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

 

That Red Dress Started It....!                by: Bethany Jacques

 

Part 3

 

Eventually I dared to actually go out. But only into the back garden, I opened the patio door and stepped out, just strolled for a minute, feeling the cool wind on my legs and on my bare shoulders. But it was a little too cold for that really, I went back in and poured myself another drink and sat on the sofa sipping it, imagining. This was so good, I had a warm cosy feeling all over, I closed my eyes for a few moments.

"Hello there".

What the hell was that!!

*****

Inevitably, I jumped. What was happening? Who had said that? Where was I? I opened my eyes - I must have just dropped off. Then I remembered. I looked down, saw my long nylon-encased legs stretched out in front of me, the scarlet ultra-high heels. And, just beyond the toes of those gorgeous heels, my eyes re-focused - on a man. He was standing in the doorway to the conservatory. Blast, I must have left it unlocked. What did that matter? Even if the door had been locked he would have seen me through the glass. But who the hell was he? And what was he thinking? Both questions were answered fairly quickly.

"Er - hello there Mrs Warner. Sorry - I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just that - our husband asked for the alarm system to be looked at. I was due to come last week but, what with the flu and all, we had so many staff off. You know how it is. Anyway I was doing a job near here, I thought I might be able to do it now. It’s not a long job, at least it shouldn’t be. If it’s not - I could come back."

I was struck dumb. He was a locksmith or something - yes? I was still looking at him open-mouthed.. I wanted to speak but couldn’t. He hadn’t ‘spotted’ me. In fact more than that he had jumped to an assumption. That I was Mrs Warner, Helen. I didn’t have time to think what to do or say, this guy was ahead of me. He stepped in through the door and reached into his pocket. Just for a moment, like I the movies, I thought he was going to pull a gun out. Silly thought, that may happen in the films, but not here, not in Birmingham, not in England, not in the provinces like this. But it wasn’t a gun, he pulled out an ID card and showed it towards me. I sat up and crossed my legs, noticing that his eyes down to follow my movements. I tried to pull the hem of the dress down as I shuffled and looked at the card.

‘David Geller. ICT Locks and Security’. He was who he said he was. I began to recover my composure. Hell, maybe I could get away with this. I stood up and tried to smile sweetly at him.

"I’m so sorry, you did surprise me, Mr. Geller. I must have dropped off. Please, do come on in. You had better fix it while you are here, if you can."

I had begun to get my thoughts together. He was here, I had to get out of this. And what I didn’t want was him coming back tomorrow and me having to be dressed up again. And I certainly didn’t need him returning next week, and finding a different Mrs. Warner. My best bet was to carry it through there and then, get it done with and get back to something like normal. I stood up and walked through into the living room, turning to greet my ‘guest’ properly.

"Mr. Geller. My husband didn’t say he had asked you to call, you caught me off guard. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Well, just show me the main control, from what Mr. Warner said it really is a simple problem. I should be able to sort it in a few minutes. Like I said I was supposed to sort it earlier but - well, you know".

I smiled, rather weakly, I knew what he was on about, bosses expecting their staff to get everything done today, if not yesterday. That was why I was so keen to get my Master’s, to go into employment as high up the ladder as possible. I was determined to be somewhat more sympathetic if I got the chance, it was that sort of stress which had driven my Dad to an early grave. I walked with him into the hall and showed him the panel on the wall. He smiled back at me and confirmed that it shouldn’t take long. I turned and walked back into the lounge, I needed another drink! I was amazingly getting away with this so far, but I knew I shouldn’t push my luck. I was trying very hard to keep my own voice as soft and gentle as I could, believing I had a rather feminine timbre. It seemed to be working.

I poured a vodka and sat down, and began to shake. Somehow I had got through the last few minutes but the enormity of what I had just done was beginning to get to me. This guy in the hall, he thought I was a woman. More than that he had me down as Helen Warner. And even more than that, I wasn’t just dressed as a female, I was rather promiscuously dressed at that. I looked down at my legs and shuffled to hide my stocking tops again even though he was not there to see. And I tried to pull up the material over my ‘bust’ - I felt very exposed.

Slowly I settled as the drink took its effect, I even had another. Then Mr Geller came through from the hall.

