I learnt a lot from Roosa. About this world, about sex. There were three “races”: Hera’s children, Aphrodite’s children, Artemis’s children. Hera’s were the humans, elves, and dwarves. They looked different, but could have babies together. The babies would take after one of their parents, so no half-elf, half-human people or anything like that.

The same was true for Aphrodite’s. They were all the beastkin, so their babies would be the same animal as one parents. Atermis’s were a bit different. Orcs, goblins, gnomes—they didn’t have babies. Couldn’t. They still dressed as men or women, but, from the rumours Roosa heard, they didn’t have genitals, or ones not like ours. As far as she knew, there wasn’t even a difference between the men and women, maybe just what they wanted to be called. There were some that didn’t care or went by “it” or “they” or just their names.

That maybe would’ve been more surprising if I wasn’t part of the LGBTQ scene back in my old world. Well, the “it” was surprising, but the other stuff not so much.

Anyway, she also told me more about classes. I was a lover, so my rank went up from, well, pleasing people. But it wasn’t like some game where I could “grind” her to increase my rank. It would be like a swordsman swinging his sword a thousand times a day, but never sparring.

Ranking up was important because my skills could only go up to the same “level” as my rank, and skills gave me stats, and stats sort of made me better. Roosa told me: “It’s hard to explain, but think of stats like your… limit. If your strength is alpha, then it doesn’t matter how hard you train, you’ll be weak as wind.”

Other people, they were born as the child class, then became the adolescent class, then became a class like artisan or farmer. So, by the time they were my age, they’d already be rank… what was it? Whatever the Greek number for six is. Every rank gave two stats and they could level their skills up to six, each skill also giving two, so most people had their stats around six as well, usually one or two stats higher than the rest, one or two lower. Depended on what skills they practised.

As for me, Roosa helped me learn kissing and touching. Well, I guessed that was what they were called since that’s what we did and that was what the symbols looked like. The symbols appeared on my other hand: a pair of lips, and a finger which was a little bent at the end like it was pushing on something. The lips had an alpha symbol on them at first, but, this morning, I checked and it changed to a beta. My rank went up a few days ago after, well, I had sex with Roosa.

Being a virgin, it was quite embarrassing and awkward for me, and I wasn’t surprised I didn’t pick up any skills from it.

However, Roosa did also say that… sleeping with her wasn’t exactly challenging. Apparently, to rank up as a lover, I had two options: fall in love, or seduce harder targets. Fortunately, it didn’t have to be men. In fact, after talking to Roosa about the linked female symbols over my class, she told me it was called the Sapphic mark. Not just that, women of the lover class sometimes ended up flirty and seductive, so the gender symbols acted as a reminder to those who forgot that the goddesses personally dealt with unconscionable crimes.

Well, Roosa said it also worked very well as advertising. That was how she knew I was a lesbian.

Anyway, me and Roosa, our relationship was pretty much physical. She was nice enough, but it was definitely friends-with-benefits. So, to rank up, I needed to find… less slutty women to sleep with. Whatever that meant.

Rank up, get my skills up, then find a job. It wasn’t like I couldn’t get a job right away, but Roosa told me it would be hard. Stat discrimination. Most jobs were labour, so why hire someone with no strength and no constitution? My intelligence wasn’t good enough for any mental jobs either.

It was hard to notice, but I really couldn’t concentrate as well, and I got mixed up trying to remember the Greek numbers even after Roosa taught me them. Stats were important. And there were plenty of otherworlders before me, so it wasn’t like I could use “future” knowledge. Apparently, electricity didn’t even exist, or coal—why it was still like a medieval world. Maybe only stupid people got sent over, which explained what I was doing here.

Haha.

There was some good news, though: a duke took pity on us useless otherworlders. He had a manor on the city’s outskirts where I could work and it came with accommodation.

That was where I was heading today—couldn’t sponge off Roosa forever.

It was in a nice district, guards patrolling, trees planted along the streets, hardly anyone loitering around. Maids and manservants hurried around, the odd butler. A lot of them were beastkins, I noticed, the guards humans. Maybe elves or dwarves, I hadn’t seen enough to tell the difference and just guessed by height.

Though it wasn’t the only manor, the people around quickly pointed me the right way, I guessed pretty obvious I was an otherworlder.

