All Alex could do was stand there. How was this happening? Was he still sleep? There was no way this was real, how could it be. Here he was, completely made up as, well, a maid. Worst of all, he looked good, fantastic even. This was so wrong.
Slowly, Alex tried to figure out what to do but nothing was coming to mind. How could he? His eyes scanned the room while he absentmindedly touched his dress. His eyes feel onto the messy bed and his body went rigid. His stance shifted back to a feminine pose and he minced over. Expertly, he made the bed, leaving it without a single wrinkle. After finishing with the bed, his body forced him back to the closet. There his hand reached out and grabbed an old fashioned feather duster. Spinning on his heel, Alex turned and walked right out the maid's quarters, closing the door behind him.
As he walked down the hall, duster in hand, he was petrified that someone might see him. He would never be able to explain what was happening. WHAT WAS GOING ON! The halls were completely silent except for the echoing of his heels on the floor. Every so often he would stop and begin dusting a picture frame or a banister or something else. |