This is a work of FICTION for ADULTS only. Do NOT read this if you are under 18 or if you are not an adult according to the laws of your state or country. Do NOT read this if you are offended by fantasies involving sexually explicit material.

Comments welcome to bethjac@hotmail.com

A series of stories with TG themes, dedicated to women, and to men who like to be women (which includes me!)

 

J is for Josie - Like Mother, like Son

by Bethany Jacques

 

It was a Friday. I remember that. Actually it's not really surprising, it was always a Friday, the day Dad worked late and I got home from school early. It gave me time. Which wasn't really important that first time though it was later. And on that first occasion not much happened. Though it did later. That first Friday I'd got home a bit early as usual, got my homework sorted, made myself some tea and started on things for Dad. And I was sat thinking. About Dad of course. About how he was getting on without Mum. It was difficult for him, obviously.

Mum had left us about six weeks earlier. Just left. Just walked out. Just like that. And after all Dad had done to try to improve things for her. We'd just moved house, only about 30 miles, but it made travelling much easier for him, he'd moved much nearer to his work. Which smashed his travelling time and gave him much more time for the family every day, the very late nights home from work would stop. And it was a much nicer house in a much nicer area anyway. And it cut my travelling time to school too.

But we hadn't known about Mum's affair, that she'd been seeing this other man quite often while Dad and I were both out. And the move took her further away from HIM. So she decided, well, they decided, to do something about it. She just left. One day Dad actually got home before me and found the house empty and a note. He showed it to me. He was crying. Apparently she and this other man, Terry, had decided to go away together and had done just that on the spur of the moment.

It hit Dad hard, for a couple of weeks he just kept phoning friends where we used to live, trying to find her, to persuade her to come back and so on. But to no avail. Eventually he had made contact, she'd made it clear she was much happier and didn't really love Dad and she and Terry were probably going back to his own area, which was in the States somewhere. After that Dad did settle somewhat though obviously he still missed her. They'd married when she was very young, he was quite a bit older, really he had been infatuated to start with and that had turned in some sort of love.

Yet that Friday, after Dad had a difficult week, I'd gone upstairs to look along the road to see if his car was coming yet. And there in Dad's bedroom, I'd noticed that the main wardrobe door was open. Lots of her clothes were in there, she'd left lots of them when she'd left in a hurry. But it was something else in the wardrobe I'd noticed, there, on the top shelf, Mum's wig. Her longish red-haired wig. The one she'd bought a few years earlier when she'd had her hair cut very short one day and then regretted it immediately. So she'd worn the wig for several months.

I took it down and looked at it, and the original slightly silly thought had come into my mind. I slipped the wig off its base and put it on. The elasticated inner bit stretched over my head, I looked in the mirror and brushed the strands down the side of my face into place. Then - totally daft really - I took one on Mum's lipsticks from her little drawer and smeared it over my lips. Not heavily, not very well, but it did have an effect. It made me look a little like Mum. I wondered what Dad would think, then I saw his car pull into the drive below.

As Dad came in I was standing at the foot of the stairs, wearing the wig and the lipstick.

"Well Dad, how do I look?"

He just stood and looked at me. He did realise that I wasn't serious, and he smiled.

"Wow, Joseph. You really do look rather like your Mum. But hadn't you better wipe the lipstick off, I passed Duncan on the way down the road."

Hell. Duncan. He'd said he would come round and help with my Maths homework if I'd let him borrow one of my computer games. I dashed back up, threw the wig into the bedroom and wiped the lipstick off quickly. And then I heard the doorbell.

After Duncan had left and after Dad and I had finished our meal, he did mention my dressing-up again. "You really do look a bit like Mum though she always did like to wear more make-up. You'd need to go quite a bit further, with the clothes and the make-up and so on, I think you'd actually look quite a lot like her. So why did you do it?"

"I just saw the wig, Dad, thought you might like to be reminded of her. Just a bit, that is."

And we said no more, but what Dad had said stuck in my mind. 'Go quite a bit further, with the clothes and the make-up and so on.' Maybe I should. Which is why, two weeks later on a Friday again, I'd gone up to the bedroom and got out the wig again. And put it on. And an old pair of earrings Mum had left. And one of her sweaters. And a pair of her jeans over a pair of short nylon socks and her shoes. When I'd looked in the mirror I admit I had been disappointed. Then I realised that the clothing was right but the shape wasn't so I'd undressed again and put on a bra and some panties, stuffing the 'cups' of the bra with some rolled-up socks.

After that I'd inspected myself in the mirror again I'd been much more pleased. And even more so after I'd carefully applied some of Mum's make-up like Dad had said, just a little foundation over my face and some eye-shadow and lipstick. Yet again Dad had timed his return just as I'd finished so I didn't have time to reconsider what I was doing. I just grabbed one of the handbags she'd left behind and went down the stairs, carefully in the unfamiliar heels.

"Hello Dad. Well - what do you think?"

And this time Dad had looked surprised. "Wow, Joseph." That was all he said, he paused.

"You said I'd need to do more makeup and wear Mum's clothes. So I thought I'd give it a try. Well?"

Dad realised he had to say something. I mean, there I was, his son, standing there dressed in his wife's clothes and I think looking an awful lot like her. Which is almost exactly what Dad said.

"You certainly do look an awful lot like her, Joseph. I like the shoes."

Now quite why he said that I'm still not sure. maybe he thought that wearing high-ish heels was a significant departure from the norm. "And have you got a stuffed bra inside there, Joseph?"

OK, another departure. I pulled the sweater up to show Dad, then spent a few minutes walking round the room and 'posing' for him. Then I thought I'd better do something about the dinner like I always did on a Friday.

"OK Dad, shall I go and change new?"

"Er - OK then, Joseph, sure." So I did.

I had got the slight opinion, just when I'd asked Dad about changing, that he'd seemed just a little reluctant. OK so it was a weird thing for me to do but maybe he didn't mind, maybe he actually liked it in a way. And it was when we discussed it briefly a bit later that I got that opinion again.

"Look, Joseph, you obviously like dressing up and so on. So how about getting really dressed up and doing the 'Italian' ? The Friday after next?"

"OK then. Good idea."

I didn't ask about it. I didn't need to. I knew exactly what Dad meant. We'd often done that in the other house and a couple of times after moving, me and Dad and Mum before she'd left. Dressing in best clothes and Dad bringing home an up-market Italian take-away from one of the restaurants in town, and us sitting down at the table with the best dinner service, and wine and all the trimmings. That would be good, yes. But the next day I began to wonder just what Dad had meant about 'getting really dressed up'. He was out at the time, I couldn't ask directly. But he did seem to have quite liked my own dressing-up efforts in a way. Maybe I should do that again? But if I did I couldn't just wear jeans, not for the 'special occasion'.

So I had another look, more carefully this time, into Mum's wardrobe, at all the clothes she'd left behind. Literally she'd only taken the clothes she was wearing and a very few more, with some jewellery and passport and so on. Most of her stuff was still there. And as I looked through her make-up drawer I noticed - Dad must have shoved it in there - the letter he had shown me. And her wedding ring. She'd left that behind too.

I spent the next week thinking, then decided to do something about it. Just before going to school one day I asked Dad about the money I'd been saving, towards a new PC.

"Would it be OK if I used it to get something else instead? Just my money, I mean."

"Sure, Joseph. Sure." He wasn't really listening though, he was reading some work stuff. He'd started to bury himself in his work a bit, partly to get over Mum, I think, and partly because there was a chance of a promotion coming up. One of the Regional Managers was retiring and Dad reckoned he was in with an outside chance of the job. So he did spend quite some time in the evenings working, trying to make sure his bosses wouldn't have any reason at all to find fault.

I had nearly £1000 saved up altogether but really I didn't want to spend it all yet, not on a PC anyway. Because I'd discovered something else. On a website, a company selling things specially for people who liked to dress up, in all sorts of clothes and uniforms and so on. Some of them were, I thought, rather rude. But others looked good, maybe just the sort of thing I could use. I'd just set up my PalPay account so I used it to send in an order. I knew some of Mum's stuff would be useful for me but there were a few extra items I'd need, if I was going to do it properly.

So I did it properly. When Dad had left on that Friday morning he'd said "And don't forget, Joseph, we're doing Italian tonight" I hadn't really needed reminding. I really had been planning it for nearly two weeks even to the extent of warning Duncan I was cutting school that day because Dad and I were doing something special. I didn't say what, and really Dad hadn't said what either. It has occurred to me several times since that things would have turned out oh-so-differently if Dad and I hadn't each jumped to conclusions. Both of us really, me in not properly understanding exactly what he meant, and him in not asking me to explain things. So I was pretty sure what his 'doing Italian' meant. And after his comments when I'd worn Mum's Jeans and bra, and shown him what I'd done in terms of make-up and so on, I thought I knew what he wanted me to do. And I was more than willing to do it.

