Copyright © 2014 Maeryn Lamonte - All Rights Reserved.

Sixteen comments and pms this time, bringing the delay down to three and a bit days. Come on you lovely people, I know you can do better.

Anyway, for those of you who’re new to Lifeswap, chapter one can be found here. For the rest of you, the story so far:-

Jerry Goodman, a banker, having been invited to a party held by Tony Ward, his antiques dealer, is invited to participate in a party game. What he doesn’t know is that the bowl in which he has just placed his keys is magical. Fortunately for him, Laura Townsend, another antiques dealer and the rightful owner of the bowl, comes along at that stage and adds her keys to the bowl.

The magic of the bowl causes Jerry and Laura’s consciousnesses to be switched, and in the ensuing confusion, the bowl is broken, Laura (now in Jerry’s body) picks Jerry (in Laura’s) up and escapes with him (her?) and the pieces of bowl.

Later, back at Jerry’s house, Jerry’s wife, Portia arrives, upset at being abandoned at the party, and accuses him of being unfaithful. She then storms off to call her lawyers.

Jerry (in Laura’s body remember) manages to transfer most of his assets – shares, personal accounts, the house and the car – into Laura’s name before Portia can get the legal system involved, and so avoids having them frozen, pending the settlement.

Early the following morning, Portia serves the divorce summons and the injunction freezing Jerry’s assets, the police turn up and arrest Laura (in Jerry’s body) for the alleged theft of the bowl and assault on Tony. Jerry (as Laura) is left to sort out the mess. He manages it and arranges for Laura’s release from police custardy by the end of the day. They head home to enjoy a relaxing evening, and end up in bed together, engaging in unprotected sex. The chapter ends with Jerry (as Laura) reflecting on how stupid she’s been.

Dramatis Personae
Jerry Goodman – A banker, but one of the good ones. Now residing in Laura Townsend’s body.
Portia Goodman – Harpy. Unhappily married to Jerry.
Laura Townsend – Another antiques dealer, but more honest than Tony. Former owner of the bowl used to switch minds into other bodies. Now in Jerry Goodman’s body.
Tony Ward – An antiques dealer and all round dodgy character.
Mary Ward - Wife to Tony Ward - not much of a part so far
Mike, Peter and Randy – Tony’s cronies. Now switched into each other’s bodies.
Paul Burrows – A lawyer who doesn't mind being woken up in the middle of the night. Sympathetic to men, like Jerry, who are facing a messy divorce.

-oOo-

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling for a long time. Sleep wouldn’t come so I got up and gathered my things. I retrieved my towel from the guest bedroom and headed for the bathroom I’d used that morning. I don’t know how long I stood under the stream of hot water, but long enough to scrub myself raw. It didn’t make any difference; I could still smell him on me when I was done.

His smell, my smell, it was too confusing. For a short crazy while, things had been wonderfully right, now in the emptiness of the night, all the wrongness of what we’d done crowded in.

I dressed and made my way downstairs, put a pan of milk on to warm. The night was chilly so I hunted out an old fleece I kept in the cloakroom. Again my smell, his smell. Comforting. Confusing.

I carried my drink to the conservatory, switching out the lights as I went. It wasn’t that late, so the moon wasn’t up yet. It was another uncharacteristically clear night and the stars sparkled down on me with Disney magic.

I pulled my legs up close to my chest and held my mug in both hands. A tear escaped from one eye and I tried to analyse why. It was so hard to be detached in this body, and every thought brought with it a flood of intermingled feelings.

Did I regret making love to Laura? No, surprisingly not. Yes there was something weird and twisted about climbing into bed with the person who was wearing my old body while I wore hers, but somehow the issue of who belonged in which body didn’t seem to matter. Sure I’d been born Jeremy Goodman. Sure the person I’d been for the last thirty-two years was asleep upstairs. Sure I had no experience of being a woman – up until now I’d had no thoughts about wanting to be one. But just because all that was true, it didn’t lessen the truth that I’d felt more comfortable in the last twenty-four hours than I had in my whole life. A truth which, if Laura had spoken honestly, extended to her also.

