Once he is in that uniform, it is work, work, work. A sissy maid doesn't don a French maid uniform to simply lounge around. I suspect, for most in that community the sight of a sissy maid in repose is repugnant. Why are sissy maids so darned efficient?
When I visit my two best friends, one of whom is a "weekend sissy maid" with the other, his wife, as his FLR mistress, I am astounded by the efficiency of their household. I'm actually envious that their house, garage, basement and yard are so tidy. But, it's not just the sissy maid uniform that makes things work so well. It's the two of them together.
The first time I visited on a weekend I had been told by Ruth that I would be introduced to her "secret maid, Doris" and to try "not to be jealous". I couldn't imagine what she meant and that didn't really prepare me for the surprise and the delightful weekend I experienced. I don't know if she meant not to be jealous that she had a devoted, highly productive house maid for free, or not to be jealous of the pretty little uniform George was wearing. Some things are best left unasked.
I took it as the highest possible compliment that they trusted me enough to give me a glimpse into their unique lifestyle. In addition to him being a sissy maid all day every Saturday and Sunday, she is an occasional dominatrix, but I get the impression that is rare, perhaps once a year or even less. Ruth doesn't need the trappings of power that such an outfit implies, because her power comes from within and her authority is already unquestioningly acknowledged.
She wore it on the weekend I visited to show me and perhaps to show off her great figure. I hate to admit it, but seeing her in her black dominatrix outfit made me a bit fearful. This is a woman whom I know well. She is kind and caring and would never harm any innocent person or thing. But, in that black leather figure hugging outfit with stiletto heels and a riding crop, she was disturbingly menacing on some deep physiological level none the less. She could tell I was intimidated, but thankfully she did not press her advantage, least I might have found myself in service along with George, instead of being the honored guest I was invited to be.
I will not, however attribute fear on the part of her sissy maid as a reason for his efficiency. Quite the contrary, she loves him too much to ever hurt or humiliate him in any way. So fear is out, as is humiliation. George, or I should say Maid Doris, is not the least bit humiliated by the French maid outfit. It is regarded as perfectly natural and appropriate attire for the activity engaged it. Both of them lead virtuous and dignified lives, and he is both virtuous and dignified, even when wearing his French maid outfit.
Doris's makeup and outfit was skillfully selected by Ruth to maximize the illusion. It occurred to me that the puffy sleeves of the French maid outfit hide his broad shoulders. As I looked at his shaved nylon clad legs I was surprised how feminine they looked in heels and the narrow waist was perplexing until Ruth reveled the secret of a corset. I have to admit, Doris looked quite presentable and except for the excessively feminine French maid outfit itself, I would have passed her by on a public street without a second thought.
I respect George. I have known him too long and too well to feel otherwise simply because he wears a French maid outfit on weekends. His (or their) unusual hobby is only a tiny part of their personalities, accomplishments and all that I know about these two people. But the less someone knows about them, the larger that one aspect of their lives would become in that person's perception and the more likely that one bit of information will be used for formulating an opinion. Thus they keep his hobby private. An opinion based solely on him dressing up to clean the house might consider it frivolous or childish, but fixating on his choice of attire against the mere fact that the house is not only cleaned but cleaned to a high standard is missing the more important point. That he had fun while doing it is just icing on the cake.
These are the kinds of friends who would drop everything and be there for me in an instant if I needed them and vice versa. He is the opposite of her. He truly is menacing. He is strong, smart and the last person on earth I would call a sissy. Surprisingly to me, he has a completely different personality when in his maid outfit. Doris is so eager to please her mistress that, added to the complete transformation of appearance, it's easy to forget who she is. George is simply not there until he is there in what can only be described as a "time out" in a game.
When maid Doris has served all the food for dinner, for example, once she sits down, she becomes George and we converse normally (as though he isn't wearing a French maid uniform). Then, when it's time to clear the table, Maid Doris is back and even though I offer to help clear the table and do the dishes, my offer is refused. So, Ruth and I continue our conversation without George. It takes a while to figure out the timing or the rhythm of these time out periods but once I did, it seemed perfectly natural.
I must admit, however, that I felt selfish with one of my two best friends tending to my every need. It would have been funny if done because he lost a bet or if it lasted for just a short time as a joke, but after about half an hour you realize this is real. At this point it isn't a game anymore. And then you feel you are taking unfair advantage. While I thought I was their guest, it was she who extended the invitation so technically I was her guest. As Ruth's guest, Doris was quite happy to wait on me to the best of her ability. Hopefully she was just as happy doing it as my friend as she was doing it as Ruth's French maid.
