You're going to Bella's, rude or not!

It seemed that Bella had a dream in progress. You were getting used to the fact that 'by default' you'd shift to fit into a dream, just like you were growing more comfortable with your ability to override those dreams. In this case, you found you were wearing 19th century attire -- something casual for the young gentry -- coat and trousers, good shirt, ascot, boots...

As you stepped in, you noticed the Tiffany bracelet -- you paused, shaking your head at the unexpected pun -- shimmer, and she was standing next to you. However, just as you'd been 'set' to fit Bella's 19th century romance dreams, so too was Tiffany. In her case, she was in a maid's uniform -- tailored in a 19th century style, black with white accents and black hose, a small ruff hat on her now pinned-up hair -- which was still the brown from before. That said, though it was a 19th century style, it owed more than a little to 21st century tastes, at least when one considered 'maid' to mean more than someone who dusted. The clothes were tailored to conform, the train on the dress as short as her cheerleading skirt, and pleated similarly. The effect was more or less a maid's minidress.

You were outdoors in an estate's 'garden,' which was a British way of saying 'backyard,' but in this case it fit -- there were well tended flowers everywhere, and it was warm like summer. 'Warm' described the sunlight, too -- the whole thing seemed just a bit oversaturated. Still, it was nice.

"I must say, if y'asked me what Miss Cardigan would want for a workplace, I'd think this would be her first choice," Tiffany said, looking around slightly wide-eyed.

You paused, turning to stare at Tiffany. Her voice had... an accent. And she seemed entirely comfortable using it.

She grew a touch less comfortable. "Sir?" she asked. "Did I speak out'a turn?" She flushed a bit. It looked adorable.

"No, that's fine, Tiffany," you said, which made her smile. Bro-John was right, it seemed. Since Tiffany couldn't influence Bella the way you could, she had to conform more closely to Bella's dream when she appeared here. "What position does Miss Cardigan have here, again?"

Tiffany blinked, innocently. "Why, Governess," she said. "She tutors and cares for the children, a'course. Hired by your father, though we've not seen him in some time."

"Father's almost never around," you murmured absently. "Don't worry about him." You noticed your voice was just as 'British' as Tiffany's -- honestly paying more attention to that than your words. You wanted to make sure you'd have plenty of time with Bella and Tiffany -- both to work through the dream as Bella had it and to make sure they knew what they needed to know -- and do. So where...

Ah! There. On the mantlepiece. There was a small clock with spinning brass gears. Walking over to it, you saw a key. You carefully tried it both ways. Turning it to the left seemed to slow the second hand down. Getting it to about the right rate of speed, you nodded and turned back to Tiffany. "Well," you said. "Let us go find this Governness, shall we?"

Tiffany smiled, a bit saucily. "As you'd like, sir," she said, comfortably.

You took the maid's arm and started walking on the garden path, looking around. There were flowers drifting through the air and a smell like... jasmine? Did they have jasmine in Britain in the 19th century? You decided you didn't care.

Bella wasn't hard to find. She was in a dress with built in bodice, low cut, perhaps but it otherwise fit the scene. It was a 'dusty rose' color, not unlike the teddy she'd described to you on the phone, with black ribbons and accents. Her raven hair was done up and tied back with a matching rose ribbon, and she wore bronze wire rim glasses, which she peered over as you and Tiffany approach her. She shifted on the garden bench she was sitting on, but didn't stand. She did cock her head, slightly. "Tiffany," she said, a slight edge to her voice. "Are you distracting our Mister Doe, then? He's got more to do than have his head turned by a pretty servant."

"You think I'm pretty, then?" Tiffany asked, innocently, her smile perhaps... less innocent.

"I'd think I could spend time with who I chose," you said to Bella, idly. "Though I admit, your beauty most often makes me choose you, Bella."

Bella's cheeks pinkened, and she adjusted her collar slightly, looking away in mild embarrassment. "Mister Doe... I should think 'Miss Cardigan' more appropriate when we are around the servants, yes?" You had to smile -- it was an echo of Bella's firm persona at school -- but turned around to give John the authority, since that's what her dream suggested.

"I think at this point..." you reach over, touching her chin and lifting it, looking into her eyes, "...I decide what's appropriate when I'm talking to a servant... or a governess."

"...Mister Doe--"

"John," you said, softly but firmly.