The breast prostheses I'd bought off the Internet were, of course, not necessary. But I wanted to do a good job. So when I'd found the company dealing in items for dressing up as a woman I'd bought a few items to help me in my task. And as I finished my day-long session that afternoon, this time an hour or so before Dad was due home with the Italian, I took some time to inspect myself in the long mirror in his bedroom. I really did look like my mother! The falsies-and-basque combination really did give me a good-looking feminine figure, the black tights and high-heeled shoes I'd bought added to the effect, I was very pleased with my own purchases. And the false fingernails too, I'd stuck them on with the glue provided, longish scarlet nails, the sort of thing Mum did on special occasions.

The wig, or course, was the one I'd had before as was the jewellery. Since Mum hadn't taken those items I assumed they were not real, just gold-effect, but the earrings and the chain round my bare neck did also add to the effect. And the skirt and the blouse too were both Mum's. The skirt was a slightly darker blue denim effect and the blouse was white and rather frilly. It felt good wearing them and the skirt went quite well, I thought, with my black tights. Just above the knee though with a bit of a slit up the right leg. But it showed off my figure, and my newly-acquired 'boobs' very well. When I'd finished my make-up and squirted 'Diorissimo' behind my ears and into my 'cleavage' I grabbed Mum's small black clutch bag and spent some time, rather as before, posing in front of the mirror. I knew, Dad was going to love this!

And then, very carefully in the extremely high-heeled black stilettos, I made my way downstairs. I had half an hour or so, and used my time in getting out the crockery and the cutlery, in doing the fancy folded napkins Mum always used to, in putting the glasses and a bottle of wine on the table, basically in getting everything Dad and I would need to have a good meal. And to have fun, too - I wondered exactly what he would say when he saw me.

But when he came in - I heard the door open and braced myself - he just dashed upstairs.

"OK Joseph? Sorry, bathroom. I'll shower and change while I'm here. OK?"

"OK" I called out. He hadn't even seen me, just went straight up the stairs. I heard movements up there, and the shower, and a few minutes later I heard his footsteps as he came down.

"OK Joseph. Ready? .................. Oh my God!"

He'd seen me. He really had got changed, got himself 'dressed up', not just in a jacket and tie but in his best suit, the one he only ever wore for christenings and weddings and so on.

"You look very handsome, Dad". I had to speak, to break the awkward silence.

"You look - gorgeous, Joseph, you really do. I just didn't expect - this!"

"Well, when you said 'go Italian' I thought it might be a good idea to dress up like I did when you said it, when I wore Mum's clothes before. Except if we were really going to dress up I should maybe wear a skirt."

"But that skirt, Joseph. I got it for your Mum a couple of months ago, just before she left really. She's never worn it to go out in."

"Go out?" I'd just realised. What Dad always did when he came it with a take-out was to put it into the oven to keep warm. And of course he hadn't.

I turned to face the fully laid-up tableware, nice plates and glasses, all the best things, what we usually did. He saw it. "What I meant was we could actually go out to the Italian, that one we've seen in town by the market. Sorry, I didn't realise. But Joseph, I'm not kidding, you look so much more like your mother now, really, absolutely gorgeous. How have you - you know?"

He was looking at my figure, at my slim waist and my bulging breasts, and at the effect the sheer black tights and the black stilettos had on my legs. I told him about ordering things from the Internet, about the breast falsies and the shoes and so on.

"Well, Joseph, you really have done a remarkable job. And your make-up too, it looks so good."

"Well, I hope it's all right, I practiced a bit in the week and copied one of your photos of Mum. To try to get the eyes right, really, that was difficult. I suppose I was trying to look a bit older than I am really, to look like Mum, you know."

"I suppose I'd better go out again, see if I can get something from the restaurant. I didn't order anything though. Mind you, Joseph, if you went in looking like that, nobody would know."

I didn't reply straight away. Then I voiced the thought that had leapt into my mind.

"Well, we could if you like. Go there for dinner I mean."

Now it was Dad's turn to be dumbstruck. For maybe ten seconds we just stood there, a little embarrassed, both of us really.

"Surely you don't mean ....". He paused for quite a long time. Thinking. "Would you like that, Joseph? I mean, are you sure? It would save me a drive, really, nobody would know. They'd just think you are a woman. You don't have to say anything, I can order. It would be a laugh, Joseph. You game?"

Well, it had been me who suggested it. "Just hang on a minute, Dad." I said, walking past him towards the stairs. Up in the bedroom I completed my 'transformation'. I'd needed one final thing - I slid Mum's wedding ring on. It was also just a bit tight but OK really. When I showed my Dad he just smiled, perhaps a little weakly. Maybe seeing that ring on my finger just reminded him of what, or rather who, he had lost. Well, for tonight at least, his wife was back.

As he drove us into town Dad was telling me what to do, let him do all the ordering and so on, that sort of thing. And when we pulled into the kerb by the old market he came round and opened the door for me, then lent me a hand as I struggled a bit to get out in the unaccustomed short skirt and high heels. As we set off towards the restaurant I kept hold of his hand, tightly. There weren't many people around thankfully but just as we passed a couple of young men waiting for their bus I heard - a wolf-whistle! I automatically squeezed my Dad's hand at the sound, he just turned back to look and then grinned at me.

"Told you!"

And just as we were going to go into the restaurant Dad turned to me again. "OK then. I can't really call you Joseph, can I?"

I really hadn't thought about that but a sudden thought occurred. Mum is Jo, that was one of the reasons I had been 'Joseph'. So. Something a bit similar, I thought.

"How about Josie? And shall I call you Mark?" I asked quietly.

"If you have to, yes, but please, I'll do all the ordering and so on. OK - er - Josie?"

We were inside the restaurant. I just smiled a 'yes'.

The actual meal, and everything around it, went superbly. Dad knew I'd go for a particular pasta dish, I always did, he ordered a linguini thing for himself. And we had one glass of wine each with the meal. And, that first time, actually being seen and being treated as a female rather than just putting a few of Mum's clothes on like I had done before, it was fun. Actually it was more than fun. The way the waiters fussed around us, the way they paid particular attention, called me 'madam' and all that, it was just a really satisfying experience. And as we were about to go, as Dad was paying the bill I just took his hand in mine and gave it a small squeeze and whispered 'Thanks'.

He was going to reply but we were interrupted.

"Hello Mark, hello there - er - Jo, isn't it? Good to see you. I didn't know you came here?"

Dad looked horrified. As well he might. I knew this man. I'd seen him a couple of times, walking out of the office with Dad at the end of the day when Mum had driven us to pick him up, when his car had been in for repair or testing or something. This was Mr Franks. Dad's boss.

"OH - er - hello Neil. We were just leaving. Er - no, we've not been here before but it's good."

He was making a little sense, coping quite well in the situation. I don't think Mr Franks noticed.

"Well we come here quite often, Gwen is just in the kitchens chatting to one of our neighbours who works here. Come on, we're early, let's have a drink, I hate drinking alone." And Mr Franks took Dad by the arm and encouraged him round the corner from the restaurant towards the bar. I was still grabbing hold of my Dad's other hand, I had to follow.

Dad was stuck. I knew I had to do what I could to try to help him out, presumably Mr Franks's wife might arrive at any moment, or their table might be ready, maybe we could get out in a couple of minutes. But I just didn't know what to say. I mean, as a woman I just wasn't into social chit-chat, obviously. Mr Franks was looking at me, smiling widely. Quickly I tried to think what Mum would have done in that situation. Then I knew. She'd use her most effective weapon, or rather weapons. I slid past Mr Franks into a space by the bar right next to him and turned to hoist myself up onto the stool, crossing my legs as I did so the slit in my skirt opened to reveal something of my nylon-covered thighs.

"Please, Mr Franks, call me Josie."

That stopped him. He stopped pushing my Dad, he stopped saying anything, he just looked - at my legs and at my bulging bosoms. Dad realised. He was probably horrified at what I'd done but he realised why. "I'll get them. Whisky, is it, Neil. And what about Gwen?"

Dad got the drinks while I chatted to Mr Franks. Now I really was being Mum, she had always been a bit of a flirt, keen to chat to men they met when they went out. Nothing serious of course, not until this Martin guy came along.

"And I'm Neil. Have we met before? I don't think so, I'd remember, I'm sure I would." OK then, just a bit of flattery then. "How's the house move going, Mark hasn't said much about it for a while?"

"It's going OK, thanks, Mark really appreciates being able to get to work easier. And it does mean we see quite a lot more of him."

"That's good, and what about - oh, hang on a moment."

Dad had just got the drinks, I assumed he'd got me a tonic water. That was what I usually had, I was allowed one glass of wine when we went out but no more. But Mr Franks - Neil - had turned to Dad.

"Mark, is that Jim Sanderson over there? I think it is. I think he's seen you, you'd better go over and say hello. Got to keep your clients happy, Mark."

