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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Playing the Victim"  "Which way now?" Blake asks when he pulls up to the intersection. He looks over at you. Maybe we should have "switched back", you grumble to yourself. You've been driving in circles, it feels like, for twenty minutes, trying to find a way back to town. Genesis begged you to take the wheel, but you told her it would look funny if "Blake" wasn't driving his own vehicle, so you've been giving directions from the passenger's seat Too bad you have no idea where Blake lives. You barely have an idea of how to get back to Saratoga Falls. All the roads around here bend in lazy curves and hook back up to each other without ever dumping back onto a straight thoroughfare. Why the hell did I switch things up this way? you chide yourself. Why didn't I stop to think things through? I can't pretend to be "Blake O'Brien stuck in Genesis Lee's body" when I don't know shit about Blake O'Brien. And what if Genesis starts getting Blake's memories back, and discovers I've been bluffing her while pretending to be him? Maybe it's not too late to turn around and go back to Sydney's. But—typically—as soon as you start entertaining that idea, you find the road back to town. "Next turn?" Blake asks. Would Blake hate the way his body is simpering out the questions? "He" is acting a lot more effeminate than Jack Li ever does. "Take a right," you reply. Blake "milks" the steering wheel as he makes the turn, pulling it down with tiny little hand-over-hand motions instead of a making single manly wrench of the wheel. It irritates you, and you're not even a jock football player! "Pull in here," you say as you pass Potsdam Park. "I don't feel like going home right away." "I don't either," Blake says after a pause. He slides the car with gingerly care into a space in the empty parking lot. "But we have to go home at some point, though. Should we—?" He bites his lip. "Should we tell each other a little bit about ourselves? So we'll know how to act?" Yes we should, you think. If we were smart and if I knew something to tell you. Aloud you say, "Sure, but not right now. Not yet. I'm not used to—" You fall silent. Even you, who arranged this body swap, are shy about referring openly to what has happened. The thought preoccupies you for a very long time, and you gaze out across the park at the river and the riverbank opposite. The water sparkles in a way that is mesmerizing. Not until you're startled by a series of soft sniffles from your companion do you look over to find Blake silently weeping. "I'm sorry," he gasps as he pats back the tears and dribbling snot with his fingertips. "You probably don't like seeing, um, yourself—" A shuddering sigh escapes him. "Like this." "Hey, do what you have to do," you tell her. It's all you can think to say. "It's just that— I'm so sorry that you're stuck in— In—" He gulps and breaks down completely. "Hey, come on," you say. "What are you apologizing for? You're not the one who did this to us." "I mean, I'm sorry about where you're stuck. It must really ... suck ... for you," he gasps through his tears. "I'm not, I'm not in ... good shape—" His lips quivers, and fresh tears burst forth. "What are you talking about? Come on, we got enough problems without being embarrassed by, you know, what kind of shape we're in. I mean— Shit," you mutter as his face twists up again. "Like, be honest," you urge Genesis. "It's gotta suck for you, too, being stuck in that." You jab Blake with a finger tipped with a sharp nail. The tears stop abruptly as Blake freezes. A red blush slowly runs up the side of his neck and pours into his cheeks. "What makes you think it's bad?" he mumbles. "I mean, you're in really great shape! Walking out to the car, I felt like I was almost like walking on air. I felt so strong," he stammers. "Well, thanks," you reply. "I try to keep in shape. But I meant, it's got to be gross for you, in there. I mean—" You fake a shudder, but it turns into a real one. "You know what it smells like in the boys' locker room? Fuck! Even I can't stand it, and I'm on the football squad! Anyway, I figure that's what it must be like for you, being stuck over there in that— That meat sack!" You grin at Blake. "Like being stuck in a boys' locker room!" Blake smiles—a tiny, shy thing. He wipes his nose and brushes tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand. "Actually," he says, "I always kind of liked the smell of the boys' locker room." "No! When were you ever in there?" Blake turns a bright red, but his grin widens. "Middle school," he says. "Me and my friend Melanie snuck in one day. The class was doing laps outside, and