My Landlady Had Different Plans - Part 9

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After transitioning to Melissa full-time, I put my body and soul into Mrs. Johnson's capable hands. She chose what I wore each day, tutored me in makeup and hair maintenance, helped me with voice lessons, started me on hormones, and schemed and plotted on how we would win back her daughter, Jessica.

And there were the delicious hugs, and snuggles, and kissing, and nights together all along the way.

I met with her lawyer, and we submitted the paperwork for me to officially become her adopted daughter. I felt myself being pulled deeper and deeper into the Johnson family household, where everything I did was controlled and dictated by either Mrs. Johnson or her daughter.

"Jessica's off the phone, go ahead on in," said Joanne, Jessica's office manager and receptionist, with a friendly wave.

I thanked Joanne and nervously stepped into the office with the garment bag, knocking on the door frame. Since it was my lunch break from work, I was wearing a cute new dress with bold horizontal black and white stripes. It had a wide green hem and a matching belt. It was definitely more flirty and less serious than my first dark-blue A-line.

"Melissa!" Jessica said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

I looked around the office. Papers, computer manuals, and what I presumed were 3-D printer parts were piled everywhere, on chairs, on the table, and on the floor. Two large whiteboards were covered with drawings. Handwritten flip chart pages covered the walls. It was chaos - hopefully, organized chaos.

"Your Mom sent me," I said, fidgeting. I hung up the garment bag on a forlorn-looking coat rack in the corner.

"Mom sent you?" Jessica said, suspicious. "What did she want?"

"Well..." I took a deep breath and fingered the Tiffany watch on my wrist (a new habit of mine). "She said that since you were the one who wanted me to start waist training."

"Melissa! You were supposed to tell her that it was your idea!" Jessica was incensed.

"I did! Honest! But she figured it out on her own. I told her it was all my idea, but somehow she knew it was really yours."

"Wonderful," Jessica frowned. "I should give you a spanking for breaking your promise like that."

I caught my breath. A spanking?

"I-I-If you feel that's necessary," I said, a quaver in my voice. "Would you like to do it here?"

"What?? Of course not! This is my office, I'm not going to spank you here!"

"At your apartment then?" I asked. "After work tonight?"

The internal struggle that flashed across Jessica's face was a sight to behold.

"No spankings," Jessica said, finally.

"Don't I need to be punished for breaking my promise?" I asked, with a hint of coquettishness in my voice.

"Probably you do," she said. "Definitely, you do. But not by me. I... I'm not doing that. Listen, Melissa, it was unfair of me to force you into all of those promises. Okay? I don't know what came over me, but I was wrong to do it."

"If you want, your mother has offered to do it," I said.

"Do what?"

"Spank me. For breaking my promise to you. We discussed earlier how I would have to be punished. Would you like that? Would you like for her to spank me if you don't want to do it yourself?"

Jessica's eyes glazed over for a second. I saw her shifting uncomfortably in her office chair, and she took a couple of deep breaths.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I would like that."

I walked over to stand next to Jessica.

"Thank you, Jessica."

"Thank me? For what?"

"I feel horrible for breaking my promise," I explained. "I... I need this. I need some sort of punishment to relieve my guilt. So thank you, I will go home after work today and tell your mother that you want me to be spanked."

"Very good," Jessica said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. "Now, why are you here? I've got lots to do." She indicated the paperwork and drawings surrounding her with an all-embracing wave.

"Your mother said that since you were the one who had me promise to do waist training, that you should be the one to determine how small a waist I should have."

"What? Me? Hey! What are you doing??"

As per Mrs. Johnson's instructions, I unbuttoned the bodice of my dress.

"Hey!" Jessica hissed, hopping up and quickly closing the door as I shrugged the dress over my shoulders.

"So, here's my progress so far," I said, showing her my waist. I was wearing the cream satin brocade corset that Jessica had picked out for me earlier, the one I was supposed to wear 'on weekends' but in fact was wearing almost all the time.

