Abigail

Abby couldn’t quite tell how she felt about the whole area of Louisiana. Her husband asked them to move here so they had an excuse to get away from the hustle and bustle of the growing states of New York and Philadelphia. They moved to the city of New Orleans and established a nice home there, not taking into account the humidity. Her husband had left for the evening to one of the other nearby cities. She couldn’t remember specifically. All she could feel was the heat! She was already cleaning up the house so it naturally made her a little hot under the collar. She loosened her dress, a rather large bit of cleavage showing but she didn’t mind. I mean the only one around was Marguerite, a close friend of hers and her indentured servant. Abigail was dusting off her husbands shelves, fixing his bed and generally fixing things up the place for when her husband returned. She was a very pretty woman, long black hair, on the slender side but certainly well endowed to be sure. Her husband often joked that her breasts were the reason he always came back home. She gave a heavy sigh and looked at her friend Marguerite.

“My husband can be such a slob,” She said closing all of the books on the table and putting them on shelves. The french woman merely laughed and continued sweeping. “I understand though. Business requires a man to be everywhere at once. Still… Could stand to be a bit neater.” Marguerite still hadn’t spoken, focused on her work. “Are Men this filthy in Africa?” She inquired. The French maid shrugged and continued on before seeing Abigail look at her in ernest.

“Oh! You’re serious.” Abigail nodded.

“Of course! I’ve always wanted to visit the strange land of Africa! What is it like there? Are the people nice?” Surely this was a joke. Marguerite had a french accent, regularly spoke french and had known Abigail for two years now. No way she thought that this girl was from Africa.

“Madame, je ne viens pas d'Afrique. Je viens de France. Rappelles toi?(Ma’am, I am not from Africa. I am from France. Remember?)” She said, purposely speaking french in the effort she would get it. And luckily she did. The look of absolute embarrassment on her face was almost funny if Marguerite wasn’t so annoyed.

“I am so so sorry! I… I don’t know what… I mean your skin tone it’s… Certainly you could fit the part of an African woman.” The French woman looked at her with an unamused face and Abigail apologized again. “No wait. That’s not what I meant! I just meant you uh… You’re mother was African was she not? You look like just like her! You’re both very beautiful and-”

“Madame your clothes. They are so dirty.” Marguerite just wanted her friend to shut up. She loved her the more she rambled on, the less intelligent she became. Just a slow descent into annoyance and right now she was at the lowest peak. She always had her discreetly punished with something silly like telling an embarrassing story to others during a party or convincing her that in France the women were topless all the time and that if she really admired French culture, she should do it too. It worked several times. Abigail looked down at her clothes and dusted them off, the stains and marking staying in place.

“Oh they are. Maybe I should get them washed. We are done aren’t we?” Marguerite nodded and walked behind her friend, unbuttoning her blouse while Abigail blushed and covered her chest before the shirt even came off. “Wait wait I uh… I forgot to... Well this morning I was really warm and I didn’t put on any undergarments.” She heard a small laugh behind her and looked back to see her friend giggling up a storm. “Hey come on! I’m not used to this heat alright! I don’t know how you can stand it.”

“Oh it’s… no worries. We do that often here anyway.” Marguerite lied. Abigail was still apprehensive. She had nothing else to wear at home so without these clothes, she would be completely nude for most of the day until laundry was done. She couldn’t do that! Or… maybe she could. Would be a nice feeling I’m sure. Feel the warm air on her bare skin. But what if someone saw her? She’d be known as the New Orleans nudist! What a horrible reputation! Should she just stay in the dirty clothes and wait for a fresh pair or just let Marguerite do it?