Option Three - an unexpected transition

Chapter 8: Nikki emerges

Nicky was standing in one of the spare bedrooms. He was dressed as a maid, the full bit: pantyhose, shoes, dress, apron, cute little cap, etc.

His immediate thought had been that the man wanted to have sex with him. "So be it," he said to himself, "whatever I have to do to stay alive and one day get free."

Nicky had had both straight and gay sexual affairs during his adult life so he wasn't shocked or disgusted by the idea of sex with Bentley. Curiously though, the maid's outfit was of quite modest design.

He checked himself in the mirror: wig straight, clip-on earrings okay, make-up . . . lord, he was going to have to get better at doing that, his nail polish too.

"I'm ready," he called out moving towards the door and opening it.

Bentley was waiting for him. He smiled and nodded, "Pretty good."

"It's my first attempt, Mr Bentley, I'll get better at it."

Another nod, "Now remember, Nikki, the security system works both ways, unless you know the codes."

"I understand, sir. I'll be careful not to breach the perimeter."

"Er, sir, do you want to tell me my duties or shall I just find my own way?"

"Let's see how you go."

Nikki glanced at the pretty little maid's watch on her wrist, "I'd better start getting dinner ready."

For those first few weeks, Nikki constantly reminded herself that she was on trial. Forget about trying to escape, behave, keep Bentley happy. Make sure he doesn't regret his decision, because then he would . . .

And remember you're a girl. You might be a pretend girl, but stick with it; no boy stuff, only girl stuff.

Nikki felt that she was making steady improvements with both her appearance and her work. "I'm sure he will be satisfied with me if I keep going, and I must keep going; I have no choice."

Once she got the hang of things, Nikki found that her duties weren't onerous. Bentley did not expect three elaborate meals a day: toast or cereal for breakfast; something like sandwiches or salad for lunch and a fancier meal for dinner.

The cleaning was easy to keep on top of - Bentley was a tidy person.

When he went out, Nikki was locked in her bedroom. She could just read, or practice her make-up, her mannerisms and so on. She was keen to fulfil her master's expectations of her as his maid.

Six weeks: Mr Bentley had invited Nikki to sit down and watch the news on TV with him.

Rocco Smyles had been killed by a single gunshot wound to the head. The police believed it was a gangland killing and were pursuing a number of leads.

"Leads?" Nikki gasped.

The man smiled, "They always have to say something like that, Nikki."

"So there's nothing . . . you didn't leave . . ."

"Of course not, Nikki. I assure you."

"Good."