"I thought you were going to wear the bright pink neoprene to work," she said.

"Your mother explained that the pink neoprene waist cinch was only for maintenance, and so she said I had to wear this instead. Do you like it?"

"It's... beautiful," said Jessica, entranced.

"Thank you." I felt a thrill of pleasure run through me when Jessica said 'beautiful'. "My waist is down by three inches. Is this enough, or would you like it smaller?"

"I, Oh god," Jessica said, losing herself for a second. "Listen, you have to button up. This is my office, for god's sake."

"I can't, not until you tell me what to do."

"Okay, fine. Um... your waist is good enough the way it is."

"Oh," I said, my shoulders sagging. "I... I was hoping you'd want it smaller. Mrs. Johnson says it would be good to reduce it by a further two inches."

"Two inches...!" Jessica gasped, looking at my waist and imagining it smaller. "I... oh..."

"Would you like it to be smaller? I was hoping I could make it smaller... You know... for you."

"I... you... oh god... okay, fine. Yes. Another inch smaller."

"Just one?"

"Okay, fine! Two. Two inches smaller. Can you just button up now?"

"Sure, just let me write this down so I don't forget." I pulled out a notepad from my purse.

"First, I need to ask for a spanking as punishment for the promise I broke," I wrote 'ask for spanking' on the pad, "and second, Jessica has asked me to reduce my waist by two more inches."

I did my best to smile, but inwardly I was freaking out. Two more inches?? How was I going to be able to take that? I hoped that Mrs. Johnson would at least do it an inch at a time. It's true that the corset had started to feel pretty comfortable even after only a couple of weeks, but two more inches?

But I trusted Mrs. Johnson. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, and she was the one who had told me to offer two more inches to Jessica.

"If I know Jessica," Mrs. Johnson said about her daughter earlier, "she won't be able to help herself. She'll want you as calm as possible."

I returned my notepad to the purse and then slowly buttoned my dress back up.

"Are we done now?" Jessica asked, returning to her desk.

"Just one more thing," I said. I walked over to the garment bag hanging on the coat rack.

"Now what?"

I unzipped the bag. Inside was a dark grey maid's uniform with starched white cuffs, a starched white collar, and a large flouncy eyelet lace apron. I pulled it out and hung it up on the coat rack.

"Your mother has asked me to put this here and to tell you that you must not touch this maid's uniform," I said. I would be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying this, just a little bit.

"Please," Jessica said, rolling her eyes. "Because, if I touch the maid's uniform, I will have to wear it?"

"No," I countered. "If you touch this uniform, then I will have to wear it. If you touch this dress, you will have to tell your mother that you touched it, and then I will be forced to wear a maid's uniform - whenever I do housework, from now on."

"Oh, big deal," Jessica snorted.

"And," I continued, "I will commit to doing all of your housework, you know, picking up and vacuuming your row house, doing your dishes, washing your clothes, all while wearing a maid's uniform, of course..."

"I'm listening," Jessica said, interested.

"And finally," I took a deep breath, "I will help you pack for your move to Boston, and I will make all of the arrangements on this side of the move."

"Oh!" Jessica gasped. "You'd do that for me? For real?"

"Yes," I said, looking at the ground in front of me. "I would. I don't want to, but I would. But isn't this what sisters do for each other? Help each other? Even when it's painful to do so? Didn't you say you wanted a sister?"

"Oh, Melissa..." Jessica looked away for a second, then looked back at me. "That is so sweet of you."

"But your Mom says that I can't help out unless I'm dressed for the part. As a maid. And that you have to be the one to make the decision. So here we are. Don't touch the dress."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"But why not?" I was ashamed at the whining tone of my voice.

"Because I know what's going on here. Mom is trying to convince me to not move to Boston. And she's using you as an enticement to stay."

"You... you figured it out," I said, staring at her, shocked and amazed. "How?"

"I got it from Dad," Jessica shrugged. "He had an uncanny knack for guessing people's ulterior motives. That's why he was such a great CEO."