Dad looked across at me. He knew he had to leave me, this was getting complicated. He did go over and shake hands with and begin to talk to this Jim person, I was left with Mr Franks. I was determined to do my job, to be 'Mark's wife' for as long as it took until we were able to get out of there.

"Good man, your Mark is, Josie. He's after a promotion soon I hear."

"Er - yes, he is. Well he does seem to work hard, Mr Franks. I mean Neil." I smiled, hopefully just encouragingly, I wanted to boost Dad's chances of the promotion or at least not to do anything which would cause problems. And I knew that if Mr Franks found out Dad had taken out his son dressed as his wife, well, almost certainly that was so weird. It would scupper any promotion prospects and it might even cost him the job itself. I had to be convincing. I was thinking of things to say or do which would help Mr Franks to believe I really was Jo, or at least Josie, Dad's wife.

"Well I think he's in with a good chance. Another drink, Josie?"

Mr Franks had finished his drink quite quickly, I just muttered a 'yes' to his request.

"Gin and tonic, is it?"

I had to mutter another 'yes', and began to sip it slowly when it arrived. Dad was still occupied across the room, I could see he was torn between trying to get away and also doing what he needed to do to stay in Mr Franks's good books. I remembered something, and opened my handbag to take out the pack of Mum's cigarettes and the lighter I'd brought with me. Though not a regular smoker I'd tried it like lots of young people, and could manage the mechanics of it and so on. I had a little difficulty taking one out of the pack with my long nails but I managed it.

"Allow me" offered Mr Franks, taking my lighter and lighting the cigarette for me. "Thank you" I muttered, feeling a lot more grown up, with the cigarette and the gin-and-tonic, hoping they would help in the illusion I was trying to foster. And they did!

"I'm sure we haven't met, I know I'd remember such an attractive woman."

And Mr Franks wasn't just flirting now - he had a hand on my knee! I was torn, beginning to have difficulties with my emotions really, simply because - I liked it! The thought that Mr Franks was in some way interested in me excited me. But I realised - I was supposed to be a married woman. How the hell would a woman put down unwanted advances in such a situation? I had to play it by ear. I reached down and took Mr Frank's hand in my own, removing it from my knee.

"Now, now, Neil. Let's take this slowly shall we?" And I smiled widely at him. But I kept hold of his hand, gently stroking the back of his hand with my long red-nailed fingers. "We don't want Mark to see anything, do we? Anyway, he's coming back."

And I gave Neil's hand a squeeze and let it go, smiling again conspiratorially at him. "Mark, darling" I said as my 'husband' returned. "I think we really should make a move." And I stood up and put out my cigarette, finished my drink and turned to slide an arm into his.

"Er - yes, we better had. I'm sorry Neil, pass on our best wishes to Gwen. See you Monday."

And we left, my arm through Dad's, probably with quite a few pairs of eyes on my departing bum and legs. Outside, I just turned to my Dad. "Well Mark, how did I do?"

He looked at me with an obvious expression of enormous relief. "I don't want to ever go through anything like that again, Joseph."

"Josie."

"What?"

"Josie. You'd better call me Josie when I'm dressed like this, just in case anyone hears."

"Oh, OK"

"Well I thought I did pretty well" I said as we drove back home. "I'm sure Neil didn't imagine anything like what was actually happening, as far as he's concerned I am your wife."

"I just hope you're right."

While I was elated at the events of the latter part of our outing, Dad was clearly distressed. Which is a great shame really, the first hour or so, the getting there and the meal and so on, had all gone so well. It was just the surprising meeting with his boss which had upset the apple cart as far as he was concerned.

"Neil said he thinks you're in with a good chance, the promotion I mean."

"Did he? Did he say that? I didn't think he wanted me for it really, what else did he say?"

"Not much, just that really, it just came up a bit while we were chatting. It was him actually raised the subject."

"Wow. Maybe I really do have a chance then." And that seemed to cheer Dad up a little. I got out of the car when we got back and opened the front door. "Shall I put the kettle on, Mark darling? Did you like that, at the end, I thought it was a nice touch."

Dad grinned at the recollection. "Yes, Joseph, I mean Josie, that was a god idea. Sounded very convincing."

"I'm sorry about the cigarette and the drink, I know you don't really approve, Mark. But they seemed like good ideas to."

"In the circumstances I think you can be excused, Josie. But don't bother with the kettle yet, I need a proper drink after that."

"OK. Whisky and soda? I'll get it for you. You sit down and relax."

So I got Dad a drink and got myself a tonic water - with just a little gin in it. And I sat in the big chair opposite Dad and looked across towards him as we chatted about the events of the evening. Eventually bedtime came round. As we got up, locked the doors, cleared things away ready to retire I knew there was something I had to say.

"Dad, I'm really sorry about the mix-up earlier, and the clothes and all that. But I enjoyed myself, and the meal was OK. Thanks so much."

And I put my arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks again, Mark darling."

And I kissed him - very gently - on the lips. That first time, the sensation of my own smooth lips sliding against his, the feeling of satisfaction I felt was so complete, so good, I remember it to this day. It had been a different sort of evening, sure, but one to remember.

"Josie, you shouldn't be doing this." At least that's what he said, as HE kissed ME. Just the once but, like they say, with feeling. He stepped back, clearly embarrassed. I just smiled and took myself off to bed.

The next day I was up and dressed a bit late. Just dressed in my usual male stuff that is. I'd spent quite some time the previous evening carefully dismantling my 'female persona', by which I mean taking off my false nails and the breast-forms, and hanging up Mum's clothes though I had put them in my wardrobe so as not to disturb Dad. We did mention the evening's events briefly in passing though Dad was mainly just concerned his boss hadn't spotted anything untoward. He never even mentioned THAT kiss, probably too embarrassed and in a way I was too.

Apparently Dad didn't see Mr Franks in the office on the Monday, he said his boss was off visiting the Coventry branch. So it was Tuesday evening, after I got back a bit late from a detention at school, before Dad was able to say anything. And he has relieved.

"It looks like you got away with it, Joseph. Neil Franks saw me this morning, he was very flattering indeed, told me how lucky I am to have such a gorgeous wife, stuff like that. He doesn't suspect at all."

"Well that's one thing off your mind then. So you haven't told people at work, about Mum that is, that she's left and all that.

"No I haven't. It just hasn't come up. I suppose I'll have to wait a bit now though."

"Good idea, Dad, at least until after your interview. I mean, it shouldn't matter, you being a single parent now and so on but you never know."

"Maybe you're right, Joseph. But anyway Neil did say one other thing. He wants me to go over to Ipswich tomorrow, some problems with one of the staff over there. I just wonder, he's never asked me to do anything like this before. Whether it's some sort of try-out, you know, for the Regional Manager post maybe?"

"It sounds a bit like that Dad. But that's a good thing isn't it?"

"Yes it is. But it means I'll have to stay over there, get back Thursday afternoon maybe. You be OK on your own?"

"Of course, Dad, no problem."

"Well it's just for one night, Joseph. I'd better read up though, have a look at the figures for the Ipswich office tonight so I'm prepared. The interviews are on Friday afternoon and I know now I've made the shortlist. So, a busy week."

"I hope it all goes OK, Dad." Which of course I did. Dad deserved a promotion. He'd been with the company for years and of course, inevitably the extra money would be useful. The next morning Dad was off a little later than usual since he didn't have to actually go into the office. And when I got back in from school there were two messages on the answer-phone.

'Hi Joseph. Dad here, just to let you know I got here OK. Look after yourself tonight.'

And the second message.

'Hello there. Josie? Neil Franks here. I was just wondering, I know Mark's in Ipswich this evening, well, my wife is away at her mother's. So if we're both going to be home alone how about getting together for a drink or two maybe. Give me a call if you'd like to. Bye.'

Hell! What on earth should I do? Just not reply? That seemed possible, I mean I might not have got the messages. But Mr Franks had called 'Josie'. My mother. Well, no, me actually, but me as my mother. I'd better reply at least. Well maybe I could go out, a bit later, it was almost the end of the term and I didn't have any homework at all that evening. What would Dad want me to do? On the one hand he certainly wouldn't be happy about me dressing up and going out, yet on the other it was only a couple of days to Dad's interview, he wouldn't want Mr Franks to feel he'd let him down. Or rather that I had. Josie, that is. I dialled his number and tried to adapt my voice a little as I had done quite successfully the previous weekend.

"Er - hell, Mr Franks? Josie Jackson here .... Yes I did .... No, nothing really, just going to do a few things at home on my own .... Yes .... OK then...... Right, see you then."

I put the phone down. I looked at the clock. I had an hour and a half. Before my 'date', with Neil Franks. Dad's boss. And his wife was away for the night. The significance of that comment hadn't escaped me, 'while the cat's away...'. It had taken me well over two hours altogether that first time to complete my changeover from man to woman. But that had been the very first proper time, not counting the other two when I just went part-way. I had to do this in half an hour less but I was sure I could do it, and I did. Just a few minutes before Mr Franks was due to arrive I was stepping carefully down the stairs, yet again having spent several minutes closely inspecting myself in the long mirror in my parents' bedroom.

