When Trouble Comes Knocking.

Sissy was a diminutive man, as dainty and timid as a African deer. He was tiny as his friend Little Mary was gargantuan. I could only imagine the stares and sniggers that trailed after the freakish duo when they were hobnobbing out in society. I was suddenly amused.I felt a begrudging admiration for these strange and immensely wealthy men who seemed to suffer from an inverted case of class self loathing. I was certain that neither one had done a lick of real physical labor in their privileged reign-so why the fixation on the whole maid thing? They must have an interesting friendship. Secretive as an affair, I would wager, based on their mutual interest.

Sebastien sat on the sofa, coolly surveying Sissy Maid's entrance. He gleamed like Grace Kelly in her early blond debutante days. Sissy wheeled in a covered clothing rack. He unloaded his pedicure equipment, foot tubs and the like as we watched. Sebastien suddenly elbowed me with unseemly glee.

"Ouch! What the fuck?!" I demanded loudly. He pointed to the white stacked boxes that Sissy was placing on the coffee table. The unmistakable purple script of Mikes Pastries was printed on the side of the boxes. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Boston, Mike Pastries is a tradition in fine eating. The cannolis, were to die for and my estimation of Sissy sky rocketed. I was even more impressed when he silently handed over 6 pounds of very fine gourmet coffee and a armful of fresh and fragrant Irises. I took them and went off to find a vase as Sissy set his stage.

Sissy set the session up silently. We were to haughtily ignore him-I had gestured carelessly toward an alcove where he could change into his many ensembles. He had a rack of mini hausfrau dresses. All tiny and all terrible made to fit a wee maid such as Sissy. He came out wearing a fuchsia and brown dress and a white apron. He had on thick black stockings and tidy black boots. He must have gone to the same wig store as Little Mary, for he was also wearing a straggly wig, with a lace square pinned to the top of it.

Sebastian smirked as I gestured grandly toward our feet and ordered Sissy to attend to our needs, such as they were. He put before us a plate full of pastries and poured some of the delicious strong coffee which one should only drink black. The flowers were splayed out before us in a fan of purple and they scented the room deliciously. Our feet were soaking in a hot and frothy plug in whirl pool foot bath. Sebastian and I sat beside one another in luxurious silence like self satisfied monks in the sun.

Earlier I had checked on Sissy Maid's progress and was deeply gratified to see he truly was a domestic genius. The air was filled with the golden smell of Murphy's Oil. He was scrubbing the grout between the tiles in my bathroom with a tooth brush. He fearfully looked away as I peered around the door at him. I took the gleaming room in at a glance and gave him a a icy nod of approval. He blushed. I gently trailed my nail down his cheek and left the room. Before I joined Sebastian, I had to collect myself. I was trembling with excitement. Sissy was an incredible find.

"You should see the bathroom and kitchen. It has never been this clean. This man is amazing! I have to keep him. I'll do anything to have him" I told Sebastien in a passionate undertone. He nodded sympathetically as he made love to his fourth cannoli. Hours passed in lazy bliss. Sissy toiled and the more he scrubbed the more aware I became of the sound of distant tinkling.

"Sissy Maid! Come here now"! I heard him drop his scrub brush, almost flying into the room like Tinker Bell.

"What is that noise?" I demanded. Sissy hesitated,then pulled up his dreadful little dress. Under it was a pair of frilly girl panties. Under those lurked an obscene bulge. Sebastien sat up, suddenly attentive as the hound on a hunt.

"Pull them down",ordered Sebastien, getting into the swing of things. Sissy gave me a quick look and I nodded in assent. He pulled his panties down to his feet and his man root sprung free. I told him to step out of them and to hold his dress up higher. He was very large. Not as large as Nazz, but Mother Nature had been kind in one regard. At the end of his penis was a large and heavy bell. That explained the tinkling sound that I was hearing. We laughed and I could tell that Sissy was modestly gratified.

He asked to be excused so I dismissed him. He went to the alcove. When he came out, he was dressed in a French maid outfit. His skirt was puffed out by a stiff petticoat and he was wearing a pair of precious Mary Janes. He knelt at our feet, tenderly drying them like Mary Magdalene. He then guided them into tubs of very warm wax. Sebastian and I moaned aloud and smiled dreamily at one another as we sunk back into my leather sofa.

Our tranquility was ripped asunder by the raucous, parrot like peel of my doorbell. We froze, a troubling trio, staring at each other goggled eyed with guilt. It was highly unusual for my door bell to ring unexpectedly in the middle of the day.

"Who is it?' Sebastien hissed at me. I shrugged and stood up quickly, my feet encased in warm wax. Sissy watched me anxiously, rearing back on his heels like a hamster. I ignored them both as I gingerly stepped out of the tub, my feet dripping. I ran over to my door and looked out the peephole. A man's head loomed into focus. Somehow this person had gotten through the locked front lobby entrance and was standing in the hall way, directly in front of my apartment! I gasped. Sebastian was now standing in his tub o' wax and Sissy was twisting his doll like hands in his apron.

There was a sharp rap at the door and a man called out my name. I realized then who he was.

"Sweet Jesus on a stick!" I softly exclaimed.

"Who IS it?" mouthed Sebastien as he stood on one foot while frantically scraping wax off the other with clawed fingers.

It was my landlord.