I've been chewing on ideas for other stories, but this won't let me ignore it, so here's another of Susie's Days - see Susie Saturdays for the first.

David watched through the stained glass panels as his mum got in her car and drove away, just as he had every Saturday for a couple of months now; but today was no Saturday, but instead was one of the odd Sundays his mum had started working. This had begun only a few weeks after David began to get Saturdays to himself - or herself, as he'd began to think of his Susie form. The money was good, mum earned extra on Sundays, and a little of that made its way to David; Georgie had been most pleased with her son's housekeeping, and had given him a raise in his pocket money as a result. It was an extra $5 a week, and he'd begun saving it for future Susie purchases; he couldn't expect to have only his sister's things forever.

As he stepped into the shower for his now familiar pre-dressup routine of washing himself with some flowery scented soap, David thought and rethought his outfit for today; and what he needed to get done. The first few weeks of Saturdays had been going great, when he realised a small problem; how was he going to wash Susie's (or his sister's) clothes? Simply adding laundry to his Saturday housework was the obvious solution, but it also wasn't. Washing the clothes was only half the problem, as they then needed to be hung out to dry - most being too delicate for the clothes dryer, or so their labels said. Not wanting to risk it, he'd come up with a solution that while not ideal, it appeared to work ok. Giving everything time to dry and then be put away before his mum was home, and without risking curious questions about less housework being done the day before.

Drying himself off, and wrapping a towel around his body, he was once again grateful that few of Beth's clothes needed dry cleaning; as he had no idea how to go about getting that done. Not without being found out at least. David curled his toes in the familiar soft pile of his sister's carpet, and felt the familiar tingle sweep through him at the sight of the den of femininity that was all his, even if it was only borrowed. He'd start out simply today, wanting to be quick to get started on the laundry that need to be finished. It started out the same though; panties first. Being simple cotton, he could wash and dry these on Saturday, and there was always several pairs to choose from anyway.

White was today's colour, with a little ribbon on the front; they were simple and fairly plain, but just the thing for a laundry maid, surely. Again they tickled the hairs on his legs as he pulled them up, and he wondered as he usually did if there was some way he could shave them. A bra was next, plain white and simple again, a t-shirt bra apparently. He'd started to learn what some things were called by looking up fashion and lingerie (and he'd pronounced that wrong for almost a month) on the internet; but even with incognito mode, there was only so much a teenage boy could look at womens' clothes without arousing suspicion. Then there were names that were different even in the same language; he'd been ever so confused till he realised that Americans called suspenders garters. Apparently they called braces suspenders, but he had no idea what they called garters, maybe they called them braces? It was still confusing, and he wasn't sure he'd ever understand the differences in dress and shoe sizes.

With the bra on, he slipped in the padding to fill it out a bit. Then, skipping the wardrobe for now, he pulled a simple short summery dress out of a drawer, and easily slipped it on. It was a light blue, with a very faint flower pattern in white; nice and light, it was just the thing for skipping about the house in for a few hours. Plus he loved the way the skirts of it fluttered around his upper legs. The wardrobe provided a pair of white platform sandals, while they had a bit of a heel on them, they were flatter than proper high heels. But they were still about 3" tall though, and he liked the feel of them; they felt like they should be big and clumsy, but somehow still had a dainty girlishness to them that felt wonderful. Buckling them on he bounced a bit in them, not sure how they managed to be firm and soft at the same time, then moved to finish himself - or herself now - off.

He wasn't going to wear the wig today, hoping to have time to give it some care and brushing, but instead went with a blue bandanna that sort of matched the dress. He'd seen some woman on TV wearing a one over her hair while working around home, and thought that was the perfect Sunday look for Susie. With that tied in place, he finished off with a bit of pink lip gloss, which had become a special thing for him in that it felt totally normal, and odd to be without. It had started with dry windy days, resulting in dry cracked lips. The discomfort of which had eventually drawn his mum's attention, and she bought him a stick of lip balm; after some not entirely faked protests by him, and many reassurances from mum that it was perfectly normal for some men, and not at all like lipstick, he'd started using it. Then he just never stopped; he liked the feel of having something on his lips all the time, even if it wasn't bright pink. So now he felt like he always had a little bit of Susie showing, even if it didn't really 'show', with a bit of colour added for those special Susie days.

