Taking my time to ensure the blouse was on correctly, I find it really tight and clinging to my waist. The small mounds around my chest, caused by the bra, make me smile.

Next is the skirt. I thread my pantyhose-clad legs through the skirt opening and pull it up to my waistline. Tucking in the blouse, I zip up the back of the skirt.

My excitement almost bubbles over as I reach for the suit jacket and find her clothing restricting my movement. Pulling the jacket on and doing up the single button, it also clings to my waist, giving me that feminine shape I really desire.

Bracing myself, I slip on her heels and stand up in front of the mirror. I’d not worn heels that often, but lucky for me, her heels didn’t pinch my feet. Our feet must be a similar size.

Now my outfit was complete; all I wanted to do was pose into her mirror and pretend to be her. Snapping photos with my phone, I was enjoying how it felt to be wearing her suit. The clacking of her heels on the wooden flooring was such a thrill. I could almost imagine what it was like for her, walking through her office block.

“Paul!?” a surprised voice booms from behind me. “What on earth is going on here!?”

The shock causes me to jump out of my skin. As I swiftly turn, to find out who it was, I find my mother standing in the doorway, glaring at me. She wasn’t meant to be back until much later! Why is she here?

“My God!” She cries. “Are you wearing one of my suits?”

Seeing her bemused and annoyed expression, I couldn’t look at her. I just stare down at the floor.

“What's going on, Paul?” she continues to ask as I wish for the ground to swallow me whole.

A moment of silence passes as she continues to stand in the doorway waiting for me to answer. I knew I had to say something.

“Mom….,” I say with an emotional crack in my voice. “I….I…..I…..just wanted to be….,”

“Be what?” she interrupts impatiently.