Bob and Carol and Gemma and Alice?

And it was the way she said that 'please', that did it, she could wind me round her little finger when she said that, it was the look on her face when she said it, some combination of coy and sexy. I gave in, I stood up and went out and upstairs. Gemma joined me after a few seconds.

"Right then, Alan, I know you will enjoy this. You go and shower, I'll get your stuff ready. So, shower I did.

When I returned to the bedroom Gemma had gone back downstairs again. I looked at what she had laid on the bed. I became just a little aroused, at the thought of what was to come and of Carol waiting downstairs. I set to it. About twenty minutes later Gemma came back to help with my preparation. She had worked part-time in a beauty salon when she had been in college herself and had become very skilful in make-up. After helping me she went back downstairs, and very soon I followed her.

I paused outside the lounge, then knocked gently on the door.

"Come in" I heard Gemma call out.

I opened the door and went in. Carol looked at me. I stood there, in front of her, rather differently dressed from what she had seen about an hour earlier. She looked me up and down. I felt very different too. My own hair was beginning to recede but the shoulder length deep brown wig I was wearing hid all that. The delicate clip earrings were different too, as was the 'gold' choker with a deep blue central stone. Gemma had done her usual excellent job on my makeup, I was thrilled with the overall effect of my bluish eye-shadow, thick eye liner and mascaras and the deep red lipstick, coated with a smooth lip gloss.

The clothing had changed too. No more shirt and trousers, I was wearing a sheer cream blouse with ruffles down the front between my 'breasts' and at the cuffs. It went well with the short tight black skirt and black stockings, held up by my suspenders. And the shoes, Gemma hadn't realised which ones I was going to wear when she had done my make-up. I'd always loved high heels, for many years I'd loved to look at Gemma's legs or Carol's when they were wearing stilettos. And now I was wearing my own. I stood there, waiting to be inspected, my tight black basque holding me in, pushing my 'boobs' out, giving me a more-than acceptable figure. The little cap and frilly apron completed the effect - I was to all appearances a real 'lady's maid.'