As usual he looked at herself in the full length mirror, and Susie looked back. Not quite as frilly and over the top as Saturday Susie, but Sunday Susie was still unmistakably girly, just they way she like it. As had become her custom once dressed, she dipped a curtsey to her mirror self and skipped out into the hallway. The sudden panicked freezing up she'd had that first day had passed, but Susie still took a moment to pause and listen, just to be certain she really was home alone. Then she turned back around, and getting down on her knees, pulled the laundry basket out from under the bed.

Walking down the hallway with her basket, Susie felt that familiar warm tingle growing in her that she loved so much. She swung her hips as she walked, enjoying the fluttering skirts, but still moved quickly; both because she didn't have as much time on Sundays, as well as because the basket was heavy. The clothes in it had been washed the day before, but neatly folded in the basket while still damp. This was the not ideal part of her laundry solution, but she'd give them a quick rinse in the machine - with a bit of the scent his mum used for her laundry - to freshen them up, and they'd be dry well before her mum was home.

The clothes were in two stacks in the basket, to make it easier to do the two loads needed without having to sort them first; whites first, then colours. Susie didn't have to worry about dark colours, everything was light and pastel. Though she'd seen a picture of a black maid's dress that she'd love to have someday, for now, everything was bright girly colours. With the first load in the washing machine, she pulled the folding racks out of the laundry cupboard and moved them one at a time to the lounge room. David had seen his mum do this to dry some things during a rainy week, and was ever glad he, as Susie, could now do the same to dry Beth's things in secret. After pushing the coffee table out of the way, she set the racks up in the middle of the room; directly under the ceiling fan.

The rinse finished quickly, and Susie was soon hanging clothes to dry under the fast turning fan. The second load was finished soon after hanging up the first, and before too long everything was drying and fluttering in the indoor wind. It was all just outer clothes, she'd discovered that tights were best hand washed, and could be easily dried by hanging them over the rail in his - David's - wardrobe. He had to leave one of the sliding doors open - or figured it was best to - so that fresh air could get in, but by carefully arranging the few boy clothes that he actually hung up the tights couldn't be seen. He could then sneak them back into Beth's room when he had a moment.

Bra's could be washed in a special bag in the machine, then he'd just hang them up under his, or Beth's, bed to dry; trapping the ends of them between the wooden slats and the mattress. There they'd be completely invisible to anyone who didn't get down to look under the bed; and as David's room was always kept so clean now, his mother never had need to do so. Speaking of bra's, Susie skipped - it was something about these shoes, they were fun to skip in - to his room, and removed the now dry bra's (from last Saturday's dressups, and yesterday's laundry) from under the bed. They were quickly folded and put away in Beth's drawers.

With the main things done for the day, aside from putting things away once dry, Susie could now spend a little more time on her look. Unbuckling her shoes, she padded barefoot across the soft carpet and took out a pair of plain white tights. She loved tights, hairy legs (no matter how fine those hairs were) never felt right, and tights improved things immensely. Tights were one of those things that got simpler with practice, so it no longer took her several tries to get them on; though a bit of pulling and stretching to get them just right seemed inevitable. She walked around without shoes for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of tights on the carpet, then sat back down at Beth's makeup table. Still keeping things simple, she just added some mascara and touched up her lip gloss, and smiled at herself in the mirror.

After a bit of fun with her mirror self - fluttering her eyelashes, and blowing kisses - she buckled her platform sandals back on, and used the extra height they granted to get the wig down from the top of the wardrobe. She would have liked to be able to keep it on the foam head-shaped stand that she had to get on her toes to reach, but Beth didn't use it, so Susie dare not either. She was sure it would keep it in much better condition if she could. But at least she could use it for this. Setting the foam head on the makeup table, Susie pulled the wig onto it, then carefully arranged it just right. Then using a soft brush she started carefully brushing it out; she spent a long time brushing it out smooth and sleek, and carefully picking out some tangles without breaking the hairs.

There was a little group of hairs at the top that had poked themselves up oddly, but by carefully braiding them through the stretchy mesh the wig was built around, she got them back in to place. Then there was the ponytails, or piggy tails? Falls? She wasn't sure what they were actually called, but they got brushed out and untangled too. It took well over an hour all up, till she'd brushed, picked, and braided it all back to perfect order. Susie sighed wistfully, wishing her real here was so pretty, instead of the short scruffiness of David's boring brown hair.

A few moments later, she picked the wig up off the foam head, and carefully laid it in its shoebox; being careful to keep it all straight, with only gentle folds, to keep it from tangling again. Once she'd got the stand and wig put away in the top of the wardrobe, she stood up and, curtsying to herself in the mirror - because that's just what you do with mirrors - skipped off to the kitchen for some lunch.