Laura’s bowl was broken, so was Tony’s, assuming he’d ever had one. It seemed right given our conversation earlier that morning, and if he was to be believed – a big if on reflection – then a broken bowl had no power to change. The artefacts were incredibly rare to begin with. We needed a bowl if we were ever going to change back, and the likelihood of finding one was remote to say the least.

The chances were very good that we were going to have to accept these changes for the rest of our lives, and no matter how much that seemed like the most unusual piece of good luck for both of us, there is a grieving to any loss. Even when there is more gained than lost, you still need to mourn the loss.
A fox scampered across the garden; a vixen, followed a moment later by her cubs. There was an animal that had embraced change. Loss of its natural habitat had turned it into an urban animal, scavenging from people’s bins. It seemed happy and healthy enough in its new circumstances, maybe I could be too. Maybe it was all wishful thinking.

I breathed deep, tasting my old scent. His scent now. This was a decision we’d have to make together, a topic for discussion over breakfast maybe, but in light of what both Laura and I had said, we had to decide whether we were going to look for a way to turn ourselves back, however remote our chances, or whether we were going to accept what had happened to us.

My mug was empty. I didn’t even remember drinking its contents. I set it down on a nearby coffee table and stood up. Part of me wanted to stretch out and fall asleep under the gently twinkling stars, but my legs were cold and I had other concerns crowding in.

I made my way to the study and fired up my computer. Opening the web browser in incognito mode, I googled ‘can you get pregnant just before your period?’ The response wasn’t encouraging, so I then googled ‘morning after pills’. I wasn’t sure how I felt about taking something like that. For one thing, I’d have to be careful about where I bought them. If news of a purchase like that made it to Portia’s ears, we’d be in the brown and smelly up to our noses. For another, I wasn’t sure how I felt about messing with nature that way in any case. I mean sure, contraception is messing with nature, but there was the whole issue of when that little cell becomes a person. Something else to discuss in the morning.

I shut the computer down and made my way back to the conservatory, wrapping the fleece tight around me. It didn’t help the goose bumps forming on my legs, but somehow I felt warmer. I caught sight of the suitcase of Laura’s clothes I’d packed earlier standing in the hall. Why hadn’t I put any trousers in, I wondered. The skirt of my dress brushed against my legs as I walked and I realised I actually enjoyed both the look and the feel of skirts and dresses, especially in this body. Maybe I’d go back to jeans and sweatshirts in time, but for now I had the body to take advantage of pretty clothes and I found I wanted to, even if it meant cold legs sometimes.

I picked up the case and headed for the stairs. Despite its small size, it was heavy. My old strength was something I was going to miss, I realised, but then when had I ever really used it as Jerry?

Back in the guest room, I unpacked, hanging up the clothes I’d brought and smoothing out the creases as best I could. I changed out of my clothes and into the nightie I’d packed. It was short and sexy, lace trimmed red satin that barely reached down to the tops of my legs. I wondered why I’d packed it when Laura had more sensible nightclothes. Had I been thinking of seduction, or was it just the thought of looking and feeling sexy? I admired myself in the mirror and a smile came unbidden to my face. A bright, genuine smile that lifted my sharp features all the way through beautiful into stunning. I thought about re-joining Laura in the master bedroom and the temptation was too great.

‘Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,’ my dad used to say, and we’d already had the lamb. I headed back down the hall and slipped into the room. Habit had me setting the burglar alarm before I climbed into bed beside used-to-be-me. He was still breathing gently in his sleep, his back to me. I slid under the sheets and spooned up close behind him. My mind was rested now and sleep came easily.

-oOo-

I woke to the sensation of someone turning in the bed beside me. I opened my eyes to see Laura’s – mine formerly – looking back at me. I gave him a sleepy smile and stretched, cat-like.

