Wearing Jennifer's Face
By Vicki Mock
As we prepare to sit down to dinner, I become embarrassed by the constant attention and declare to Jennifer that it is time to take it off. She is adamant that I remain in the mask, and chastises me for making her go through all that trouble only to take it all off after a few minutes. I protest that it wasn�t entirely my idea, but she makes me promise, in front of everyone, my most solemn promise, all kidding aside, that I will not take off the mask until she says so. I agree, smiling a good approximation of her smile. She makes me promise to speak like her while I am wearing her face, and I playfully agree in my breathy voice. My heart pounds, and I cannot hold on much longer to the wave of pleasure I am riding.
The party is winding down. I have caught my reflection in the mirror many times and each glance grants me a jolt of erotic pleasure as I see Jennifer�s face instead of mine. I would eagerly make love to any woman who looked like I look tonight. My girlfriend seems a little shocked when I grab her and give her a deep kiss with Jennifer's face on. I suggest, with alcohol on my breath, how erotic it would be to make love to her wearing this mask; it has been my fantasy, I tell her, to pleasure a woman while disguised as a woman. She says nothing, ignoring the remark, but I can see that she is thinking, considering, maybe fantasizing about it as she stares at me later.
Jennifer's soft rubber lips have blown the guys kisses, her mouth has spoken in her breathy, husky voice, and she has minced around the room in little white boots shaking her wide hips and bottom in a parody of femininity, but I have begun to tire of it a little. I am still turned on but the raging fire has been reduced to white-hot coals. As the last couple leaves only four of us in the house, I suggest that I perhaps I should take off the mask and clothes so we can go home. With a nasty smile, Jennifer declares that she has not given the word yet, and will not give it.
I am tired, I am hot and I chafe, so I tell her it has gone on long enough. She reminds me I gave my solemn oath, and with loud laughter at his drunken cleverness, her escort tells me I am going to bed with Jennifer whether I like it or not. Getting a little angry at this attitude, I pull off the leather gloves and reach under the turtleneck for the edge of the mask. I will peel it up and stretch Jennifer's face off of my own, even though I wish to continue wearing it. Then, after removing it, I will ask if I can borrow it for the night, just for laughs. In my heart I want to keep it on, but I must take a stand or appear to like my predicament too much.
I search for the edge of the mask with no luck, and ask my girlfriend for help. She laughs and tells me a promise is a promise. I go to the mirror and pull the turtleneck down so I can see the edge. I see it is stuck tight to my skin, and try as I might; I am unable to roll or peel it loose. I tug at the hair, the face, the neck, but Jennifer's face is mine for now. The three of them laugh at my plight, and I now see that my they all knew that I would not be able to remove this thing at the end of the evening--Jennifer told them, but not me.
Looks like you�ll get you wish, my girlfriend whispers seductively as she drives us home. I pull down the cosmetic mirror and run my gloved fingers over the false face that is adhered to my own. I smile as I imagine making wonderful love tonight, sleeping masked, waking to the morning light with long hair across my pillow, and eating breakfast in a bathrobe wearing Jennifer's face. Before we leave her house, Jennifer secretly makes it clear that I will only be able to remove the mask when I have paid her back in a very special way. She turns and announces so all can hear her: Tomorrow I will release you--I will call and tell you how to do it. But her wink tells me that I must come to her house, to see her in her own bedroom.
In the succeeding weeks, Jennifer shows me the contents of her closet in the spare bedroom. I learn that in that closet lives a woman who was imprisoned inside of me until that night at Jennifer�s house. Jennifer receives more than she bargained for, but the woman inside of me grows stronger and is more and more reluctant to go back into the closet at the end of our sessions together.
I imagine this fantasy life will grow in strength until finally, one day; Jennifer will be surprised to see herself walking down the street wearing tight jeans that show off her ample ass. She�ll have bouncing breasts beneath a red silk blouse, and she'll wear red heels to match her nails and the red lipstick on her soft rubber lips. The corners of her ample mouth will curl in a confident smile as she walks, hips swaying, ignoring the urgent pleas from the woman standing on the sidewalk. Perhaps, I think, I will never tire of wearing Jennifer's face...
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