Inspecting the tight mini-skirt I was wearing, one of Mum's very best I think, certainly the one she'd worn when she had wanted to excite Dad. Looking closely at the top I'd chosen, black and flimsy and low-cut over my 'boobs'. Peering at my make-up for flaws, done very similarly to last time but just a bit more extravagantly. And looking even more closely at my legs, sheer black stockings this time which were just about covered by my skirt, and at my very high-heeled stilettos. I really was 'dressed to the hilt'. OK, if the mouse wanted to play, he'd find a willing playmate in me. I had to, I knew that. The tone of Mr Franks's comments when I'd spoken to him, rather than the actual words he used, gave it away. So to whatever extent I was able, I was going to play. I may have been young and naïve then, but not THAT young or THAT naïve. I knew what Mr Franks wanted.

As soon as I saw his car pull up I was out of the door as quickly as I could. Not that I was worried about any of the neighbours recognising me as a dressed-up male, rather that I didn't want them to see Mum going out with another man. Even though that was precisely what she had done. I slid into the passenger seat and smiled across at my 'date'. I'd thought in advance exactly what to say at that moment, whether I should say 'Mr Franks' but I'd decided that was too obviously formal.

"Hello Neil" I said, smiling widely. "Let's get this right - Gwen is away for the night isn't she? Not just for the evening?"

"That's right" Neil replied. Then he realised the significance of what I'd just asked. What with that comment, and the large expanse of nylon-clad thigh I was revealing, and my very prominent boobs - I'm afraid I was a bit obvious.

"OK come on then, I'm thirsty. Where are you taking me?"

In fact it was to a pub I'd never been in before, quite some way away, probably he didn't want to risk being seen out with me in case the word got back to Gwen. And while we were out I was a little less obvious, just teasing him a little by stroking his hand in the pub and placing it on my thigh and a couple of other things like that. But it was when we got back into the car at the end of the evening that things began to heat up.

"Your place or mine? For coffee I mean, of course."

I smiled at him. "Mine I think. Just for coffee of course." But he knew damn well I had something else in mind though I don't think he could have imagined exactly what.

It was dark by then so I was less worried about the neighbours, not that we knew any of them really well by then that is. But I allowed Neil to slide a hand across my bum when we headed towards the front door. As we went in he tried to grab me but I pushed him away. "Now, now, Neil. I need to get the coffee. You go in and sit down."

As I went into the living room a few minutes later with the coffees, my guest was sitting on the big couch, looking nervous - but excited. I handed one mug to him. So far I'd really been teasing him, half-way between promising something could happen later and just going out for a social drink. I sat next to him for a minute, then got up and lit myself a cigarette, I really did have to re-emphasise the fact that I was quite a bit older than I really was. "So, Neil, Mark is away in Ipswich. He thinks it's something to do with the interview on Friday. Is it?"

"Well, I'm not sure I should say."

"OH, come on, Neil darling, you can tell me."

Suddenly he was nervous. I think I'd moved quite quickly, surprised him.

"Er - yes, it is really, he's in with a good chance I think."

I put down the cigarette and sipped my coffee again, then put the mug down and moved over to sit beside him. I'd known from the start something like this could happen, I just had to be careful. I reached up to move a little of his hair away from his forehead.

"Good" I said. And I moved in closer and touched my red lips to his very gently. "I really wish there was something I could do to help him, you know, to try to make sure he gets the job." And I kissed him again, harder this time, sliding my tongue over his lips as I moved one of my hands inside his shirt to stroke his chest.

"Christ, Josie" was all he said before grabbing me hard and pulling me towards him. Our kissing continued and became more passionate.

I broke the clinch and sat back, continuing undo the buttons on his shirt and to caress his body. "Neil, darling. Let's stop pretending. We both know why you're here. So if I have sex with you, you will promise me that Mark will get the job. OK?" And with that I undid the buttons in the front of my blouse and slipped it off. Then, carefully, VERY carefully so as to keep my panties tight against my crotch and my 'secret' well and truly tucked away, I stood and undid my belt and pulled down the zip, allowing my skirt to fall to the floor.

"You like what you see, Neil?"

"Oh YES!"

"And if we fuck, you promise me Mark will get the job?" I knew damn well that was a dangerous question. If he answered honestly I had a get-out, if he lied in the passion of the moment I was stuck.

"Well I'm chair of the committee, Josie, people will be influenced by what I say but there's no guarantee."

Yes! Exactly what I wanted to hear. I sat back, looking just a little disappointed. Then I reached down and slowly undid the belt of Neil's trousers and pulled the zip down. I reached in and freed - my very first erect cock. I'd wondered how I might react if that situation occurred. Having had no more than slight gay tendencies prior to that, seeing things in the showers at college and so on but never actually being involved in any way, I had thought about what my reaction might be. I looked at - IT. The erect, slightly throbbing erection which faced me. And my first thought was - I've done that. Wow. The hardness, the length, the throbbing, they were all reactions to the presence of a woman dressed in seductive lingerie. Me. And my second reaction was - it's beautiful. The shape, the life in it, the slight quavering movement, they combined to produce such a thing of beauty. From that very first moment, I loved it.

It surprised me. I was pretty ignorant of such things at the time of course. I'd only ever seen one erect penis at the time and you know which one that was. Not that I've seen a great number since. Three, actually. But that one, Neil's, my first 'other' one was really not as I'd expected. I really did think it would be thicker. I mean, it was long, probably quite a bit longer than my own when fully erect, but really quite thin. I just didn't know at the time what effect a woman could really have on a man's cock though I was in fact about to find out.

I reached down to touch it, to stroke it. It reacted almost of its own accord though a quietly-hissed 'Yes' from Neil told me that it wasn't operating totally in isolation. I looked at his face, he looked expectant, I hadn't really told him what I hoped was going to happen at that stage. I smiled at him.

"Do you like that, Neil, me stroking I mean?"

"Oh yes Josie, yes" was his only reply. I knew very well that if I didn't keep things moving he was liable to become, well, not exactly bored, but rather anxious to be getting on with things. So I kissed him. Not on the cock, on the lips. I touched my own lusciously-sculpted red lips to his, sliding them just a little as I felt his intake of breath.

"And do you like THAT, my darling?"

He didn't reply, he just groaned as my red-nailed fingers continued to caress his cock and to stroke his hardening balls."

"And would you like to fuck me, Neil?"

"Oh yes, Josie, sure, I'd love to - ooooh!"

And this last exclamation was because I'd just squeezed his balls a little causing his cock to stiffen. "Well my darling. I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you a little. You're not going to be allowed to fuck me, not today at least. Maybe after Friday, after my Mark has been promoted, maybe I'll let you into me then."

Now in a sense he should have been disappointed. Maybe I half-expected him to subside at the news though I was hoping he wouldn't and he didn't. Really he didn't get the chance to. I could tell he was still receiving a more-than-satisfactory dose of sexual stimulation as I carried on stroking his cock, not quite as gently as previously.

"Still maybe I can help you in some other way. I mean, Neil my darling, you don't HAVE to slide your cock into my cunt, do you?"

Yet again - he just groaned. I could tell, he was in turmoil, I recognised the signs of a man in an erotically stimulating experience. You know there is going to be such joy at the final release yet there is still such a sense of well-being on the way that in one sense you don't really want to arrive. I'd told him the destination wasn't where he'd originally wanted yet he was still having fun on his journey. And I'd noticed a particular reaction as I'd spoken to him.

"Ooooh darling, your gorgeous cock just got extra-excited. Was it when I said 'cunt'? .... oh yes it was. There it goes again, do you like me to talk dirty to you, Neil?"

"Oh yes, Josie, yes."

"Well ask me nicely Neil then?"

He was staring at me, his eyes were glazing over a little. "Please Josie my love. Talk dirty to me, talk real dirty - ooooh!"

So I did, I asked again whether he'd like to shove his cock up my cunt, if he'd like to slide his cock between my big tits, if his wife ever fondled his cock like I was doing, if he'd like to lick my cunt, to shove his tongue in my cunt, or to slide his fingers into my cunt. He really did like to hear me say that word. Basically I was teasing him, playing with him, my very first taste of the power of being a woman in such a sexual situation.

And I was loving it. But my own journey, enjoyable as it was, had to come to a close. I leaned over and took Neil's cock in my mouth, pressing my lips to it, sliding them along its length until I could feel his gorgeous bulging cock-head in my throat. And the tone of his groaning changed, it became more laboured, I was pushing his restraint to the limit in teasing him and in not really allowing his final release. I realised it was time to do so. I slid my lips away from it and looked him in the eyes again, kissing him once more.

"You want to cum in my mouth, Neil? Want to shoot your sperm into me? Shall I let you do that now?"