“You look good enough to eat,” he said pulling me close. He had an early morning erection which was tempting, but not overly so. I kissed him, tasting stale beer and last night’s pizza.

“You need to brush your teeth,” I said. “I probably do too.”

“It can wait.” He rolled me onto my back pinning my shoulders playfully. I didn’t resist, at least not physically.

“Laura, I’m not so sure about this.”

“You seemed pretty sure last night.”

“I know. Last night was wonderful, and I definitely don’t want it to be a one off, but this isn’t sensible. I mean you’re not on the pill are you, I mean I’m not? I didn’t see anything like that in your bag when I emptied it yesterday. Besides, even if you are I must have missed one by now.”

“Don’t you have any condoms?” He rolled over to check the cabinet beside the bed.

“Why would I? I mean Portia and I haven’t been intimate since we were married. She doesn’t even sleep in here.”

“Then what are these?”

He was holding a box of ribbed luxury condoms. It was open and half empty.

“What the hell?”

“I take it these aren’t yours then?”

“I hate to bruise your delicate male ego so soon after you’ve got it but, while you’re the perfect size for me, you’re no Trojan Magnum XL.” I tapped the box to emphasise my point.

The implications of this discovery slowly bloomed inside me. Not only had Portia been cheating on me, but she’d been doing it in my bed, deliberately laughing in my face. The fact that she’d left the condoms next to my bed meant she either thought I was too stupid to find them or too weak to do anything about her betrayal if I did. Her decision to divorce me changed things though. No wonder she’d wanted us out of the house.

“Put them back,” I said, “and get up.”

He did as I asked, and I pulled the sheets off the bed. They were marked from our exertion the previous night and would need washing. We had maids who came in to clean the house and they change the beds twice a week. It had seemed a little excessive when Portia told me, but then Portia can be excessive, so I hadn’t questioned it. Until now. I examined the mattress and there were definitely signs of activity. A lot of it.

“Help me turn this thing.”

We struggled to flip the mattress, but it was worth it as there was more evidence the other side.

“I think you need to call Paul,” I said.

We ate breakfast in silence. All the things I'd meant to discuss with Laura, eclipsed by the morning's startling discovery.

Paul wasn't happy at having his Sunday disturbed, but the promise of more easy money salved his mood, and he agreed to contact Portia's lawyer and try and set something up for the afternoon.

I put the previous night's sheets into the washing machine and left the bed unmade. It didn't seem right to cover it up after the discovery, and I for one never wanted to sleep on it again.

Paul phoned back at around ten to say the others had agreed to a meeting at two that afternoon.

"This had better be dynamite," he said. "They already have you by the short and curlies."

I spent the morning pacing, seething with rage and going over and over in my mind what I was going to say. Laura kept out of my way, pretending to read, but looking up at me every now and again, a concerned expression on his face.

He made us lunch; a light feta cheese salad from the copious supplies of food in the fridge. I wasn't hungry, but he insisted I eat something, and it did look good.

"So what happens this afternoon?" he asked, watching me pick at my food.

"I'm going to confront her. Tell her that we changed the bed this morning."

"That'll go down well. How exactly is it going to help our cause if you admit to spending the night with me?"

He was right. I hated it, but he was. I glowered at him.

"I know you want to be the one telling her, but it has to be me who does it. I'm not even sure you should be there."

Begrudgingly I agreed. Paul came round at one and I reluctantly stayed behind while he and Laura headed off to the meeting.

The next hour passed slowly, turning me into a fidgeting, quivering wreck. The next one didn’t seem to want to end, but I forced myself to wait it out, trying not to stare at the phone too much. By the end of the third hour there wasn’t much left of my fingernails, and as the fourth drew to a close, I’d started on the skin of my fingers. The fifth hour I spent wracking my brains, trying to figure out what could possibly have gone wrong and why they had been gone for so long.

It was past six before they returned. Paul didn't look as though he should have been behind the wheel, and both of them were drunk and laughing fit to bust.