When I told Ruth that I felt selfish as the unearned beneficiary of my friend's labor, she understood completely saying she had experienced the same feeling when this first started. She put my mind at ease telling me that this is for him, not for us, and to just sit back and enjoy the ride. She added that she really would like to hire a maid but because George is a cross-dresser a maid would inevitably discover his little secret which he wants to protect, so she can't. As far as she is concerned, he is doing this work to protect his secret, so she feels no guilt at all putting him to work as her maid.
I feel as though I have benefited from a two for one sale or a common stock split. Sissy maid Doris is now a new friend for me and I don't ask her to break character when in that uniform. I understand the rhythm of the game and go with the flow. I also understand and use the alternate name because she is spoken of as a completely different person. I truly enjoy dropping by on weekends but try not to wear out my welcome. I try to reciprocate for their hospitality as best I can, but my first attempt proved problematic.
Oh dear, I'm getting off topic. My original question was "Why are sissy maids so darned efficient?" So, I'll get back to that first.
I want to propose an explanation for sissy maid's efficiency, and that is; sissy maids work alone. They are a work force of one, and the square root of one is one. I mention this because of something called Price's Law.
Price's Law was devised British physicist Derek Price, in the 1960's. He was curious about the relative productivity of graduate students and his peers in academia. For some reason, in academia the number of peer reviewed articles one publishes is used as a measure of one's productivity. Personally I would use the number of classes you teach, the number of students you educate, or the number of tests you grade but I'm obviously not an academic.
Dr. Price noticed that a handful of people in each field dominated the publications within any given subject. After tabulating his results he found that half of the literature on a subject will be contributed by the square root of the total number of authors publishing in that area. That would be totally uninteresting if it only applies to academic publication, but it doesn't. This seems to be a statistical truism that crosses many human institutions. Stated differently Price's Law points out that there is a structural inequality built into almost every human endeavor. If 50% of the work is done by the square root of the total number of people who participate in the work, then a small company with nine workers has three (three being the square root of nine) workers who do half the work and the other six do the other half.
We are all individuals with differences of intelligence, personality traits, interests and motivation, so obviously some people will be more productive than others. But it's what happens as the numbers progress that I find astounding. Three workers doing half the work in a company of nine is not so bad, but for a company with a hundred workers, it means that ten (the square root of a hundred) workers do half the work and the other 90 do the other half. Clearly a smart employer would keep the ten best and try to find ten more just as good while riding himself of the 90 average workers. Even if you pay them twice as much as the others, it's a bargain, but that's easier said than done.
It seems as a company adds personnel, that exceptional talented people are found in a linear progression and normal less talented or less highly motivated people are added exponentially. So getting back to sissy maids but keeping Prices Law in mind, I attribute their efficiency partly to the fact that they are a workforce of one. The square root of one is one, so it doesn't matter which half does half the work because the same person does other half and there's nobody else to blame if it's not done right. That's my explanation of why any lone worker is incredibly efficient compared to groups. I think this is simply a restatement of the long recognized economic principle called the "Point of Diminishing Returns" applied to talent within the human population and I regard the use of the word "law" as a bit tongue in cheek.
The other reason that can't be ignored, however, is that sissy maid duties are usually a labor of love. George loves his mistress and they both love his alter ego Maid Doris and the cute little outfits she wears. The fact that they have harnessed his affection for her and his desire to cross dress into such a productive activity simply attests to their ingenuity.
When I visit my friends, I usually wake up before them, so I'm in their kitchen drinking coffee then they start stirring. They come down stairs about 8:30 am. She goes onto the internet on her desktop reading newspapers and he turns his computer on to boot up but doesn't look at it. He proceeds into the kitchen and begins his morning chores feeding the herd of cats consisting of outdoor cats, and two indoor cats. He then prepares Ruth's breakfast that is served to her at her computer table. He then prepares our breakfast and after we have eaten and when other chores are done, including putting laundry in the washer, he goes online to read the news of the day and check the local weather. Weather permitting; when the wash is done Doris hangs it on the clothes line to air dry then begins other cleaning tasks. Doris says there is something liberating about being outside in her pretty uniform hanging the laundry and feeling the breeze up her skirt. Fortunately their clothesline is in a spot that affords privacy.
