Yes

It takes you several minutes to ransack the drawers for a corkscrew, but finally your efforts are rewarded. Fumbling with the wine, you eventually get it uncorked. Not bothering to waste time with a glass, you take several slugs right from the bottle.

You would be hard pressed to tell anyone if it was a good wine or not. It didn't taste great, but it didn't take long before your cheeks felt flushed and you seemed a bit calmer. Soon, you were sitting in a recliner looking for a TV remote. You'd check the hockey scores, finish your wine, and wait for a plan to form.

As you nurse your wine, you notice that you haven't mastered the art of sitting in a skirt. You legs are spread apart, almost comically, as you watch the TV. It's probably the wine, but you can't help but laugh.

You take another swig, then try your best to figure out how to sit like a lady. Who knows how long you could be trapped like this. For now, it seems like a good idea to play along with things and not raise suspicion. Lucky for you, you won't have to teach any classes for a few days. Which is a good thing, since you hardly read two pages of the chapter your class is on.

As you master the art of sitting cross-legged in a skirt, your eyes are drawn to the exposed flesh of your thighs. Part of you sees them as your own legs, but a part of you still thinks of them as your attractive teacher's. Another sip of wine has you feeling just brave enough to finally see some positives in this bizarre situation.

Hesitating, you carefully hike your skirt up, exposing more thigh. You look around the room, oddly aware of how unnecessary that is, but still afraid of getting caught. Your dainty hand runs along the milky white flesh of your thigh, seeming slightly more tan from the pantyhose you have on.

In Ms. Bickler's body, you have her tolerance. The bottle of wine was half gone now. You may have been a lightweight before, but your teacher was a little more accustomed to drinking. That didn't mean you weren't feeling it. Buzzed, feeling calmer, and braver, your hand runs along your inner thigh. You take note of how your body responds. You feel a strange warmth, and perhaps moisture, from between your thighs.

It would seem that your new body is open to your explorations. The wine, and the sensations, have you seeing this more as your body now, rather than Ms. Bickler's. Part of your male mind wants you to explore her body, but you feel yourself less excited about feeling your former teacher's flesh, and more aroused by what kind of pleasure you can experience from the touching.