I met them at the front door with arms crossed and as stern an expression as I could manage.

"Uh oh," Paul said catching the look in my eyes.

Laura didn't lose his smile, but held his arms out to me.

"You should have seen the look on her face when I told her."

Not helping! I'd wanted to be there almost more than anything.

"What happened?"

"She went ape-shit at first; wanted to know why we were still in the house 'til Paul here explained all that. Then she tried to keep her face straight and bluff it out, until I talked about getting DNA tests done on the mattress stains. She started ranting about how she wouldn't debase herself by giving a DNA sample, and how it was me who had been unfaithful and not her. I have to say, she almost had me convinced. Then I suggested we could use a hair from her hair brush or something and she caved in like an overworked mineshaft. It was so funny."

"So you settled?"

"Yup. Like you suggested, she gets to keep the money she took from the joint account and half the savings. She drops all charges and we never see her again."

"And just when was this settled?"

"Oh, about three, three-thirty." He looked at his watch and his face sobered. "Oh shit."

I turned my back on him and stormed into the house. Sometimes not saying anything is the most effective form of communication.

Laura followed me as I knew he would. "Listen, I'm sorry. We just felt the victory needed celebrating, and there's this bar just across the road from Paul's office."

"You didn't think I should be a part of the celebration? I've been going out of my mind trying to figure out what went wrong." My voice sounded shrill and ugly, and I hated him for turning me into this shrewish thing.

"Listen, I'll make it up to you. We'll go out."

"Yeah. I really feel like going out with you in this state. Just forget it." I'd had my rant. The anger was draining away, leaving only a frustration at having no one to share my own feelings of triumph and relief.

I walked out through the conservatory into the garden. Paul decided his best bet was to withdraw discretely. I hoped he would make it home safely.

Laura followed me outside a few minutes later, carrying a cup of coffee for himself and a glass of wine for me. I gave him an odd look which he returned with a twisted grin.

"I thought we could meet halfway."

I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"Look, I really am sorry. I just got so caught up in the moment; it didn't enter my mind to pick up the phone."

"Well you're getting the hang of being a man, that's for certain. Thoughtless idiot one minute, quirky and charming the next."

"Since we’re handing out the compliments, may I say that was a guilt trip any woman would be proud of?"

That earned him a slap, albeit a playful one.

"So tell me again what happened?”

So he did, in detail and in a way that had me doubled over with laughter. It was almost as good as if I’d been there, and almost enough for me to forgive him.

For the second evening in a row we ordered in. I was ravenous, having eaten nothing but a few forkfuls of salad since breakfast, and the local Chinese takeaway promised the best choice at the shortest notice. I’m sure I’ve never tasted anything so wonderful.

Fun and frolics were not on the agenda that night. We were both more than a little nervous about the shareholder’s meeting at the bank, and what we would say, so we went to bed early.

-oOo-

Seven o’clock in the morning seemed ludicrously early, especially as I’d already been up two hours getting myself ready. I mean there was no reason for me to bother; on the face of it I was a low-end antiques dealer with a wardrobe full of jeans and sweatshirts, but if you want to be taken seriously in the boardroom, you have to look the part.

Which was why Laura looked smart and relaxed in one of my bespoke double breasted suits, sporting a most powerful of power ties, and I was feeling less comfortable in one of Portia’s linen dress suits, with silk blouse. The reason for my discomfort was partly the shortness of the borrowed skirt – Portia was always one to show off her assets – and partially the tightness of the bun Laura had pulled my hair into, which left me feeling like my face had been stretched taught like a drum skin across my skull.

She’d also done me a makeup job which, whilst it felt unusual, made me look quite stunning.

I pointed my parking spot out to Laura, and she pulled the Merc up exactly mid-way between the lines. Did spatial awareness come with the body, or was she just one of those women who made a lie of the whole women and driving thing?

“Right,” I said, letting out a nervous sigh, and tugging at the hem of my skirt, “you’ll let me do the talking, won’t you?”

