EXTRACT FOR
Mincing Molly
(Miranda Birch)

Lavinia Bottomley sat up in bed and yawned. She looked at her clock -- just ten. At that very moment a light knock sounded at the door. "Enter," she called lazily. The door opened, and in came Molly with her breakfast. 



She watched him (yes, reader, Molly is a `he') like a cat as he minced over to her bedside, moving very carefully so as to ensure that his frock did not ride up, and wobbling slightly on the narrow two-inch heels of his shoes. To her gratification, she distinctly heard Molly's girdle creak as he bent stiffly over to place her breakfast tray on the bedside table. He straightened again, curtsied, took a few dainty steps back, and stood at attention in the `waiting to serve' posture she had taught him -- head up, back straight, arms by his sides, the hem of his apron pinched at either side between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and held out to the side exactly six inches, feet together. He was waiting to be dismissed. Lavinia ignored him as she drank her tea and ate her toast. But she watched him from the corner of her eye. When she saw his fingers nervously rubbing the edges of his apron hem, she called out "stop fidgeting, Molly!" and the movement of the fingers stopped. Finishing her tea, she finally turned to look at him. 



Molly was, as always, in full uniform. This morning, full uniform consisted of an ultra-short frock, pink with white polka-dots and trimmed with exquisite turquoise lace. The skirt reached not quite to mid-thigh, with three built-in layers of frilly lace petticoats beneath making it stand out at an angle, and the neckline descended to just above the nipples. His plucked eyebrows had been replaced by two bold, turquoise streaks; his lips were an extravagant cupid's-bow executed in pink lipstick. As always, Molly's make-up was colour-coordinated with the colours of his frock. His hazel eyes stared straight ahead, their expression the usual mix of resignation and despair. 



Lavinia smiled to herself. Should I tell him now, or surprise him? she pondered. Oh, I think I shall tell him now. Give him something to look forward to! She smiled a wicked smile, licked her lips, and said: 



"Molly, dear?" "Yes, Ma'am?" 



"You will be pleased to know that I have invited a friend of mine over for tea this afternoon. You will be waiting on us, of course. I just thought I would let you know now. It gives you something to look forward to, doesn't it?" 



Molly's face betrayed his true feelings before he managed to compose them ("sulky looks get the cane!" was a phrase he had heard all too often before he learned to do this), but all he said was, 



"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am." 



Lavinia smiled smugly, then nodded and said simply: 



"Dismissed." 



Molly bobbed a neat little curtesy, took the breakfast tray, and minced away. Lavinia watched his pert little bottom moving under the thin, tight material of his uniform and smiled to herself. This was the life! 



Naïve and inexperienced with women, Molly -- Pete Fleming, as he then was -- had been easy prey for Miss Lavinia Bottomley! It had only been months ago, but it seemed like years since he had lived any other way.