Culture Shock Part 5

Hearing his voice coming from across the room baffled his mind. He plopped down on the sofa and lowered his head into his hands. This couldn't be happening. It was a dream...a really, really bad dream and he was about to wake up.

Looking beyond his lap to the floor, he noticed pet.i.te feet wearing trendy, sling-back sandals. He willed the toes to wiggle, and the ones in the shoes did. "Holy c.r.a.p! This isn't a dream, it's a nightmare!" He glanced across at what used to be his body. "Cynthia? Are you in there?"

She raised her hands and held them in front of her face, then turned them over and over, examining the ma.s.sive fingers and hairy knuckles. She touched her cheek and her eyes widened. "Oh, my G.o.d, I'm growing a beard!" Tears blurred her eyes his eyes. "This can't be happening. Lord help me! I'm in your body." She crawled up and sat in the easy chair, her gaze an empty stare of disbelief.

Both were speechless for a few minutes, but finally, Alex turned to Cynthia. "How did this happen?" he asked, in a panic-stricken female voice. "Please slap me and get me out of this h.e.l.l."

Chapter Five.

Cynthia held her breath and tried to let reality sink in. Yesterday, she worried about looking like the abducted women and now she looked exactly like Alex. Which was worse?

If she wasn't staring at herself on the sofa across the way and dealing with the structure of a new body, she'd swear this was all something out of a scary movie. Any minute now the credits would roll and she could leave the theatre and resume her normal life. Somehow, the panic building in her chest was far more than fear caused by acting.

She crossed, then quickly uncrossed, her legs, and put her feet squarely on the floor. "Criminy, no wonder you guys never sit like that. It's uncomfortable."

Alex stood and began to pace. He stopped and kicked off her shoes. "How in the h.e.l.l do you walk in these flimsy things?"

"I think we have a much bigger problem here than my shoes," she snapped. "We have to fix this. Clearly something horrible and unexplainable has happened to us."

His shoulders slumped. "I know, I know! The lamp must have shorted out and been the cause. G.o.d, I thought things like this only happened in the movies."

"Well, until now, so did I. But evidently we were wrong." She held her hand to a headache building in her forehead. Ideas jumbled in her brain. "So, to fix this, all we have to do is shock ourselves again?"

Alex stared at her. "Yeah, right! All we have to do is determine just how much we can take before we electrocute ourselves. I don't know about you, but as badly as this may seem, I'd rather not kill myself ... or you, since I seem to be borrowing your body for the moment." He sagged onto the sofa, leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.

"I'm not so sure I agree. This is horrible, and at this point I might be willing to take the risk. But, since you aren't, what do you propose we do?"

G.o.d, it sounded so strange to hear her own voice asking herself what she proposed to do.

Alex lifted his head. "This is so weird. I'm talking to you and looking at myself." He dipped his chin and stared at the floor. "I don't have any idea. This isn't exactly something that happens to me on a regular basis."

"Well, we can't stay like this! For heaven's sake, my brother is coming to visit. How am I supposed to explain this to him? For that matter, how am I supposed to show up at work on Monday? Did you think about that?" Welling panic caused an inflection in her voice.

"I find it frustrating that you insist I fix the problem," he snarled. "I'm just as upset as you are, and for some strange reason I want to slap you, but I'm afraid I'll bruise my own face."

The tension lifted for a moment as the sound of Cynthia's booming laughter shattered the silence. "I'm sorry. This isn't funny, but I just pictured you slapping me. Then I'd have to punch you and hurt myself."

Despite the stress, they collapsed into hysterical laughter until a moment of sanity prevailed and Alex sobered. "Well, that was good, but nothing's changed. What the h.e.l.l are we going to do? I can't go to work like this."

After bantering back and forth for hours, Cynthia's nerves were completely frayed. She stood and held up a surrendering hand. "Look, we aren't getting anywhere and I'm exhausted. I need to sleep. Maybe we can think better after a good night's rest."

Alex nodded. "You're right, but how do we decide who sleeps where? You have my body and I have yours. Do you go to my apartment or do I? Do I sleep in your bed or in my own?"

