The Consequences of a Winter Storm

Holding my champagne glass of ginger ale, I turned the stereo on and dialed in one of the local pop stations and 'Womanizer' by Britney Spears was playing. I couldn't resist starting to twist and dance to the music the way real women and girls would do. Hips swaying, mouthing the words, and playfully brushing at my hair as I moved, I was so taken in the moment that I never heard the front door open, the stomping off of the snow, or the steps on the stairs. But I definitely heard the questioning word that came from Jack, "Carole?"

I almost dropped the champagne glass as I otherwise froze in place.

"Hon, what's going on, I thought..." and then the realization hit him, I wasn't Carole.

I turned to face Jack with tears welling up in my eyes, as I murmured, "No, Mr. Douglas, it's me, Kevin."

The sound of my voice was the only thing that gave identity to the person who in all other respects looked like Carole from across the room.

"What's going on, why are you... I mean, why?"

Tearfully, the crying started immediately as I clutched the champagne glass with both hands to my faux bosom, my body racked with sobs. I couldn't bear to look at his face as I realized the sense of betrayal of trust I knew my actions had caused.

I stood there, sobbing, for about the longest minute of my life, my mind racing with thoughts of the anger my parents would have, as well as the public humiliation that was surely to come. The one thing I never expected was the gentle touch of Jack's hand as he slowly lifted my chin with the tip of his finger. My eyes turned up to meet his gentle gaze. Rather than hate or even disappointment, all I saw was a sense of real caring.

"Would you like to talk about this? I'm not angry, but I don't understand."

My only response was to suddenly press myself against his chest and to continue sobbing. His arms wrapped around me and he held me close, tenderly, and let me finish my crying. I felt so safe in his arms, and realizing he was not angry allowed me to regain a little of my composure.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Douglas, I just, I just...", but he cut me off, with a softly spoken, "You really do look like her."

"Really? You think so?"

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true." He paused, then said, "You've been doing this for a while, haven't you?"

"Yessir, I'm sorry, I don't...," but he cut me off again as he looked at my face.

"You're her right now, aren't you?"

"Yessir." I whispered.

"Then call me Jack, and can I call you Carole?"

"I guess."

"Come on, Carole, let's sit you down," as he gently guided me to the large black leather sofa. I sat next to him, primly with my knees together and wiped away the remnants of a tear.

"I'm amazed at how much you look like her...so close to how you, I mean she looked ten years ago."

My heart leapt with joy, "Really?"

"Absolutely, but I'm not sure I approve of you drinking champagne, though."

I giggled, "It's only ginger ale, I knew I shouldn't drink real alcohol while I was babysitting."

"That's right, not when you're babysitting, but since I'm home, I think we can say you aren't babysitting anymore, would you like me to fix you what I usually make for you?"

"Really?"

"Really," a slight pause, "You won't tell anyone though, right?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Douglas, I would never..."

He cut me off with a gentle touch of his finger to my lipsticked lips. "Carole, you need to start calling me Jack, okay?"

"Yes, Jack, I won't say anything to anyone."

"This is our secret."

I couldn't stop what came out in my most feminine tone, "Yes, darling."

Jack smiled as he took the glass of faux champagne from my hands and headed over to the bar. As he prepared "my" drink, he continued a light exchange with me, which accomplished three critical things. First, confirming that Carole was not coming home tonight; that I was 19 and was legally able to give sexual consent, even though that's not how it was asked; and lastly that I really enjoyed my role playing as Carole.

I was totally unprepared for everything that was happening, but as I watched Jack prepare my drink, I quickly came to appreciate even more everything that Carole must also have felt about him. He was strong, confident, handsome, and caring. What more could any woman ask for, or even hope for in a spouse?

Since I couldn't see the preparations being made behind the bar, and realizing my eye makeup was probably a total mess, I called out, "Jack, would you mind if I freshened up?"

"Go ahead, hon, but don't take too long or I'll have to come after you."

To hear Jack call me "hon" made it seem as if this entire situation was just how he and Carole went about things during their own private times. In response, I answered with a giggle as I stood and walked, swishing my hips subtly to let Jack see how feminine I could walk in my heels, as I headed to the bathroom.

