Life’s Little Dilemmas -Latest story and possibly last story

I know I tend to go on a bit so I’ll try to keep this as brief as possible.

At the moment, I expect like all of you, I have a lot going on in my life most of which I could gladly do without  as a result I’m unsure if I can continue to contribute on a regular basis (if you can call posting every 6-8 weeks regular).

There is a small cohort of about two to three dozen readers who have been a constant source of encouragement to me over the years and the blog would never have survived this long without your wonderful support. I feel obliged to let you know in advance and hope you understand.

So as things stand, the story below may very well be my last. In addition I have some old illustrations that I think may not have been posted before so I may caption them and post as the blog’s header picture over several weeks.

Thank you again for all your support.

 Take care and stay safe.

 

Carrie

 ps  Should have mentioned the story is set in the late 40's  early 50's 

Life’s Little Dilemma’s

By

 

CarrieP

The impossible becomes the improbable, the improbable becomes plausible, the plausible transforms into reality.- Henry David Thoreau.

 

“Excuse me Miss. I think you may have dropped this.”

These were the first words he spoke to me and the first ones I wished to commit to my diary on my return home on the off chance I would have difficulty in remembering the events of the day.

 I need not have worried.

Not a scintilla of detail slipped from my memory of the day or indeed any subsequent day. Every thought, word, gesture, item of clothing, practically every aspect of every moment remains with me. And I dare say with him also. Somehow, and I have no idea how or why, call it feminine intuition if you will, but I was immediately aware that this encounter would be most unusual. However not in lifetime of guessing could I have anticipated just why that should be so.

Returning from an early morning visit to my dressmaker I had arrived at the front door of my town residence with my key already in the lock when a young man called out to me from behind and as I turned he opened his palm to display my ruby brooch. Dressed in a suit that was perhaps a size too big for him and had seen better days he nevertheless somehow managed to look respectable.  Apparently the clasp had come loose, had fallen from my coat a minute or two earlier and had fortuitously been noticed by this youth who then retrieved it. It was not only an expensive piece but more importantly one of great sentimental value given to me by my Aunt Augusta so I was not only grateful but also greatly relieved to have it returned.

Politely and in an almost deferential manner he refused my offer of a substantial reward which given his state of apparel greatly surprised and in no small measure impressed me. And as my friends will attest it is extremely rare for me to find anything remotely impressive about the male of the species, ghastly, boorish and crude creatures that they are I try my hardest to avoid them if at all possible. However this shabbily attired young man with his excellent manners and polite almost reverential demeanour was now testing my long held attitudes. Is it any wonder my interest was piqued? I extended the invitation.

“You will join me for tea young man.”

“Thank you Miss.” he said softly and stealing a look at the impressive façade of my townhouse added “I’m afraid I can’t, I…”

“It wasn’t a request, young man.” I interrupted rather abruptly, although technically speaking me suppose it was but I am unused to a male refusing to obey an instruction even if it couched in conciliatory language. When it comes to dealing with the male sex, like every intelligent woman, I have several arrows in my quiver each for specific occasions. However I find the most effective one is the no nonsense, direct approach. When confronted with a decisive and self assured impeccably groomed woman males are very much like children - they conform. Why ask when an order delivered with authority will not only achieve the objective immediately but also have the benefit of establishing one’s supremacy.

In short, I am not a woman for taking no for an answer particularly from a member of the opposite sex.

“Now please open the door like a good boy.”

 “Em… ah…yes of course Miss.” he babbled but quickly obeyed.

I always wince at this designation for women who have thankfully and successfully avoided the ghastly fate of marriage to a member of that dreadful sex. My friends and I firmly believe the word Miss should only be used for young girls or inexperienced young women and I am neither.  I have become an advocate for a more appropriate form of address,  at this juncture in history the word is not widely used but it is gaining traction and the more one insists on its use the more respect will accrue to all women.

“Ms.” I corrected him brusquely. “Ms Goodbody.”

“Of course… Ms.” he acknowledged the admonishment with a deference that I found refreshing in a male.

