Michele read the posting again, which she had snipped from the newspaper nearly a week ago:

"Looking for a young lady to perform maid services for a well-to-do lady and her two daughters. This is a live-in position for the summer, perhaps longer. Being able to follow simple commands is a must. -Ms. Merrick."

Everyone knew who Ms. Merrick was. She was practically a legend. "The lady on the hill," as she was sometimes referred to, as she rarely strayed from her monolithic estate at the edge of town, her mansion built on the hilly area of the property.

But what fascinated everyone wasn't her apparent wealth. Of course, when people hear about a woman with money, they look for the great man she's attached to. Not so with Ms. Merrick. She never allowed a man to call himself her husband. Never gave up her family name. The fact that she had two daughters always raised some eyebrows, but Ms. Merrick seemed immune to media penetration. Very little was known about her history other than she was something of a brilliant scientist who used to partner with an Egyptian archeologist, but after he disappeared and Ms. Merrick wouldn't talk about him, the media got bored. All that ever made it into papers these days was a shot of the lady of the manor jogging, as she did often.

Michele carefully folded the ad up and put it in her jacket pocket. She needed this job, she really did. It was hard trying to get through college when "dad" meant whoever her mother was sleeping with that week and "mom" was more of an abstract concept. The woman who drank heavily, tended to scream more than talk, and humiliated Michele as much as she could was a poor replacement for what Michele imagined a mother must really be. And then there was...

...Well, something Michele didn't even want to think about.

She realized her hands were balled into fists and that she was staring hard at the floor. She looked around briefly, her mouth open slightly in surprise, and then composed herself. She was sitting at the back of a bus, taking it all the way to the end of the line. As close as public transport could get her. She didn't have the money for a cab, and she hadn't seen her mother nor their only car for nearly two days. After that, it was about a three mile walk to the edge of Ms. Merrick's estate.

Michele wiped sweat from her brow and looked out the windows of the bus, the buildings getting smaller and smaller it seemed the farther they got to outlying areas of town. She watched things slow down, feeling the bus apply it's brakes. One more stop, she thought, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap.

"Hello, Ms. Bianca." The old bus driver said amiably up front. "Need help with your bike?"

"Oh, no thank you Henry. I'll just sit in the back."

Michele bit her lower lip and peeked over the seats at the woman who just boarded the bus. She looked to be about Michele's age, in her early 20s, though when she smiled at the driver her face took on a younger charm. Bianca had full, wavy brown hair which spilled down a bit past her shoulders, wearing a yellow sleeveless shirt with a print on it that only hung off one shoulder and a jean micro-skirt that really showed off her long, long legs. Her flip-flops slapped against her soles as she guided her bike down the narrow aisle, and Michele tucked her lower lip between her teeth at the sound.

Bianca's eyes drifted over the seats and locked onto Michele's, causing the timid girl to gasp and shrink back into her seat, looking out the window. She felt a little bead of sweat form on her forehead and quickly wiped it off as she listened to the clicking wheels and slapping sandals coming all the way back to her row. She bit her lip a little harder and closed her eyes as she heard Bianca sink into the seat across the aisle from her with a little sigh.

Michele snuck a look at the woman. She was so gorgeous! Darker eyebrows and a cute, rounded nose, and a smile that was long and slim. Her skin was tan, though it was a light one, and she lifted her bag off her shoulder and put it on the seat next to her.

Bianca saw Michele looking at her and smiled once again, her face transforming into a charming, youthful grin. "Sorry about the bike. I get off at the next stop."

"Oh, n-no worries, me too..."

Bianca tilted her head, her smile widening. "Really?"

Michele felt her face turned red. She felt as if she was literally two inches tall before this gorgeous girl's casual attention... her mind wandered, imagining those feet slapping against those sandals, Bianca laughing as she felt Michele's little body trapped under her feet, warmed from biking, trapped and helpless... Michele blinked and shook her head.

Bianca put one hand on her bike seat as if to reach over to the other girl. "Well, I didn't mean anything by it, just, it's rare..."

Michele glanced around and noticed that Bianca and herself seemed to be the last two people on the bus. The elegant girl waved her hand. "Well, no matter, I'm sorry to bug you." And she smiled before turning to look into her bag.

"Oh... It's..." ...no bother, Michele wanted to say. Bianca was stunning, but not in a silver screen kind of way. She was so alive, so carefree. Michele felt like she could tell her anything and Bianca would just shake her head with a giggle and tell her it wasn't weird at all. That she would love for Michele to give her a foot rub.

Michele hugged herself and leaned into the back of her seat, staring down into the darkness between her knees, toward the bus floor. No, she reminded herself, it is weird, and that's why mom...

