Staying in Character

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“Can I ta’es d’at for ya Sirs?” Martina asked in a hard cockney accent.

“Lord child, you’re a sight. You can make a plain black maid’s uniform look sexy but it’s too tight in the chest!” Molly exclaimed as she tried to slip a finger between the middle button of Martina’s dress and her bra. “I’m going to have to let this out before opening night.”

“It’s not me fault Miss, I swears to ya.” Martina replied then giggled. Molly motioned with her hand and Martina took the dress off so Molly could make adjustments. Martina stood there in her underwear watching while she practiced her dialect. She ran through her list of words to be practiced but she’d done some research on the internet and decided to tackle some words that she wouldn’t be saying on stage as well.

“Lord, I wish I was young, to have tits like that again.” Molly said as she finished her adjustments and handed the dress back over. Martina slipped it over her head then started buttoning up. “Don’t button the top two buttons until I make the adjustments. Bring the dress with you tomorrow.” Molly ordered.

“Gore! I bloody well need some room ‘ere woman. Yur cuttin me circ’lation orf.” Martina said and giggled again. She’d have to look circulation up, she didn’t know that one. She glanced down the front of her dress. The black cloth was simplicity itself, thin and cinched at the waist with a single row of buttons from neck to waist. “Dey didn’t spend so much on da help now dids dey?” She giggled again.

Molly rolled her eyes but Martina was having the time of her life. She’d transformed a small bit part in an Agatha Christie play into four weeks of fun. “Did you know that some actors stay in character the whole time they’re filming movies?”

“Wha? Blood weirdos?” Martina shot back.

“Johnny Depp?” Molly asked and Martina closed her mouth. Johnny could be as weird as he wanted to be. All over her. She giggled. “I swear, you’ve got to be high on something. Now get out of here.” Molly made some notes while Martina changed back into her regular street clothes.

“I want to take the costume home and wear it while I rehearse.” Martina said, giving up the Cockney accent. Molly thought about it with a stern look on her face but just when Martina thought she’d say no Molly smiled and nodded.

“Sure Hon, just remember to keep those two top buttons undone or you’ll snap them right off.” Martina clapped her hands then stuffed the dress and lace hat into her bag. She waved goodbye and walked out of the dressing room to chaos. Everyone was moving quickly, getting ready for the big opening next weekend.

Martina reached up and pulled the tie from her ponytail. Her black hair fell free and she ran her fingers through it. She waved to Dave, the cute Lighting Manager and he waved back.

Martina had been a vivacious cheerleader in High School, popular with the girls and sought after by the guys but she’d graduated and gotten a job as a receptionist with a big time insurance firm and her life had slowed. She had consoled herself with movies as the dates dried up and her friends moved off to college, jobs or marriage. That’s when she’d made a discovery. She loved acting.

So now she was playing a maid in an Agatha Christie play for the county drama company. Despite her youth, she was only 19, the company had welcomed her with open arms and a generous helping of free acting advice.

She left the theater and felt the humidity hit her like a spongy wall. She looked up at the sky but there was none, it had been completely blocked out by a menacing dark cloud bank. She cursed her luck, she hadn’t brought a coat and she didn’t have an umbrella. Why was it going to rain?

She lived just five miles down the street and only had to make two turns to get home. She was physically fit and didn’t see the need to take a car such a short distance if she could use a bike instead but this was one of those examples of driving being the smarter if unhealthy choice.

She climbed on her bike, put her bag in the holder then started peddling. Lightning began flashing almost immediately. “Aw ‘ells Gov’na. Yur gonna pours on me, ain’cha?” She used her Cockney accent and the sky complied.

A few drops began to fall and she raced as fast as she could, the downward angle of the road helping push her along as she sped down the street. The rain drops began thicker, started falling faster until it rained so hard Martina couldn’t see the sidewalk anymore. Lightning flashed so brightly in her eyes she was blinded, a clap of thunder followed immediately, so loudly that she couldn’t hear herself scream.

This was nuts. There was no way she was going to get home in this. Her hair was plastered to her face, pushing water into her eyes as if the storm needed any help. The water was cold and she was starting to freeze. She had no choice but to get out of the storm though she was in a residential area, there were no stores to take cover in.