"OK Mrs Warner. Finished. It was a simple fault, all done. I need to show you the new coding."

I had to follow Mr Geller into the hall, he showed me how to put in a four-figure coding, to set a new password. I had to choose - this was going to take some explaining to the Warner’s. But that was for later, just now it was important to finish this quickly. I came up with my own coding, 1201, the twelfth of January, my own birthday. All done, I was grateful to Mr Geller for getting the job done - and for not realising I was a man! I tried to think how Helen would act in this situation and it was then I made my first mistake.

"Thanks for your help - can I offer you a drink?"

OK, Helen would have probably done exactly that but I didn’t really realise the implications of behaving just as Helen would have done. I almost bit my tongue as soon as I had made the offer.

"Thanks, I’ll have a whisky and soda if I may."

OK so I had done it. I was committed now. I got him the drink and we sat down in the lounge, me on the sofa, him on an armchair facing me. I didn’t really realise the significance of what he said and the questions he was asking, about . He was asking about my husband, where he was, about myself, and eventually about why I was dressed like that.

"Oh, sorry, it’s just well - it’s a special evening next week, I wanted to try something special for my husband so I got a new dress."

Again I tried to put myself in Helen’s shoes, in her high heels in fact, to do whatever she would do in that situation. I probably got it quite nearly right but at that stage I am afraid the vodka started to have a major influence on my behaviour. I stood up and ‘gave him a twirl’, really I was showing off, rather too much it seems.

"Well Mrs Warner. I have to say your husband is a lucky man. The dress is lovely and he is very fortunate to have such a gorgeous wife."

I would have swooned with pride, glowed with self-satisfaction at being called ‘gorgeous’ if I hadn’t been rather seriously affected by the drink. I smiled widely at my guest and teetered into the kitchen to get another glass, I couldn’t remember where I had put mine down. Mr. Geller too was beginning to get a bit merry, he’d had three whiskies I think by then. But it was as I returned, he was just heading out of the lounge, maybe towards the kitchen to find me, I wobbled a little and he put his arms out to catch me. Maybe I should have recoiled, told him off, screamed or something but I didn’t. For some reason I giggled. It seemed the thing to do, but it was as I looked up at him, at this man holding me, that I realised there really was going to be trouble.

He lowered his head to my neck and kissed me! And not just a quick peck either, I could feel very warm lips moving round my exposed neck. At the same time his left hand slid up and cupped my right breast, causing it to bulge out of my bra slightly. Now I did recoil, or at least I tried to, he was gripping me rather tightly.,

"Mr Geller, please, I’m a married woman!"

I’m not entirely sure how I expected him to react, certainly I didn’t want what came next.

"Well, I’m nearly a married man so that doesn’t mean anything. And I’m not going to let this chance escape me, come here, you gorgeous tart."

At which he buried his face in my neck again and squeezed my ‘breast’ harder, at the same time beginning to slide his other hand up my nylonned leg and inside my dress. I sobered up remarkably quickly, but I didn’t seem to be able to do anything. I panted as he caressed my thigh, Christ, I was enjoying this! Enjoying the attention, the proximity of a man, the feeling of being wanted, being desired. Just for a moment I held him harder, pulled him towards me, I was groaning a little in the ecstasy of the situation.

But this was not right. Not that a guy wanted me, after all like many TVs I’d had fantasies about being with a guy and, well, about all sorts of disgusting sexual acts between us, me being a dominant woman or submissive, dressed in all sorts of outfits or even naked. But always as a woman. And now that it was happening, something was wrong.

What was wrong was that his wasn’t a fantasy, this was real life. And with the direction he was taking it wouldn’t be too long before his hand slid up to my panties. And then my secret would be out. All sorts of complications could well follow, and some of them would be most definitely unpleasant. I squirmed in his grasp but he was bigger and stronger than me. He dragged me over to the sofa and pushed me down, then sat next to me and leaned over to try to kiss me.

"Now then my gorgeous one, you can’t tell me this is not what you want. Looking like that you know you’d turn any man on. And I’m getting really horny right now."

