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Lydia liked being in control. No, scrub that.
Lydia loved being in control. Even that doesn't really do justice to her attitude.
Lydia simply had to be in control. In a nutshell, she was a control freak.

Whenever she was given a project at work, she had an instinctive feeling for how it was to be done. It had to be done her way - nobody else could possibly understand the requirements of the project, so any opinions they had were bound to be invalid, unless they were in complete agreement with hers.

She had applied for and been interviewed for several promotions at work, but had failed each time. It was all she could to do to avoid venting her spleen at the incompetent fools who had obviously chosen an inferior candidate for the post. In time, she eventually gave up applying, deciding after micro-analysing the questions they'd asked her at the interviews that they weren't asking the right questions - they were so high and mighty they didn't realise the nature of the job they were interviewing for.

As with her worklife, as with her social life. She'd noticed about a year ago that a group of three others in the office tended to stick together and socialise - so she'd carried out some careful espionage and discovered they all lived in the town. She thought it might be useful to get to know them better - see if they shared her motivation, desires, and interests - and also if they were potential competition in the promotions market.

But rent prices in the town were significantly higher than where she was currently living, so she'd have to share the costs with someone. Maybe she could scout out a suitable partner and move in with them...

Tonight was Friday. Normally, Lydia would be letting her hair down at a nearby pub, while her partner Peter was doing the same across town. The only difference (apart from class of venue) was that Lydia would be on her own, and Peter was with his workmates (or so she thought). Except that tonight she'd planned something quite different.

But all that careful, meticulous planning had just come crashing down on her like the proverbial ton of bricks. Peter had done the impossible - he'd moved out (or at least was in the process of doing so). He was going to end the tenancy agreement, which would mean she'd also have to move out. Somewhere different to Peter.

She couldn't decide which was the worst aspect - the fact that Peter was acting so bold and assertive instead of meek and submissive, the fact he was dressed up to the nines rather than in the cute little maid's dress she'd bought him when she first started putting The Plan into action, or the fact he'd been aided and abetted by her colleagues - who, working for her team, should be supporting her, not that pansy standing opposite.

What could possibly have gone wrong? Her world was crashing down on her and she was at a loss to explain how.

As the door closed and Peter left the house for the penultimate time (apparently he'd be returning tomorrow to collect the remainder of his belongings), Lydia briefly considered trying to woo him back, so The Plan could be put back on track. But then she realised he'd have Kim (at least) with him, and possibly the other two as well, so she wouldn't be allowed to plead and beg with him to return. Damn.

She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a large whiskey before ascending the stairs to look in Peter's room. Everything had been stripped out, apart from the furniture and that cute dress. Which, if The Plan had gone to plan, was what he would be wearing now and for the foreseeable future.

How had it gone so wrong? She sat down on the bed and thought back to the beginning...

Of course, she couldn't have just any man living with her. She had to find someone who would stay with her - who wouldn't up sticks and move on a whim. Someone who wouldn't dream of being unfaithful. Someone with a steady job, but who preferred to be controlled rather than be the controller. Someone she could mould to fit her ideal.

It was one Saturday evening when she first saw Peter. She'd taken a taxi into town and was sauntering around the pubs, looking for the ideal candidate. He was sitting on his own, staring at nothing in particular, holding a cola in his hand.

Good, she thought. He's OK looking but a loner, so he's not likely to go running off. He's a light drinker as well - that should make life easier. She ordered a wine for herself, sat across the table from him, and struck up a conversation. He seemed reluctant to join in at first, but as the bar was quite crowded, there weren't many spare places, and she took things slowly, he gradually accepted her and conversation started to flow more naturally.

Over the next few weeks, she continued to visit the same pub, and continued to chat with Peter. She discovered that he also commuted in, and was also unhappy at spending nearly half an hour each day sitting in a jam - it was almost quicker to walk upon reaching the edge of town than driving! So she started dropping hints that she was in the same situation, and perhaps they could share a flat in town. Nothing personal, purely platonic of course.

Eventually, serendipity came with the start of major gas works on the road they both used into town, trebling the journey time. They found a small two bedroom house on the other side of town, and eventually moved in together.

Lydia's initial hope was that he would fall head over heels in love with her, and therefore that would be the route to 'keeping' him. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to show much interest in her romantically, and preferred to spend the evenings either reading a book or sitting at his computer. Resolving to find out more about him so she could remedy this situation, she booked half a day off work, arrived home early, and started poking through his belongings, trying to build up a more complete picture of him.

She was disgusted when she discovered a black dress hiding in his wardrobe, with what appeared to be fake breasts in a bag underneath. Ugh! No wonder he was so quiet - he was a pervert who liked dressing up in women's clothing! OK, so he hadn't tried on any of her clothes, but it was bound to be only a matter of time. However, confronting him over it might persuade him to move out. No, she couldn't do that.

She decided instead to buy a lock for her bedroom door, so he couldn't "borrow" any of her clothes, even if he wanted to. But, she thought, that could also be the key to keeping him around. Maybe she could encourage his desires...
She didn't think she would ever get 'turned on' by a bloke in a dress, but if she allowed him to do it while she wasn't around... Hmm....

The following weekend, she made a great pretence of claiming she understood his needs and desires, and while she wasn't too happy with it herself, he was free to get 'dolled up' when she wasn't around. Maybe she could even buy him something else to wear...

