Confessions of a naughty maid

With my three A-Level passes and considering the fact that I consider myself a classy person, being a housemaid was the last thing I would have considered. I considered myself a classy person because I had tried to escape the clutches of poverty by getting an education and none of the boys who spend the day basking in the sun, begging for marijuana and beer money knew the colour of my panties. But it seemed my gallant efforts were not enough as my aunt crudely pointed out.

“No one is willing to pay your university tuition fees and you are not getting any younger. What are you waiting for? To be impregnated by those boys who do nothing but beg for alcohol money?”

I had turned down the housekeeping job my aunt had found me in Burnside suburb and she was not impressed. She was my father’s young sister and she was a hairdresser. My father’s young sister; the father I never knew. I needed the money and anyway, what were the chances of someone from Mzilikazi suburb, where I had grown up, would ever see me in my maid’s uniform. I had been doing nothing for two years. So I packed my bags and reluctantly moved to Burnside.

            I will not attempt to justify naughty behaviour. But as I narrate my story, it will seem as if I am trying to justify my behaviour. But the story has to be told as it happened and the circumstances leading to my naughty behaviour were extraordinary, but no one forced me to do anything and I had the choice to step back and preserve my dignity. I met Liz at greens supermarket at one o'clock as agreed and she asked me to help me shop.

“I am Elizabeth Chakanyuka, but you can call me Liz.”

She was a true madam. She could have been light in complexion or her lightness could have been as a result of skin lightening creams; it was hard to tell. She had on a short green dress and her nails were tastefully done; beige artificial nails with a faint pink highlight.

            She filled her shopping basket with prunes, lentils, mushrooms and some other strange food items. I had never seen most of the things, but I was eager to learn quickly and read the labels as quickly as I could. But it seemed I had to learn much more than the names as the taste of the strange food got me wondering why anyone would think celery is food.

            She got the security guard at Greens supermarket to carry her groceries. He dutifully did so and carefully placed it on the back seat of the car. She silently told me to sit in the passenger seat at the front when I tried to get into the back seat. She got in, pulled up her dress and expertly reversed out of the parking lot. As I stole furtive glances at her exposed thighs all the way to her panties, I wondered why anyone would be comfortable with such kind of public nudity. 

            Their place was huge and my bedroom was huge with its own LCD television and full set of furniture. I wouldn’t have dreamt of having such a huge bedroom to myself even in my wildest dreams.

“You can’t stay in the cottage when we have this big house all to ourselves.”

I met Martin in the evening. I was strictly forbidden from calling him Mr Chakanyuka as I had been brought up to address married men. He was very proud of his wife. They didn’t have any children.

“Do you know she is thirty?”

I was genuinely shocked. She didn’t look a day above twenty one.

“And she is the CEO of AfBank.” He smiled the smile that became my downfall and pulled his wife closer to him. And they kissed. Not just a quick kiss, but a long French kiss. Perhaps the wine was getting to his head. As I realised during my stay with the Chakanyukas, it wasn’t the wine or any other intoxicating substances: They were deeply in love with each other and they displayed their affection publicly. As we watched television, she would slide her leg over his lap and he would caress her naked thigh. If I hadn't been raised by a single mother (scourge of many uncles) I would have been terribly embarrassed and would have taken to watching television in my room. But in spite of my being comfortable with their public display of affection, the whole experience made me aware of feelings I did not know I had. And their nightly copulation became sheer torture. I took to watching them; they slept with their door slightly open.

            Martin was a forty year old who jogged ten kilometres every morning and it showed. He owned a construction company. Liz did aerobics and again it showed. She also did yoga and I joined her in both activities. I joined her in her weekly trips to the beauty parlour. I became more and more detached from my own people. I had a laptop I actually used and now could swear by Black Opal products. I had felt the Chakanyukas did not need a maid when I first arrived at their place and I still maintained that opinion.

            I slept with Martin six months after my arrival. It was not unusual for me to be alone with Martin in the house or to be alone with Liz. On this particular day, I was alone with Martin and we were watching television. At around eleven, which was the time everyone usually went to bed, he stood up, came to where I was seated and pulled me to my feet. We kissed; he pushed his hand under my skirt and carried me to my bedroom. I lost my virginity at age twenty one and it was a mind blowing experience.

            Over the next month we made love about twenty times and sometimes as Liz slept in the main bedroom. And the next month I missed my period.

A year later, I was on my way to University and Liz was happily looking after my child – with help of a nanny of course.