A large house with two wings going back either side, a sort of roundabout in the front for carriages, flowerbed in the middle and some along the front of the building. It looked really posh, even compared to stuff from my old world.

The head maid spoke kindly, telling me about the job and living there as she showed me around, keeping to the “downstairs”—the servant areas on the ground floor and top floor, but not the underground part. At the end of the tour, we were in the washing room. She assigned me a uniform, had me change, and then left me there to work, an older maid helping me out.

It was weird and hard and kind of nice. The first week, I barely made it to dinner, but everyone was understanding and helpful. And there were otherworlders there, just a couple, so I wasn’t entirely alone and they knew the sorts of things I needed to know. As for ranking up… I was too exhausted. Not to mention, none of the maids really gave me that vibe.

After that hard first week, I had a couple days off and then an evaluation. The head maid, a dogkin called Mrs Collie, checked my stats, not surprised to see I was a lover, and had apparently talked with the laundry maid I’d spent most of the week working with.

“Ah, this is quite tricky,” Mrs Collie said, her tail softly thumping against her chair. “We would usually have you work more in laundry or the kitchen, but with your stats…. Let me ask you something, can you, well, handle criticism?”

Thinking back to my old job, I nodded. “Yes?”

Mrs Collie smiled, something not quite right about it. “The Young Miss is coming to stay. With your dexterity and charisma, I think you should make a good attendant for her. While she has a sharp tongue, she really is very sweet, so please do your best and not take her words to heart.”

“Okay?” I said.

“Wonderful. Your work this week will be to help her dress and bathe and do any other little chores she has for you during the day,” Mrs Collie said, clapping her hands together.

But my mind had blanked the moment she said “dress and bathe”.

I was back in my bedroom—shared with three other maids—before I came out of it. My heart pounded and I didn’t know why. Fear? Anticipation? Roosa’s body kept coming to mind, confusing my feelings even more.

When my roommates came back, I asked them about the Young Miss, but all they knew was that she was coming to début, having turned eighteen just after the social season last year. Oh, and her name: Felicity.

I barely slept that night.

Fortunately, I had all morning to mentally prepare. Her carriage arrived a little before noon and my first job was to help her alight and lead her to her room. So I stood there, alongside the butler and some servants, head bowed and hands folded like another maid had taught me.

The carriage stopped. One manservant walked over to open the door, then I finally stepped up, looked.

She was beautiful.

I wasn’t sure what to expect before, but, now she was in front of me, I struggled not to stare. Hair like candy floss, fluffy and this pale pink colour that reminded me of a wispy cloud at sunset, but then her skin was a deep brown, almost black, making her hair seem even lighter. She had a narrow, pointy nose, and smooth skin, maybe some sweat from the travel, midday sun glowing on her, her lips shiny, darker, like she wore a purple lip gloss. Small hoops hung from her ears, a wide metal choker around her neck, all in rose gold, loosely matching her hair.

But what caught me most were her eyes. Her irises black, the whites of her eyes stood out so vividly, drawing me in, and the reflections made it seem like her soul was shining out.

She trapped me. But she also let me go, her sharp eyebrows bunching together, mouth set in a frown, breaking my daze. I looked down and offered her my hand.

“So, you are the one who shall be attending me?” she said, voice cold—cool. Like the female managers I’d worked under, detached. Men could scream and shout as much as they liked, but, if a woman dared, she was too emotional. I didn’t know if it was the same for her.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said. Usually, that title was for the master’s wife, but, as her attendant, she was my master. That was what the others had told me.

I glanced up, caught her lips in a curl. “Very well. Let us see how you cope, little kitten.”

I thought to correct her, but vaguely remembered that baby foxes were maybe also called kittens, or maybe that was rabbits. My memory wasn’t good with only three intelligence—gamma?

While I was engrossed in that, she held my hand tightly and stepped down. The physical sensation brought me out of my thoughts again, fortunately in time to lead her, barely managing to make it to her room. It was a good thing I had the chance to practise before she arrived.

Inside her room, I asked, “Does Mistress require anything?”

“Draw me a bath,” she said.

My heart pounded. “Yes, Mistress. How would Mistress like it?”

“Quite hot,” she said.

