About two weeks ago, I had the pleasure of enjoying champagne and afternoon tea at Claridges. And of course, I did it with a naughty twist.
I am sure you have all heard of this exclusive establishment, but if you haven't, this is for you.
Mistress Max contacted me some time ago to tell me about a wonderful sub she has, we shall call him Parker. Parker likes to play chauffeur, butler, manservant, and plays them to perfection. He even has a uniform, complete with cap and gloves. Mistress Max had arranged for us to have afternoon tea at Claridges with another domina. Parker would be there to stand to attention, and serve us where necessary. Afterwards, he would chauffeur us to the theatre to see a performance of Alls Well That Ends Well.
How can you resist an offer like that?
Unfortunately, when the day came, Parker contacted me to inform me that "Madame" i.e. Max, had had a personal situation, and would not be able to make it. Neither would the other mistress. He said that Max advised that I either invite some other friends, or Parker could chaperone me.
I was having a sad day that day, and I thought that meeting someone new and keeping things small and quiet would be a good idea. Besides, Parker was so well spoken, so respectful, and so polite that I thought he would be charming company. I said that I would like him to attend tea with me.
I chose to wear one of my favourite little jackets. It looks like it has just been lifted from an old American cheescake pin-up poster. Blue with little stars on like the flag, nipped in at the waist, and with a sweetheart neackline. It is lined with red and white stripes, but you can't see them when you wear it. I paired it with my tight little dark denim pencil skirt, with fishtail at the back, seamed stockings, and peep-toe heels.
I arrived to find Parker in his uniform, waiting in the foyer of Claridges. He was an older gentleman, maybe in his late 50s, and as charming as I imagined. He escorted me to the table, and waited until I was seated before he sat down. Conversation flowed very easily between us, and told me he was not used to being allowed to sit and eat. He said that I was very different to "Madame", and a lot more tolerant. I was amused by this. I said that men are often deceived by a smile and gentle tone.
Parker suggested that we order champagne tea, and I told him that he should remove his hat.
And so I had my favourite Assam tea, little sandwiches, a selection of beautiful desserts, and clotted cream scones. As we savoured these delights, a woman played a harp in the background.
When we had finished, we had some hours to kill. I was so enjoying being called "Madame", and was developing a taste for being waited on with such style. I said that I wanted to go shopping, and that Parker could carry my bags. There was just one problem. We were in a very exclusive part of town, and Maisie is poor as a church-mouse. There was only one thing I could do. I instructed Parker to take me to Top Shop on Oxford Circus. You shut your yaps, it's common knowledge that many celebrities happen to frequent it.
I strode in, rabid foam leaking from my mouth at the mere thought of new shoes, and hotly pursued by a posh man in a posh uniform, complete with hat and gloves. With a veritable gallop, we made our way to the Shoe Lounge. I began selecting shoes and handing them to Parker, so that he could find an assistant to get my correct size. From my seat, I tried more shoes on, and pointed to others that I liked, which Parker dutifully fetched. I noticed that the shop assistants were becoming more and more helpful, and ignoring other customers. And then a man with a walkie-talkie ran over to us, looked at me and said, "Madame, I think you'd be happier in our VIP Lounge." I did the only thing I could. I said "Absolutely!" And so were escorted to better climes.
I guess they thought I was someone rich, or someone famous. Who knows. Parker whispered congratulations in my ear at how convincing I was.
In the VIP Lounge, a team of women listened to the sorts of things I liked, before rushing off and bringing back armfuls of stuff to hang on my rail. As I drew the curtain, I thought "Fuck, if I don't buy something, I am going to look like an utter cock." I also cringed because in the lounge outside, I heard an assitant tell parker that he could take a seat, and I heard him reply by saying that he was not allowed to. "Great," I said to myself, "Now they think I'm a right bitch."
Eventually, they brought me a beautiful dress from their vintage section. It is a very convincing 1940s style day-dress. I think it must have been cut from an original pattern. It has slightly padded shoulders, and is black with beautiful flowers of pink, blue, and yellow. I can't wait to wear it out. There are a couple of 1940s nights in town that I know of, but I need to find a man I can convince to dress accordingly, and act the part. As you can tell, I bought the dress. How could I not?
With the shopping done, we had just enough time to get to the theatre. The show was quite good and the stage-design was wonderful. Unfortunately, the women usually cast as Shakespearean leads often seem to have the most annoying voices on the planet. This was no exception.
A good day indeed. Just what the doctor ordered.