She was jarred from her thoughts as she heard a swiping sound next to her. Bianca had slipped her sandals off and was wiping the dirt from the soles of her feet, exposing the long, wide soles and shorter, expressive toes that flexed and her sole wrinkled as Bianca swiped at it. Michele licked her lips.

"I'm Bianca, by the way." Michele nearly shot threw the roof, Bianca was looking right at her. Bianca coughed into one hand and blushed slightly. "Sorry, I've been... I've been out biking all day."

Michele felt herself glow with embarrassment. She wanted to tell her it was fine, that she knew she was Bianca and to please be her best friend. She felt as if she might melt right there, offering her liquid body for Bianca to wash her feet with.

"Michele." Was all she could manage.

Mercifully, the bus came to a stop not much later. "End of the line!" Henry called from the front. Bianca motioned with a sweep of her arm that she could go first, and Michele scurried away quickly to hide her blush from such a goddess. She awkwardly waited at the stop, pretending to read signs, just so she could watch Bianca mount her bike and ride off.

Michele watched until Bianca was almost a speck in the distance and then began walking, realizing they were going the same way.

Ms. Merrick busied herself in front of her mansion with a hose, watering her flowers. She wore a cheap, loose floral-print top and white, wide-legged pants as well as a pair of wooden flip-flops. She hummed to herself as she slowly walked along the flower beds and shaped bushes, giving them all a healthy dose of water. It was warm out.

    "Mother!"

    She heard a bike bell ring twice and turned around to see her youngest daughter pedaling up the walk.

    "Oh, Bianca!" Ms. Merrick's wide smile was genuine, and she let the hose drop to the grass as she jogged over to her approaching daughter, sandals slapping against her soles. "It's been so long. I thought you'd never get another break!"

    Bianca hopped down from her bike and lowered it to the reddish stone of the walk, embracing her mother in a long hug. She felt her mother's lips press to the side of her head and giggled. Bianca and Ms. Merrick were around the same height, and the matron always enjoyed that Bianca proudly let her darker waves hang free despite the fact that her mother had cut her own short. Bianca had the same swimmer's body, though she didn't have the same "flipper feet."

    Bianca retracted and gathered her bike up. "I'm out for a few weeks before next semester."

    Ms. Merrick cupped her daughter's chin warmly. "And then you're all done. I'm so proud of you, dear."

    Bianca blushed and grinned. "Thanks, mom."

    "I have to finish up out here. Go in and see your sister! She's helping me interview new maids."

    "Another new maid!" Bianca marveled. "What was wrong with Claudia?"

    Ms. Merrick giggled and coughed gently, clearing her throat. "Well, our latest maid is actually named Jenny, dear, and well... she's learning why she shouldn't steal from those who employ her. I believe your sister is helping her out with her instruction. Claudia and... the other three after her, before Jenny-"

    "-Three! Mom, it's only been a month or two since I've been home!"

    "Yes dear, three. They're all still with us, though their roles are... smaller."

    "Oh mother, you'll have an army before long. Do I need to watch where I step?"

    Ms. Merrick tapped her daughter's nose with a finger, playfully. "It never hurts, dear." And then she was back to watering her bushes.

    Bianca guided her bike along the walk to the front of the mansion, shaking her head. To others, her mother was simply a wealthy middle-aged woman living out her years in comfort in her mansion on the hill. To Bianca, though, she sometimes thought of her mother as running something of a reform school. She took in so many maids, and often, but Bianca noticed that normally she took in girls who had it hard. They were never mistreated--not entirely--though Ms. Merrick did have rather eccentric methods at reforming her help. The funny thing was, despite shrinking girls by the dozen and putting them through various "camps," not a single one of them seemed to hate her. All of them turned out obedient, and even grateful.

    Bianca left her bike leaning against the outside of the house and found the door unlocked. She stepped in and looked around for a moment, but was startled when she heard a bell ringing, softly. She looked around for the source and, when she heard it again, realized it was ringing down by her feet. Bianca was surprised to find three girls, around 8-inches tall, standing off by the entrance. This was new.

    "Greetings, Mistress Bianca! Welcome home! May we take your shoes?"

    Bianca squinted a little, examining the maid at the head of the trio, who held the little bell. "Claudia, is that you?"

    The tiny girl curtsied and stayed in a bow. "Oh please, Mistress, 'pet' is more than fine."

    Bianca blinked and blushed a little. "Okay, p-pet," it sounded weird coming out of her. "Do you want me to just hand these to you, or..."