It was obvious that this young man felt like a fish out of water, his ill fitting and slightly frayed suit at odds with the elegant décor of my spacious vestibule.

“No need to feel self conscious.” I said fixing my eyes on this curious young man and beckoned him to follow me towards the door at the end of the hallway “We are alone and I am hopeless at domestic chores not that I ever attempt many so I sincerely hope you are able to prepare tea and some cucumber sandwiches.”

“Ah… yes… of course… Ms Goodbody.” he spluttered as we entered the kitchen.

 The kitchen was not a space I usually frequented as I rarely intrude into the servants’ realm   I pointed to the area where I thought he would find the necessary items required.

“Well get on with it then.” I delivered the instruction with a directness that perhaps in retrospect and because of his honesty I should have softened but with males I find it difficult to pander to their fragile egos. “When you are ready I shall be in the Blue drawing room, the second door on the right. I have some telephone calls to make. And please don’t dawdle I cannot abide inefficiency.”

I didn’t wait for an answer and left him to his task.

I was just completing the last of my calls when I heard a polite knock on the door before it opened and the young man entered, gingerly balancing the large silver tray. I gestured to him to place it on the table in front of me. He stood with his hands folded in front of him as I spoke.

“Sit.” I said patting the seat beside me and noticed the tray was expertly arranged with the correct china and matching teapot for the occasion, the cucumber sandwiches cut into dainty triangles.

He nervously lowered himself onto the sofa but said nothing, his eyes drawn to the cucumber sandwiches. It was obvious the sight of food, even these meagre few sandwiches, had quite an effect on him. I offered him the plate and watched as he tried to restrain the natural instinct to swallow the first one whole, to his credit he did manage to eat it with a modicum of self discipline.  

“Returning my brooch was most honest of you.” I said indicating to the plate “Please have the rest I have already eaten. I’m sure you will be able to find something more substantial in the kitchen if you so wish.

“It was the right thing to do. I don’t think I would have any luck if I had kept it.” he answered as another sandwich made its way into his mouth, his eyes met mine and he became a little embarrassed.

“I take it you are somewhat peckish.” I suggested perhaps a little too obviously and he blushed with embarrassment and offered me the plate which I refused.

 “A lady has to look after her figure.”

“But… your figure is exquisite Ms Goodbody…” he blurted and immediately  his blush deepened  as he  realised how his remark could be misconstrued as offensive or distasteful “ah…I…mean…I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…I… you must think…”

I could not help laughing and most unlike me I actually patted his hand however quickly regaining my composure I reassured him,

“There is no need for an apology. A lady knows when a compliment is offered in a sincere and gracious way and when it is presented in a prurient fashion. Now as you are my guest I think I should know your name and something about you.”

“William.” he said relieved that I had not been offended “My name is William.”

In the next few minutes I discovered that until recently the young man had been a junior librarian engaged on a genealogy project at one of the city’s most prestigious museums but due to a funding crisis the project had been abandoned. As is the way in these unfortunate situations the most inexperienced and junior member of staff is usually the one whose services are dispensed with first. To make matters worse he had just begun work on his Masters in the same field and now would find it difficult to fund and research his studies, not to mention his accommodation and the more immediate and problematic issue of his day to day survival.

 “Perhaps I can help.” I said as I searched his face for clues to what lay behind it “A good friend of mine, the Marchioness of Dunraven, has an interest in her own family’s genealogy and has several rooms filled with dusty old manuscripts and books. She may be willing to help you. Of course I cannot promise anything but I will try.”

“Oh… Ms Goodbody…” his eyes lit up at the offer, the young man was clearly exercised by the prospect of gainful employment.