"Oh yes, Josie, yes, sure, I need to do it, baby, I need to!!"

So I let him. I slid my lips down his much-thicker shaft for what I hoped would be the final time and gently squeezed his balls in my hand, sucking with my mouth to give him the very final encouragement. And that did it, that drove him over the edge. He climaxed. That beautiful erect cock, deep in my mouth, began to jolt and buck as his semen spurted out in hot sticky pulses, I was surprised by both the heat and the speed of Neil's ejaculation, reflex kicked in and I just swallowed and swallowed the hot cum as it kept on coming in my mouth.

I slid my mouth from Neil's subsiding cock, taking in as much of his remaining cum as I could. I kissed him once more, then I stood up and leaned over to pick up my skirt. Done it. My secret was safe, my cunt was intact and my husband's boss had just face-fucked me. Certainly I was happy, I turned again to look at Neil. He was tucking his member away in his pants, he caught my eye. He was happy too. He was bloody deliriously happy. I stepped into my skirt and pulled it up, then began to fasten the zip and the clip at the top.

"Thanks for that, my love" I said. "That was good - and very tasty too."

He just stared at me. His gaze was so intense that for a moment I was sure he'd spotted something, something wrong that is, something that had given away me secret. But when he did speak, then I knew I really had got away with it.

"Josie, that was the most fantastic blow-job I've ever had, ever. From anyone, from Gwen included. You are just such a sensational woman."

I glowed. There was no way Neil could possibly know just how much that compliment meant to me. And it set me thinking too. If I really could be a woman in such a situation, what else was within my capabilities? Just how much scope did I really have?

We kissed once more as he left, quite passionately though I guess he was rather tired by then.

"I'll be in touch" he said.

"After Friday my darling. And don't bother sending Mark away again after you've given him the job. I know we can work something out. Bye my love."

After Friday? OK, so I knew that I'd created a potential problem for myself if Dad really did get the job. But I was so much more confident then, probably just the arrogance of youth. I'd sort it.

I had Thursday to get through at school first, and Dad coming home and telling me about his business trip. And him going on about how well he'd thought he'd done and how positive his boss had been when he'd called in at the office to give his report. He really was chuffed about it, both the satisfaction at being given the responsibility and the good feelings he'd had wielding the power productively in the Ipswich office. He really did think he'd passed any sort of test OK and was well set up for his interview the next day.

With Friday being the last day of term it was a lot easier, we finished early at school. And when I got it there was a message on the machine.

"Hello Joseph. Dad here. I got the job. So celebration tonight. I'm bringing an Italian meal home. You hear that. At home. Should be back at seven, we're off for a drink first. See you."

Great. Job done, job got. And Dad was getting an Italian take-away, I couldn't remember the last time we'd done something like that two Fridays in a row. But at home, he'd emphasised that. No mistakes possible, no going out to a restaurant - in a tight skirt or whatever. A quiet evening at home. Pity really. Yet at the top of the stairs I automatically turned towards my parents' bedroom rather than my own. And opened the wardrobe again. And looked in. OK so we were staying in. But Dad hadn't actually said that I wasn't to dress up at all, had he?

It was the word 'dress' which got me. In all my attempts I'd worn a skirt, after the first jeans attempts I mean. But to really be a woman I'd have to wear a dress, wouldn't I? And if it was to be a celebration it should be one of Mum's party dresses. I reached into the wardrobe and pulled out some hangers, laying three dresses out carefully on the bed.

I really did hesitate. Lots of thoughts had been running through my mind in the previous 48 hours or so ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous. And what I was considering at that moment was definitely a course of action at the extreme end of the ridiculous part of the spectrum. I was pretty sure that, since we would indeed be staying in that evening, Dad would go along with phase 1 of what I was thinking about. Letting me dress up again as Mum, that is, in fact actually wearing one of her sexy dresses. OK then, if I'd waited for him to come home before suggesting it he'd almost certainly say no. But I didn't plan on waiting. And if he arrived to face a fait accompli, like I said I thought he would go along with it.

But phase 2? No way would he agree to that, let alone phase 3. If he got even an inkling of what I was considering I'd get at the very least a sharp telling off and most probably an urgent referral to some sort of psychiatric treatment. Phase 3 was most definitely a phase too far, way out at the outer extremes of 'ridiculous'. However without phase 1, the actual dressing up, it couldn't happen. So after I hesitated about it - I did it.

I knew I had a couple of hours before Dad arrived bearing the Italian, so I set about the sort of transformation I'd done the previous week, just stretching things a little by way of more provocative make-up and maybe a little more, maybe even too much, perfume down my cleavage. Oh, and one more thing. Stockings. I'd worn black stockings for my 'date' with Mr Franks, Neil that is, but not for Dad the previous week. So I used the fancier pair I'd not dared wear with Neil, black and sheer and with a patterned seam up the back. And with the ultra-high black stilettos and Mum's indecently short black glitzy party dress - that was the one of the three I'd picked - I thought I looked good. Attractive. Female. And sexy, I specially wanted to look as sexy as I possibly could for my Dad.

Like the previous week I sorted all the dining arrangements, best crockery and so on, even though on that earlier occasion we hadn't actually used them. I'd had to put them all away on the Saturday morning.

And then, with everything in place including the bottle of champagne I'd bought for Mum and Dad on their previous anniversary and which had never been opened - that was the day when Mum and Dad had begun to drift apart just before she left - I was ready. I checked the contents of my bag - everything I'd need was there - and had a final inspection in the big upstairs mirror. I heard Dad's car in the drive. I heard him come in and go into the kitchen, some brief rattling as he sorted the oven and so on. I heard the dining room door - which had always creaked a little, I think I heard a slightly surprised and excited gasp. Then Dad called up the stairs.

"OK Joseph? Well done, the champagne's a great idea. Shall I open it now do you think?"

I paused. The entrance had to be good. Still moving down the stairs gingerly on the 6" high stilettos, I descended and moved through into the dining room.

"I think that would be a good idea, Mark. You deserve a celebration. Well done."

And Dad simultaneously popped the cork and turned to look. I was ready. Because he froze. The champagne didn't, as he stood there I quickly helped him by holding the champagne glasses in place to minimise the spillage on the floor. Then I took the bottle from him and set it down, passing over one of the two glasses.

"Josie!" Yes! He'd got the name right, I'd just hoped it would come automatically when he saw me. "Streuth!! You look - stunning!!"

I was glad I'd said 'Mark' when he first saw me. OK so I'd done a lot of 'darling' with Neil - had that only been two nights earlier - but it would maybe have disturbed Dad if I'd said that first off. But now was the time. I moved closer to my father, letting him have a full view of the 'woman' in front of him. I held up my champagne glass deliberately in my left hand so he could see my wedding ring glistening in the candlelight.

"Thank you, darling. But it's you who should be congratulated. Regional manager, well done." And I clinked his glass and sipped my champagne, aware that he was staring at my bright red lips over the rim of the glass, and hoping he would recognise that I was wearing 'my' wedding ring. Josie's, that is. His wife Josie's.

And as we lowered our glasses I moved closer and slid my other hand round his waist. "I'm so proud of you, Mark, really." And I kissed him. Not on the lips, just on the cheek, close to the mouth, but a little more than a fleeting kiss. I knew I had to let him speak, I sipped my champagne again.

"Josie. Wow, you really do look sensational, I really didn't expect - well, you know, that's why I made sure you knew I'd be bringing the meals home tonight. So you wouldn't - you know."

"Well, since we're not going out I thought it would be all right. I thought you might like to see me in this dress. What do you think?"

I put my glass down and turned round slowly, making sure he was able to get a good eyeful of the figure - I was so proud of how tight I'd got the basque, and the legs and the heels and all the make-up, in fact the whole package.

"As I said, Josie, you look stunning. That dress - wow, it really does show your gorgeous figure. I'm amazed."

"Good. And I'm hungry, so sit down please, Mark my darling, while your wife treats you as you deserve to be treated and serves your dinner for you." I didn't wait for a reply, just pushed my 'husband' down onto a chair and disappeared into the kitchen. Mark had indeed got Italian take-aways, very quickly I was able to return and serve us both and we were able to get on with the meal. I knew if I gave him the chance he'd start talking about the way I'd dressed and maybe questioning whether or not it was a good idea so I didn't give him the chance. I was playing the faithful wife now.

"So, Mark my darling, how was the interview? Was Mr Franks there? Did he give you a tough time? I want to know all about it." And I kept the conversation along those lines, with only slight detours into other topics, through the meal and through the dessert. OK so we'd often played at fancy meals before but we've never gone as far as coffee and brandy at the end, that always seemed to be going too far especially when I was younger. But just sometimes Mum and Dad had a small brandy at the end of the meal. Again I didn't want to go too far but I was there with a little brandy in the bottom of a brandy glass as we stood up after the meal.

