Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 60.

Part 60.  Find Part 1 here – Chapter list here –

I hurried over to the stables, my mind racing. What could Jennifer possibly have to do with these people?

When I’d seen my sister’s name on Mrs. Gravely’s blotter I had been shocked and confused, but there’d been that voice in my head, that told me that perhaps I was mistaken. After all, how could this situation, half a continent from San Francisco have anything to do with my sister?

As I plunged the pitch fork into the straw and heaved it toward the door of the stable I felt the heat of my muscles, and let my mind just drift. In that state an odd thought emerged. Perhaps it was just two random neurons firing in sequence and suddenly I stopped what I was doing.

Where had I first met Devina? With my sister.

Who got me out of the jam in Florida? Devina.

Who had delivered me to a ship that took me here. Devina.

It was strange how, in this recent journey it was always Devina that was the common thread. And now here was Jennifer, riding around the countryside with Mrs. Gravely. Something approaching a hunch was developing in my mind when I was pulled out of this train of thought by the sound of tires on gravel.

I looked out of the stable block and saw a station wagon in the yard. There was a young man driving, but he drew to a halt and got out. He stood beside the car uncertainly looking about the place. I recognised him in a moment. It was the unfortunate Mr. Butterworth’s son. I’d met him in the town when I’d gone in with Mrs. Gravely.

I stepped out of the stable block, my hair falling over my shoulders. The exertion of work had loosened my blouse, and I made no attempt to close it, remembering the lustful way he’d looked at me before.

“You look a little lost,” I said.

“I’m looking for the lady. The one who runs this place,” he said sounding angry.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but she’s not home.  I think she’s out in town,” I said leaning on the pitchfork I was holding.

The boy stared at me. I was trying to figure out if this was disgust or curiosity, when I caught sight of Mrs. Gravely’s Volvo entering the gates at the end of the drive.

“Oh,” I said with a smile. “Maybe you’re in luck.”

His eyes went to the gateway. Yes, there was something akin to hatred there. I reminded myself to be a little careful.

He glanced back at me and awkwardly said, “I saw you in town.”

I smiled. He grinned at me, then turned his attention to the car drawing to a halt outside the front of the house.

“You might want to run along,” I said with a grin. “You don’t want her to get away.”

The boy looked at me, unsure whether I was teasing him, or trying to help. I savored his confusion. He turned on his heal and started walking toward the front of the house.

From the Volvo Mrs. Gravely emerged, followed by my sister. Seeing her there like that was a shock. Should I run over and embrace her as I would have done in any other circumstance? Or was I not meant to be seeing this? Should I ‘behave’.

This moment was broken a second later as Mrs. Gravely turned and saw me staring. She glanced in my direction, and then with a smirk on her face turned to my sister and said something I couldn’t hear. Jennifer then nodded with a nonchalant smile and stepped in my direction.

I suppose it was seventy yards. As she walked toward me I tried to think of what I should say. Here I was in a loose blouse, a long skirt and wearing boots. Of course, she’d never seen me like this. I noticed suddenly how developed my chest had become. It wasn’t as though I could run away and wipe of some make up. This kind of ‘dress up’ didn’t wash off.

As I struggled to think what to do, or say, Jennifer smiled at me and called out, “Hello, Andrea. How mice to see you.”

She strolled right up to me and flung her arms around me, just as though I was a long separated sister reunited by chance.

“Err… hello… I…” I was lost for words. There was nothing I could say. There was so many questions.

I glanced toward Mrs. Gravely, and saw she was in conversation with the boy. It seemed to be some sort of argument. A moment later the boy was storming off in the direction of his vehicle.

“So, ‘Andrea’, how are you enjoying your stay?” said Jennifer, pulling my attention right back to the disintegrating world before me.

“My stay?” I said incredulously. “My ‘stay’?”

I was about to say I’d been kidnapped, abused, put into forced labor, but before I could utter a word I heard Mrs. Gravely call out, “I’d like you to join us for tea 38. Shower yourself and join me in the library when you’re done.”

With that Mrs. Gravely turned on her heel and disappeared into the house.

I gathered my thoughts. I should tell her about Devina. About being snatched away from my work. About… well, what could I say about the whole ‘Andrea’ thing? I fumbled for words. I was about to unleash a torrent of questions when she held up her hand and said, “I’m going in now, why don’t you do as Mrs. Gravely says and join us for tea?”

She smiled winningly and turned around and left me open mouthed.