 Lady Harriet de Congreve, the ninth Marchioness was indeed a dear friend but whether she was that interested in her family’s genealogy I had no idea but knowing her as I do I was sure that after seeing his soft almost fragile features she would no doubt find a suitable position for him. She had similar feelings regarding males as I have however she does has a penchant for soft, delicate males. It was then the idea struck me.  If Harriet would consider employ a male perhaps so should I. I mean it’s not as if he is one of those burly, hairy types and his demeanour is most definitely not that of a typical male. Precisely the opposite in fact, more modest, humble, indeed quite timid I would venture to suggest. Of course my immediate reaction was to dismiss it out of hand but after regarding the young man’s open, innocent face with its wide eyes and full lips I allowed myself to at least consider the notion. It would mean changing the habit of a lifetime but in one of those strange, inexplicable moments, bizarre even I did indeed consider it and found to my surprise it was an intriguing prospect.

Not only intriguing but as bad luck would have it necessary also.

To my great dismay my maid had to leave abruptly and with barely a day’s notice due to a family crisis. She was hard working, diligent and most importantly honest, a quality extremely important in a servant and very difficult to discern at an interview. I have heard horror stories of maids who have over several weeks managed to remove valuable items from their mistresses’ homes then disappear into the night. Honesty in a servant girl is often an overlooked quality but is as important as conscientiousness, work ethic and obedience to her mistress’s authority. Fortunately one of my dear friends Lady Penelope Ferule-Manly had supplied me with one of her maids for a few hours here and there and although most welcome I needed a permanent solution.

What was required was a servant who was trustworthy, reliable and deferential and the person with those qualities was sitting next to me and would be an ideal candidate apart from one small but obvious detail- he was the wrong sex.

 One of life’s little dilemmas, as my wise but formidable aunt Augusta would say.

Filling the vacancy was proving more difficult than expected. It appears domestic service does not appeal to young women these days. The girls I interviewed were not exactly the ideal applicants, wearing cheap perfume and garish clothes as accessories to their almost indifferent attitudes. As bad as that was they were reluctant to wear an apron and cap as part of their uniform and they actually baulked at the idea of curtsying.  A maid sans apron and cap! What are the lower orders coming to? How is a lady supposed maintain proper standards?

It was in this context that the idea of employing this young man as my servant, bizarre as it seemed, was becoming more plausible the more I considered it.

I put this to the back of my mind and as I observed yet another cucumber sandwich being eagerly dispatched I decided to proceed purposely but nonetheless cautiously.

“Unfortunately she is out of the country and will not return for several weeks.”  I volunteered, perhaps a little disingenuously as I knew only too well the duration was several days not several weeks.

“Oh” he sighed, his disappointment evident but I noticed something else as well – a clear and distinct flicker of desperation. 

“So what are your plans now?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.” he answered dejectedly “I have applied for several positions but there does not seem to be a great deal of interest.”

“I see.” I said a little absentmindedly, still mulling over my idea.

“I’ll return these to the kitchen.” he said “I better go the YMCA or a hostel and book a bed for tonight.”

“Before you go I would like to reward you for returning my brooch.” I said standing and smoothing my skirt.

“Oh that’s not necessary Ms. Goodbody.” he said.

“Please do not tell me what is and is not necessary William.”I replied gently but firmly.

“Yes Ms Goodbody.” he answered a little sheepishly. “Of course Ms Goodbody.”

After such a clear admonishment and the reaction it drew I knew he would not dare contradict me. I stood at the door and looked at him, it took a few moments for him to understand that he was to open the door for me. The boy has a lot to learn I thought. Ascending the stairs his anxiety regarding his reduced circumstances surfaced and he enquired about Lady Harriet and the prospective position I mentioned. Naturally I was most positive and stressed my friendship and influence with the Marchioness which no doubt contributed to his view of me as his saviour.  The conversation lasted until I reached my bedroom door, this time there was no hesitancy and he immediately moved to open it, I honoured him with a smile.