Cynthia furrowed her brow. "I hadn't thought of that." She glanced down at the body that had become hers. "I guess I won't exactly fit into my night gown."

"Oh, noooo," he interjected. "Don't think I'm wearing one. I may be stuck in this body but I refuse to play the part. It's bad enough that I have on this foo-foo blouse...and I've already sampled your shoes. That's enough for me."

Cynthia put her hands on her hips. "Oh, yeah? Well, you didn't seem to mind when I had them on, and...don't look now, but you're wearing a thong."

Alex grabbed his rear end with both hands. "Oh, Christ, what next?"

"How about if we both sleep here tonight? One of us can have the bed and the other the sofa. That way we don't have to make any rash decisions right away."

"Sounds good to me. I'll take the couch." Despite the ma.s.s confusion, he still acted the gentleman.

"No, you take the bed. I'm used to it...or you're used to it. Oh, h.e.l.l, the body is used to it. I'll just sleep on the sofa. No more discussion."

"Okay. You win." Alex acquiesced and walked into the bedroom. "But I'm sleeping in my clothes...your clothes...anything but your nightgown."

Cynthia followed him and rummaged in the closet for blankets. Alex settled between the clean sheets and snuggled down.

"Sure, you get the bed and I have to sleep on the stinky couch," she mumbled.

"I heard that!" He raised his head. "It was your idea, not mine."

She didn't respond, but returned to the living room and snapped the blankets a little too vigorously as she spread them out on the sofa. This wasn't his fault, but she didn't have anywhere else to aim her anger. The scream rising in her throat threatened to choke off her breath.

Alex felt a tad guilty, but curled on his side, scrunched the pillow into a comfortable ball, and closed his eyes. He was dozing off when he heard Cynthia tiptoeing toward the bathroom. He rolled over. "Where are you going?"

"You don't have to be a Rhode's scholar to figure it out. The only other room attached to the bedroom is the bathroom." Her voice showed her annoyance. "I'm going to brush my teeth. I always do before I go to bed."

"Well, should I go with you and bring your teeth?" he snapped back.

"I would appreciate a little less sarcasm if you don't mind. And, since you mentioned it, you might want to brush before you go to sleep, too."

He should have kept quiet.

Alex rolled back over and faced the wall. "I'll pa.s.s. I don't like sharing toothbrushes." He chuckled. "h.e.l.l, I don't know why not. We're sharing everything else at the moment." His attempt at humor to ease her distress fell far short of the mark. He turned back to face the wall and listened as the sofa creaked beneath her weight or rather his weight.

With the blanket beneath his chin, the aroma of her perfume lingered on the linen. Under different circ.u.mstances he might have been aroused.

He tossed and turned. Ever since Cynthia had mentioned the word, "thong", Alex had an incredible urge to pick at his behind. He fought against exploring and kept his hands in check as long as he could. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and plucked at the flimsy undergarment strung between his cheeks. His mind questioned the need for b.u.t.t floss. He'd always found skimpy undergarments a turn-on, but he didn't expect to be the one wearing them. The thought didn't bring a chuckle as he hoped. Nothing about this nightmare held any semblance of humor, and he shuddered at the thought his situation might just be a permanent one.

The Sunday morning sun, filtering through a hole in the bedroom curtain, caught Alex square in the face. He struggled to open his eyes, but the blinding ray was extraordinarily bright. He rolled away from the glare.

Memories of last night flooded back. He froze, afraid to move...to get up. Please, G.o.d, he bargained with the Lord, tell me it was just a bad dream. Make it a bad dream, and I'll do whatever you ask of me.

He hesitated a moment before exploring his chest. His fingers rested on a mound, and then moved to a second one. Clearly it wasn't a dream. He had t.i.ts.

Alex swallowed hard and sat up, looking into the living room. No explanation described how he felt sitting in bed looking at himself asleep on the couch. The word *weird' fit, but unbelievable was more like it. He considered going back to sleep and hoping for better results upon re-awakening, but, he needed to use the toilet.

Mentally bemoaning the fact he'd have to sit down, he rose. Last time he'd sat on a toilet to pee, he'd been two-years old.