"...yes. Yes of course... John. I..." She looked around, blushing more, a small smile on her face. "Anyone could happen by, and see us..."

"I do believe you're right." You smiled a bit more, then looked back at Tiffany. "Did you hear that, Tiffany. Anyone could happen by... and see us..."

Tiffany's own cheeks grew brighter red, but she didn't look unhappy. You saw hints of her nipples even though the maid's clothing. "You're ever so right, sir," she said, touching her tongue to her lips. You had to smile -- you were in Bella's dream, which meant her 'romantic seduction' fetish was in full bloom, with perhaps a hint more submissiveness than normal... but Tiffany's biggest kink was exhibitionism... and being able to play that aspect up made your girlfriend (Girlfriend!) happy indeed.

"Since our Miss Cardigan is concerned that someone might overhear her use my name, I think it makes sense to give those onlookers something else to look-upon, don't you?" You walked slowly around Tiffany, who giggled slightly.

Bella's eyes grew wider. "Sir-- John..."

Touching Tiffany's neck from behind, you pulled the lace of her uniform, untying it. You loosened the lace, and stepped back... the uniform sliding to the garden path...

Regardless of what a maid should have had under her clothing, in this fantasy Tiffany had nothing at all to speak of beneath her clothes -- black stockings that stayed up on their own, her heels, a black choker at her neck and the ruff hat on her head... those, a smile, and a slightly arched pose were all Tiffany had on.

Bella's eyes were wide with shock. Her cheeks were bright pink now. "I... John... we can't... you can't possibly--"

"Bella," you said, your voice lulling in its cadence... "I understand that when you are in charge of your duty, or at the school--" She wasn't a school teacher in the dream, but reinforcing a bit of reality would help "--you, Tiffany, and I all need to maintain our decorum." You threw Tiffany's name in there, adding the subliminal emphasis so that Tiffany wouldn't accidentally out Bella at school. "However, even out here... when it's just us..." You walked towards Bella. "You should be prepared..." You reached out to Bella, carefully tracing her chin with your finger... then slipping your hand down to her neckline... and pulling her lace tie open and loose. "...to indulge a few more... liberties."

Bella's eyes were even wider now. "John," she murmured. "This... is... entirely improper..." She was smiling, though -- just a bit.

"Oh, entirely," you said, shifting your hands to Bella's waist, and lifting her up off the bench, turning her towards Tiffany and setting her on her feet. "Tiffany, I think Bella could use a hand, don't you?"

"Oh, of course, sir," she said with a giggle. Tiffany moved behind Bella, sliding her hands around Bella's torso, and began unlacing her dress from behind. Bella tried to move or at least turn to look at Tiffany, but you touched her face with your hand again, keeping her eyes on you.

"That's the thing about being entirely improper," you said to Bella, even as Tiffany expertly slid the dress off the woman. Apparently being a maid in a dream meant actually knowing how to do the things maids did. Assuming Tiffany didn't know how to undress a woman in clothes like this from theater or cosplay or just... knowing about clothes. You actually had no idea. "It's ever so much easier when you have trusted confederates. And we do. Right? Bella? Tiffany? You both trust me... and you both know you can trust each other... and you are both worthy of that trust. Right?"

"Right," the two women murmured in unison. All right then. Subliminals were go.

You felt odd for a second -- your time with Traci had underscored that no matter what you'd been told, what you were doing wasn't exactly kosher. It sounded like psychotopologists might slip into dreams and even have themselves a good old time, but you had to imagine subliminals broke some kind of code. At the same time, they'd both already had some conditioning done -- right now you had to protect them from accidentally hurting themselves or each other by hitting a conditioned response. You didn't want Bella to be the next person in the hospital because you did something clumsily.

You stepped back, then... even as Tiffany stepped away, too, Bella's dress folded in her hands. She turned and set it aside. Where? It didn't matter. It effectively stopped existing.

You didn't care. You were too busy staring.

Just like Bella had said... she was wearing a rose colored lace teddy, so tight it could have been woven in place. Those and stockings, heels, her hair up, those glasses still perched on her nose... her nipples clearly poking into the lace, and moisture visible down near the teddy's crotch even from where you were standing. She was biting her lip, slightly, and intentionally or not slipped her arms behind herself, tucked one leg, knee bent, against the other, hooded her eyes, and posed.

"...Jesus," Tiffany whispered.

You had to agree.