Nellie's very first job was that of an au pair in Paris. She got this job with a French family through an employment agency who found British girls who wanted to learn the French language and who would work their asses off for French families doing everything from taking care of the brats, to housecleaning, doing the shopping, a veritable slave for only a little money, a small room and leftovers from the family table.
Many au pairs are also expected to either fuck the stupid, often very dull, bourgeois (middle-class) husbands on their one day a week day-off, or climb in bed with the bored wife on rainy afternoons after taking the brats to school, or to their grandmothers.
Nellie lasted just long enough on her first job to pay back the agency in London for the privilege of suffering, half starving to death in a lonely, unfriendly foreign country.
Although she tried, she could make no friends. The other au pair girls,*also British, or Scottish, or Swedish, Norwegian, German, et cetera, she just did not get along with.
She found most of them to be pretty stupid and not at all attractive. None of them were particularly interested in her story. And definitely, Nellie was not interested in theirs. Few spoke English she could understand and this was a further barrier to any kind of understanding that might have promised some kind of a decent on-going relationship with another girl.
Finally, in the International Herald Tribune, the English-language newspaper in Paris, she saw an ad for a female house servant willing to travel. She dialed the number, was referred by the person who answered it. In a day or so, she was flown to Nice.
It was here she met Mrs. Melissa Staunton; and the two got along beautifully right from the very beginning.
Melissa took Nellie to the chateau in the long, sleek black limousine with Maurice driving. Nellie from London was very much impressed indeed. So much impressed, in fact, that she cried.
"What's the matter, dear?" asked Melissa. They were sitting in the rear of the luxurious car as Maurice was waiting for a spot to drop them off at one of the most expensive and exclusive boutiques on the Promenade des Anglais in Nice.
"Nothing, nothing, really."
Melissa put her hand on the girl's knee. "Is it that you're homesick, Nellie? Maybe we should go find an English place and have a drink or something? What do you say?"
Nellie couldn't believe her ears. To begin with, the first time she saw Mrs. Staunton, she couldn't believe she was so lucky. God, Mrs. Staunton was lovely. A middle-aged woman with remarkably good looking features, a face with no wrinkles, twinkling eyes and a lovely lithe body, expensively dressed and quite obviously, very wealthy.
Nellie was impressed with the chateau, the chauffer and his uniform, the woman at the chateau, a certain Madame Andre and with George, the man about the house who took care of just about everything.
After the drinks in the English Pup in downtown Nice where Nellie had time to catch her breath, for the first time in a long time hearing her own native language spoken, seeing familiar signs in English, recognizing British beers and whiskeys, et cetera, the Cockney girl began to relax and at the same time, with Melissa sitting next to her, began to understand that her life was changing dramatically, and obviously for the better.
And after an afternoon of shopping where people were so courteous, pleasant and attractive, driving back in the limousine was utter heaven.
That first night in her own room in the chateau, Nellie cried herself to sleep.
As the days passed and Nellie grew accustomed to the lace, to her work, which, was very light and not at all demanding, and eventually to the strangeness between Madame Andre and the mysterious George whom she found fascinating for reasons she couldn't put her finger on, Nellie realized that happiness was to be hers.
When Mrs. Staunton began taking Nellie with her on other excursions, not only shopping but to cafe meetings with her friends where Nellie, all dressed up in new clothing she couldn't believe, sat quietly while Melissa chatted the afternoons away, the English girl found herself falling madly in love with Melissa.
There were many afternoons, endless mornings, and especially evenings when Mrs. Staunton's, "Nellie, I won't be needing you today, or whatever, darling," would hurt her deeply.
It wasn't that Madame Andre pushed her around in terms of doing work in the house. All she had to do was mostly care for Melissa's apartment, Melissa's things, clothing, makeup, et cetera, her huge collection of shoes, negligees, robes, gowns, and especially her lingerie.
Everything Melissa wore, including her panties, naturally, her silken nylons, her brassieres, had to be washed by hand.
Nellie did this chore lovingly. She loved it. Before washing some flimsy article, she would rub it all over her face, sometimes, rubbing Melissa's panties over her naked breasts, sometimes between her open thighs, over her wet cunt.
She would lick and sniff Melissa's high heels, her slippers, and especially her brassieres, panties and other intimate articles that touched Melissa's delicious nakedness, for example, the short chemise.
So it happened one afternoon that Nellie was doing this personal washing. She usually took the articles of clothing Melissa wore up into her own room to wash them. Here she was certain no one like Madame Andre or George, and certainly never Maurice, would interrupt her or invade her privacy.