Not wanting to wake Cynthia, he tiptoed to the bathroom, pulled the door closed and stood for a moment, looking into the mirror. Yep, definitely weird. He felt like himself but the face staring back at him belonged to Cynthia.

He touched her face, noting the smooth feel of her skin. He'd frequently wished he didn't have to shave, but what had happened wasn't exactly an answer to that prayer. Besides, at the moment he'd pay to have his own face back.

Alex pulled down Cynthia's tailored slacks and black thong then sat on the toilet. He was used to the manly sound of urine hitting the back of the bowl, not the almost inaudible tinkling sound he heard. While he waited for the steam to end, he fingered her lacy undergarment. He longed to see her in her underwear, but definitely not like this. He reached behind and touched Cynthia's soft bottom. At that moment he decided he was really a sick individual and jerked his hand away. When he finished urinating, he sat for a moment and wondered what to do next. Usually he just shook the dew off the lily, but...he wadded up a piece of toilet tissue and blotted the pubic moisture away, not enjoying the sensation at all. Standing, he pulled up his undergarment and pants then turned to the sink and washed his hands.

The flushing of the toilet caused the ancient water pipes to groan, waking Cynthia. Her pillow on the floor explained why her neck ached. For a moment, she remained, head resting against the hard sofa arm, and stared through blurry eyes at the faded paint on the ceiling. The events of the past evening replayed in her mind. A glance at her newly-acquired, hairy knuckles proved what had happened was all too real.

Her bladder screamed to be emptied, and something strained against the front of her jeans. She reached to adjust her crotch and grimaced. "Oh sheesh!" Her fingers found the morning "woody" guys always talked about.

She yanked her hand from beneath the blanket like it was on fire. Covering her face, she bemoaned her fate. The bathroom beckoned, but she wasn't ready for what else awaited her. The idea of touching Alex's p.e.n.i.s was bad enough; she wasn't sure she knew how to aim one.

Unable to stand the growing discomfort, Cynthia pa.s.sed Alex on her way into the bathroom. The sinister grin on his face told her he had already been. She glared at him. "I don't want to discuss it," she spat, and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

In front of the toilet, she inched down the zipper on her Levis. Scrunching her eyes closed, she gingerly reached inside the open fly, took hold of the engorged member with two fingers, and pulled it free. Opening one eye, she looked down at the toilet and calculated a line of fire. The stream of urine seemed never-ending, but brought immediate relief...and ended the erection.

She tucked the flaccid p.e.n.i.s back inside, closed her zipper and washed her hands. Alex's face stared back from the mirror, and despite her present traumatic situation, she almost laughed. Five o'clock shadow was nothing she ever expected to have, but fretting about such a minor thing seemed ridiculous. She had bigger worries to deal with. Much bigger!

Back in the living room, she looked at Alex, sitting on the couch, and wrinkled her nose. "Boy, it hurts to see how awful I look in the morning from someone else's perspective, but then, I just looked in the mirror and you don't look so hot either."

Alex glanced up at her and ran a hand through the disheveled hair atop his head. "Very funny. I'm not concerned about styles at the moment. Did any brilliant solutions come to you during the night?"

She sighed. "I wish. I was hoping this was all just a terrible dream. What are we going to do?"

"I don't have a clue," he said. "We can't even tell anyone. Can you image trying to explain this to someone else? We'd end up in an asylum somewhere."

"Are you sure you don't want to try the shock thing again?" she asked.

"I'm sure!" His brows knit into one. "There's got to be another way." Alex chewed his bottom lip. "We'd better come up with something because we both have to go to work tomorrow."

"Oh, G.o.d. That's right! I can't ask for time off unless I'm on my death bed. I just started this job. Think! What are we going to do? "

"I wish I knew. I can't miss work either. Asking for a vacation in the middle of an ongoing investigation would raise eyebrows." He shook his head. "This is horrible."

"Well then, we'd better spend the rest of the day briefing one another," she suggested.

His eyebrow arched. "About what?"

