"Amy Shines"

By J Thomas

Amy picked up a copy of Vague and sat down on the soft sofa. With a sigh of

relaxation she stretched her feet out on the coffee table she would

eventually have to polish.. Her short, black skirt rode up on her firm

thighs revealing a hint of the tops of her sheer black stockings.

Amy still found it arcaic that the mistress of the house required the

servants to dress in classic French maid style. As far as Amy knew, the

mistress was not a lesbian or anything like that so it made no real sense to

have young ladies parading around in ruffled panties, short dresses and sheer

black hose.

"The rich are really not like me," Amy thought as she thumbed through the

magazine.

Miss Wilson, the head maid and Amy's immediate superior, had gone off to

market so Amy had a few minutes to kill. The work was not demanding and Amy

had found it easy to take an occasional break. That was especially true when

Miss Wilson was away. Amy had heard two of the kitchen girls talk about Miss

Wilson's punishing one of the staff in a most peculiar manner but Miss Wilson

had never been anything but polite and most kind to Amy.

As she sat, engrossed in the magazine, Amy did not hear Miss Wilson come up

behind her. Miss Wilson had forgotten her list. She never did the shopping

with out her list and she had not gone very far when she missed having it.

When she had returned to the house she had caught a glimpse of a white cap

peeking up over the couch in the library.

She crept silently into the room and was astonished by what she saw. Amy,

the young parlor maid, had her feet up on the coffee table and was reading

the mistress's magazine.

"Amy of all people," Miss Wilson sighed to herself, "well, I can't play

favorites."

Miss Wilson reached into the pocket of her dress and withdrew a short piece

of red, velvet cord. She always kept the cord on her person for occasions

such as this one. The cord was silently wrapped around her palms. As she

stepped up behind the young servant, Miss Wilson stretched the velvet rope

out between her hands.

A shadow passed in front of Amy's face and then something was constricting

her neck. Her hands went up and her fingers encountered a soft cord at her

throat. The cord may have felt soft to the touch but it was now biting

cruelly into Amy's throat.

"Can't breath," Amy thought with horror, "I'm being strangled."

Her high-heeled pumps clattered briefly on the glass table top before her

legs pulled up then dropped down onto the carpet below. Amy's heels dug into

the carpet as she pushed herself up in an effort to relieve the terrible

pressure around her throat. She quickly began to struggle against the

growing pressure the strangulation. Her hands were tugging futilely at the

velvet cord that was being held so tight around her slender neck.

Miss Wilson kept the cord as tight as she could as she watched Amy struggle.

There were no sounds now except for Amy's quiet gasps and Miss Wilson's own

labored breathing. Strangling a young woman was not an easy task. Miss

Wilson even felt a drop of perspiration on the side of her cheek as she

strangled poor Amy.

Then Amy's right arm had dropped down onto the couch at her side. Her ankles

turned out and there was a visiblt relaxing of the muscles in her lovely

legs. The fingers of her left hand still clutched the red rope but her arm

lay limply on her chest.

Miss Wilson released the cord and Amy slumped over on the couch.

Amy awoke with a groan. She was quite alone in the library. Her head was

pounding and her throat was sore. It even hurt to swallow.

'Whaaa..." Amy tried to speak and only croaked a partial word as she began to

rub her tender neck.

Then she remembered being strangled with a rope from behind. A tear ran down

Amy's cheek as she remembered the pain of her recent strangulation.

"Must have passed out," Amy thought to herself, " and he thought I was dead."

She was suddenly frightened and looked around wildly to see if her attacker

was still there but she was now quite alone in the library. Amy suspected an

intruder had attacked her. She started to get up to warn the other girls

when she saw the note. It lay on the coffee table on top of the copy of

Vogue that she had been reading when she was attacked.

With trembling fingers Amy picked up the hand written note.

"I enjoyed this little experience and I hope you did too. Perhaps you will

let me catch you again sometime. As for now, get hopping and polish the

coffee table. Also the carpet in front of the couch should be given a good

fluffing and vacuuming."

The note was not signed but Amy recognized the handwriting. She got her

polishing rag and hurriedly began to put a bright shine the coffee table.