Telling him to close the door behind him I walked to my bureau and making pretence to look for my keys I discreetly watched him in the mirror and allowed myself a little smile. He looked awestruck as his eyes darted around the room, I expect it was the first time he had been in such an exquisitely appointed lady’s bedroom. Unfortunately the unmade bed detracted somewhat from the elegant tableau- a regrettable consequence of the sudden departure of my maid and Penelope’s girl would not arrive until the afternoon. There were other small but, to the observant eye of any lady of breeding, significant signs of the absence of an attentive housemaid. I had left some skirts and blouses on the small sofa, a dress on one of the armchairs and two of my girdles lay across the satin burgundy quilt. As we all know, and as is our privilege, ladies are known for changing their minds when it comes to choosing the right outfit for a particular occasion and rarely return the discarded items to the wardrobe. But why should we, after all is that not the purpose of employing a lady’s maid or even a well trained housemaid.

“I have to make an urgent telephone call, I will see to your reward in a few moments.” I lied casually picking up the receiver, I had no intention of calling anyone but it meant I could observe him without it being too obvious. As I launched my plan my heart raced and I could feel it pounding against the heavy satin and nylon of my long line brassiere. “Would you be a good boy and make my bed, I’m afraid my maid has deserted me and as I said I am hopeless at these domestic chores.”

I anticipated his first reaction and was ready for it. An incredulous look came over his fresh almost guileless face.

“Ah…em…did you…”he spluttered a puzzled look coming over his angelic face not quite sure if he heard me correctly.

“Yes.” I said perhaps a little too brusquely and dialled some random numbers “You can put my girdles and brassiere on the sofa next to those skirts and blouse. I will show you where to put them later.”

A heavy silence descended on the room, the ticking of the clock suddenly sounded like the weighty metallic tapping of two hammers on an anvil, his face could not disguise the confusion that had engulfed his brain. I became aware of a familiar sensation between my legs and by the second could feel the moistness form inside me. I had the sudden urge to press my hand to that most intimate of places but immediately discarded the notion. Such an action would be madness. It would have to wait until later when I was alone or better still if fortune favoured me with a visit from Penelope.  Now was not the time to surrender to one’s libidinous cravings. Somewhere through the pleasurable mist in my brain I noticed the fear in his eyes and knew he was at risk of bolting for the door.

Like all ladies of good breeding I recovered my self-discipline immediately and focused my attention on the task at hand. Control had to be asserted if I was to achieve my goal and as usual with the male sex, as with one’s servants, a firm hand is all that was needed.

“And ensure you fluff all the pillows as well as the bolster.” I said in a well practiced and commanding tone that I find most effective with a new servant. It leaves them in no doubt as to the authority of their new mistress

 “But…I…”he stammered glancing at the bed and then with a perplexed expression returned his attention to me.

I ignored his obvious questioning and perplexed face and issued further instructions.

 “My nightgown and peignoir should be folded neatly and placed under the pillows.” I continued, my voice softened slightly yet remained firm as I disregarded his weak attempt at an objection.

He remained rooted to the spot and although there seemed little hint of defiance I still could not be completely sure he would not refuse and make for the door. I knew I had to play my trump card or risk his leaving.

“Can you hold for one moment darling. I’m having a small domestic crisis” I said to my non- existent caller as I covered the mouthpiece and ensured I had a slightly exasperated look on my face.

” Really William it is not that difficult” my voce sounding tetchy ” I very much doubt the Marchioness of Dunraven would be impressed with such hesitancy. She is a firm believer that a mistress’s instructions should be acted on at once.”

If he resented the word ‘mistress’ he did not show it but then the thought of putting a future position with the Marchioness in jeopardy  was the just incentive he needed and any further hint of questioning my command was immediately quashed as he sheepishly turned to the bed.

The sight of the girdles seemed to paralyse him, one a tea rose colour, the other white, both sturdy and substantial garments  the front and back panels of heavy satin betrayed their  stiffness and powerful control. They no doubt looked fearsome to him. He approached the bed and I could see by the look on his face as his fingers touched the material he was in a state of complete nervousness and anxiety. I smiled to myself.  A member of the weaker sex would have no issue with touching such intimate articles of clothing but this representative of manliness was clearly in a state of great unease handling my foundations. I had to stifle a laugh when he picked my brassiere, it was done with such care and deliberation I think he may have expected it to bite him.

