"He's a lovely boy but we can't afford to feed and clothe him, and he is too small to work on the farm," my mother said to her.The lady looked me over and smiled."Yes, my cook and the gardener could do with a bit of help, I'll take him on at five shillings a week". And that was that.I was taken in that day and shown my place in the kitchen. There was a cook who lived above the old stables, whose husband did the garden and acted as a chauffeur. Then there was two maids, one about forty something and Lizzy who was sixteen. The house had eight bedrooms, four on each floor, a dining room, a library with a billiard table, a lounge and a conservatory full of flowers.The first week went quickly as I got used to my duties. I worked in the house and kitchen in the morning and with the gardener in the afternoon. Lizzy and I worked six days a week with the Saturday afternoon and most of Sunday off, when we normally went back to our homes in the village.George, my Master had met my Mistress,. Slowing down I could see the gold numbers 511almost glowing against the green door. Just above the numbers was theword Janes in magenta italics. There was a parking space just alittle up the block. I parked, got out of my car and waved my littleAmerican Express fob over the meter and started walking to Janes.My dress, lest you forget, was quite an eye magnet with thepersimmon, canary yellow and bluebird wisp colors shining in theCalifornia sun. However, no matter how much everything else about melooked somewhat feminine my hair was definitely not refined enough togo with the outfit and I could tell the men outside the coffee shop Ipassed knew I was a man. One slyly cupped his hand over his crotch. Iwalked faster to Janes and rang the bell.The green door opened (authoresses note: come on guys, don't eventhink it. I'm laughing too. For those a bit younger, Behind the GreenDoor, Marilyn Chambers, Procter and Gamble girl) and a somewhatmatronly woman said, "welcome Sandra" and ushered me.
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