Certainly over the next week, Peter seemed happier at night - especially on the days when she'd been at the office and he'd been at home. However, she quickly realised that it just wasn't fair that she wasn't deriving any pleasure from the experience. So the next time Peter was at the office and she was home, she logged onto his computer and browsed around. She saw a few sites on crossdressing that were bookmarked, and was disgusted by the images she saw - the ones that looked particularly convincing as women in particular horrified her. However, while browsing the story sites, she discovered tales of dominant women who'd forced their spouses to become "sissy maids". The more of these tales she read, the more attracted to the idea she was. All it would take would be a means of "persuading" him to stay around, and she could mould him into the perfect little "sissy maid", who would be only too eager to do exactly what she wanted. And the costumes would be so far removed from what ordinary women wore that he would always look like a bloke in a dress.

But how to do it? She logged off, and over the next few days began to formulate The Plan. Arriving home unexpectedly and taking photos could be one way - but as he was a slim man, he might possibly look fairly convincing, so that probably wouldn't work. On the other hand, if she set up a hidden video camera and failed to do any housework, then he'd have to do the cleaning and dusting while she was out... and if she "treated" him to a "sissy maid" dress, he would probably take the bait and do it while dressed up... After all, didn't all crossdressers have fantasies of being a subservient little maid?

What could possibly go wrong with the plan? Hidden cameras, a few weeks worth of footage, and she'd have plenty of material to convince him to stay and be her full time maid. Once he'd accepted his fate, she could then take great delight in persuading him to dump all his male clothes, so there would be no going back. He would have to stick around.

The initial stages of The Plan worked well - he seemed a little hesitant over the dress, but never mind - he'd come to accept it in time. She was sure he would wear it whenever he did the housework - this was such a brilliant idea of hers.

But she had a shock the next week when she next had a day off - although there was about an hour's footage of him in the dress, on all subsequent occasions he wasn't doing any housework - or wearing that cute little dress she'd bought him. By this time, there'd also been a glut of celebrity marriages splashed across all the magazine shelves. She wasn't ready to get married, and she doubted Peter would be very satisfying in bed, even if she could persuade him.

Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone. She revised The Plan, and decided she'd explore the area and "play the field". After all, she wasn't socialising with the locals any more - for some reason, soon after she'd started taking them to a different bar which she regarded as far superior to their original one, the locals started finding reasons to stop coming out. Oh well, their loss. So as she was now free to go where she wanted and spend as much time as she liked out, it would allow Peter more time, home alone, to indulge in his fantasies

Surely then - especially as she refused to do any housework - he'd clean and tidy up while wearing the dress. After all, it was every crossdresser's desire to play at being a "sissy maid", so therefore the reason he hadn't been doing so was because she wasn't giving him enough time to do it. What could possibly go wrong?

So she put her revised version of The Plan into effect, and waited a couple of weeks before reviewing the footage, certain there'd be plenty of juicy evidence for her to watch. Except there wasn't. Sure, Peter did do the housework, but in jeans and a T-shirt. This wasn't supposed to happen! Even worse, on Friday nights he'd come into the lounge late at night wearing his original dress, and crash out with a glass of wine for an hour or so. The final straw was in last Friday's footage - where after pouring the wine, he stared directly at the camera (how did he know where it was?) and offered up his glass in a "Cheers!" motion.

Right. That was enough. She hadn't got anywhere near as much footage as she wanted, but she'd have to confront him with the little she had. There was only a few minutes worth of usable material from the first tape, but it should be enough. She'd also invite over her local colleagues on the pretence of her birthday (it wasn't, but she'd been tight-lipped over the subject so they weren't to know).

Perfect. What could possibly go wrong?

Looking back over those events, Lydia winced at her extreme confidence. "What could possibly go wrong?" indeed. She thought her plans were foolproof. If only...

It turned out Peter wasn't as meek and as mild as she thought. He'd cottoned onto her scheme quite early, suspecting that the plant that had suddenly appeared on the bookshelf opposite the settee wasn't 'just' a plant. She hadn't thought that he would have read some of the "maid" stories, and not only wasn't attracted to the idea, but had also learned to be vigilant of his environment. He'd been suspicious of the dress and even more suspicious of the plant.

If only she'd acted sooner, instead of waiting around. Maybe then he wouldn't have had time to build up the confidence to take his alter ego out in public. She knew she was a chatterbox, but until then had thought it was a brilliant means of convincing others that The Plan was a brilliant idea, and they should consider doing it themselves. How she regretted that now - how badly it had backfired!

It turned out that her colleagues were now socialising at their original pub again, and had a new member in their group - "Petra" - who apparently worked for a different firm. She didn't think much of that at the time, except that now it turned out that "Petra" was actually Peter. So of course in sharing the office gossip (and infuriatingly dismissing The Plan as sheer fantasy) with "Petra", they'd actually been unintentionally pre-warning Peter of The Plan. Damn!

As if that wasn't bad enough, "Petra" had made such good friends with them that even when he revealed himself at the beginning of his monologue, they still supported him. And Kim (the little b*****d) had even offered to let him move in with her. Grrr!

So now Lydia was sitting on Peter's bed, clutching a glass of whiskey, finally starting to realise that (a) you can't plan for every eventuality, and (b) that maybe, just maybe, she needed to take a new outlook on life, and possibly try to listening to others.

But she was always right. Everything she did was for the best. Nobody else's opinion mattered.

But then again, reflecting over the events of the last hour again, maybe there were occasional times when other people's thoughts and opinions were worth examining...

Could other people's opinions possibly be more valuable than her own? She resolved to think about it again in the morning...

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Author's note: I don't intend to write anything else from Lydia's point of view. I'll leave it as an exercise for your imaginations as to whether Lydia decides to at least attempt to turn over a new leaf - and if she does, whether she succeeds (at least partially - say to the extent of occasionally admitting that others may have a better idea than her).