As I continued my phantom phone call, laughing occasionally to add a realistic touch, I watched William go about his task and was pleasantly surprised how he quickly and efficiently made the bed taking care to ensure there was not a crease in the sheets, arranging that the corners so they were perfectly aligned, he even smoothed out some faint wrinkles as he folded back the top sheet before positioning the bolster. He was equally assiduous with the coverlet and arranging the heavy satin quilt with precision before following my instructions regarding plumping the pillows. An experienced and dedicated housemaid could not have done it better.

After replacing the telephone I inspected his work and slightly moved one pillow, completely unnecessarily of course as the bed was perfectly made. It is never a good idea for a servant to think they have performed a task to perfection as they can become complacent but it is necessary to let them know that their efforts are worthwhile..

“Quite satisfactory, William.” I offered the compliment with a smile and smoothed an imaginary rumple in the quilt “Well done.”

“Thank you Ms Goodbody.” he answered seemingly relieved that I was pleased.

Yes, the young man certainly appeared to have all the right qualities to become an excellent domestic and despite his sex I found myself drawn to the idea of employing him. Although I could not say I despise or loathe the male of the species I certainly have little regard for them and they rarely enter my or indeed my friends orbit. In fact William was the first one I encountered and spoke to at any length for several weeks. Naturally I was eager to employ a servant – and this person had the necessary traits, diligent, honest, and deferential- I merely had to overcome my aversion to his sex. Surely there was a way however at that moment he required supervision as he had finished his task and the last thing a servant should be is idle.

“You can put my girdles in the second drawer of the tall boy and my brassiere in the first.” I said as I turned once more to my bureau and for his benefit added,”Now where did I put my chequebook.”

The authority in my voice was working and there was no hesitancy this time. Observing him in the mirror I saw him reach for the bulky, stiff garments and noticed a slight tremble in his hands. It was as if they were a manifestation of my presence, the apprehension in his face was quite endearing.  The tremble in his hands was even more visible when he picked up the brassiere and I thought I saw him swallow hard as he carried it to the tallboy and squeamishly place it inside.

“Thank you William.” I said as I walked across the room with a cheque in my hand.

Having completed what, to a male, would have been a most shameful undertaking I felt it was the opportune time to discover to what degree I could further impose my personality on him. He had seen my forceful side now it was to show him the benefits of a life in my service. I sat on the sofa and patted the seat next to me, wordlessly indicating he was required to sit. I handed him the cheque.

“Is that satisfactory?” I said, knowing full well he would be delighted with the sum.

“I don’t …it’s …Oh Ms Goodbody.” he exclaimed overcome with emotion.

“Not at all dear boy.” I said with a smile patting his thigh in a comforting fashion “It is the least I could do. Now perhaps there is something you can do for me.”

“Of course Ms. Goodbody.” he said eagerly “Anything.”

“As you have probably guessed I am short of domestic staff.” I said making myself a little more comfortable on the sofa and as I crossed my legs the black lace of my oyster coloured satin slip made an appearance from under the hem of my skirt. This typical feminine wardrobe malfunction did not go unnoticed by my guest and I had to stifle a laugh as I observed how even more uncomfortable he had become at yet another glimpse of my lingerie. Slowly and deliberately I rearranged my skirt and the slip disappeared once more but not before running my hand over my dark stockings under the pretence of straightening the seams. For a moment I thought the poor boy would paint. Finally I smoothed my skirt and returned to my theme.

 “Of course I have advertised in the papers but for various reasons the girls I have seen  so far were not suitable and there are more to interview this afternoon but it is such a tedious process.  I was wondering if, perhaps, you know of a suitable girl or young woman of good character who would fill the vacancy. Naturally I demand high standards but I am willing to pay an attractive salary to the right applicant. Now that I know you are a person of integrity I was wondering if you knew a girl of equally good character who may be interested in the position.”

“Well I…”he began but I interrupted him.