There was a sinking feeling in my stomach. Our plan for winning back Jessica had failed before it even got started.

"As a sister," Jessica asked, "won't you help me move to Boston, even if I don't touch the dress? Just sister to sister?"

"If it were up to me, I would," I explained. "But I already promised your mother that I wouldn't help you move unless you touched the maid's uniform, and that means wearing the uniform while working in your row house."

"Oh, you and your stupid promises! They get you into so much trouble!"

"Look who's talking," I shot back. "I'm wearing corsets because of promises you made me make!"

"You could always just stop promising things," she pointed out.

"I... I could," I said. "But I just can't seem to help myself. I want to do things for Mrs. Johnson because she's so nice to me, and... and you. Because... because I like you."

"Well," Jessica huffed at my heartfelt admission. "I like you too."

"You could still touch the uniform anyway. Just touch the uniform and move to Boston. And then I get to help you move, and we get to spend more time together," I reasoned with her. "As sisters," I added.

"But then you'd be wearing uniforms forever, whenever you did housework."

"Yes, but that wouldn't be so bad," I said, my face flushing slightly. Actually, the idea of wearing a maid's uniform while cleaning house for Mrs. Johnson or Jessica was thrilling, but wearing them every time I did housework? Forever? That terrified me. It was another new change to my life, yet another new restriction, something else I had to do to obey the rules and be a good girl for Mrs. Johnson and her daughter. Where was all this leading?

"Besides, it's the principle of the thing. I'm not going to give into my mother so easily."

"Well, okay, I understand," I said. "I promised your mother that I would leave it hanging here, though." I gathered up the empty garment bag and my purse and prepared to go.

"Hey, wait, you're not taking it with you?"

"No. I have to leave it here."

"What am I going to do about it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Just don't touch it." I stopped at the door. "And one more thing, I know we're not sisters, not officially, but would it be okay if I asked you a question? As a sister?"

"Sure," Jessica said.

"Should I be wearing heels instead of flats?" I asked, angling my foot to show her the practical black flats I was wearing, the same pair I had worn every day to work so far.

"Oh... heels, definitely," Jessica said with a husky voice. "No, wait!" she tried to correct herself. "No, I changed my mind. You should be wearing flats. Or... whatever you want."

"I'm asking your opinion," I said. "What do you think I should wear?"

I could see the struggle on Jessica's face. She clearly wanted to tell me to wear heels, but she could also sense this was another case of her telling me what to do, instructing me to be more feminine. "I don't want to say," she said finally.

"Jessica," I whined. "Don't sisters ask each other questions like this all the time? And don't sisters give each other honest opinions about what to wear? This is the part of being sisters I was looking forward to the most! And if you're unwilling to tell me if I should be wearing heels or flats - it's not a complicated question - what sort of sisters will we be?"

"Heels," Jessica said, finally. "Wear heels. I think you should wear heels. You would look awesome in heels." Jessica squirmed in her seat. I could tell the conversation was getting to her.

"Thank you," I said. For some reason, I felt goosebumps. "I'll switch from flats to heels. I... I wanted to anyway. I just needed you to tell me to do it. Well, I think it's time for me to go."

"Yes, I think so," said Jessica.

"Hug?" I asked.

Jessica got up, and we hugged and kissed on the cheek. The kiss lingered, and for a moment I thought Jessica was going to kiss me on the lips, but then she pulled away.

"I'm glad we're going to be sisters," she said, holding my hands in hers.

"Me too," I smiled.

"Joanne!" Jessica shouted from her office.

"He,y boss," Joanne poked her head in the door. "Whassup? Hey! Nice maid's uniform!"

"I know," Jessica grunted, embarrassed. "Could you please pack it up and mail it back to my mother?"

"Sorry, boss, no can do."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Your mother already called and told me not to touch it," Joanne grinned.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jessica said, feeling annoyed and trapped.

"Hey! She's our number one stockholder. I'm just doing my part to increase shareholder value."

