I’m in the mood for a gush.

There are time when I want to talk about why I have this ‘interesting’ urge. There are times when I want to try and justify to the world why I occasionally let Sarah out of her pink-furred box. There are times when I want to share the happiness, to let others know that it’s not a bad thing, really, on the scale of civilisation and behaviour.

And then sometimes I just want to gush. You know, you get a head-rush and all the depressing man-thoughts get flushed out of the side of your head like a long overdue enema, if you’ll pardon the phrase.

And tonight I fancy a good old fashioned gush.

I *love* my housekeeping maid’s outfit. Full stop. No caveats. Everything about it ticks all the boxes in my head. It’s a 40’s style but it is an actual uniform designed for a woman to work in. It’s beautifully simple yet when you button the final button and straighten the apron it feels like a combination of a suit of femm-armour and equally some kind of deliciously warm strait-jacket.

I *love* everything about it, but I especially love the way it makes me look. It makes me look like a professional woman in the service industry, which is pretty much the furthest you can get from my male-persona and his life.

And I like to have a delicious little set of fantasies. You know, the usual combination of insane silliness and just-about do-able nature of the beast. Getting made-up, dressed in the room of a swanky hotel, spending the day pottering around and, giggle , cleaning. Watching the clock and biting my lip, waiting for midnight, feeling the cold shivers as I reach out to the door handle and pull the hotel room door open slowly, to avoid any noise. Peeking out to make sure there’s no-one in the corridor and then, slowly, delicately stepping out into the corridor, feeling that rush of excitement and fear of discovery.

Getting bolder and stepping fully out into the corridor, daintily holding the door open at arms length but being out. And then the moment, closing the door gently, hearing the click.

And realising the keycard is still inside.

Damn, why is that fantasy such fun? No, don’t answer that. I like not knowing.

Fantasies are the spice of life. They are the things that allow you to do the stuff you would never have the nerve to do. The housekeeping fantasy is just that, and it’s a delicious one.

The point is this – you’re not here for very long. Take pleasure where you can, without reducing the pleasure of others. Plus, if you get the chance to wear a maids uniform? Go for it.