By then Ruth is done catching up with the news of the day and any other online activity and we visit while Doris goes about her duties with Doris serving us lunch in their garden and George joining us occasionally. Ruth had no compunction about asking him to perform even the most trivial tasks at a moment's notice and Doris is up and off to accomplish it without delay. The request is usually accompanied by the word "please" and the completed task is rewarded with a "thank you" and a kind loving smile. It's all quite civilized. I tell Ruth she's "spoiled rotten" and she sneers at me and when I tell George the same thing he tells me he's happy to spoil her and besides that, "I need the exercise". He's right; never sitting down uninterrupted is probably good exercise. But this brings me back to my ill-conceived attempt to reciprocate for their hospitality by inviting them up to my lake house.
Their home is much more comfortable than mine and much cleaner too. So, inviting them to my home would be an imposition rather than a treat. The only way I can reciprocate is to invite them up to my vacation cabin. It is small and rustic, but the setting more than compensates for the lack of amenities. It backs up on an enormous state park and is the only cabin on a large lake. The property and house are grandfathered in with a private locked right of way across the state land. From the property one sees nothing but trees, mountains, lake and sky. While it lacks electricity, it more than makes up for that in privacy and beautiful surroundings.
Unfortunately, because of my work schedule, I can only go up there on weekends and that presented an unexpected problem the first time I invited Ruth and George up after learning of their unusual hobby. They had been up there before, but on that particular visit Doris arrived in her French maid uniform. It turns out Doris is also the chauffeur, but does not have a separate uniform for that job so she had every intention of remaining in her French maid uniform all weekend. I asked what would happen if they had a car accident while he was dressed that way, but that prospect didn't seem to bother them. How can I reciprocate when Doris expects to work? I had planned for a weekend of hiking, fishing, shooting and kayaking with me doing all the cooking and taking care of them as my guests.
While the cabin lacks electricity, it does have a liquid propane tank that powers a refrigerator, a water heater, and a cook stove. The property is mostly wooded so there is plenty of firewood thanks to the invention of the chainsaw. I can't imagine cutting firewood by axe or saw and I wonder at how pioneers ever survived having to do so. There is a small deep pond just above a waterfall on a stream that flows into the lake about a quarter of a mile from the cabin. That pond is about a hundred feet higher in elevation than the cabin and is our water source. So we have about 43 psi water pressure just from the hydrostatic pressure siphoning water from above the water fall through a slightly buried plastic hose. That means even though we rely on oil lamps for lighting, we have a flush toilet and a septic tank and hot baths and showers are available. And I even have a wood fired hot tub by the front porch overlooking the lake. With the possible exception of the wheel, I consider a hot bath or shower to be the greatest accomplishment of human civilization.
For Maid Doris, hiking in high heels and stockings was out of the question so she insisted on cleaning the cabin "for her mistress" while Ruth and I were hiking. Fortunately one can kayak in a French Maid outfit as long as the heels are dispensed with, but it turns out that a corset and paddling don't mix and Doris was the worse for wear after just a few miles around the lake. Happily one can fish from the dock in a corset, French maid outfit but a wooden dock is not conducive to the wearing of high heels, so my bedroom slippers were offered to protect her feet from splinters. But shooting practice proved to be Doris's downfall.
We normally shoot rifles from the three basic positions; standing, kneeling and prone, and we bench shoot for groups to zero the rifle sights. Maid Doris had no problems shooting while standing, but knelling was one stretch too far for her pantyhose and her mistress insisted on having her shoot from the prone position as we did. Ruth can have a perverse sense of humor. Lying down to shoot a rifle while in a corset, a short French maid dress and a petticoat turns out to be quite arduous especially while keeping the rifle pointed down range. And, neither Ruth nor I could resist teasing Doris with comments about the view from behind the firing line.
We shoot into a bluff from an area that is just dusty dirt where grass won't grow due to a coal pile that had been located there a hundred years ago. So, you can imagine what that did to Doris's pretty white satin apron, dress and white petticoat. Ruth found it quite humorous and if getting down in the dirt made Mistress happy, that was good enough to make Doris happy too. They are both good sports. Anyhow while I grilled freshly caught trout for a late supper, Maid Doris hand washed her uniform. It dried overnight and was clean, even if a bit wrinkled, for the next day and the trip home. I have thought about getting a generator to run things like an electric iron but then modernity would snowball into my little rustic paradise, so I'll do without.
If being outside at her clothesline is liberating, you can imaging the freedom the lake cottage affords Doris. Doris is certainly welcome back – but preferably as a guest.