When arriving at them, I have already dismissed thethought and start putting up nickers, nylons, bras and Masters'underwear. I have to stand on my toe... and stretch really long to reach upto the cloth line. 'I will ask Master to hang them lower', I say tomyself.Suddenly, I feel a hand on my ass cheek and the distinct beer breath ofColin, the gardener, in my neck. Suddenly, it dawns to me, why thosecloth lines were put up higher. I had put on a good show by stretchinghigh. The maids dress had. "My hair had been growing longer over the summer. I had planned on morethan one occasion to get it cut. Maybe into one of those super-short cutsthat left just some tiny naturally curled hair favored by some AfricanAmerican women. Call it vanity if you will, but I just couldn't bringmyself to cut my longish dark hair. It barely touched my shoulders, but itframed my face very nicely. Unfortunately, I have to admit I hadn't takenthe best care of it. It was fairly straight with just a little bit. More

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