"Oh, I don't know..." Her voice rose. "How can you be so clueless? Don't you think it might be nice for you to know how to find my office, which desk is mine and who my co-workers are? After all, they will most likely expect you to know them since you work with them." She stomped across the room, rubbing the back of her neck. "Oh, and it's probably a good idea for you to feed me some details about your job since I have no idea what to expect. Of all the things I wanted to do in this lifetime, being a cop was never one of them."

Cynthia ma.s.saged her temples. "G.o.d, there's too much to remember. You can't expect me to store all that information in my brain. You went to an academy for months to learn all this stuff..." Suddenly her eyes widened. "I'm not going to have to shoot a gun am I?"

"No! I've never even taken mine out of the holster. Don't worry. You'll do fine. Just remember the basics. You'll be surprised how things sink in even if you don't think they did. You'll remember what you need to know when you need it."

"That's easy for you to say. I'm the one that has it the toughest."

He scrunched up his face. "You? How can you say that? I haven't the first idea about how to be a woman, and we all know how complex they are."

"We are not! Being feminine is very simple. Let me show you." She struck a pose that looked ridiculous and walked across the room. "The walk is the most important thing. Take small steps and lead with your hips. Let them be your guide."

Alex's flinched at the sight of his masculine frame sashaying around the floor. Even more annoying was the way she made feminine gestures with his hands. He rolled his eyes. "There's no way I can walk like that, and I wish you'd stop. You're making me look ridiculous. Promise me you won't walk like that as long as you have my body."

He jumped to his feet. "Real men walk heavy and hard ... and pull your shoulders back." He grabbed her forearms from behind, forcing her chest forward.

She jerked out of his grasp, turned and glared at him. "Don't worry. I'll play up the macho thing, but I want to see you walk like I just did."

He blew out a loud breath then reluctantly took one step, then another. The swivel didn't come naturally, but he tried following her example. Having a woman's form and a man's thought process was tough. The two didn't work well together. He walked across the room then turned. "Well, what do you think?"

"I think you look like someone who just had casts removed from their broken legs. But, we'll keep working on it. I also need to show you how to sit properly, drink with poise, and how to be graceful."

He grabbed two handfuls of her blonde hair and yanked in frustration. "Just kill me now."

"I can't. You promised I wouldn't have to shoot anyone, and I don't want to be the first to un-holster your gun." Her giggle sounded forced.

He sagged down on the sofa. "I guess I'll be spending the night again. Looks like we have a lot of ground to cover."

Chapter Six.

Monday, the alarm sounded at six-thirty a.m. Disoriented by his surroundings, Alex recognized Cynthia's bedroom. He punched her wimpy pillow into a ball and rolled over and hit the snooze b.u.t.ton. If he went back to sleep, he wouldn't have to face what lay in store. But no matter how hard he wished the problem away, he'd have to face it. Great! He had to gussy up for a job that wasn't his, pretend to be something he wasn't and continue to fake things until he and Cynthia could come up with a solution if there was one. The prospect of being stuck like this forever terrified him.

He rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Was Cynthia awake yet? Even though it was her idea, he felt bad making her sleep on the couch in her own apartment. With a deep sigh, he swiveled around and sat on the edge of the bed. Holding his head in his hands and staring at the floor, he spied her fuzzy slippers. "Ohhh, nooo. I ain't wearin' em."

Barefooted, he walked to the door and leaned against the jamb. Cynthia still slept. "Hey, wake up. It's almost time to go to work," he called. "Let's run through things one more time."

Cynthia rolled over and moaned then sat and rubbed the back of her neck. "G.o.d, this couch is awful. I can't take too many more nights of this torture."

"I suggest you sleep in my apartment from now on. That's where all my clothes and shaving things are anyhow."

"Yeah, I guess." The tone in her voice showed she didn't welcome the idea. "I definitely have to change clothes and shower. This is disgusting...and I do need to shave, and I don't mean my legs."

He ran a gaze up and down his own body. "Well, you certainly won't fit into your clothes, and you'd look pretty ridiculous even if you did. I'm sure my wardrobe isn't nearly as extensive, but help yourself."

"I suppose wearing a dress would arouse a little suspicion about your s.e.xuality," she said with a c.o.c.ky tilt to her head.