One day near to closing time, I entered the tearooms with a lady. You had not seen this lady before, but she was striking from her appearance alone. Her hair-up in some beehive styling; a scarlet tightly fitted dress, black stockings, red shoes, and a face remarkable only by the absence of any memorable features.
I led her up the wrought iron spiral staircase making a point of going first despite my strong preference to follow. We sat on the mezzanine terrace overlooking more tables and the serving counter below. After a short delay, a waitress dressed in her white blouse; white headdress; black skirt, small white apron with lace trim, stockings and sensible black shoes, followed us up the staircase to our table. We ordered a pot of tea from the menu of specialised loose-leaf teas and sat facing each other across the white tablecloth and china tea set, chatting as the tearoom grew quieter as the remaining customers left.
It was the mezzanine terrace that had convinced you to rent this specific site and open your traditional English tearooms. We had moved to Valletta several months ago with such plan in mind, but it was the Maltese history, the charm of the city, and its colonial past which confirmed your idea for the Lyons style tearooms.
Your insistence on authenticity to the theme of the tearooms seemed to be a good decision in terms of its popularity. As things turned out, the tearooms were proving to be a job which was working well for both of us: you loved experimenting with the menu; I loved watching you dress each morning. I, with some buoyancy, was immensely proud of my contribution to your business via the carefully researched selection of vintage underwear I bought for you to wear.
I would regularly come to eat, drink, read and work at your tearoom and enjoyed watching you work; enjoyed watching the attention you received from the gentlemen customers; and enjoyed more the thought of undressing you when we got home.
You would spend much of your time chatting to customers and had mastered the art of a discreet and professional tease. I would love watching a gentleman's eyes burning through your clothing when he thought you were not aware. His eyes following you as you walked away from his table smoothing your skirt with your hands over your buttocks. Or watching your precarious climb up the mezzanine staircase, carefully crossing each foot in front of the other as you negotiated the steps, possibly even providing an audible treat of silk stockings rubbing together for anyone following closely behind. You had nurtured so many admirers since opening the tearoom, although unclear, yet irrelevant, if they came to enjoy you or your food.
By way of illustration, we could consider my new friend in her red dress who was visiting today.
With the tearoom almost empty now you came to join us, bringing with you three wine glasses plus a bottle, while your staff below busily cleared the last vacant tables.
I introduced my companion. "This is Tanya, you don't know her, but she is a long-time admirer of yours. We only recently discovered we had a shared interest in you, so to speak." I said with a smile. "So, I said I'd introduce you." I opened the wine and began pouring it into the glasses, resting my other hand on your knee under the tablecloth.
Tanya stepped in, "I have heard so much about you and this tearoom, I have often come here. I want to work here. I want to work for you. I want to learn from you. Is it true what they say about the uniform here?" You felt Tanya's hand rest on your other knee under the tablecloth and your eyes darted to me, then to Tanya, then more quickly to the wine glass in front of you. It briefly occurred to you that of the three options, the wine glass provided the most comfortable resting place for your eyes.
"Well, it might be true, but it depends exactly what they say," you reply, without wanting to commit to this conversation.
I added a comment, "I told Tanya how much I enjoy watching you get dressed for work in the morning. I also mentioned that I asked you to wear crotchless panties today, since I beat you at backgammon last night. I hope you have been careful on the staircase today?" You looked at me, slightly incredulous, but resisted commenting in front of Tanya. I continued, "Tanya was extremely interested when I told her. She said she would put on her favourite lingerie if I would bring her to meet you."
"I did," Tanya said, "Have you really been wearing crotchless panties all day? Will you show me?" Feeling Tanya's hand slowly moving up your leg, underneath the hem of your skirt.
You were still feeling a little bemused by this conversation and in an attempt to trivialise things you joked with a weak smile, "Well, I'll show you mine, if you show me yours." You quickly regretted it.
Tanya deciding to take you seriously said, "OK, I would very much like to do that."