As I closed the bathroom door, my right hand laid so naturally on my bosom as the thoughts and emotions rolled through my mind. Foremost, I wondered briefly if I was misunderstanding Jack's response to finding me dressed as his wife, but inside I was still a guy and realized that Jack was going to make the most of this situation. It was clear that he was not terribly upset about finding me dressed as Carole. Also, his line of questions to determine if Carole was coming home that night made me feel that he might have had some other extramarital experiences during his business trips and that his interest in a girl like me might have been an already acquired taste.

As for plausible deniability, certainly no one knew that he'd be arriving home early, and with the Winter storm's unexpected intensity and adverse impact on travel, I was confident that he would be able to explain everything away by simply saying his trip ended early, and that he wanted to surprise Carole. Heaven knows any man would have done everything possible to take advantage of any opportunity to spend more quality time with such a sexy and beautiful wife when their son was away! As for the timing of when he had arrived home, again, no one other than he and I would be any the wiser. So at least in my mind, for this night there was no reason for me to stop the flow of what I fully felt in my heart was going to be a very special exploration of another side of Carole's life... for me to actually be completely in her role... giving Jack everything a wife could possibly provide. Yes, for this night, I was Carole.

Now certain of my own intentions, I sat at the makeup counter and one glance in the mirror confirmed my worst suspicions. My mascara had run terribly. Under the circumstances, it was a vulnerable and extremely cute look, but I wanted to go back to Jack looking as attractive and composed as possible. I promptly set about fixing everything to my satisfaction, which was now a very high standard, as my "husband" was expecting his "wife" to reappear shortly looking as her normal beautiful self.

I decided to fully embrace being Carole, and confirmed this by choosing the bottle of Chanel No. 5 and applied it sparingly to my neck, just behind my ears, on my inner wrists, my elbows, my shoulders, and a drop right where my real cleavage would have been. The change in scent brought a burst of confidence in my spirit, and I certainly felt more attractive with the Chanel allure. A much more romantic scent than the comfortable flowery perfume from earlier, and I wondered if Jack would notice the change.

Almost ready to return to my "husband," I also freshened up my lipstick, but did not blot it on a tissue this time, as I wanted to leave a very noticeable imprint of my lips on my waiting drink glass... or on my husband's lips if the drink could not wait.

I could have stopped everything right there, but I had no desire or intention of not exploring my role as fully as possible. I didn't care that I might simply end up being used by Jack, as his tenderness and caring was truly genuine in my mind... no, my heart.

Glancing at my reflection in the full mirror on the wall across from me, I smiled, and saw Carole totally in her element, ready and willing to respond to her husband's every need, want and desire. I confidently made my way back to the entertainment room, pausing briefly in the doorway to smile at Jack where he sat with our drinks.

Whether it was fate or otherwise, at that very moment the radio began playing Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me." As I slowly walked toward Jack, I swayed and moved for him, mouthing the words. From his expression, I knew that I was doing everything right. He could clearly see my makeup was freshened, and my movements to the song made it obvious that I was not holding back from continuing my role as the woman of the house.

Jack stood and beckoned for me to come to his waiting arms, and I moved coyly towards him trying to look seductive and innocent at the same time. As I reached him, his arms enveloped me, and I melted against my strong, handsome husband, and we slowly danced together as my mind prepared me to be the best wife possible for my dear "husband."

Spoken words weren't necessary as I savored Jack's strong, yet gentle hold of me against him. I soon felt his hardness growing and pressing through his trousers against the fabric of my skirt and my own body, and it was such a wonderful boost of my confidence. He was aroused by ME!

Having absolutely no sexual experience at this point of my life other than my masturbation in private, what I did still came completely naturally to me. As I coyly pressed myself against him, he answered by pressing back with his hardness. While I relished feeling my own tucked penis growing hard within the tight confines of my pantyhose, my mind was not giving much thought to cares about my own pleasure at that moment. I was just happy to not have my own hardness blemish my feminine form as Jack continued to move against me while holding us tightly against each other.

