The reflection in the mirror is stunningly beautiful, the sort of woman who turns heads anywhere she goes. She is more beautiful than I thought possible, more perfect than I can imagine. And even though I am her now, I wasn’t when I woke up this morning.
I’ve never spoken to my neighbor, though I know quite a bit about her. I know that she’s young and beautiful and happily in love. I know her name and the name of her husband, and I know that a part of me is envious of what they have.
I’m not old but I’m not young either and my best years are definitely behind me. I’m retired and not in a good place, living a life alone with my regrets.
When I woke up as her I was sure that this was a dream. But the more time I spend in her body the more certain I am that this is really happening.
It feels amazing to be her, young and lithe and nimble. The pleasure that she is capable of feeling is so much more intense and fulfilling than the pleasure I’m used to. I am consumed by experiencing as much as I can in her body.
Her husband is coming home soon, but I don’t know if I can cross that line. I know two young people in love must have expectations for each other, and I know that when he sees me he’s only going to see his wife.
And when he walks in the door and looks at me I feel my heart skip a beat. I feel the desire in me and the craving for more, the need that only he can fulfill.
Excerpt
I knew that I was her.
Her eyes looking back at me, smokey makeup lining them. Her mouth open in disbelief as she saw a reflection she recognized but wasn’t her own. Her slim body trembling slightly with disbelief at what was happening, knowing that it was happening but not knowing why at the same time.
Because that was it, the why and the how. The explanations that would lead me to understanding. That was all that I wanted right now, to understand what was happening here.
Somehow I’d accepted it in a heartbeat, a pounding in my chest that sounded out and led me to acceptance so quickly, far quicker than I ever would have imagined if you’d set this situation as a possibility even yesterday.
I’ve always been quick to adapt, quick to accept things and through that to find and understand that sometimes things can’t be helped. To find my acceptance through an understanding that things were out of my control, even if just for the moment.
Even if just for the moment I was her, so I might as well live with that knowledge rather than wasting valuable time freaking out about it.
Part of me, that irrational part that I think is in all of us, that part couldn’t quite believe it. That part was telling me that I was still stuck in a dream, that maybe I was in a nightmare, that this didn’t make a damn bit of sense and that I would be waking up any moment.
But that part was irrational by definition, so it was easy to ignore and dismiss it.
And while I couldn’t say that I was happy about it exactly, more resigned than anything else, I had to admit that circumstances could be a hell of a lot worse. I might be a woman right now, but I was a damn good looking woman after all and that couldn’t be ignored.
Not in the least.
I’d obviously never been this close to her before, but I honestly couldn’t think of a single time that I’d seen this Claire without a pane of glass between us. I’d never seen her up close, never seen the details of her.
And up close she was somehow even more breathtaking than imaginable.
I’m not one to overstate reality. I’m more than fine with accepting flaws because in my mind flaws are those things that made people unique, that made them a little more human.
But I was hard-pressed to find a flaw on this woman, even just one pore of her skin that was anything less than absolute perfection. As I stepped closer to the mirror, examining her and seeing her face and her expression shift from fear to interest to investigation, I searched all over her for one thing that was out of place and found myself at a complete loss.
She had changed since I saw her in the backyard last, ditching the light and thin sundress for a long and thick and comfortably baggy shirt. But even through that shirt I could make out the curves of her body and below the shirt I could see her smooth and toned legs as she stood on tiptoe and gave a little twirl to make out all of the sides.
The shirt, it was so long that it almost covered everything, but only almost.
In the back it was riding up a bit, the bottom of it with this slightly tighter stretchy band that brought it closer to her body and by consequence ran a little high on her hips. Just enough to let the bottoms of her cheeks poke out. Just enough to make her pink panties visible.
And that made me flush.