She’d have to go to Uncle Bob’s house. He lived two blocks away. He’d be home, it was Wednesday so canlı bahis it was poker night. He’d let her ride the storm out. She got back on her bike and made best possible speed for his house, the rain falling so hard that by the time she stopped on his driveway her clothes were weighing her down. She grabbed her bag and ran for the front door. She was so drenched she had to keep her mouth open so she could breathe through it and her hair was an unmanageable wreck.

She knocked on the door, harder than she meant to but it got Uncle Bob to the door. He took one look at her and stepped out of the way so she could rush inside. “My God girl, you’re drowning. Don’t stop there! You’re soaking my floor. Run for the bathroom and get those clothes off, you’ll find towels in the cabinet across from the shower, use as many as you need to.”

She did as he instructed, running through the living room where three other men were staring at her incredulously. All of them had beers, were smoking cigarettes or cigars and the television was on. She made it to the bathroom and shut the door. She was still dripping wet so she grabbed two towels and stepped into the shower tub.

She’d made it. She looked down to see water running in little rivulets into the drain. She knew she’d have to clean up the destruction from the front door to the bathroom but she didn’t mind, Uncle Bob had saved her. She stripped off her clothing then ran a towel over her body. She was so soaked her underwear was saturated.

She might have been brave enough to run from the bathroom to the laundry room so she could dry her clothing but she couldn’t do it naked, not with a bunch of guys in the only room between the bathroom and laundry. She tried to dry her hair out and wondered what she was going to do. She couldn’t hide in the bathroom, the guys were drinking beer, they’d need to come in here eventually.

The uniform was in her bag, the bag was leather, she stepped out of the tub and opened her bag. Sure enough, the bag was soaked but the contents were barely damp. She took her wallet out and set it aside to keep it safe then pulled the dress out. She pulled it on then buttoned up, leaving the top two buttons undone as instructed.

She could feel just how thin the material was now that she wasn’t wearing any underwear but the idea of walking around a house full of guys wearing a flimsy dress with nothing else on was kind of exciting. She was going to have to clean up her mess, she could always practice her role while she did it.

In fact, it would be pretty neat to stay in character the whole time she was here, just like Johnny Depp did during shooting. She squeezed her clothes as tightly as she could to get the excess water out then left the bathroom. She dropped her purse and wallet in a corner of the kitchen furthest away from the fridge or pantry then made her way to the laundry room. All four guys stared at her as she walked by. No one said a thing as she flipped the door open then started the machine up.

She padded barefoot over to the front door and saw the mess. There had to be a quarter of an inch of water on the floor. She sighed. “What are you all dressed up for?” One of the guys asked and she turned to smile at him.

“I’m in the Agatha Christie coming out next weekend, I play a maid. I was taking my uniform home so I could practice staying in character and now it’s the only thing that’s dry.” She explained.

“Stay in character?” Another guy asked.

“Where’s my manners. I’d like to introduce you to Joe, Samuel and Trent.” Uncle Bob said as he pointed to each of them. The first man who’d spoken was Trent, the last was Samuel. “Guys, I’d like you to meet my niece Martina.” They all said hello at once but she noticed that their eyes kept dropping to her chest. She glanced down and noticed her nipples were hard. She was still cold from being outside and without a bra there wasn’t much left to the imagination.

She wrapped her arms around her chest to hide her reaction. “Well, you know that actors become their characters when they’re on the stage?” They all nodded to her. “Staying in character is when you don’t stop when the play or filming the movie is over. It helps you get to know the character better and makes your performance more believable.” She said.

“Wow, that’s pretty dedicated.” Joe said and she smiled.

“Are you going to do that here?” Trent asked.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She shot back, the idea of doing it in front of Uncle Bob and his friends made her feel self conscious.

“Oh come on.” Uncle Bob teased. “If you’re going to be a big time actress you’re going to have to perform on cue, even if you feel embarrassed to be doing it in front of Uncle Bobby.” He pointed out.

“Uncle Bobby now?” Samuel asked.

“Shut up Sam, drink your beer.” Uncle Bob shot back. Martina grinned, he was right, this was the perfect chance to practice on a small group of guys that were on their way to getting drunk, they’d never remember how foolish she looked or sounded.

“Okay but just so bahis siteleri you know, I’ve got an accent.” She warned and the guys looked up expectantly.