In time, the song ended and the station went to a commercial, but Jack continued to hold me as I rested my head against his chest. I dared not look up as my mind raced with thoughts of what I should do next, but I need not have worried.

Jack's arms loosened their grasp and he quietly said, "I made your drink... why don't we sit and talk for bit." I felt his hardness still pressing against me as I titled my head backward just a bit to look up at his face and nodded yes. I moved backward one step and grasped his hands in mine, and took a long moment to smile before he took control and led me to the couch.

Using my hand to sweep beneath my skirt as I sat, I saw Jack grin broadly. "What? Did I do something?" I asked.

"No, you, well yes, you did. You sat down just like she does."

"I didn't even notice."

"You've been doing this for a while, haven't you?"

I felt a little self-conscious about answering, but Jack seemed to be truly interested, and under the circumstances with me dressed and looking like a younger version of his wife in her own clothing, make up and wig, I decided to be totally honest.

"I guess I was probably twelve or thirteen when I started noticing how women's clothes were a lot different, softer, prettier than what boys were supposed to wear."

As I spoke, Jack picked up his drink, which I knew was a Manhattan, as it was something my own parents drank, and he sipped it as he listened. I reached for my own drink, and Jack explained that "I" usually liked to have a Grasshopper when I wasn't drinking wine. I smiled and took a sip, finding the sweet minty drink was strongly made, and immediately felt it tingling my tongue.

I smiled at Jack, whispering "perfect," and took one more sip before continuing to explain my experience with women's clothing. I was adult enough to know that by serving me alcohol, Jack was willing to deal with whatever consequences or pleasures the rest of the night might bring.

"At first, it was mostly exploring my mom's lingerie from the hamper,

then sneaking into her room to explore her drawers. Then I started wearing some things at night that I borrowed from her. But after a while, I wanted to feel how everything felt put together, and tried dressing up whenever I could."

Jack finished his drink, but continued questioning me, "So, when did you first start dressing in Carole's things?"

"It was a couple of months after I started babysitting for you. Usually, your son was home, so even though I wanted to do it so badly, I didn't because I was afraid he'd get up after going to bed and find me with his mom's things. Then about a year ago, he wasn't home for one night, and I just did it."

I paused a moment and picked up my drink to take another sip. Jack smiled and nodded. "Did you like that?"

"Oh, Jack, I loved it," I gushed, and then realized he was talking about the Grasshopper.

"It's okay, I made the first one a little strong, but I can..."

"How many do you normally make for me?"

"Two."

"Then that's what I want, and the exact same way as this one, please."

"Your wish is my command," and he then allowed me to continue.

"We're both about the same size, so almost everything she has fits me, and I just fell in love with all of the closets upstairs and downstairs full of dresses and skirts, and blouses, sweaters, everything."

"She definitely loves to shop... I doubt she's even worn half of them more than once. Is what you're wearing one of your favorites?"

"I've worn the skirt a few times, but this is the first time wearing this top."

"Well, it looks great on you, by the way, really great."

I blushed as I answered, "I just try to be her when I dress like this."

"Have the kids ever seen you?"

I paused before answering the question, and took another sip of my drink. "Yes, I thought they wouldn't really notice when I would peek in on them to be sure they were okay, but one time when I was dressed and was changing Stephanie's diaper... she called me, 'Mama' as I put her back in her crib."

"Wow, did you feel happy or sad when that happened?"

I smiled at his obvious concern, and whispered, "A little of both."

Jack's hand reached out and his index finger lightly traced over my blouse and he felt the bra filled with my faux breast forms. He then gently cupped my left breast, "They feel almost real."

I blushed and stammered out, "I wish they were."

Still cupping my breast, Jack asked, "Do you dress like this for anyone else you babysit for?"

"I've tried some things when I sit for Sue Arlington, I think you know her, but it's nothing like being Carole."

"Sue's definitely pretty, but a lot smaller than Carole."

I nodded, "A lot smaller, except she's a D-cup. I tried some tops and sweaters, but everything else was way too small."

"Well, I think you make a very good Carole."

I smiled in response, and Jack continued, "When I came home tonight, you looked exactly like her. You had me almost speechless when I realized it wasn't her who was dancing."

