40 seconds. 40 seconds until Heather came home, and he would be completely caught red handed. He'd had to work with short time frames before, but this particular one was reaching it. He carefully obliterated any hint of "woman-ness." Her stockings were in their hiding spot, her silken undergarments tucked unbeknownst to all but the nosiest of houseguests in a plastic bag taped to the back of the toilet bowl. Harold thanked his lucky stars he could afford on his government salary a maid, but with the kickbacks he received, a maid who wouldn't talk not even to the missus.

He slid his hands over his nearly bald scalp, in an attempt to smooth the grey frizzy flyaways he hated so much, and began to prance down the staircase, confident he had managed to make it through another time without being caught, when a sudden glimpse at his own reflection in the stairway mirror stunned him into horror.

He hadn't removed any of his make up. Below his politicians close cropped hair and receding hairline, but above the bright yellow polo shirt he wore with his neatly pressed khakis lay about two pounds of rouge, lipstick, mascara and enough eyeliner to keep Estee Lauder a very wealthy woman indeed. He had become so used to the weight on his face in these times alone, and the smell of the liquids and solids dancing on his skin that he had simply forgotten. The wig was gone, the jewelry back in Heather's safe but the makeup would sing like an opera diva. A big, fat opera diva. In drag.

Harold panted as he stood there on the stairway, and then immediately chuckled as he caught himself panting. He didn't have enough time to wash, and he knew even he wasn't a good enough senator to lie his way out of this one. Tonight he would find himself an accomplice perhaps. More than likely he'd find himself on the cover of most of DC's worst in scandal rags, and dragged through divorce court. He chuckled to himself again when he realized she'd probably take the more expensive pieces of his collection in the settlement. Mid-chuckle, Harold concocted an idea. It was simple, but he'd have to move fast, because he could hear here struggling to remove bags from her small car, and that meant only 30 seconds up the walkway before he was a snared man.

Harold rushed back up the stairs and found himself in the first bathroom he could find. It was a rarely used guest bathroom close to the stairs, but it contained a lock and the vanity toilet wipes Heather insisted on stocking in each bathroom,

• 1
• 2
• next page >>

---

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: Dreams ?
We want to hear your view. Write now!