"You need this now, Mark, I think, this has been one hell of a day for you." And, almost exactly as I had done with Neil Franks after getting his coffee, I sat on the end of the sofa and crossed my legs to allow the hem of my dress to rise and show off my heels and thighs. I lit one of Mum's cigarettes, hoping just again that the effect would be to make me seem older, more like my mother.

"Don't worry, darling, this is nearly the last. I'm going to quit. Well, Mark, what do you think of your wife's performance tonight?"

I had to back off. I knew that. Give my father room to think and ponder what had been going on, give him the chance to consider my roleplay and to comment on it. That, I knew was necessary. Phase 1 had been just about 100% successful, there had to be a break before phase 2.

"Well, Josie." He grinned in amusement at the continuing use of my 'female name'. But I was thrilled, he'd called me 'Josie' all evening and I'd called him 'Mark'. Or even 'darling' once or twice, surely he must have noticed that. He must have begun to realise just what I was feeling. "I was very surprised at first. But - heck - you really do look so much like your mother, you know. She was very young when we first met, lots of people were not too happy about that. I mean, me, an older guy, with a much younger girl. It wasn't totally approved of. But you look a lot like she did then, maybe a bit older."

I smiled again at him. I knew what I wanted to say, the topic I needed to get round to but really he had to say it. But I had to do the teasing, the taunting, I had maybe to lead him in that direction.

"And what about the dress? Does it suit me, do you think? How do I look?"

OK so I was fishing for compliments but there was another purpose to this.

"The dress is gorgeous on you, really, your mother only got it a few weeks before she left. I never even saw her in it."

This was going too slowly. I stood up and strolled as sensuously as I could towards Dad, sitting down right next to him and sipping my brandy once more.

"So I really look OK?"

"Josie, really, you look incredibly sexy, honest."

Sexy! He'd said it. That was just what I'd wanted, it gave me the excuse I needed. I kissed him on the cheek again, he looked a little uncomfortable.

"Mark, you remember last week, at the end of the evening...."

He looked at me. He seemed worried. He remembered. I moved closer again and just touched my lips to his.

"Josie, really, we shouldn't."

I knew damn well we shouldn't, and so did he. His voice was saying 'no' but his body language, even the words he was using, he was still calling me 'Josie', to some extent he was thinking 'maybe' or even 'yes'.

"It was such an - exciting - moment, Mark, when we kissed. I'd really so like to do that again." And with these words I moved right into the middle of phase 2, leaning across to touch his lips again with mine and this time to slide one of my hands round his body, to turn it just a little more towards me and squeeze.

"Really Josie, I don't think this is a good idea."

"I do, darling" I whispered. I went into full attack mode, kissing again and opening his mouth with my tongue. And this time he definitely responded. He pulled me towards him and joined in the kiss for a few seconds. When we separated he looked me straight in the eyes.

"Josie. Look, we're getting into dangerous territory here. It's one thing you pretending to be my wife but I'm not sure what you're really after. So. What's all this really about?"

I sat back and sipped the last of my brandy. "Mark, this is all new to me too but it feels so lovely. Such a good feeling, being dressed like this, nice meal, wine, soft lights. And you did say I look sexy after all. I know we shouldn't really be kissing like this but tell me, do you enjoy it? I know I do."

"Well, maybe. It is rather nice in a way But ..."

'Rather nice'? Well, that would do. "Mark, my darling, where's the harm..." and I broke off my sentence to move in on him again. I was determined this time. I hugged him firmly and kissed him open-mouthed, wriggling round to slide my leg across his thighs. As we began to become just a little unstable he had to grab my thigh to stay balanced and, at the same moment I felt his lips part under mine.

"Oh Mark, that is so good"

And I groped, and he groped. His hand slid up my thigh under my skirt and gripped my thigh just below my stocking tops. And we kissed, we heavy-petted for about five minutes. Just as I felt his resolve weakening I moved away.

"I think I'd better do my wifely duty now, Mark my love. I should load the dish-washer, it's getting late."

I had hoped just to see a glimpse of disappointment in Dad's eyes as I stood up. I slid my hands seductively down my dress from the waist to smooth it out and went off into the kitchen. Very quickly indeed I packed the dishwasher and locked the outside door, then turned the light off.

Back in the living room Dad was just finishing his drink. I smiled at him. "I enjoyed myself tonight, darling, it's fun being your wife." And I gave him one more very brief kiss on the lips. As I went up the stairs in front of him I turned.

"Are you looking up my dress?" I asked, laughing. He smiled. Back in my bedroom I just stood there, waiting, for two or three minutes. Then I went out into the hall and turned. I knocked quietly on my parents' bedroom door and walked straight in. Dad was standing in front of the big mirror. He was naked. And he was erect. I turned to face away from him.

"Could you unzip me please?"

"Oh - er - yes, of course."

I felt fingers seeking the small zip on the back of my dress. They seemed hesitant. I felt the zip move down. I slipped my shoulders out of the dress and allowed it to fall to the floor. I turned to face my naked, erect, father. I didn't say a word. I just reached out and cradled his erect penis in my hand, the second time I'd done that in two days.

"Josie..."

"Ssshhhh darling" I whispered. And then I 'delivered' the most passionate kiss I've ever known, before or since, with my right hand pulling Mark's face towards me, the other beginning to massage the erect cock in my hand.

"Oh my God, Josie!"

I still didn't say anything, I just pushed him down on the bed and lay across him, kissing and groping, and appreciating the fact that he was joining in. Mark's hands were exploring my own body, feeling my nylonned legs, stroking my smooth naked arms, caressing my bulging 'breasts'.

"Oh Jeez, Josie, you shouldn't..."

He was reluctant, but he was weakening. I had his cock held between my legs, now was the time.

"I want you, my love"

"Josie. JOSIE! We can't ...Ooooh!!"

And we did. As I lay there on top of my 'husband' I steered the knob of his penis into position at the entrance to my arsehole. Then, just as he had started to protest I heaved, and felt for the very first time that totally beautiful sensation as my lover entered me, as his cock slid deep into my lubricated arse.

"Oh Mark, my love, that is SO good, it is wonderful. That feels so right my love, I want you, I need you my darling, I need to be your woman. Please, oh PLEASE my love, make love to me. Now!"

In the midst of all the passion, Mark was still to an extent logical. "Josie, that feels so good, I know I shouldn't be doing this, I know it's wrong but - oh hell - I'll regret it in the morning but what the heck!"

And he smiled. And I smiled. And we did it. Mark fucked me, for the first time. I was in ecstasy as his wonderful thick penis slid in and out of me, first quickly, then he slowed down as we both savoured the experience, than again quickly as he built up to a magnificent climax. The blow-job with Neil had been good but this, this was something so many orders of magnitude greater, this wasn't just sex, it was - well, there's not really another word for it. It was love. Loads of lust and passion in there too, but love nevertheless.

"I love you, Mark" I whispered as we lay there in post-coital bliss, both spent, both deliriously happy.

"I love you, Josie."

I went to sleep dreaming the impossible dream, thinking about what had happened. It had started out as all me, sure. I'd made all the running, what with the dressing up and the teasing and the kissing and so on. But definitely, towards the end, Mark had taken over. He'd been after satisfaction himself, the satisfaction which only comes from shooting your cum inside a woman. And as far as I was concerned, well, you can imagine. The moment of Mark's ejaculation had been a climax in more ways than one, it had been the end of phase two. Of seducing my 'husband'. Phase 3? That was tomorrow. I slept.

I really should have slept a long time after an evening like that. I'm glad I didn't. I got about seven hours of really solid slumber and woke feeling refreshed and, to be honest, just a little sore. I slipped out of bed quietly, Mark was still sleeping quite deeply. I sneaked round the place desperate not to wake him until I was ready, managed to shower and re-do my make-up in about fifteen minutes, then grabbed a couple of items from Mum's wardrobe and went into my own room to finish dressing. I crept downstairs to begin on getting breakfast ready. And just as the toast was finishing and the coffee was ready I heard footsteps on the stairs.

A very sweaty, unkempt, unshaved Mark appeared wearing shorts and his robe. He looked across the kitchen at me standing by the coffee-pot. I poured for him and took it over to him.

"Morning darling" I said.

"Joseph. What the hell is going on?"

"No. I'm Josie. I'm your wife. Don't tell me you don't remember last night."

"Shit. I do remember last night. I remember everything, it was all wrong. And why the fuck are you dressed like that?"

'Like that' was a reference to the clothes I'd chosen, a bright crisp white blouse, obviously unbuttoned at the front to show off my boobs, and the black leather mini-skirt I'd worn when Neil had come round. Oh, and black stockings and high heels of course. My make-up was a bit different though, I'd managed to get off the nails I'd been wearing and replaced them with a scarlet set, not as long but equally as impressive I thought.

"Because this is how a wife should dress to impress and arouse her husband. Don't you like it?"

"Wife? What the hell do you mean wife?"

"Well, you fucked me last night, Mark."

