Evening plans

Saying her goodbyes, Brooke slipped back behind the wheel of her car and as she turned onto the street from the bank, she couldn't help but smile a bit. Throughout the day, she had secretly fretted taking over for the real Brooke and wondered if this plan of theirs was doomed to fail. After all, though as Harold she had been a senior executive, what did she know about being a customer service rep at a bank?

She had gotten back to the office and after squaring away her purse, quickly pulled up the notes that Brooke had left on her phone (they had exchanged phones to ensure that nothing would be different, along with passwords) and logged back in. True to her word, the rest of the morning was light and that allowed her to get situated and familiar with the systems that she, as a customer rep, would be expected to use. A few phone calls, answered emails, and she was soon picking things up quickly.

Even Lunch was easy, using her memories of Brooke to help as she went out with several other women from the bank and they spent the time chatting, catching up on office gossip (Brooke was apparently quite the know-it-all and she made a note to keep up to speed on things, to avoid issues at the very least). Taking a break to hit the restroom was a new experience as well, though she was glad in part that the women were too busy talking with each other to notice the slight awkwardness she was exhibiting in using the restroom.

Heading back to the house she would call home for the next month, Brooke stepped out and quickly made her way inside, taking a moment to look around and noticed that her son, now husband, had yet to reach home. She didn't want to share with anyone, especially Brooke or Mariah, that the main reason she had volunteered to give Brooke some time off and away was that she wanted to live her life. More than being young or female, though, it was simply something that she didn't reveal to anyone.

She had been in love with her son.

Not a paternal way. Not in the sense of a father loving his son's accomplishments or what he had achieved. Not even in the sense of just being a member of the same family type of love.

No, this was "I want to drop down on my knees and suck you dry" love. Or, perhaps more aptly, "I want you to fuck my ass raw while your mother watches" type of love. Was it lust? Perhaps...but still, Harold had dealt with that demon since Tyler began to grow and change from puberty. If puberty did him a favor, well, Harold had not been quiet in his admiration from afar. In part, he wondered if people knew about it. There was more than one night where his son was on Harold's mind and he had masturbated to him, imagining all of the things that could be done with him. Those sessions often led to feelings of deep disgust and anguish afterwards, something that Harold hid from everyone, including therapists who he had seen. He doubted, in part, whether it would be even possible for him to broach the subject.

Now, though, Brooke had no roadblocks. She was married to him, her husband to his wife, her man to his woman. She had both the biological authorization to have sex with him whenever she wanted (as a woman) and the social acceptance (being his wife, after all). The thought of Tyler's body, his voice, caused shivers to go through her body and she felt her body warming up to the image of her son coming through the door.

"Stupid...not your son, your HUSBAND," she hissed to herself and quickly she went to the master bedroom and slipped out of the blouse and skirt, placing it in the laundry, before she took a moment to look at her body in the mirror. While she loved seeing her breasts and her hips, the lingerie she was wearing was all wrong. It was nice, don't get her wrong, but it was also plain and functional. She had spent the past near 3 decades for this moment, she wasn't going to settle for "functional".

Brooke, for all of her youthful energy and taste in clothing, had very simple tastes when it came to lingerie. It was something that this Brooke made a mental note to fix, if only for a month. She sighed as she came across what was the most alluring set of panties and bra that she could find and after struggling a little, managed to get them on.

With a nod and a smile, she reached over and spritzed some perfume that Tyler had gotten the former Brooke on her neck, on her chest, and then slowly took a robe that she found hanging up in the closet and slipped it on, tying it shut but just barely. There were things that the former Brooke didn't do or didn't like, namely the perfume which sat in the drawer untouched, but this Brooke, hungry for her man, definitely had no qualms about it. It smelled wonderful, feminine, and sensual to her and she looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time before she quickly touched up the makeup and fixed her hair just a bit. She knew he wouldn't really tell that she had touched things up and that was just as well for her. She didn't want him to spend time looking at her makeup.

No, she'd rather have him spend time using his hands to help ruin it.

With the last brushes of her comb, Brooke paused as the sound of keys in the front door, followed moments by the door opening, caused her to feel her heart beating faster and faster and a bit of anticipation ran through her. "You can do this, Brooke," she calmly reminded herself and then heard Tyler call out. "I'm in the bedroom, honey," she responded. "I'll be right there."