"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.