Zero Blank by Molly Prude

Author:Molly Prude
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotica sci fi sci fi erotica sex goddess heist erotica

The Maid

Three days later, I was waiting at Arrivals in Heathrow Airport. A Rolls Royce pulled up before me in front of Terminal 4, with a proper, English chauffeur at the wheel and a bottle of Bollinger chilling in an ice bucket in the back.

It left the airport and drove south-west, towards Windsor, as I sipped champagne and watched the green hills of England roll by. I felt very special, particularly posh, and very curious to the nature of my destination.

This was supposedly the first stop in my training, but Ducheau had only handed me the plane tickets, told me to head to London and do what I was told. Little else. I was expecting another gym, or a classroom, or a brothel. But a Rolls?

What sort of training was I there for? Manners? Elocution? I began to hum a few bars from My Fair Lady.

My expectations met their zenith as the car rolled down the gravel driveway of a stately, manor house, all white columns and Downtons and Abbeys.

The opulence of the house was in such stark contrast to Ducheau's Buried Alive hideout that I could scarcely believe the two were intended for the same, basic utilitarian purpose. This was someone's home? I was so far from my home, so far from anything I was familiar with, I could do little by stare and gaps in delight.

My exhilaration tempered some as the car drove past the Porte Cochere of the main doors and circled towards the back of the house. It hit a skeptical low as the Rolls pulled up to a set of doors facing onto the kitchens.

The Chauffeur put the car in park, climbed out and circled to my door. He held it open as I stepped onto the gravel, slinging my sports bag over my shoulder.

“Mrs. Mude?” A plain, round-faced woman in a dower maid's uniform ask from the doorway.

“Yes?” I answer.

“I hope you had a pleasant trip,” she said. “Please, this way.”

The Chauffeur shut the door behind me. He shuffled off through the gravel and back to the driver's seat.

The woman turned and stepped through the doors.

I looked around, confused, but followed.

“I'm sorry, I'm not quite sure-” I started. Trying to get the maid's attention. The Kitchen was bustling with activity. Cooks, butlers, and maids busy preparing for a meal.

The maid moved quickly through the crowd of servants. It was all I could do to keep up.

“We'll need to fit you for a uniform,” the maid was speaking over her shoulder. I was catching only every third word. “Her ladyship is very particular about how we are all turned out. We shall have to make sure you're well presented. You don't want to fail inspection on the first day. That would certainly not be the best foot to put forward.”

“I'm sorry,” I interrupted, once we'd taken a side corridor off the kitchen and the din had lowered somewhat. “I think there's been some mistake...”

“You are Mrs. Mude, correct?” the maid stopped in her determined march towards some unspoken destination and turned to look me over.

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