, sucking and slowly biting the crest of flesh connecting them. Ignoring the young woman’s protests, which she perceives as encouragements, Beatrice draws out the ordeal for several, long minutes. Her tongue darts in and out, vanishes, returns, surrounds, draws in. Feeling the crest hardened and close to its white-hot climax, she increases the tempo of her caresses and gets a naughty kick out of pushing Marie-Gabrielle into a state of gasping, heart-pounding, delirium, until suddenly, her breasts erect, her body writhing, she collapses, moist with pleasure, with a loud roar.

While the young woman gradually comes around, Beatrice lies prone on the rug at her feet, quivering, legs apart. With both her hands, she has pulled her sex wide open to disclose the fleshy mound which enflames her, deliberately offered whole, in exchange, to the quivering look, bite, touch of a mouth or a sex.

- [Beatrice, imploring her mistress’ friend] Oh Madam, please, be kind, you can’t possibly leave me like this!

- [Lady Alexandra, stepping in] Beatrice, you have spoilt my friend to such an extent that she’s no longer fit to look after you! But don’t worry, I know someone who will gladly accept to take care of you, instead of her. Just wait a moment! George? George? Now where on earth has he vanished again?

- [The butler, who has understood perfectly what is expected of him] Madam called me?

- Yes George, you can do me a small favour. I would like you to take Beatrice from behind, right now, before us, and make her come. It’s her turn and she really deserves it! Beatrice, did you hear? Get on all fours quickly, part your legs and raise your head!

- [George] This is no small favour, Madam, rather a great pleasure.