36-TV FICTION CLASSICS

Taylor stepped behind Alan and began the job of fastening the many hooks and eyes used to close the back of the garment.

Alan moaned, "This is a lot of work! I just want to make it through the three months and get that money!"

"Breath in," she ordered as she hooked the last few. "There, that took an inch or two off your waist.

"This must be a breathing optional bra. Boy, it makes you work to get a breath," Alan complained as he got used to the tight constriction he now felt from his thighs to his shoulders.

"You'll get used to it. Because of your young age I wouldn't be surprised if Mrs. Richardson makes you wear a corset with some of the evening serving uniforms. She usually does for all the young waitresses who work on special parties and such."

"Now sit down here while I roll these nylons on your legs," she said as she removed a delicate looking pair of stockings from a new package. They were very sheer but black in color. Alan noticed that they had a seam running down the back of each leg as she rolled one up his calf and onto his thigh.

She repeated the same with the other one before asking him to stand up. He stood up and watched in the mirror as his mother pulled each stocking up towards the bottom of the pantigirdle where four garter tabs hung waiting. When she clipped the garters onto the stockings Alan felt a sensual tension around his legs as the sheer nylon stretched caressingly over his skin.

"Here let's try these on too," Mrs. Taylor said as she showed Alan a pair of three-inch heeled, black lacquer pumps. Alan had some concerns about the height of the heel but had no choice but to give it a try. The shoes fit quite well. After a few seconds of experiencing a teetering sensation he managed to get his balance back.

"My, you do have beautiful legs!" His mother exclaimed as she stepped back to admire his attire so far. "Beautiful hair. . .beautiful legs...maybe you should have been a girl you imp!"

"Aw, c'mon Mom. Stop it," Alan said, "I'm doing this for the money. He mentally added up his salary again. He'd done it hundreds of times. He deducted his minuscule expenses and knew at the end of three months, plus the bonus, he be rich!!!

Looking in the mirror was eerie. He couldn't help but mentally agree with his mother's assessment. He caught his image from the neck down in the vanity mirror and had he not known that it was his own body encased in that sexy white and black lingerie, he would want to see more! His mother noticed his fascinated examination of the mirror image.

"Okay, okay. Stop ogling yourself in the mirror. You're not even dressed yet. I'm going to try a serving uniform on you that Mrs. Richardson usually likes me to wear at her many cocktail receptions. Good thing I had it at home this weekend. It's just back from the dry cleaners.

Alan almost swooned when he saw her bring the uniform out of her closet. To a great degree, it was a classic 'French Maid' uniform.

HAIR TODAY, GOWN TOMORROW -37 It had a black taffeta skirt with a border trimming of white lace, as well as white lace trim around the collar and short puffy sleeves.

In her other hand, Karen Taylor carried another hanger which had an undergarment that boggled Alan's mind. The top was of white silk with lavish lace trim across the bodice. At around hip level, the silk was attached to a mass of starched petticoats that billowed outward like a white cloud.

"Oh Mom...that's a little sexist isn't it? I mean...really, the Little French Maid look?" Alan asked in disbelief.

"Well, Mr. 'It's a piece of cake', now you'll see what I meant when I said that Mrs. Richardson is a perfectionist. My room...your future room at the hotel has a closet full of special purpose outfits for each occasion. At times you'll feel like your some runway model changing so many times a day. That's also why you're going to need to learn to change your make-up and hairstyle yourself."

"Why would I need to change those things?" Alan questioned. "Because, for some uniforms she'll request that your wear your hair up, for some down, and so on. Believe me, you're in for a real experience," his mother concluded as she made him lift his arms in the air so that the slip/petticoat could be slipped on.

The slip needed some adjustment of the shoulder straps, but soon was hanging properly. Now he could no longer see his legs or feet at all. The cloud of rustling white petticoats flared out twelve inches all around his hips and thighs. Once again Alan lifted his arms as the black dress was slipped down his body.

"Guess what?" His Mother asked.

"What?"

"This uniform, like many of the other fancy ones doesn't have a zipper in the back. Too modern for the Richardson Hotel. It has small buttons. You do them."

"Oh wonderful," Alan moaned. The next ten minutes Alan, without his mother's help, Alan struggled to close the buttons himself. Finally he did it. His arms ached from the exertion.

"Well, well, well," Karen Taylor said as she stepped back for a better look. "Not a bad body for a boy."

"Let me see," Alan asked maybe a little too enthusiastically as he stepped in front of the mirror. "Wow, hot stuff!" He chuckled and struck an exaggerated model's pose.

"Calm down, dear," his mother teased. "Or should I say ALICE? Now come over here and sit down. I'm going to clean up your eyebrows a bit then we'll practice some make-up application, okay?"

"You're the boss," Alan conceded as he sat.

His mother rummaged around in a side drawer then finally found the tweezers she was looking for. Tilting Alan's head back she began the slightly painful task of shaping her son's eyebrows.

"Owww! That hurts!"