Jack's eyes bore into me, assessing me, the woman, his wife for the evening, and, hopefully, finding everything to his suiting. While I did not need him to get me drunk to take our situation further, I was willing in every way to make this evening perfect for him.

I took my glass and finished my drink in two lingering sips, noticing the lipstick imprints on the edge of the glass. I thought to myself that I would need to make sure I thoroughly washed the glasses before putting them away to keep Carole from noticing another woman was loose in her house.

Jack took the empty glasses and headed back to the bar to make the next round of drinks. From my position on the couch, it made me tingle whenever Jack glanced over at me. He was so completely at ease with the situation, and while I briefly wondered how often he might be unfaithful to Carole in his travels, I found it flattering that he was being so kind and attentive to me. If he was willing to have me, I intended to be Carole in every possible way, or whatever other woman he wanted me to be.

I decided to be a bit assertive and rose to go over to sit across from him on one of the bar stools. I could never have slid so glamorously into the seat again if I tried it again a hundred times, but after closing the distance, I felt I could stop the conversation about my dressing, and bring it to the next level.

"If you want, I could change into something else tonight."

Jack smiled. "No, you're perfect. Don't change a thing."

I couldn't help but smile, "Then I won't."

Jack finished making my second drink and placed it in front of me. My fingers traced around the rim of the glass, waiting for Jack to finish making his own drink.

I held my drink up in a silent toast to my "husband." There was a purposeful silence as Jack clinked his glass against mine, and I took a long sip of my drink and he did the same with his own drink. At this point, there was no need for words, and I contentedly sipped my drink, finding pleasure seeing my fresh lipstick imprint on the rim of the glass.

Three or four minutes of quietly sipping our drinks passed, and I could feel the alcohol warming my tummy. On an impulse, I finished my drink and then asked, "When I'm feeling romantic, what do I drink?"

Jack smiled and reached for a bottle of Sambuca, undid the cap and poured a shot glass of it for me. "This."

I took the shot glass in my right hand and savored the Sambuca's aroma. My tongue darted into the liquid and I realized my reaction to the taste was probably funny to Jack, but he simply smiled and watched me.

I braved the intense anise flavor and finished the shot in one move. The licorice flavor enveloped my tongue and mouth, and the liquid warmed both my mouth and added to the warmth already in my tummy.

As I put the shot glass down, Jack's hand reached out for mine and he held it gently for a moment. My heart fluttered as I removed my hand from his and then began to lightly trace the words "I love you" in script style across his palm.

Just looking at his hand as I traced out the words using the glossy press on nail extension was so romantic and erotic for me. I don't know if he even knew the words I was tracing on his palm, but in the middle of repeating the words the third time, he grasped my hand and drew me around to his side of the bar. I was pulled so quickly that I even had trouble just tip toeing in my heels.

Still gripping my hand with one of his, he held me around the waist with his other hand and drew me close against him. I tilted my head back and accepted the first tentative kiss, and I immediately savored the intimacy of the moment.

Jack pressed his tongue past my lips and my own tongue met his. Our tongues swirled and probed playfully at first, and I pressed myself more tightly against his body. Feeling his hardness heightened my desire and I wrapped my arms lovingly around his neck. I could hardly believe how much I liked kissing him. It wasn't a stretch at all to simply feel I was the woman and he was the man-my man. It wasn't unpleasant at all, and I responded as his kiss became more passionate, moving my body against him as the woman in me eagerly desired for whatever was to come.

The kissing continued, and I loved how my lipstick felt against Jack's own lips, and how his tongue probed my mouth, forcing its way into me. I tasted the alcohol from his Manhattan and my tongue teased and swirled seeking the exotic flavor hiding in Jack's tongue. His cologne mixed in the air with my own perfumed scent, and it smelled wonderful.

Jack broke the kiss and took a moment to just look at me. "I just need to catch my breath, God, you're amazing," he almost whispered. He smiled and then lightly kissed me on the lips.

Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was completely by accident, but as I was held in his strong arms, my leg moved against his hardness. He pressed gently back in response, and I repeated my own movement, coyly, not too hard, not too soft, but I knew what my attentions on him were doing to his hardness.