“Yes…yes, of course… the salary. What you are holding in your hand would also be the monthly remuneration and of course as a live in domestic the accommodation would be free.”  

I thought I heard a hard gulp as he looked once more at the cheque before returning his attention to me and just as he was about to open his mouth I continued,

“I suppose I had better show you the room so you will be able to vouch for its suitability. Please follow me.”

I stood up and he followed suit and I suddenly realised that in my heels I was three inches taller and much as I hate to admit it a little more….well shall we say … athletic than him.

The boy had learnt his lesson and appeared from behind me to open the door just as I arrived at it.

As we walked down the corridor I could see him from the corner of my eye staring open-mouthed at the art on the walls. And so he should, as there was a de Kooning and Rothko among them as well as some sketches by Georgia O Keefe, granted they were small and early works but important pieces nonetheless. I dread to think what they would cost now. Another reason I greatly value honesty in a live-in domestic.

Eventually we reached our destination, a green baize door through which led to the ante room and another door with the words “Maids Quarters” in silver lettering.

He opened the door to a large and, even if I say so a most tastefully appointed and undoubtedly feminine room.

The double bed had a satin frilled quilt in soft pink with matching frilled pillows, a mahogany dressing table with a spacious wardrobe next to it were positioned at the other side of the room, a two seater sofa and two chairs were situated  at  the large bay window.

I am not an unfeeling or insensitive mistress and although I demand extremely high standards and unquestioning obedience in a servant I firmly believe she is entitled to a good salary and comfortable accommodation, after all we’re not living in the Victorian era where maids were confined to a cold and damp garret.

“Perhaps it may be a little too cramped.” I said disingenuously gesturing to the large room and trying not to smile at his open mouth. “I’m sure you probably had something larger in mind but I would be grateful if you could emphasise the room’s other assets.”

From what he had told me of his present accommodation I was aware that my maid’s apartment would seem like a stately home, the look on his face confirmed this. His eyes looked around the room and it was patently obvious that the bright, airy and charming ambiance had captivated him.

“Naturally there is an en suite.” I said opening the door to the bright spacious bathroom allowing him to look inside “The bath may be a little too small and unfortunately there is only one window.”  

I would have wagered that his current lodgings were barely the size of my maid’s bathroom however there was no need as his facial expression confirmed my suspicions.

“I can’ remember if I mentioned the salary.” I said artfully as he continued to gaze around the bathroom with its gleaming white floor to ceiling Italian marble tiling and exquisite fittings. “For the right girl, it will be the same figure as you have on that cheque.”

He still held the cheque in his hand and looked once more at the figure before I added,

“Per month of course.”

He opened his mouth but no words came forth.

“Are you all right William you look a little pale, come sit and have some water.” I said filling a glass and guiding him to the bed and after taking a mouthful he finally found his voice.

“Per month.” he repeated “And this room?”

“Of course but as I said it would have to be the right girl.” I replied and could clearly see my plan was working.

“Girl.” he echoed and the beginnings of a blush appeared in his cheeks “Ah…emm… would you consider a young man?”

“A young man!” I feigned surprise “You mean a houseboy.”

“Ah… I… emm…a… yes… I suppose…a… houseboy.” he babbled incoherently obviously seduced by both the salary and the accommodation.

 I struggled to suppress my delight.

Do I detect an interest on your own behalf?” I asked with affected surprise, he was unable to a verbal confirmation but nodded his head.

“Mmm, it is an interesting prospect” I continued the charade, looking suitably intrigued as I fingered the pearls around my neck “You are obviously a decent young man and undoubtedly fulfil all my requirements.”

I paused allowing this to seep into his brain and noticing the hopeful look on his face, patted his hand and smiled at him.

“Yes, all my requirements.” I said softly and waited for his face to light up before I continued. “Regrettably bar one… and the most important one, I fear. You must understand as a respectable woman living alone I have never employed a male servant.” I said looking him directly in the eyes, I ensured my voice was soft and, against my natural inclination, almost vulnerable “It would be most improper, I’m sure you understand. I require a housemaid not a houseboy. Your sex is the only but most unfortunately the most insurmountable of obstacles.”