“What kind of Accent?” Trent asked.


“Cockney? What’s that?” Samuel asked.

“South London basically. You’ve heard it before, it’s part of the stereotype of poor Londoners. Since I’m a main I come from the poorer section of town.” She explained.

“Well get to it, we’ve got a card game to finish.” Uncle Bob said and the guys reluctantly went back to their cards. She took another look at the mess on the floor then went back to the kitchen. She got a mop and bucket so she could soak up the water. She squeezed it out as best she could but it took time and she noticed that the guys kept glancing at her, looking at her body as she worked.

She loved the attention, she had to admit it’d been a while since she had guys eyeballing her. She wondered what they’d think if she knew she was naked underneath the flimsy dress. She smiled then saw Joe get up. “Where are you going Joe? It’s your bet!” Samuel complained.

“I’ve got to get another beer. Hold your horses.” He said as he went to the kitchen.

Uncle Bob looked at her for a minute then grinned. “No, you hold your horses, we’ve got a maid for that. Martina?” He called to her. She felt a sudden wave of panic because she hadn’t really been in character, she’d been daydreaming but now she was on the spot, it was do or die.

“Yes Sir?” She said as she stepped forward. The guys were surprised by her sudden change in attitude, she’d gone from young visitor to professional maid in a moment. She smiled inwardly when Uncle Bob didn’t react. He knew she’d be able to do it.

“Joe requires a drink, get him a beer.” Joe had stopped to look at her but now he watched as Martina came around the poker table and opened the fridge. She took out a beer and opened it for him. She threw the top away then walked back over to Joe who was still standing three feet from the kitchen, his mouth hanging open. He took the beer but continued to stand there abjectly.

“Can I gets you anythins else sir?” She asked and Joe blinked at her. It was all she could do not to burst out laughing. She loved this, seeing the reactions to her transformation. She really felt like she could pull off a career as an actor now. It would take some work and she’d have to do some studying but she could make it happen.

Joe just kept his mouth shut and sat down. Martina waited a moment then went back to the mop. There was a lot of water on the floor but now she was going to tackle it differently, she was no longer Martina the Receptionist. She was Martina the Maid. “That was amazing, such a change and so quickly. She’s got talent.” Samuel said and she felt the glow of his praise.

She pushed it down so that her pride didn’t show, she wanted nothing to mar her performance. She picked up the bucket and emptied the water then got a sponge. She needed to hurry with the cleaning, it wouldn’t do to have the house a mess with guests. She pulled her dress up to her knees and got down to soak up the water. Already she had the first difference. As a maid she had to think of Uncle Bob, of Bob rather. He was entertaining and she’d made a mess.

She cleaned up the water then emptied the bucket and washed the sponge out. “We’re going to need some chips in here Martina.” Unc…Bob said. She had to get him being her uncle out of her head. It was affecting the way she was treating him. It was breaking the reality of her character.

She retrieved the bowl from the middle of the table as all eyes followed her. She took it to the kitchen, filled it then returned, setting it down gently. “‘ere Sirs.” She said. Bob smiled at her accent. She left quickly to hide the fact she had almost hummed to herself. She was really getting into it now, the role was a part of her now and she was elated.

She cleaned up the path she’d taken to the bathroom then started cleaning up the tub. “Martina!” She heard Bob call out. She dropped what she was doing and rushed into the living room.

“Sir?” She said finally as she realized she forgot to address him. She slipped occasionally but she’d nail the role, she was determined to get it right.

“You disappeared, my guests have run out of drinks. Do you expect them to get the drinks themselves?” He asked a little harshly and she felt her face blush. “If you can’t remember to do your duties you can always be discharged.” He threatened and she moved into action.

She glanced to the table from the kitchen, everyone was drinking beer but they were all out. They were eating chips by the handful. They were chain smoking, Joe was working on a straight flush and Trent was trying to look at his cards. She got out four beers and began opening them. “You were a little harsh on her, or are you getting into the role too?” Samuel asked.

“I guess I’m getting into the part. Acting is important to her and that means it’s important to me too. Besides, I taught literature for fifteen years, bahis şirketleri remember, I know something about the time period.” He replied.