"You're evil. Why do I keep you around, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know. Accounts payable, accounts receivable, shall I go on?"

"Get out of here." Jessica laughed, despite herself.

'Now what am I going to do?' she thought to herself. The dress seemed to be taunting her.

It was late, and Jessica found herself staring at the maid's uniform.

It had been a long day, and now she felt tired and slow. And every one of her damn employees teased her about having a maid's uniform hanging in the office.

"New dress code?" they joked. "Taking on a second job to supplement your income?"

Jessica just rolled her eyes, blamed her mother for leaving it there, and then forced the conversation back to work.

'Who could I hire to get rid of it?' She wondered. 'Maybe I should call 1-800-GOT-JUNK.'

But it was a beautiful uniform. Custom-made, probably European (knowing her mother), and expensive. And the thought of having a stranger come in and take it didn't feel right. Jessica hated to give other people her problems to solve.

'Maybe if I use oven mitts.' But in her heart, Jessica knew that would be skirting the rules, and she also hated people who were overly literal with the rules. And Joanne was keeping an eagle eye on the uniform, delighting in her boss' discomfort... the bitch. She would immediately know if it had been moved or touched, and then there would be some uncomfortable questions.

Jessica rubbed her eyes. The late hour and tiredness were getting the better of her. 'I should just touch it and get it over with,' she thought to herself.

Jessica got up and walked over to the uniform. It was truly beautiful, with sharp starched collars and a pretty feminine apron. The image of Melissa wearing it flashed through her head. 'If I touch this, she'll have to wear maid's uniforms whenever she's cleaning house,' Jessica thought to herself, and then added 'forever'. She pictured Melissa with a feather duster working in the dining room, and the thought made her nipples tingle.

"I am so fucked up," Jessica muttered to herself, stamping her foot in frustration. "Why does this get to me?" She paused one last time before muttering, "Oh, screw it!"

Jessica reached out and grasped the arm of the uniform. "That's it, Melissa is wearing uniforms now." A jolt of pleasure ran through her. She pressed against her crotch with a hand, trying to press away the deep need she felt there, but only made it worse.

"Hey, Boss, I'm just closing up for the night--" Joanne stopped short. "Hey, you touched the dress! Are you gonna put it on? I'll stay if you need help!"

"Hah, hah," Jessica said sarcastically, flushed with embarrassment at having been caught red-handed by her office assistant. Jessica picked up the dress from the coat rack and hung it over her arm. "No, I'm taking this back to Mom."

"Why did Melissa drop if off anyway?"

"Uh, Halloween costume," Jessica lied.

"It's only July. Isn't it a little early to be thinking about Halloween costumes?"

"Not for my mother," Jessica said, sourly.

I was in the dining room setting the table when Jessica walked through the front door.

"Hey there!" she called out.

"Jessica!" Mrs. Johnson went to greet her daughter. "You've touched it!" She looked meaningfully at the maid's uniform in Jessica's arms.

"Yeah, yeah," Jessica said.

"Melissa!!" Mrs. Johnson called out.

"Jessica?" I peeked out from around the door to the dining room, still dressed in my horizontal striped black and white work dress from earlier.

"Oh!" I gasped as soon as I saw the uniform in her arms. "You touched it! So soon? I thought it would be a couple of days, at least!"

"Yeah, well..." Jessica said, shifting uncomfortably. "Listen, before I give this to you, I just want us to all agree: No more of this 'Don't touch the dress' stuff. Okay? Are we all agreed?"

"Yes, dear, of course," Mrs. Johnson agreed briskly, looking at me with sly smile. "I think we've done quite enough of that. Jessica, have you had dinner yet? Melissa has prepared a wonderful Beef Stew Provencal with Basmati Rice."

You could tell Jessica was famished. I wondered if she had had lunch. "It does smell good," she said, wavering.

"Well then, join us! Melissa, go hang up that uniform and then set up another place setting while I open some wine, unless..." she hesitated, looking at me.

"Unless... ?" I asked.