Chapter 18

The frozen meal, Ricotta Cheese & Spinach Ravioli hadn't been that bad, Calvin had eaten it slowly thinking about the depth of his situation.’No real contact with Moriah, confirmation on not getting access to my bank account… The fuck! I get her point as to why, but who is going to investigate me? Does she know something I don't?’Snapping his fingers, he nodded trying to work through the information he had. ‘Mega Corp must be diving into our personal finances too! Well.. fuck. Suppose that means I’m doing it... Everything the hard way.

Needing some sort of control in his life, the distraught man looked at the floor of his apartment. Sure it looked better than when he first arrived, but his previous efforts were not complete. “Let's at least take care of this.” Getting down on his hands and knees to clean was something he would pay people to do, not that he grew up wealthy, but far as he was concerned he worked his butt off in life to move above that. So much was wrong, his life felt wrong, his body felt wrong, but there was little he could do for that other than to solve this embezzling problem. Something he could do right now though, was to live in an actual clean place.

Standing up, he noticed something on the bed, Sydney had left his blazer on the end of the bed. Rolling his eyes he picked up the forty bucks the prick left for him. “I wanted a few hundred and got less than fifty bucks, yay me…”

Spending the next few hours scrubbing the floor, he couldn’t wait for that rug he ordered to arrive along with the cappuccino machine. That would be a good day… at least a better one.

By the time he was done, Cal’s back felt stiff. Hands on his hips he bent backwards twisting from left to right feeling it pop. Him looking back over to the blazers. “He didn’t come back and didn’t call…not the attention to detail I would like from my head of security… not that he will stay in the role after I start back after this investigation.”

Standing there talking to himself wasn’t exactly the hallmark of a healthy mind as far as Cal was concerned and with little else to do he took a hot… ish shower. Coming out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around him to cover his feminine chest, he was able to partially smile feeling a sense of accomplishment. Stepping on the floor barefoot no longer filled him with disgust and that meant he no longer felt the need to wear shoes around his temporary home and that was a ticket he bought to less time in high heels thanks to his efforts.

Thinking of that freedom, had him looking at the suit jacket once more, sitting there in front of him at the end of the bed. The only piece of male clothing he had access to. Not really thinking what he was doing, Cal picked up the garment and put it on. It wasn't the right fit, too large in a few dimensions. Sitting down on the bed he pulled the garment closed and held it there not really sure what he was doing. Holding it closed he held himself, taking a few deep breaths. When Calvin pictured himself he was always in a power suit, now the closest thing he had was an oversized men’s blazer

“Just stop!” He yelled at himself grumbling as his voice was not in his normal register. Clearing his throat a few times he tried again. It wasn’t like his natural voice was gone but it took a few moments to find. “Let's think of something better.”

Hopping off the bed he darted over to the closet, throwing the door open. Inside he found it exactly how he had last seen it, skirts, blouses and dresses hanging up, a small collection of heels along the wall along with a growing pile of dirt clothing. He would love to say laundry wasn’t on his list of things to ever do for the feminine garments but more and more it seemed his time as Clara the supposed latina girl who was five years younger than his real age wasn't going to be a short endeavor.But none of that was at the front of his thoughts, needing a distraction was. Taking a dress from the closet he spun around, not holding it to himself as a girl might. He laid it out on the bed then took a pair of dark pantyhose from his dresser and laid them out with the dress adding a pair of black heels.

Looking down at it he bit his bottom lip practically growling in delight as his manhood started to wake up. Leaving the jacket on he tossed the towel into the growing pile of dirty clothing. Standing there in only the oversized jack he took hold of his dick looking at the assembled out fit. Part of his mind told him he was missing panties and a bra. The urge to ignore it to jerk off was there, but lost out to his ocd, it was not complete. Once that was taken care of he sat back down on the bed, legs spread wide as he looked at the french maid outfit and started to run his hand over his shaft.

“I’m a man, I’m a man…” He repeatedly picturing the sexy Ana in the outfit. Just imaging her bending over as she moved around dusting, but not with a can of cleaner and a rag as they did, but with a pink feather duster. Despite her Spanish accent, in his mind she was speaking bad French. It was like Spanglish… So Franglais. Giving his cock a light squeeze the corner of his lips turned up. ‘Franglais, is that a thing?’ he thought letting his mind go back to Ana, the skirt bouncing around thanks to the puffy petticoat under the dress as she minced around in the stilettos.