After a sandwich and some juice, Susie went back to Beth's room to touch up her lip gloss, then started cleaning the kitchen a little. Emptying the pantry and cupboards one shelf at a time, wiping them clean, then putting everything back in order. She cleaned the worktops, and even the top of the fridge - platform shoes were so great! - then mopped the floor, and left the kitchen to check on the drying clothes.

The fan was blasting a gale down on the racks of clothes in the lounge room, and she soon confirmed everything was dry. So after fetching the laundry basket - which she'd also wiped clean before leaving it - she began to carefully fold the clothes and put them in the basket for the short trip back to her - ok, Beth's - room. Setting the basket on the bed, she went back to the lounge to turn the fan down and tidy away the drying racks. Once the coffee table was back in place, and everything was in order, she hurried off for the best part of Susie's Sunday laundry: Putting the clothes away!

Normally, putting clothes away meant she was David again, and that Susie was being put away for another week. But Sundays were different because she was still dressed as Susie, so she could put things away without the sadness. There were dresses and skirts to hang up, some blouses too, and she could fuss and reorganise, making sure everything was just right, all while her own skirts fluttered around her. Just putting things away was so much more fun with her feet in her cute shoes, and her tights hugging her legs, and that lovely tingly warmth inside her panties as she hung, and folded, and fussed, and organised. She poked, and stroked, patted things down and primped them up, as she put everything away; and there were good memories for everything too!

There was that lavender - she knew the name of the colour now - dress from her first Saturday. That pink skirt that seemed to flounce all on its own, and the white blouse with the pink ribbon-y trim that she always wore with it. That fancy dress costume with its matching petticoats that was so short you could almost see she wasn't actually a girl, but she loved the way it tickled her thighs. That sparkly top that never seemed to go with any of the skirts, but was always fun to wear anyway. Beth's old school uniform - with the velcro stitched onto the inside to make the skirt shorter, which she was sure mum never knew about.

She sorted the shoes too, there were the black mary jane's with a slight heel that Beth had got in trouble at school for; and the flats she was supposed to wear. The deep lavender heels from Susie's first Saturday, and the slightly taller shiny white pair she was always scared of scuffing. The chunky healed black boots with the sticky zipper she always took off early, after that panic from the first time. And the ballet flats, so many ballet flats; Susie preferred heels, but some of the flats were cute, so she'd tried them all on. Sometimes she like to pretend the flats were her casual shoes, for when she wasn't doing housework; but even then she still preferred heels. Nothing felt girlier than high heels, or platforms - she wiggled her toes in her platform sandals - and only as Susie could she wear them; all of David's boring boy shoes were flat.

Unbuckling the platforms, she swapped them for the tall white heels - just because she could - then tucked the empty laundry basked back under the bed, and wandered off to the kitchen. She loved the way these heels click clacked on the - thankfully dry - kitchen tiles, it was unmistakably girly, and the growing warm tingles from her tight panties affirmed how much she enjoyed girlishness. She checked the kitchen over, ensuring she hadn't missed anything in her cleaning; it was spotless. A quick check of the lounge showed it was all as it should be; as it was this morning. But the clock was ticking louder, or so it seemed, and she knew it was time to put Susie away for another week. Mum would be home soon, a couple of hours at the most, but she was often home early on Sundays, and it wasn't worth the risk for a few more minutes.

She ended up in front of the mirror, as she always did, taking one last look. The bandanna came off first, carefully folded and put away, to reveal short boy hair. Next was the dress, folded and stacked separately to remind her that she'd worn it - not that she'd forget - and that it needed to be washed next Sunday, whenever that might be. The padding was taken out of the bra, and put away, then the bra itself. Again, stacked separately so she'd know it needed washing. She was slowly revealing David beneath Susie's trappings, but she kept the shoes on as long as she could, she really loved high heels. She gave them a quick wipe with a tissue when she took them off, always trying to keep the shine perfect.

When the panties were put away in their own to-be-washed stack, he went to put on some boy clothes; briefs, shorts, and a scratchy t-shirt. Finally he washed the tights by hand in the bathroom sink, then hung them over the shower door to drip while scrubbing off the little bit of makeup he wore. Once the tights were in his wardrobe drying, he wandered off to find a game to play.

Georgie came home in a good mood, to find her son playing something on his game console, and the kitchen sparkling as if a team of professionals had gone through it. He was a wonder, she thought; who'd have thought a bit of alone time was all he needed to get some motivation for cleaning, of all things.

They smiled at each other when she caught his eye: Susie Sundays were always a joy.