    The two girls flanking Claudia rushed forward and turned around, cupping their hands behind them as they bent away from Bianca's towering form. Bianca was absolutely bewildered and the two shouted, "Allow us,  Mistress!" in unison. Gingerly, with encouragement from Claudia, Bianca lowered her foot onto one of the servants until the sole of her sandal gently rested on the girl's back. Then, the servant hoisted the shoe off Bianca's foot and ran off, taking it to a rack out of sight. Bianca repeated the process with the remaining servant and a mumbled "sorry."

    Claudia curtsied low. "No sorry necessary, Mistress Bianca! It's the least we can do for you."

    Bianca tried to find an easy way to bid Claudia goodbye, but could only lamely say, "Well, thank you very much, ah, pet... I didn't know if I should leave my shoes here or not because my feet are so dirty, but..." Suddenly, Bianca thought back to that cute girl on the bus, the one who had been staring at her. She was probably put off by how sweaty Bianca was after a hard ride, and then she even saw Bianca wiping off her dirty soles. The thought of it made her blush even deeper all over again.

    "Dirty feet!" Claudia gasped with flourish. "That just won't do, Mistress! Please, lift your foot."

    Bianca didn't know what else to do, and found herself lifting one foot off the ground. Immediately, Claudia scurried underneath it, before Bianca could clamp it down to stop her. She felt the tiny girl rolling herself and shimmying and doing whatever she could to work her body along the entire underside of Bianca's foot--at 8-inches in length, she was almost as tall as the foot was long. Despite how pleasing the sensation was, Bianca was horribly embarrassed by all of this, and she could see Claudia's little head roll in and out of sight in the gap between her big toe and the next. Finally, she stopped, smiling up at Bianca from between her toes. "All done here, Mistress! One more!"

    Claudia so eagerly rolled out from beneath her sole and made her way to the other foot that Bianca didn't know what else to do by lift it off of the ground. She noticed that the white frock that Claudia was wearing was now filthy, and felt bad for the little girl having to wear clothes covered in what was trapped between sandal and sole as Bianca biked around.

    When Claudia finished, she scurried out before Bianca's feet and fell into a deep curtsy. "An honor cleaning your soles, Mistress."

    "Claudia, you really didn't have to clean-"

    Before Bianca could finish the sentence, her cheeks nearly on fire, Claudia dropped down onto all fours before her and shook her head. "It's my favorite part of the day, Mistress! To know I'm useful. To provide a service to a goddess like you."

    Bianca bit her lip and felt like running out of the house and asking her mother what was going on, but a voice from the next room nearly made her shoot through the ceiling. It was smooth and casual, but sounded measured with familiar authority: "Is she on all fours?"

    It was Cynthia, Bianca realized, her older sister. Lacking anything to say, she simply acknowledged it. "Rub her head with your big toe," Cynthia suggested, "they love it when you do that."

    Bianca woodenly raised one foot and, steadying herself with a hand pressed to the wall, used her big toe to pet Claudia's bowed head. Claudia responded after a moment by raising up and holding Bianca's big toe with both of her hands, kissing the front of it several times. Bianca withdrew her foot and Cynthia almost seemed ready to follow, but instead she just stayed on her knees and bowed forward. The two who disappeared with Bianca's shoes flanked her, then, and mimicked her position.

    "Thank you, erm... thank you, pets." Bianca said awkwardly, and heard, "Our pleasure, Mistress Bianca!" cried out by three little voices as she walked off. She rounded the wall that separated the foyer from the living room, where Cynthia's voice had come from, and found her sister reading a magazine on the couch, her feet resting on a plush foot rest.

    Cynthia lounged like a queen, her face obscured by the magazine, though Bianca didn't need to see her face to be reminded of how beautiful Cynthia was. It was often wondered just where she go her looks as her brown hair was completely straight and not wavy at all, and her feet and hands more petite and delicate. She had hips, too, though was nowhere near fat, and was more busty than both her sister and mother. Quite simply, Cynthia could have been a movie star with her features, where both Ms. Merrick and Bianca both had larger eyes and noses, and thin lips, though they were in no way less appealing to the rational eye.

    It was then that Bianca noticed that the footstool Cynthia's feet occupied was shared with another occupant: a little woman, maybe 3-inches in height, standing there and licking at the skin above Cynthia's heel. The heel was crisscrossed with little wet streaks, showing where the girl's tongue had already been, and a golden chain attached the collar around the girl's neck to the toe ring on Cynthia's second toe, both gold as well.

    Cynthia lowered the magazine, and her face was as perfect as Bianca remembered, but she found her eyes lingering on the small woman worshipping her sister's perfect foot before being able to meet her eyes.

    Cynthia's pouty lips drew into a tiny smile, "Welcome home, sis."