That was another thing that differed so vastly from the aupair job with the bourgeois family in Paris. There she had no privacy at all. If it wasn't the brats in her small room, it was the wife, the husband, the delivery boy, the wife's relatives, the husband's children from a previous marriage.
In the chateau outside of Cannes, Nellie had so much privacy she couldn't believe it. And she loved it, she loved the attitude these people had about privacy.
Nude, wearing only a pair of high heeled bedroom slippers that Melissa had insisted on buying for her when Nellie had admired them in one of the boutique windows, her long hair down to her waist, her face not made up the way she liked it, in other words, perfectly natural, came a light tapping at her door.
She turned her head. Now who could that be? It most assuredly was not Madame Andre, George or Maurice. Who else was there?
Grabbing a thin robe she wore when no one else was around because she would have died of embarrassment being seen in it, this remnant from back in England, an item of clothing to which she was very attached for sentimental reasons and would not part with in exchange for diamonds, the 'tweenie' hurried to the door.
"Yes?" she asked, in her usual breathless voice, "who is it, please?"
"Melissa," came the reply.
Nellie could have dropped dead, as the saying goes.
"Nellie," said Melissa Staunton in a soft voice, "am I disturbing you?"
Nellie didn't know what to do. Finally, gathering herself together, she said, "Mrs. Staunton, I can be down in seconds. I'm indisposed."
"I understand, dear," said Melissa, "it's only that I wanted to know if you had that pair of lavender panties I left for you to rinse out? Do you, my dear?"
Nellie found herself blushing. Only minutes earlier, she'd been rubbing them all over her cunt and then rubbing them in her armpits, then sucking on the crotch, taking almost all of the thin, whispy, gossamer panties into her mouth before sticking them up inside her cunt, then having planned to masturbate with the lavender panties up there before sitting on her private toilet and quietly peeing while the precious panties remained inside.
"Yes, I do," said Nellie, "but they're not quite ready yet, Mrs. Staunton."
"Darling," said Melissa, "I know you're occupied, so why don't you just hand them to me and I'll rinse them out myself and they'll dry quickly," she said.
What should she do?
"They're dripping wet, Mrs. Staunton," said Nellie. "They're in the wash," she added, falling into their natural Cockney accent.
"Well, look, dear, just go get them and wring the poor things out and hand them to me, will you?"
Melissa sounded just a bit impatient.
"Yes, M'mam," Nellie breathed. "One moment, please, Mrs. Staunton."
In a flash, Nellie ran with the panties into the bathroom. There was no time to turn on the water in the sink. So she drowned the poor lavender panties in the toilet bowl, then rinsed them out with warm water from the bidet.
Tucking them into a towel, she ran back to the door. She opened it There was Melissa. She was sitting disconsolately on a small chair facing Nellie's door. She was barefoot. Her long hair was down. She wore a short wrapper around her body and she was naked under it. Upon opening the door, Nellie had a glimpse of Melissa's hairy crotch, her naked breasts.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Staunton."
Melissa looked up. She frowned. "Darling," she said, looking at the old robe Nellie was wearing, so worn, so sad looking no matter how friendly it was to Nellie, it looked more like some rag the dog would drag in.
"Nellie, where in heaven's name did you get that?"
Instantly, Nellie broke out into hot tears.
"It's my favorite," she blurted out, sobbing. "It's from home."
Melissa controlled herself. "Of course, I understand now," she said. "Dry your tears, little one," Mrs. Staunton added. "I understand, and I'm sorry."
Nellie said nothing. She just held out the towel with the precious lavender panties dripping inside the folds.
Melissa held out her arms to Nellie and in seconds the young British girl feel into them, old worn robe and all the new high heeled bedroom slippers and nothing else, this topped off with her long hair hanging down to her waist, her lovely breasts fully exposed, even her pussy hair all tangled and matted and more, her beautiful young body smothered in hot sweat from,her masturbation.
"May I come in, honey?" Melissa asked.
Nellie fell to her knees, embracing Melissa around her naked thighs. She buried her face into Melissa's naked belly. Soon she was sobbing, hot tears wetting Melissa's pussy hairs as the trembling girl, crying her heart out, began kissing the older woman, her fingers in back groping, clutching, caressing and stroking Melissa's naked buttocks, hugging Melissa's groin to her face.
Nellie finally got the courage to glance up. She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. She climbed to her feet and as she did this, Mrs. Staunton folded the shivering girl into her arms…