“If you’re sure. I mean they’re going to be expecting me to give them an explanation, aren’t they?”

“Maybe, but you do have something of a reputation for being pussy whipped, so it won’t come as a surprise that you’ve exchanged one strong minded woman for another, and now that I’m the current majority shareholder, they’ll have to listen to me.

“Besides, you don’t know enough about banking to be able to hold your own in there.”

“Yeah, but that’s the point; you shouldn’t know anything about banking.”

“It won’t matter. This is a closed meeting, so nothing will get reported outside of it, especially if we settle things to everyone’s satisfaction.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

I smiled at him sweetly and noted his reaction, finding there an explanation for the prevalence of misogyny in my profession. Businessmen weren’t so much afraid of the competence of women as they were of the incompetence they induced in men. If I could make Laura sweat with a simple smile from a face she’d seen every day for twenty-seven years, then what effect was I going to have on the men inside?

Seven o’clock was early for most of these guys, but nothing was more likely to get them out of bed than a perceived threat to their respective bank balances. I caught a yawn here and there as I stepped through the door ahead of Laura, just before everyone snapped into attentiveness.

The foci for their attentions were mainly my legs and my cleavage, and I experienced my first encounter with the frustration of pretty women everywhere.

I coughed politely and smiled, encouraging them to aim a little higher with their eyes. “Good morning gentlemen. I suspect you’re interested to know exactly what happened over the weekend.”

I sat at the head of the boardroom table, hiding half of the scenery from their ogling eyes. There wasn’t much I could do about what I had up top; I’d chosen the least revealing blouse I could find, but as I’ve said, Portia isn’t one to hide what she has, so it still didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Er, yes. Thank you,” Frank Lampard, the chairman, coughed uncomfortably. “Er, perhaps Jerry, you wouldn’t mind.”

“Actually, I thought I’d let Miss Townsend have the floor,” Laura said, resting a hand briefly on my shoulder. “After all, this was her idea, and she is now the major share-holder in this bank.”

That shut them up. I tried another smile. Less effective than with Laura, but I was beginning to suspect that I had a special influence over him.

“On Friday evening, Jerry and I met at a party hosted by one of our mutual friends. We were witnesses and unwilling participants in an altercation over an antique bowl I recognised as having been stolen from me some weeks earlier. I don’t recall much about the disturbance as I fainted briefly. Mr Goodman here carried me out of the flat and wanted to take me to hospital, but when I asked him not to, he took me back to his house and put me to bed in one of the spare bedrooms.”

A few knowing looks passed around the room, angering me that they should so casually believing the worst.

“Jerry’s wife came home shortly afterwards and began yelling at him for deserting her at the party. The argument was loud enough to wake me, and when I made an appearance, Portia made the same assumption I see many of you have chosen to do, and accused Jerry and me of having an affair. She stormed out promising that we would hear from her solicitor shortly, and that through the ensuing divorce, she would either take enough of Jerry’s wealth to destroy the bank or, if it looked like she might not win her case, that she’d drag proceedings out long enough to use it all up.

“The last thing the bank needed was a messy divorce with all of Jerry’s shares and other assets tied up pending an outcome to the proceedings. He realised this and was trying to think his way out of the problem when I suggested he should give everything he owned to someone he trusted. He liked the idea, and decided I ought to be that someone.

“I wasn’t too keen to start with, but Jerry insisted he didn’t know anyone else he trusted enough.” I took some gratification in the affronted looks on some of the faces around me. It was true though, I didn’t trust any of them, and their lack of judgement on my character was ample proof that they didn’t deserve my trust. “We found a lawyer to witness the transfers, and had them signed and dated before Portia came back in the morning with her divorce petition and an injunction freezing all Jerry’s assets. It turns out Jerry was right to take the precautions he did, and we beat Portia’s attempts at interfering by several hours.”