At which he horrified me by reaching down and unzipping his pants - and pulling his prick out. It was erect, not surprising really under the circumstances, and big. I only had my own for comparison really, and this was quite a bit bigger. I stared, fascinated, as he eased his pants down to reveal his big straining cock, swollen balls, his dark bushy pubic hair. I was really thrilled again - just for a moment.

"Now my love, get your knickers off. I’m going to give you a solid fucking!"

I was aghast. This would not do. I had to get a way out of this, really my options were very limited. I thought for a moment, then relaxed. I was at that moment very sober indeed. I knew exactly what I had to do. I smiled at him.

"OK then - David isn’t it?" I smiled wider and slowly moved my hand to caress his cock. How many times had I dreamed about this? This moment, when I would have a man in a sense at my mercy. I knew what I was capable of - after all, I had been on the ‘other side’ of this equation, with a girl in my arms, in my bed, wherever, knowing that just by teasing me she could get anything she wanted. As I gently caressed his swollen cock with my fingers he started groaning quietly. The old saying about ‘get him just on the point of ejaculation, then ask for that new dress’. Or washing machine. Or car. Anything. At that moment a guy will promise a girl whatever she wants. And I knew that as I slid my fingers up and down his erect penis, gently teasing it with my long red nails I had this guy, David, there right now. I had wanted this, really for so long.

But not like this. I was pretending, for a reason. This was not consensual sex. He was still gripping me hard round the waist, he was hurting me. I had to offer him oral sex - or he would rape me. And then I’d be in trouble, as soon as he found out. I leaned over, my rich red lips only inches from his swelling cock-head. I’ve no doubt now I could have got away with it, sucked him off, drained him orally. But I daren’t risk him wanting to go further, to fuck me, to try to shove his cock up my cunt - I didn’t have one. He couldn’t rape me but he could try.

"OK honey, come on. Suck me off, my fucking girl-friend will never do that for me. I want to fuck your mouth, darling, come on, do it!"

He was still holding me firmly, I had to get him to relax - just a little. I looked him in the eyes, and slowly slid my tongue round my rich red lips. I turned on as sexy a voice as I could manage.

"Ooh David, you really do have a gorgeous cock, don’t you. I bet your girlfriend loves it up her. I bet you like to shove it in hard, deep inside her, shooting your load up her. Would you like to ram it up me, my darling, squirt your hot love juices deep inside me? Would you?"

It worked. He relaxed his grip just a little, I had my chance. I knew what I had to do. OK it was unfair but - well, he was effectively a rapist after all. I opened my mouth wide and just began to move my red lips down towards his cock-head. I tried not to think what I was doing.

Then I shifted my weight very slightly and reached to caress his cock again - and dug my long red nails, very hard indeed, into the flesh round the top of his cock. He cried out loudly. I could imagine exactly the feelings going through him at that moment, I wasn’t crying but the thought began to bring tears to my eyes.

"Oh Christ!" he shouted, jerking back, releasing his grip on me, grabbing himself between his legs to quell the pain. I wasn’t sorry for what I had done, he had deserved it. I jumped up and ran into the kitchen, stumbling a little on my high heels. I had to open two of the kitchen drawers, I knew roughly where to find what I wanted. I turned to face him as he stormed into the kitchen, still clutching himself between the legs, still obviously in pain but now furious, out to kill or at least maim me. I stared at him, and held out the long, sharp kitchen knife I had found.

"You fucking bitch, you wait, I’m gonna ..."

He stopped when he saw what I had in my hand. We were both somewhat the worse for drink but we both knew what might be about to happen. One or both of us might get seriously hurt. I stared him straight in the eyes and thrust the knife out towards him again. I realised I must look a sight - my left stocking was torn and my right tit was out, thrusting up, not properly held by my bra, I managed to slide it back into place.

"Now. Look here you fucking bastard. When a woman says no she means no. OK? I know your pride is hurt and so is your cock. But there is no way you are going to fucking screw me. You come an inch nearer and I’ll lash out. OK you could probably win, you’re a big strong guy. But I guarantee I’d do you a lot of damage first. So. Cut your losses. Calm down, zip up and get out. You have thirty seconds. Then I ring the fucking cops."

I was standing next to the kitchen phone, and grabbed the handset. I had no intention of dialling, obviously, I just hoped he would see sense. And thankfully he did. He started to mutter.