"Jesus, I know I did. Look, Joseph, you know damn well that was wrong. You really mustn't tell anyone, ever, I could get into all sorts of trouble for that. Hell I could end up in jail, certainly I'd lose my job. That was wrong, Joseph."

I paused. This had been fun up to then, the dressing up, the pretending. Up until the actual sex that is. Well, no wit was changing direction. It had to stop being just fun. The word 'blackmail' came to mind. I had to blackmail my Dad.

"Look, I have no intention at all of telling anyone. Ever."

Dad looked relieved.

"But you have to let me stay dressed, for today at least. And you have to let me call you 'Mark'. And you have to call me 'Josie'. OK?"

Dad sat thinking for a moment. He was trying to come up with objections, reasons not to allow me to wander round the house all day in a tight mini-skirt and high heels and make-up and all that. "Well, er, Josie. I'm not so sure about that. I mean ...."

"Mark. Do I look like your wife?"

"You do, Josie. Of course you do. I mean, even my boss was fooled last week."

I giggled internally. Exactly what he'd have said if he'd known about my 'activities' with his boss I didn't really know. Actually I did. There would have been hell to pay, specially if he'd realised that me giving his boss a blow-job had played a part in him getting the promotion. THAT had to stay secret to. I was damn sure Neil would never say a word about it to anyone. My promise to Neil re-surfaced in my mind. That was going to need sorting out in some way now that Dad had got the job.

"OK Mark, look, let's finish breakfast and then sort things shall we. More coffee?" That was it, get things down to a more mundane level, just do the ordinary things - as Josie. After we'd had a quiet breakfast, even though we were both looking at each other neither of us really wanted to speak. We both knew - in some way things were going to change. Somehow. Neither of us was really sure how, neither of us wanted to broach the subject in case we didn't like the end result. So I started. On Phase 3.

"Mark. Please. Look at me. Do I look good?"

"You look gorgeous."

"Do I look like your wife?"

"Sure you do, you look SO much like her, Josie". He'd said 'Josie' again!

"And did you have good sex last night, with me, with your wife?"

"Hell Josie. It was an unbelievable experience. but ...."

"No 'buts', Mark. OK, listen."

This was it. The point of no return. I had to make it clear to Mark exactly what I was after. But I really didn't have any other way of doing it except by giving him a choice. So I had to do whatever I could to sway his decision.

"Look at me, Mark. I'm going to ask you a question in a minute or so. And if you decide you don't want to go ahead, OK." I moved a hand up to the buttons just above the cleavage of my blouse and began to slowly undo them. I looked down at my fingers, attractively decorated with longish red nails, with several rings including the wedding ring as I unfastened the small buttons.

"I had one helluva time last night, Mark. That was so different."

I continued unfastening as Mark stared into my cleavage. Then I pulled my top out from my skirt so that it hung loose and pulled it to the sides to show off my breasts.

"OK so it was different from usual, Mark my darling. But when your cock shot your sperm into me I felt such an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction, in knowing that I'd satisfied my husband. I really was being your wife at that moment."

And I moved closer to him as I began to undo the small clip in the middle of my bra.

"And if you can honestly tell me that you don't want any more of this, that you don't want to fuck me ever again I'll accept your decision and go upstairs to change."

I undid the clip and pulled my bra cups to one side, letting my big boobs hang free. I moved even closer and lowered my voice, I was almost whispering in his ear by then.

"But if you want me, and I think you do, my lover, I'm more than willing to be your wife."

And I reached up behind Mark's head and pulled him towards me to kiss his lips. And as I did so everything clicked. For both of us.

Mark's mouth opened again to admit my tongue. And as it did so, as I grabbed him harder he grabbed me, caressing my exposed boobs, turning a passionate kiss into so much more as I was pushed back towards the kitchen table. I managed to hoist myself up on it and to grab him, literally, by the balls, to return his caresses in kind as he leaned over me heavily. The groping and snogging continued for a moment or two, then I felt his erect cock once more pushing hard against my thigh.

"Mark. My love. If you go any further right now you know what's going to happen. And then I'll have to shower and change and dress again. Nevertheless, I will - if you will."

Mark stopped. Self-control took over. I could see in his eyes that he really was lusting after me.

"Hell Josie, what the fuck are we going to do, I mean, if anyone ever finds out - there'll be hell to pay, really. We just - last night, it wasn't just sex though that was so fantastic, it was also in ..."

"MARK!! Don't you dare say - what you were going to say. OK, I know, but think of it as - well, just sex. You making love to your wife, that's all."

"All? ALL? it was more than that, Josie. I know Jo and I had our differences in the end but we were good together for well over fifteen years. And the sex was good, sometimes very good. But not like last night, Josie, streuth, you were so tight, so smooth, such an orgasmic feeling all the way through it. That was the best sex I've ever had."

"And it was with your wife, Mark my love, you keep on remembering that. And no-one is going to find out, Mark. After last week" - I just didn't mention the events of the Wednesday - "I know I can pass OK, I did in the restaurant, none of the staff suspected and your boss didn't at all, did he?"

"That is a hoot, he hadn't the faintest idea."

"So, Mark, school is out for five weeks now. And your wife is back, at least for the time being. Now, get yourself upstairs and get washed and shaved and dressed. You smell of sex. Then we can discuss things. OK?"

"Yes, ma'am" said Mark. 'Madam'! Me?! Well, in a way, yes.

And I did the wifely thing. More toast, more coffee. And after he'd changed Mark and I sat at the breakfast bar and crunched our toast and drank our juice and our coffee and wondered - exactly what we had embarked on.

"So, Josie. You seem to have thought some of this through at least. What's the plan of campaign?"

"Well, you have to go back to work on Monday, don't you? The new Regional manager of course. So how about we just go shopping this morning. I know you've got work things to sort out before Monday, I could tell yesterday, all the stuff you were carrying as well as your briefcase."

"Hell, yes. I need to get myself up to speed. And it's gonna be a long day on Monday, I'm due at the office early, then I've got to be in Cardiff by noon. And I might well be late in the evening."

"OK, so how is this going to fit in with our 'Josie' plans for the weekend?"

"OUR plans? You started all this, Josie."

"All right then, but they're our plans now, so we need to sort things." We sat there for maybe half an hour discussing what we were going to be doing that weekend. And I noticed that whereas at the beginning it was me doing the affectionate bits, caressing Mark's hand, appreciating the delights of just caressing his hand and nuzzling his neck, before long Mark was joining in. HE was being intimate too, and he was loving it. As we both stood up and kissed each other before going our separate ways for an hour or so, it was HIM who slid a hand round my leather-clad bum - and gave me a squeeze.

Hell, I'd pushed it. All the way. Ever since I'd realised the possibility it had been me making the running. But now, again less than 12 hours just about from our first real moments of intimacy, Mark was coming round to just beginning to believe that things could be so much different in the coming weeks.

Or months. Or years maybe. 'But' I thought to myself. 'Let's just get through the first few weeks first.'

Mark had gone to sort out his weekend working stuff, he really did want to continue making an impression on the coming Monday. And me? I cleared the breakfast things and sorted the dishwasher and put it on. And got out the ironing board and did a couple of Mark's shirts, and one of Joseph's. That one wasn't going to be needed for a while. And decided what we were going to eat that evening and the next day. Loads of things, woman's things I suppose, it was really very nice thinking about such things and making decisions. I enjoyed it, maybe it was the novelty of doing all those things while wearing a tight skirt and high heels, but it was actually fun.

I took Mark a sandwich up to the study just after 1, he told me he was going to need another couple of hours. I decided - I didn't tell him - I had some shopping to do. And that was going to take some sorting. Not driving into town, not to a superstore or anything, just a walk up the road to the local shop, maybe for vegetables and milk and maybe a newspaper.

I looked at myself in the mirror. At Josie. What did I see? Gorgeous? Maybe not. Attractive? Well, maybe yes, I really did like the way I was looking. Female? Most definitely. I grabbed a handbag. MY handbag. And headed out of the door. I closed the door rather heavily, so Mark would hear it, so he'd know I'd gone out, he'd know where I was but it would be too late for him to do anything about it. And for the first time, on my own. I was Josie. I was a woman. Not just actually dressed as a woman, I WAS a woman, to all intents and purposes. I walked along the road, a little hesitantly at first, aware that people were going to see me. And aware that they were going to notice me. There was no doubt about that.

Though the neighbourhood we lived in was quite a plush one where most of the wives 'dressed up' to some extent to please their husbands, to maintain an image, to show off to each other and to the people around them, even in that company I knew I'd stand out. None of the wives and mothers I knew wore quite such short tight skirts, or heels quite so high, or wore such extravagant makeup or showed so much cleavage just to walk along the road to the shops. But I did. Josie did. Josie wasn't going to be quite like the other women. I had to make an impression, I was desperate to do that. For Mark. And for me.