“Erm, excuse me,” Frank spoke up. “How do we know that you’re any better than Mr Goodman’s wife when it comes to your intentions regarding the bank?”

“For one thing – er, Mr Lampard isn’t it? I believe you’ve met Portia, so I find it insulting that you would even ask that question. For another, I came here with Jerry this morning, and he can confirm that I share his concerns for the welfare of this institution. I’m not sure what assurances I can give you beyond that, but for whatever saying it is worth, I do have the bank’s best interests at heart.”

“You could sign your shares over to us.”

“I said I had the bank’s best interests, Mr Lampard, not the shareholder’s. My primary concern is for the customers and the staff of the bank, which means I want things to carry on pretty much as they have been.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible with things as they are.” Richard Gimble, the chairman’s personal arse licker.

“You object to having a woman in charge, Mr Gimble?”

“Er, I think we all object to having someone in charge, regardless of their sex, who doesn’t have the proper education or experience.”

“I suppose that’s a valid point, or at least it would be if Jerry wasn’t still here.”

“Except that a number of us have to question Mr Goodman’s judgement in transferring ownership of all he has to you, Miss, er, Townsend.” For once Frank was supporting his lackey.

“For what reason? Have I done anything to put the welfare of the bank in jeopardy?”

“Not yet, but then you haven’t been given the opportunity to do so. Apart from anything else, it’s the principle of the thing. If he’s going to go signing large chunks of his wealth over to people he barely knows…”

“That’s hardly fair and you know it. The circumstances were extreme, and our actions were the only thing that prevented Portia from getting her hands on the bank’s assets, which I’m sure you’ll agree was something we all want to avoid…”

“He could have chosen someone else he trusted…”

“Like who? One of you guys? I’ve only just met you and even I would think twice before signing my wealth over to you…”

“For the welfare of the bank…”

“Even, and perhaps especially, for the welfare of the bank. Besides, it was in the early hours of the morning. The details had to be sorted out quickly before Portia could organise her own paperwork, and I was available.

“Sure, if there had been more time, he would almost certainly have found someone more suitable, but given the circumstances, I think he showed great presence of mind…”

“And good judgement of character? Miss Townsend, how could he possibly know what you were going to do?”

“He couldn’t. However, I imagine he was able to make something of a judgement of my character from my behaviour earlier in the evening, but he didn’t and he still doesn’t know what I might or might not do.

“Which brings us to the crux of the matter. I currently have controlling shares in this bank, so whatever your judgement of Jerry’s actions, it’s still me you have to deal with now.

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t have any faith in me, and if a significant number of you were to withdraw and drop all your shares on the market, it would be as bad for everyone as if Portia had succeeded. Worst case scenario, you’d make a loss in the sale as the share prices dropped, the rest of us would have to deal with the loss in value of our shares, we’d probably end up with customers losing faith in us and having a run on the bank. As more and more people withdrew their funds, many of them would lose out with the penalty clauses for making early withdrawals, and quite a few would lose out when we ran out of money with which to pay them. The bank would close and all the staff would be made redundant.

“We all want to avoid something like that, so let me make you all a proposition. Mr Banks, Mr Whortley and Mr Stevens, I’d like to offer you some of my shares at current market value, sufficient to give you each seventeen percent of the total, which would then give the three of you combined a controlling interest…”

“Why not just give your shares back to Jerry?” Richard Gimble really wasn’t that bright at times.

“It wouldn’t be prudent to do so until his divorce is finalised, and I doubt any of you will be content for me to remain in charge until then.”

“Why Paul, Daniel and Andrew then?” He used the first names of the shareholders I’d already indicated.

“Because they are the people Jerry trusts most to act in the best interests of the bank…”

“You’ll still have most shares.”

“Yes, I’ll still hold thirty four percent. Too many shares change hands and people get nervous, you know that.”

“We’ll want someone else to run the bank,” Frank said, his remark accompanied by the nods of everyone around the table.

“I can understand that,” Laura said from behind me. “I’m prepared to resign in the best interests of the bank.”

