All three were given notice in April. It came as no surprise or disappointment, for six to eight months was the usual service of a young domestic.
One could definitely understand and appreciate the desires of employers, for no matter how pretty a domestic might be, it was fun to have new ones every so often. It was expected by both employer and domestic. Mistress, of course, arranged posi- tions for all of them before releasing them. A girl just wasn't simply released. Trish would go to
Ohio, and Dania to Long Island, to acquaintances of Master and Mistress, in trade for their domestics. A simple trading arrangement. Stacy would go to Georgia, near Atlanta, to a cousin of Mis- tress, Victoria Palmer, and her husband, John.
There was no trade here, merely a transaction of five hundred dollars. The Palmers were newly mar- ried and resided in a small but elegant plantation home. They had not as yet arranged for domestics, but were offered Stacy, and planned to obtain an- other as well.
Goodbyes were always rather sad, especially on the last day, and the three girls packed and made ready with misty eyes, sometimes flying into each other's arms for no reason. It felt odd to wear her own clothes again for traveling, and Stacy would miss her nice maid's attire.
The porch was the scene of final farewells to
Master, Mistress and Norena, all of whom were kissed properly. Even Norena had misty eyes, for the three had been very, very excellent workers.
"As of now, you no longer belong to Woodrid- ing," said Mistress. "So you needn't accept our custom of five 'goodbye' whiplashes on your bot- toms. Sort of gives you something to remember
Woodriding by as you sit on the bus and plane rather tenderly. It's just our custom, but isn't required."
There was no hesitation. Mistress had been nice to them. In fact, it was a rather interesting custom.
"The porch rail" said Stacy.
"The porch rail," answered Trish. "Skirts up, bottoms out, la de da!"
It was different to see a change from the familiar white pants. There was pink, and a yellow, and a bluish print with Dania's initials. The whip sang its song on each bottom and produced reasonably angry evidence. Sitting would indeed be rather tender, at least for today.
It was down the walk, and around the lil bushes. They were gone. Norena handed her hand- kerchief to Mistress to wipe her cheeks. She herself ,sniffled, but turned so that it wouldn't be seen.
Chapter Three
It had been a bus to Boston, and the jet to
Atlanta, arriving after dark. There was a two-hour wait for the bus to Rose Hill, near where the
Palmers maintained their home, and it gave Stacy an opportunity to walk about the southern city.
She fell in love with the quaint and charming buildings, the ever-present fragrance of fruit blos- soms and the nicely dressed people. She was pleased to see a definite return, on many of the ladies, to quasi-period dress so reminiscent of the old South. It added a definite charm to the women of the South.
The bus left the terminal at ten and Stacy found it nearly empty. Not wishing to sit alone, she spied a pretty girl in the fourth row, and asked if she could join her. The bus was dark, but occasionally it would pass the lights of buildings and stores and gave Stacy a chance to study her traveling com- panion. The girl had jet-black hair with a beauti- fully exquisite face. Her skin was tan-brown and perfect. Her smile was radiant.
"Hi, I'm Stacy."
"Hi, I'm Sondra." Nothing was said for a while, but Stacy often stole a glance. The other girl laughed nicely.
"Yes, Stacy, I'm not white. Mulatto. Three- fourths black, one-fourth white, on my father's side, so to speak. Answer your thoughts?"
Stacy's face burned. "Oh, really, Sondra. I'm sorry. I wasn't at all trying to qualify you. It makes no difference at all to me. It's just that you're so… damnably beautiful, it's hard to stop looking at you. As a matter of fact, I really do like black girls, and I… oh, damn, Sondra, I'm just making it worse… I feel like an ass… oh, jeez."
Sondra took Stacy's hand in hers. "Hey, it's o.k., baby. I understand. You can stop fumbling around." Her smile made Stacy feel very nice.
"Thanks, Sondra. You're sweet. I'm a domestic.
Served in New England, and I'm on my way to
Briargate near Rose Hill. Mr. and Mrs. Palmer."
"Will miracles never cease?" said Sondra, laugh- ing. "Say hello to your fellow servant"
"You mean, you…"
"Yep! Briargate too! I've just served in Savan- nah. By the way, in the South it isn't domestics, it's servants."
"Oh, wow!" said Stacy. "I'm happy. We'll get along great, Sondra!"
Sondra had not released Stacy's hand, and Stacy had no desire to withdraw it. The girl smelled of fresh jasmine and its fragrance was intoxicating,
Stacy felt a familiar stirring in her loins.
"Been whipped a lot, Stacy?"
"Average amount, I'd say, Sondra."
"Where do you get it in New England? Don't know too much about up north."
"On the ass, usually."
"Whoopee. We call those 'spankings' down here in Georgia. They whip girls better down here. Al over, back, tits, ass. Whatever she has. You're
in for some yowlin', darling. You haven't been whipped yet, girl."
"Sounds like it, Sondra. No matter. Won't kill me."
Sondra wore a T-shirt with her skirt and Stacy couldn't help but notice the exaggerated twin points.
"Looks like you have quite a pair of nipples,
Sondra."
"Nipple weights in Savannah for a few months.
One inch exactly."
Stacy related the story of her former friend,
Trish, who underwent the same treatment. She also told of Dania with her sensuously long breasts.
"What about you, Stacy?" smiled Sondra.
"Well… oh, heck, my pussy."
"Stretched the lips?"
"Yep."
"Oooh. Nice. Haven't seen that yet."
"Want to?"
"Here… and now?"
"Sure. You show me your nipples, I'll show you my cunt. We can go in the rear. No one's back there, Sondra."
"Let's go."
They moved to the second last seat. The bus was dark, but there were occasional bright spots along the road. Sondra lifted up her T-shirt.
"Oh, God, they're beautiful," said Stacy as she fingered each one tenderly, an act which made them spring upwards to an angling tilt.
Stacy pulled up her skirt, and pushed aside her panty. Sondra stroked the moist lips.
"Never saw a pussy like that, Stacy. It's scrump- tious. Boy, what a set of lips!"
They sat in silence for a while, as the bus rolled through the dark countryside.
"Would you like to neck, Stacy?"
"Thought you'd never ask, darling," said Stacy.
"Rose Hill!" said the driver. The two girls un- tangled.
"God, can you kiss, Sondra!"
"You're pretty good yourself, Stacy. Never kissed a white girl before." She laughed.
Stacy laughed back. "Had that coming, didn't I?
Well, anyway, Miss Sondra, I think you're pretty special. I'm sure I'm going to fall in love with you."
"You're late, girl. I've already fallen for you. Bus trip was just a bit too short."