“Mr. Bennett, I have been working tellement fort to clean for you. Is there n'importe quoi, anything... monsieur I do mean absolutement anything at all I could do pour make your day better?” His imaginary Ana said using a butchered French in a assemble French accent, devoid of her natural one. He had taken a few years of French, it helped him with the ladies or so he believed. Bad as he was at it, his grasp of the language was better than his Spanish.

Eyes focused on the outfit he laid out, he pictured Ana batting her eye lashes, acting both coy and sexy at the same time. His own long lashes fluttered as he imagined it. “Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle.” He answered out loud, thanking the imaginary French version of Ana. HIs voice slipping back to his practiced feminine tones hadn’t been on purpose and it did at least partially pull him out of his fantasy. Cocking his head at the very wrong change to the fantasy, Clara there instead of himself. The movement did make him notice movement in the room, an odd thing when he was alone.

Across the small room, on the dresser was the circular makeup mirror, the movement he saw was his own… Clara, her naked except for a mens oversized blazer. Her long hair, eyes wide from his surprise, her puffy lips partially open, the hint of the breasts from the open jacket. His hand was still on his shaft and he could feel himself growing harder. “Gah…” Cal winced, tearing his eyes from himself and back to what he had arranged. Spitting in his hand for some lubrication he tried to think of French maid Ana, half yelling as he fucked her from behind, while his other moved up to play with the nipple on one of his breasts. Doing so hasn't been a fully conscious decision. After seeing himself in the mirror he had been reminded of them, not that he could truly forget. His fingers cupped his flesh before sliding up.

Sitting there on the edge of the bed, Cal started to thrust his hips, feeling out of sorts. It was rare he went long without having sex and between the objects to his side and seeing himself in the mirror he quickly shot his seed across the floor, his dominant hand slick with his cum. Looking down at his mess he silently chuckled. “Looks like a maid's job is never done.” It was supposed to be an attempt at self deprecating humor, but his left hand was still on his chest. While looking at the other he could see a slim hand with long red painted nails, the palm covered in his cum.

‘This is wrong this is wrong!’ The thought came to mind unbidden, repeating even as he effortlessly rationalized it away. ‘I Jerk off all the time… sure it's not preferred, but my other options are…non-existent right now.’

Turning his right hands over he flexed his fingers, seeing his cum and the long nails. The sight caused his cock to twitch and despite the arousal, he couldn’t exactly get hard again right away. He recalled a time where Moriah used her index finger to wipe his cum off her chest after she gave him a tit job, putting her finger in her mouth and sucking it clean before smiling brightly. It was so goddamn hot that he tried to mimic it in a way. Looking in the small mirror held his palm up. In front of him was the back of his hand with its long red nails and in the mirror he could see what was on Clara’s hand. Biting his bottom lip he shook his head slightly, wanting the girl in the mirror to look reluctant before pulling his hand back to him, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue.

The sight of it was so erotic that he almost went too far. His hand was less than an inch from his tongue when the smell of his seed snapped him back to his senses. “Okay, enough of that.”

He said, standing up and going to wash his hands. Splashing water on his face he leaned in closer to press his forehead against the reflection.”That was a mind fuck…” He said to himself pulling back and violently took Sydney’s jacket off feeling the sway of his feminine chest before throwing it on the bathroom floor.

Standing here glaring at the blazer, eyes bullying he spun around to leave the room using one arm to hold his chest to keep it from jigging. The point of him jerking off was to feel like a man because he is a man… something that hurt to say, he didn’t feel like he should have to say it but he couldn’t escape how he looked and it was really fucking with his head.

Right there on the bed was the outfit and between him and the bed was the new mess on the floor. “Hmm.. It does need to get cleaned up and… no I shouldn’t… but who would know?”

A few minutes later he was wearing the French maid costume, bra and the heels, but no underwear, on his knees scrubbing the floor. Talking to himself as Clara feeling how turned on he felt, hard once again. ”Sí, señor, I will get this cleaned for you, señor.”

Cock hard under the short skirt of the dress he finished cleaning up the small creamy mess he had put on the floor before picking up the discarded jacket and shaking it out before putting it on a hanger.

Taking himself in hand once more he came quickly into a washcloth this time and along with it an enormous amount of shame to the point he collapsed back onto the bed, eyes full of tears. Still fully dressed, heels still on his feet he curled into a ball sobbing into his pillow, whispering to himself as he did. “I.. just did that, OH, I'm still wearing the dress… What is wrong with me!?”