“And she’s so good looking she really makes that drab dress zing.” Joe remarked and the others laughed, including Uncle Bob. She shook her head, men, but it was nice to know they thought she looked good. She missed that.

She took the beers and began setting them down in front of each of the players. “‘Ere’s yer drinks sirs.” She said as she put the last drink down for Samuel. He was looking at his cards, a cigar in his left hand but he absently reached out with his right and rubbed her ass. She jumped with a gasp, turned where she stood and slapped him. “Sir!” She remembered to add with an exasperated tone. Samuel jumped at the slap, his face a mixture of confusion and horror.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Bob demanded loudly. Martina jumped, she’d never heard him yell angrily before. Samuel just looked at him wondering which way to go but Bob looked at Martina. Okay, fine, she’d say it.

“‘E put ‘is ‘ands on me sir.” She said. The other two looked at him but Samuel didn’t look the least bit remorseful.

“So you slapped him?” Bob asked. “If you can’t survive the idle hands of my guests Ms. Martina, you’re free to quit my service and go back to Whitechapel. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind living free from the roaming hands of gentlemen back home.” He said. Martina had done research and she knew that Whitechapel was a ghetto. The girls living there, especially the pretty ones were prostitutes.

“No sir! I’m sorry, ‘e took me by surprise is all.” She said quickly.

“I’m afraid the damage is done, there’s nothing for it.” He countered. “You’ll have to be punished.” Martina felt her face flush. Punished? She thought she was acting. Did actors get punished? Bob pushed his chair back then motioned. “Come over here.” She had to admit, what was happening did put her in a different frame of mind. She stepped over to Bob and looked down at him, her hands clasped in front of her.

Now that she was the character, her attitude had changed. Maybe that would be the difference? Maybe putting a honest day’s work in as a maid from the time period would do just the trick and give her the pop her performance needed to get noticed. “I’m sorry sir.” She said.

“We don’t go around hitting guests of the house. There’s no call for it and it will never happen again. Now over by the umbrella stand you’ll find a small whip. Bring it here.” He ordered and her eyes flew open. Bob’s face remained neutral, giving nothing away as she reached that crossroad of indecision. Did she continue playing the part or give up and cry foul? Sure Samuel had felt her up, and it hadn’t been the first time a guy grabbed her ass but was it because he was here with her trapped by the storm? Was it because she wasn’t wearing panties? What made it any different than the other times?

This whole exercise was starting to turn her on. What if she had really been a maid? What if she relied on this job and losing it meant starving or becoming whore? Would that kind of knowledge effect how she played her part? Would this put things in the right perspective?

She went to the umbrella stand and got the whip. It had a small leather cord for the wrist, it was made from twisted leather and the very tip had a flat tab of leather that would leave its mark on the skin. She looked at it for a moment then took it back to Bob. He took it from her then stood up.

“Stand here and face the wall.” He pointed and she complied. He stepped to her side then nodded to the wall. “Lean on the wall.” She felt like she was going to fall over but her hands supported her body as she leaned. “Get that butt up.” He said but she had to move her hands down the wall to get her butt high enough for him.

Bob grasped some of her dress and began lifting it. “W…” She caught herself, she’d almost spoken out of turn without the accent. “Wot are ya doin sir?” She asked and he looked into her face.

“You are going to be spanked and I’m not going to spank you through your dress. I won’t have something cushion the blow and I won’t ruin a perfectly good dress on a disobedient maid.” He said. She felt her face flush but she turned her attention back to the wall. She wanted to warn him that she wasn’t wearing and panties but the thought of her being displayed like that in front of these men and punished like that. It really turned her on.

She’s tried to warn him, she could say she tried. Now she’d let it happen and see what they did. Bob got her dress up in his left hand then put the whip against her butt with the right. “She’s not wearing underwear.” Trent remarked. She glanced to Bob out of the corner of her eyes and saw his face flush red but he didn’t drop the dress. He gathered himself then glanced down before pushing the tip of the whip across the skin of her lower back and ass.

“So it seems. Most maids wore knickers so this is surprising but punishment is punishment.” He replied. He whacked her with the whip, a small flick of the wrist and she felt the leather sting her flesh. She cried out, surprised that it could hurt so much since he hadn’t hit her very hard. He hit her again and she cried out. Bob began to hesitate.

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