"Shut it you bastard. One word about this and your boss - and your girlfriend - will hear about it. Be sensible. Get out and stay out!"

I was amazed at myself, how calmly I had managed to say all that. I was shaking inside, really I was absolutely terrified. He could have killed me. He stood up, breathed a little deeply for a few seconds, then turned and walked out of the front door without a word. I just stood there, and now I did begin to shake. I dropped the knife. Then I took my glass, poured the gin in it down the sink, and had a large drink of water. I myself breathed deeply. It was over.

Now I was into rescue mode, to save the situation. I looked in the mirror, not to pose or admire myself this time but to see what sort of state I was in and in particular to see what Helen’s dress was like. At first glance it looked OK. I went to the security control and, to be sure, immediately re-programmed it - with my late father’s birthday instead of mine! I strolled over towards the front door and made certain the lock and the safety were on, then went round to the patio door at the back and did the same.

An hour later I was leaving the house, wearing only my jacket and trainers and jogging pants. I walked very quickly to my own front door, which I had left unlocked all this time. Luckily there were no problems. Another hour later, just before 12, it was ‘Ben’, not my female alter ego, who tidied away all his feminine things, clothes, makeup, wig and such, and got ready for bed.

Despite all the hiatus I slept. I must have been to some extent emotionally drained. At eight the next morning the sun woke me as it began to stream into my bedroom window. I woke and dressed, had a coffee, and considered the events of the previous evening. Phase A had been brilliant, dressing and posing, and that dress had really suited me. OK, phase B had been a disaster. But I had got out of it OK, somehow, I was pretty sure that ‘Helen’ had got the message across, Mr. David Geller would not be back.

I spent another couple of hours tidying in Helen and Charlie’s house, washing and putting away the glasses, hanging that dress up, wiping surfaces and so on. Then I went shopping and bought bottles of whisky and gin and lime juice and soda - and topped up theirs to make up for what I had taken. When I had finished, just before noon, I was as sure as I could be that nobody would be any the wiser. Oh, and I watered Helen’s house plants too.

Although I had planned to dress two or three times while they were away, really I couldn’t. In fact I wasn’t sure I ever would again. I really had been shaken up. But over the next couple of days I did get my act together again. By the Friday, when my mother came briefly to visit and to pass on my Christmas present, I was almost back to normal. I was staying in the flat over Christmas. Mother knew why, for some reason I just couldn’t get on with my new stepfather. He seemed nice enough, maybe I still hadn’t got over Dad. Anyway absolutely everything femme was well and truly away for her visit, we ended up having a nice lunch, I cooked it myself, and spending the afternoon talking about my plans. Like any mother the ‘girlfriend’ topic came up more than once but I managed to talk my way round that one. She left at about five.

And the next day, three days before Christmas, Charlie and Helen were back. I was a little nervous the first five minutes, wondering what they might notice - if I had left anything not as it should be. But no, it all seemed OK.. Charlie came round to see me after a short while, to thank me for what I had done. I told him it was OK, after all he was effectively paying me for looking after he house. I wondered whether or not to tell him someone had been to fix the security system but decided not to. Let it wait, I thought, I could always say later I had just forgotten to mention it. And as far as I could tell there was nothing amiss in the house.

Or so I thought. It was later on that day, after Charlie had gone off to check on one of his stores, that Helen came round.

"Ben, please, can you come into the house. There’s something I want to show you". I wondered what. Had I got the levels on the vodka bottle wrong? Had I replaced her dress in a way which showed it had been tampered with? But when I did go round Helen was sat in the lounge. On the very sofa where David Geller had tried it on with me. While I had been wearing her dress. She was not so attractively dressed this time of course, in a white T-shirt and tight jeans. She still made a fine figure of a woman though.

"Ben, sit down, I’ve done you a coffee ." She had the remote in her hand. She stretched it out towards the TV and pressed. I looked, the screen was showing the usual ‘snow’ when it is not taping correctly. Then it cleared.

I almost stopped breathing. The shock hit me. There, on screen. walking towards what was obviously Helen’s front door - was a woman wearing a red dress, a blonde woman in black stockings and high heels. I gulped. Shit!

 

End of Part 3

 

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