If was going to be a woman, I was going to be the best and the sexiest woman I could be. And as I walked round the corner at the top of the road and approached the local shops I knew exactly the sort of wife I was going to be. Josie the wife, Josie the tart, that was me. I remembered a phrase from somewhere - 'a cook in the kitchen, a whore in the bedroom'. Yes, I could do that. And a tart on the street.

"Morning, Mr James" I said, looking the owner of the newsagent's in the eye. "VS longs, two packs please."

Mr James - I knew his name was Peter but I wasn't sure whether 'Josie' was supposed to know - looked straight at me. At Josie! At the woman standing in front of him. I smiled. I was getting away with this! I really had been so sure as I'd inspected my appearance in the mirror before I'd left the house. I could 'pass' - as a woman.

"Hello, Mrs Jackson isn't it? How are you, not seen you in here for a while?"

"I'm fine thanks, Mr James. Been away for a while, I think it was the move really, I felt a bit off-colour. It really is so difficult settling into a new area, isn't it? "

"Sure is. You OK now?"

"I most certainly am, never felt better!"

And I picked up my cigarettes and walked, teetering just a little on my high heels, out of the shop. I was thrilled. In broad daylight, for the first time, I'd passed. And in an extremely sexy outfit too, one which made Mr James look twice, one which I just knew would interest any man. I knew - I was going to enjoy this!

"Hi there. Jo, isn't it?"

I turned, startled for just a moment, to look straight at a tallish woman who had come out of the shop next door. I had to stay in role, obviously.

"Josie" I said.

"Oh yes. Remember me? Ruth Halstrom, from number 44, we met a few weeks ago. How are you settling in?"

And Ruth and I strolled down the street, chatting for all the world like a couple of wives hading home after the shopping. Which of course we were. Just as we came to my front gate - our front gate, mine and Mark's - Ruth turned to me and smiled.

"Josie, look, I realise your husband has a lot on this weekend but surely he has to have a break sometime. How about you two coming over for dinner this evening? At about eight? My sister and her husband are arriving to stay, and to be honest Mark and I aren't looking forward to it. You'd be doing us a big favour. My brother-in-law is a golf nut, like your Mark, you said? Well he's a total bore where anything else is concerned. How about it?"

Dinner? In company? Why the hell not? Mark could talk golf all evening if he liked. I gave Ruth a provisional yes, and we discussed dresses, so that we wouldn't clash. I really only had the one suitable party dress, Mum's black cocktail dress, in fact it turned out that Ruth preferred blue herself and knew her sister would be wearing a deep red dress. Discussing dresses? Me? Of course. I realised I had slipped so easily into the female role, even after only a few days. Ruth and I even 'air-kissed' like old friends as I turned to go in.

Mark had been in the kitchen, looking out, and had seen Ruth and I at the gate.

"That was -er - Ruth, wasn't it? Julian's wife? What did she say?"

"Don't worry, Mark" I said, lightly kissing him on the cheek. "How's the work going?"

"Er - OK. Another hour or two today I think, then take a break, a couple of hours tomorrow should do it. What did Ruth say? She didn't ...?"

The question was left unfinished, I knew very well what Mark was worried about. "As far as Ruth's concerned, I'm your wife Josie. And we're invited over to dinner this evening, a bit formal I think. So the dark blue suit, I think, Mark. And that tie I got you -"

I stopped. I giggled. "I mean, the tie Joseph got you, at Christmas."

"Dinner? Josie, we can't surely. I mean, maybe you fooled Ruth on the street but how sure are you that you can keep it up in company?"

I thought back. I couldn't tell him. Not tell my husband, not about my 'affair' with his boss, not about sucking Neil's cock. But I knew damn well I could get away with it.

"I can do it, Mark. So, you scoot upstairs and finish your work, you need to shower before we start to get ready. I think the black dress will do again, don't you?"

"THAT black dress? You can't be serious, you can't go out and wear it in public."

I turned to face him. I scowled just a little. "Mark, I've discussed this with Ruth. The black dress it is. And I'm going to do you proud tonight. You're going to talk golf with whatever-his-name-is, and I'm going to look gorgeous and flirt a bit with Julian, maybe, just a little. And he's going to be oh-so jealous of you because you've got such a fuckable wife. You're a senior manager now, Mark, we need to socialise more, be seen, you're on the way up. OK?"

He looked at me. "Yes Josie."

"And then we're going to get just a bit tipsy, maybe. And when we get to bed you're going to fuck me all night. OK my darling?"

I smiled, and kissed him. Kissed my husband, and patted his bum as he started out up the stairs to finish off his work. I went through what was now becoming my routine, showering and smoothing my skin again, slipping into my sexy lingerie and making myself up before donning the black dress again. Maybe I'd try that dark blue one next time? Or go into town and buy another one. Or two.

I walked into the living room just before eight to find Mark sitting there meekly, ready for the party. He really is a handsome guy, or rather was. We had a great time at the party, our first proper social occasion together. And we did fuck all night.

 

Epilogue.

That summer we 'got rid of' Joseph. Early September we reappeared from our vacation suitably dressed, in black, and spread the tale of Joseph's tragic accident, we were both 'very brave' as Ruth said, and got more used to our new life together. Ian? Well, he never did get the chance to fuck me. Just as well really, he'd have found a big surprise between my legs. He got promoted and moved to the west of Scotland - poor guy, cold and wet, but Gwen was happy to get back to nearer to her family. I don't think Ian was.

The company brought in a caretaker manager for six months, a guy who was going to retire soon. And when he did Mark got the job! Partly because of his own outstanding performance in the preceding six months. And partly because I spent all of one Friday night snogging with, and groping, and being groped by, one of the guys on the selection committee. Oh yes, and sucking his cock dry three times that evening. He really didn't have much of a cock though I did get it up to about five inches a couple of times during the evening, but it was fun anyway and it worked!

I only ever did that once more, about three years later. By that time my hair had grown out, and I was having it dyed red on a fairly regular basis or course. Mark really wanted his 'wife' to be as perfect as possible if you see what I mean. Of course by then I had all the mannerisms sorted, and the voice and all the basics of being female.

Which is why, for my '40^th birthday' (though I was really in my 20s!) he gave me a special present. Two special presents. We had a brief holiday in Italy and had arranged a visit to a surgeon over there, and the 'Josie' who returned to Brum sported a splendid pair of implants. I'd picked 38-DDs so that I wouldn't have to buy all new bras and bustiers, and I knew Mark really liked a couple of handfuls. It was not long after that when Mark had the chance of the directorship. OK so I did help out again. I've always been surprised what guys will promise in return for a night out with a sexy-looking woman and a night's sex, even though as usual I restricted myself to oral. Like I said to Sir Henry, the MD, 'Mark's the only man whose cock I'll allow up me.' I think he heard what I said even though I had my mouth full at the time.

Mark retired last year after the company got taken over, we made a real killing on the share options he'd got as part of his salary. And we moved out of town to this glorious house on the edge of the Cotswolds. Lovely views, nice walks around, and golf courses a-plenty, for Mark of course. Everything was going swimmingly - until last Thursday. Mark was playing with a couple of his pals. He collapsed on the ninth tee. The funeral was yesterday. OK so everyone has been very kind. I've had a constant stream of visitors. Mainly male. Our solicitor, of course. And the local doctor. And two other men from the village - one of them is married, even.

All keen to help. To offer condolences, all saying 'if there's anything I can do....' And I've played my part well, the grieving widow. I'm not really surprised. After all, how many rich widows do you know with six million, with bulging tits and long red hair? Widows who look good, way less than their years and who like wearing skin-tight ultra-short dresses and impossibly high heels? Wouldn't you be offering assistance? Actually I do rather like the look of our solicitor, he's the son of the old guy we used to deal with. Tall, darkish and very handsome and by all accounts according to a couple of women I know in the village, hung like a horse. But exactly how would I offer him access to my love-hole? It could be fun finding out.

But there's a problem. At the funeral, yesterday. There were lots of friends, obviously. And someone else, a woman on the edge of the assembled mourners. I was holding onto some guy's arm at the time, knowing full well everyone was watching me. Some with interest, some with envy, some with lust. Well, I always did look good in black.

But it was this woman at the back of the crowd, I thought I recognised her. In a long, rather tatty black coat. Like the coat she seemed to be past her best, mid or late 40s I thought to start with. Originally red I thought, or at least her hair had been though the dark roots are showing through clearly now. Then at the end of the funeral when almost everyone had gone, she came up to me.

"Hello - er - Josie. Can we have a word please? I'll come up to the house, if I may. About ten o'clock tomorrow morning?"

And she went. That was yesterday, it's nearly half past nine now and I still don't know what to do. Offer her - what - two million, maybe? I didn't sleep much last night, worrying about this morning. Not just my usual worry, what to wear, that is. I ended up choosing a tight grey sweater and black micro-skirt. And my six-inch stilettos, of course.

But. What to do? Three million, maybe? Half each, that seems fair.

 

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