we got sent inside to get some equipment the coach forgot to bring. And we were like, Oh my God, I dare you to go in the boys' locker room. So we did." The day comes back to you, in Genesis's memories. Eighth grade. Genesis had her first crush, on Sam Anderson, who would break her heart at the end of the year by transferring to the Catholic school out west of town. He was in the P.E. class with her and Melanie Saxon, and when she and Melanie snuck into the locker room she looked around and wondered with a thumping heart which locker had Sam's clothes in it. He takes his clothes off in here, she thought. Bare legs, bare arms, bare chest, bare back. It left her flushed and faint. And ever since, that special locker room stink of cold metal, dried sweat, and dirty clothes has been twined with her fantasies of hot, naked guys. "And sometimes, when I'm in the gym," the body-swapped Genesis is saying from the seat beside you, "I sneak up next to the entrance to the locker room and ... And smell it!" "Does it really smell different than the girls' locker room?" you ask. "Oh, totally!" he gasps. "Well, maybe not totally," he then admits. "But there's something different about it. Girls smell different from guys." "Oh God, I know about that," you exclaim. "You don't have to tell me that girls smell different from guys! Guys stink!" "They do not! Guys smell great!" Blake closes his eyes and sucks down a deep breath through flaring nostrils. "Well, I guess our tastes are different. Or our smellers." You study Blake with a cocked head. "I wonder if guys will still smell good to you. With my nose." Blake blinks. Then to your shock he pulls out the collar of his shirt and snuffles inside it. "What are you doing?" you exclaim. "I'm checking to see if— Oh God!" His face falls with horror and embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" "What were you doing?" He covers his face with his hands. "I was checking out what you smelled like," he says in a small voice. "Well, I know that!" You can't help laughing. "I'm just surprised is all. Did you like it? Do I smell good?" His face is almost purple as he nods once. "Turnabout's fair," he murmurs. "If you want to sniff—" "If you're giving me permission," you blurt, "how about permission to—?" You hover your hands over your prodigious bosom." Blake stares, then bursts out laughing. "What's wrong?" you demand. "You think it's easy for me, doing my best not to touch or even think about these things?" And just like that, you are overwhelmed by the urge to fondle your jugs. Blake catches his breath, but he grins hard at you through his blush. He hesitates, then says, "I'll let you. If you let me—" He points to his chest. "Fondle my pecs? Yeah, I'll make that trade! I'd be getting a lot more out of the deal!" "So you'd let me touch more than—?" Blake bites his lip, and with a single fingertip rubs his chest through his shirt. "Sure. If I can touch your—" Gently you cup a breast. Blake's eyes fall to your chest, and a hungry light comes into his eye. Is Genesis getting turned on my her own breasts? you wonder. Then it comes to you: No, she's turned on by the thought that Blake—her crush—is fondling her breasts. So: "Mm, this is nice," you tell her as you cup both of them. You gently coax them from below, and smile to feel the tips harden inside your bra. "These are nice. You've got nice— Oh!" "What?" Blake asks. His eyes widen. "I just felt something. Something ... down—" Your loins shifted, loosened. With Genesis's memories you recognize it as the first stab of arousal. But you have pretend to be surprised by it. "It's like something ... pinched me?" You lift your eyes to gaze into Blake's face. His mouth is hanging open, and he stares with burning eyes at you. Genesis is gaping at you like a fish just begging to be hooked. With stiff fingers you open her purse and fumble inside it until you find the cell phone. You take it out and turn the camera on. You study your face on the screen. It's a round face, with full cheeks and full lips behind large, thick-framed glasses. You brush aside the strands of dark, curly hair that fall across your forehead. "You don't have anything to be embarrassed about, Genesis," you tell Blake as you lower the phone. "It's a real shock, what Sydney did to us. But—" You search for the right words as Blake stares, unblinking, at you with a gaping mouth. "But after talking to you, and getting a little more used to it—" Your throat freezes under Blake's intense gaze. You find you can't tear your own eyes away from his. "I'm glad it was you," you say. Blake bends toward you, and his lips find yours. Next: "The Seduction of Genesis Lee" |
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