I bowed, then walked to the attached bathroom, closing the door behind me. Then I leaned back, resting against the door for a long moment. Once my heart felt settled, I started running her bath. The world had magic, so something like fresh, hot water wasn’t that strange, a hazy steam warming up my face. At least, that was the reason I gave myself for why my face was hot.

My brain didn’t have anything spare to worry. I had to remember the things related to my job. Fill the tub with hot water, then add cold. Hang the towel and prepared underwear on the heating rack—in this case, underwear being more like shorts and a boob tube with shoulder suspenders, as well as a sort of nightie that went under clothes. After asking her, I also lit a lavender candle.

Bath half filled, I helped her undress and step into the bath, mind empty, simply following orders. The tub was shaped to let her comfortably sit or lie in it and, even at half full, the water covered her when lying down.

“Rose petals,” she said.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, already opening the cupboard and taking out a wooden box. Even though she hadn’t been here in almost a year, the servants knew what she wanted and had them already prepared.

After scattering them, I stood a couple steps away from the tub, hands folded, gaze forward. I didn’t dare even glance her way. The water splashed now and then, her breaths sometimes coming out as long sighs, sometimes so light I couldn’t hear them.

Until she eventually spoke. “My shoulders are tense,” she said.

She didn’t have to say more. I stepped forward, she sat up, water streaming down her, splashing, leaving her skin wet.

Fuck me.

She looked as beautiful as the night sky, droplets shimmering on her dark skin, and her damp hair was like a galaxy, a more purplish pink falling amongst the stars. I reached out, hesitant at first, but didn’t dare hesitate once I started massaging her. Gently, I pressed into her skin. Soft and smooth, springy, then the tense muscle.

When Roosa first told me about stats and skills, it didn’t make that much sense to me. But, after gaining the kissing and touching skills, I understood more. Touching relied on intelligence and charisma. I had to remember where Roosa liked to be touched, use what I knew about women or people in general, and also needed to understand her reactions.

Massaging was like touching. I pressed gently at first, listened to Felicity’s breathing, paid attention to if she moved her shoulder away or if she tensed up.

It wasn’t perfect—my touching skill was only alpha—but my charisma was decent for an adult and that helped smooth over my mistakes.

“There we go. Was that really so hard?” she mumbled, definitely meaning to be loud enough for me to hear.

I didn’t answer her. But, when I looked at my hand, I was happy to see my touching skill had gone up.

What I wasn’t happy about… during the massage, I had a good view over her shoulders. Let me just say, in my old world, my boobs were pretty average—enough for a handful and a good squeeze. But, with all the porn and stuff, I did wish I had a bit more. And now my foxkin body was even smaller. Not much, but I knew my boobs pretty well.

Honestly, I knew big boobs were a hassle, everything from the sexual harassment to the back ache to finding bras that fit. Felicity’s were only sort of big and already gave her such stiff shoulders. But, until I had that problem, I couldn’t get rid of that envious little voice in my head.

Stupid goddess bullying me….

While I was wasting my precious brain power on stupid thoughts, she finished up her bath. Luckily, my experience undressing Roosa helped with dressing Felicity, especially since Roosa liked stuff with buttons and ribbons. My dexterity also helped, not too terrible.

When it came to helping her undress in the evening, that was even easier.

All in all, not the worst day of work, only a half day and nothing too strenuous. My roommates were obviously super interested in the Young Miss, badgering me as soon as I walked in.

After laughing off their worries, I sat on my bed, softly smiling. I understood why Mrs Collie had warned me. It wasn’t what Felicity said, but her tone. Cool. I remembered my old job, how men who were used to women always speaking sweetly and coddling their feelings reacted to having a “cold” woman as their boss. Frigid, bitchy, uptight—the sorts of things they said. “Joking” about how she needed a good fuck to unwind.

Of course, I didn’t feel the same way. If anything, I liked those cool bosses, loved the honesty. No stupid wordplay games, no demeaning praises. Obviously I could print out the documents and get them to your desk before the end of the day. And when I fucked up, they scolded me, then moved on. No ongoing jokes about setting my alarm or checking the buses were running.

Felicity was younger than me, but I felt that she was pretty similar to those bosses. So far, she’d been fair, maybe even forgiving. As a duke’s daughter, she was probably used to better maids attending her than me.

“I think she’s nice,” I said.

Raising the flag.