What the hell was going on in my life. This was the sister I’d played with as a child, and she was now following Mrs. Gravely around like a damned lapdog. I was about to call something out after her when I noticed her walk, and thought to myself, ‘well, I do more to make my hips sway. And I’ve got a really cute ass these days too.’

Jeez, where did these thoughts come from!


I finished up in the stable and put the pitchfork away where it hung in the tack room. Still trying to figure out what was going on between my sister and Mrs. Gravely, I washed my hands and walked back to the house. Once in my room I stripped and wrapped myself in a towel and then walked to the shower room. I washed myself down and hurried back toward my room. I was excited to see my sister and learn what her involvement in all this was.

As I walked down the corridor to my room 22 appeared and intercepted me.

“Oh, 38. Just the person. Mrs. Gravely wants you to attend tea in the library,” she said consulting a list on a clip board she carried.

“She asked me to join them,” I said.

22 gave me a puzzled look and then ploughed on. “OK. I laid out some things for you to wear on your bed.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” I said.

22 hurried on to her next chore and I entered my room, glanced at the bed and saw there were some dark colored clothes folded there. I dried my hair, and then walked to the bed. It wasn’t until I picked up the dress and unfolded it that I realised what it was. A maid uniform.

Perhaps there was some mistake. Had 22 got the wrong end of the stick? Was I to wear this?

I walked out into the corridor, and located 22 at the end of the passage.

“Oh, I didn’t choose the outfit,” said 22. “Mrs. Gravely did. She was quite insistent about it.”

I just didn’t know what to make of this.  As I pulled on some black tights and selected a pair of heels that were suitable, I stared at the uniform. The last time I’d worm anything like this was in a lesbian cocktail party I would rather wipe from my memory forever.

I pulled on the silky uniform, careful to be sure it revealed just a little of the black bra I was enjoying wearing. My black frilly panties were barely hidden beneath the hem of the skirt. I’d always liked the ruffles of these panties. How did the skirts of this dress manage to ride up so high, I wondered.

In front of the mirror I looked at myself standing there in heels, turned around and looked at how lovely my ass looked, and then did a gentle forward fold to see how my legs looked. Yes, I did look good. A smile settled on my face as I appreciated the panties.

Remembering I was about to see my sister and Mrs. Gravely I pulled myself together. Damn it, how was I supposed to talk to my sister dressed like this?


As I walked toward the library 22 emerged from the kitchen with a silver tray with a pot of tea on it. She crossed to where I was walking and handed me the tray.

“Won’t you give this to Mrs. Gravely for me,” she said, hurrying off toward the office.

I entered the library and walked to where Mrs. Gravely and Jennifer were sitting. There was a delicate table between them.

“Ah,” said Mrs. Gravely. “And here’s 38 with the tea.”

I placed the tea pot on the table. I looked about, but noticed there were just the two chairs here. That was odd. This morning I was sure there’d been three.

“Won’t you pour for us, 38?” said Mrs. Gravely.

I obediently picked up the large silver tea pot, noticing there were just the two cups.

I glanced at Jennifer, uncertain what to do.

“I do see, Mrs. Gravely. ‘Andrea’ is really coming along very nicely,” said Jennifer, sitting back comfortably in her chair and watching my discomfort.

As I poured the tea Jennifer seemed to be smiling to herself. I turned to Mrs. Gravely and asked if she’d like some milk in her tea. As I looked at her I heard the sound of a tea spoon falling from the table.

“Oh, how clumsy of you ‘Andrea’,” said Jennifer.

“Won’t you pick that up for us, 38?” said Mrs. Gravely looking at me, watching my reaction.

I smiled, and then bent gracefully to retrieve the silver tea spoon. As I glanced behind me at my sister, I caught sight of her look. She was giggling and staring at me.

In that moment I felt the tide of humiliation inside me overflowing. My own sister, a confederate in my own downfall. She was witnessing me being broken like one of the colts in the stables.

I picked up the spoon.

“That was very gauche of you, 38. You must be more careful. That’s something for you to contemplate while Jennifer and I have a long overdue cozy chat. You may wait outside until I call you.”

With eyes downcast all I could reply was “Yes, ma’am.”

I left the room and stood waiting patiently outside the library, like a schoolchild sent to wait outside the head master’s study. My day was going from bad to worse.

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One Reply to “Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 60.”

  1. Andrea your day isn’t getting worse it’s getting better. Wow! Can’t wait for chapter 61. The story only gets better. Andrea is really lucky to have a sister like Jennifer. She seems to be genuinely interested in looking out for her welfare. I hope there is a full transition in Andrea’s future. But don’t make it too soon. I think being a complete woman is the best.

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