“But… is it…would you…”he resumed his disjointed jabbering.

“Such a pity.” I said, my voice infused with just the right note of sadness.

“But…I …could you...” he struggled with his disappointment.

“Unfortunately not.” I anticipated his request to reconsider and decided now was the most advantageous time to pounce. I looked at him most sympathetically and patted his cheek gently before moving my hand through his hair.

“Yes such a pity.” I continued, stroking his hair for another moment or two before looking him in the eye and forming my face into a quizzical expression I added with feigned surprise “A thought has just struck me, and please forgive me if I am insulting or offending you, but you have quite a delicate, sensitive almost… feminine face for a male.”

After losing what I suspect he considered a most lucrative position he was already on the verge of tears so I would imagine  hearing I considered him effeminate was quite low on his list of concerns. I stood up and rearranged his hair slightly, held in chin between my thumb and forefinger studying his full lips before allowing my fingers to trace out his cheekbones. He still retained a look of extreme disappointment and barely registered what I was doing.

“Mmm…” I breathed, the look on my face taking on a more analytical aspect. “Perhaps there is a way after all.”

His face brightened immediately.

“No…” I protested to his evident disappointment “It is too outrageous, I doubt if you would even consider it.”

“What… consider what… please Ms. Goodbody.” he blurted, a flicker of hope suddenly appearing in his pale blue eyes.

“Would you allow me to attempt a little experiment?” I asked ensuring there was a degree of positivity in my voice.

He dared to hope and nodded eagerly, obviously willing to clutch at any straw.

“Very well.” I said as I stood up “Follow me.”

Returning to my bedroom I told him to sit at my dressing table with his back to the mirror.

“I don’t understand Ms. Goodbody.” he said as I disappeared into my large walk-in closet returning a few moments later. The poor boy was so anxious he did not move a muscle remaining transfixed with his eyes staring at the opposite wall.

He barely flinched when I began to spread some light foundation on to his cheeks. It didn’t take long to smooth it over his delicate face with a pad.

“Pucker your lips.” I said firmly, hoping the excitement in my voice did not show as I opened a tube of pale pink lipstick.

“Is… is that…”he began finally realising what I was doing. Men are so stupid it’s a wonder they can tie their own shoelaces. Knowing speed was of the essence I ignored him and completed the task.

The whole process took only a matter of moments.

“Now look in the mirror.” I said turning him around to face the dressing table.

It took him several seconds to recognise himself under the make-up and lipstick and yet a few more before he could open his mouth. Not that what came out amounted to much, consisting as it did of a low whine, a little like the sound a large dog would make if it was constipated.

“I…but…it…” some more blithering ensued.

It was time to concentrate his mind.

“Now that is a face I could employ.” I said, standing directly behind him and gazing into the mirror “You almost look like a real girl.”

I could see from his confused face he was trying to find a reasonable rebuttal but confronted with the undoubtedly feminine visage staring back at him he found it difficult to contradict me.

“Just one final item.” I said as I picked up the light brown bob style wig that I had earlier retrieved from the closet and placed and before he realised what was happening it was in place and I had begun arranging it to my satisfaction. As I did so I was discreetly glancing in the mirror gauging his reaction.

There was no attempt at speech, such was his stupefaction that I doubt if he could have told me his name or what day it was. Mind you, I was almost as surprised as him. He really did look quite feminine and if I’m honest a little attractive. I could feel the dampness beginning to form inside me once more and had to resist the urge to allow my hand to apply a degree of relief. Once more I was forced to press my thighs together to alleviate the mounting restlessness I was experiencing. At least he was so distracted by the image he was looking at he would not have detected my slightly flushed cheeks and somewhat laboured breathing.

“Yes I suppose it is a little old fashioned for someone so young but you do look very presentable.”I said as casually as I could while battling my temptation to touch myself. I took a deep breath and continued to brush away a few stray hairs before adding “Not to mention attractive, I suppose I should not say this but you are much prettier than Sarah, my previous maid.”

