Choose a Handmaid

"I'm not sure I need a servant," you say, "but I'd rather have a woman than a man, I think."

"I'll have one sent right up," Maizer said, heading for the door. "Please, make yourself comfortable. If you need anything, just ask. Your handmaid will see to all of your needs. Rest well--tomorrow will be a busy day. Perhaps you would join me for breakfast so we can discuss your duties?"

"That sounds like a good idea," you say, still gawking at the finery of the bedroom. A huge wardrobe stands against one wall, and a window fills another, stretching from floor to ceiling, with heavy purple drapes. There is even a fireplace, though it's a warm autumn night and the fire is laid, but not lit. The carpet is as deep and soft as spring grass as you walk further into the room. An open doorway catches your eye, and you peer into a private bathroom that gleams with silver and marble, with thick ivory towels on a shelf and a bath tub larger than the water trough for your cattle back home. There's a tray of soaps and oils and perfumes, filling their air with a myriad of pleasing scents. A bath sounds wonderful, but you're so tired, there's a good chance you'd fall asleep and drown. Maybe in the morning.

A sound from the bedroom draws your attention and you emerge from the bathroom to find two women standing just inside the door. Both are dressed smartly in crisp uniforms of pale blue trimmed with silver and black. One is older than you, a voluptuous woman with dark hair and an air of confidence. The other is younger, cute in a girl-next-door kind of way, and she shifts nervously, her gaze darting around the room rather than look at you.

"Steward Maizer said you need a handmaid, sir," the older one says. "He thought you might like to choose between us."

"Oh," you say, looking back and forth between the two women. "Um..."