“I… it’s …my face… it…” he finally found his voice but nothing intelligible to say.

“Yes, yes, quite pretty, I agree.” I prompted him and making little adjustments to the wig I managed to bring  my desires under control and continued in a business like tone as I looked into the mirror and addressed him directly “And I’m sure you would like to discuss it at length it but I have a more pressing issue.”

He looked at me with his large innocent blue eyes, mouth slightly agape and still visibly struggling to come to terms with his newly altered appearance.

“If you agree to retain this appearance I am prepared to offer  you the position of housemaid.” I said and reached over to my chequebook, wrote another cheque and showed it to him “As I have told you this will be your monthly salary but I need to know now if you are prepared to enter my service and accept my conditions. If not please say so now and you can leave with the cheque I have already given you as a reward. I have other applicants to interview this afternoon and intend to have a housemaid by the end of the day.”

His eyes darted between the two cheques.

“A… housemaid…not a …”he attempted to clarify in a creaking almost pleading voice.

“Housemaid” I confirmed in a brusque tone that conveyed my impatience quickly adding for the avoidance of any doubt “Properly uniformed of course.”

An uneasy look came into his face and I suspected I had overplayed my hand but I had gone too far to weaken now.

“I suppose we all face life’s little dilemmas every now and then but I suspect  my preconditions are probably a step too far for you.” I said with a hint of dismay and folded the cheque in my hand and prepared to tear it before quietly adding “ Which is a pity because I’m sure you would have been a great addition to my household. But I understand it was properly foolish of me to ask you in the first place. Now let me remove your wig.”

I paused for a moment before I theatrically raised the cheque to destroy it.

“No…please Ms, Goodbody” he blurted raising his hand to the wig as if to protect it “I would like the position, I… I want the position.”

“And you agree to wear a housemaid’s full uniform.” I said, trying to project an aura of complete composure as I felt my heart race like a Derby winner. “That is an absolute requirement.”

“Yes…yes, Ms. Goodbody.” he said eagerly, his eyes fixed on the cheque in my hands. “Of course, I will wear a housemaid’s uniform.”

“And your wig and make-up. ” I pressed as my heart began to quicken once more.

 Both our dilemmas had been resolved. I had my new housemaid but reluctantly had to abandon my objection to having a male in my home. He had money, security, wonderful accommodation more than he could possibly have dreamed of less than an hour ago, not to mention the promise of a position with a Marchioness. The last part was pure fantasy of course as I had no intention of allowing her to steal my new housemaid for herself. Naturally I anticipate a few problems with my new girl but then new housemaids require time to come to terms with a new mistress and I expect I may have to be patient with him. I suppose I should say her but I suspect it may take a few weeks before he is completely feminised.

I awaited his response.

“Yes Ms Goodbody.” he replied quietly, his eyes lowered in what I expect was shame at relinquishing his masculinity.

“Madam!” I corrected himand he looked at me suddenly realising the significance of this particular designation, I kindly clarified the issue for him . “As my maid you must address me as Madam.”

I felt a slight tremble in my knees and unbeknown to him I had to place on hand on the back of the chair to steady myself. Already in my mind I was choosing what type of girdle and brassiere I would put him into and thought one of my full satin slips would look wonderful on him.  My throat was suddenly dry and I had to clear it before I spoke.

“Go to your room and wait for me there.”

He rose from the chair, appearing a little unsteady on his feet before moving slowly towards the door.

“One moment, William. “ I said. 

He turned to face me and I extended the cheque.

“You are forgetting your first month’s salary.”

His eyes welling with humiliation met mine as he reached out his hand, my eyebrows arched a fraction. Both of us knew what was expected and required. I felt a mounting wave of excitement build up inside me as I waited for his answer.

“Thank you Madam.”

I allowed myself a smile and pressed my thighs together once more.

“Now run along like a good girl. I will join you shortly.”