“With an appropriate severance package,” I added for him.

“That sounds fair.” Frank was looking altogether too satisfied.

He’d wanted me out of my inherited position since I’d taken it on. It wasn’t that I was bad at the job, but I didn’t like to take the risks that he proposed sometimes. For my part, I didn’t think it was right to gamble with other people’s money, and I rather hoped that the three I’d named would be strong enough to stand up against him. If needs be, I’d still be able to swing any vote if I had just one of them on my side.

There was a bit more wrangling, over price and how the three were going to pay me for their shares, and a number of other small but significant details. It took most of the morning to thrash things out and get the paperwork drawn up, but by the time we left the bank, my new account was bulging with funds.

“Now what?” Laura asked.

“Now, I’d like to go shopping for something a little less revealing, then how about I take you to lunch?”

“Well you are the one with the money, but that’s not what I meant.”

“I know. How about we talk about it over lunch? I was thinking, with your experience and my money, we could probably make a go of the antiques trade.”

-oOo-

And that’s more or less what happened. Laura knew a lot about her profession, and had only been limited in her achievements by lack of finances and a poor business plan. With me providing everything she’d been missing, we became successful very quickly.

Tony West received his comeuppance at our hands, as we rapidly took his business from him by offering a better service to his customers at a fairer price. As his shop went into receivership, we managed to buy up a lot of good stuff at bargain prices, including his damaged bowl, which we put on display beside Laura’s own.

Mike, Pete and Randall came to work for us after Tony went bankrupt. They’d mellowed quite a lot since their transformation. It’s amazing how a little bit of hardship can make a person less selfish, though not always perhaps. Tony went back to being a petty criminal and was caught fencing stolen goods less than six months after his business went bust. By contrast, his three former accomplices turned into quite trustworthy and valued members of our staff.

Laura – or rather Jerry, since our situation was unlikely to change anytime soon, and it seemed idiotic to keep calling him by the name that went with my current body – and Portia’s divorce went through quickly and without a hitch, pretty much as agreed in the settlement. Portia wanted a bit of Jerry’s severance package, but all we needed to do was threaten a bit of naming a shaming, and she gave in. As agreed, she got to keep the money she’d raided from our account and half our joint savings. She didn’t have a hope of touching anything else as it was mainly in my – that is Laura Townsend’s – name.

Portia gave in with her typical ill grace, and got on with her life. The last we heard, she was hanging around an elderly widower with a few million to his name. He was a wily old character though, and it seemed unlikely she’d be allowed into his bed without a fairly ironclad prenuptial agreement.

Pretty much from day one, Laura and I completely swapped identities. Even in private, I called him Jerry, and he called me Laura. He stayed on at the mansion, although we kept to different beds and bedrooms until he and Portia were officially two separate individuals again, then we moved into the master bedroom together, with a brand new bed. We burnt the old one once the divorce was ratified.

Our bout of unprotected sex didn’t amount to anything. My first ever period brought with it a degree of relief to offset the inherent discomfort. When we did start sharing a bed again, we began taking precautions – pharmaceutical rather than polyurethane – and, although the sum total of my sexual experience as a man amounted to that one time with Portia, meaning I didn’t have much to go on, I decided I much preferred it from this side of the gender divide.

-oOo-

Our one year anniversary came round and Jerry had something planned. Earlier in the year, he’d traded the Merc in for a soft top sports car – a rich burgundy Maserati – which he loved driving just about everywhere. Personally I couldn’t see anything particularly special about it. I mean, yeah I did enjoy whizzing through the countryside with the wind blowing through my hair, but then I had the inevitable tangle to sort out whenever we stopped. For the most part I preferred my VW Bug, but this was Jerry’s thing, so I went along with it.

We left Mike, Pete and Randall in charge of the shop, and hit the country lanes. At first I thought he’d just found a flash restaurant somewhere, or had a picnic organised, but two hours of zipping round tight bends seemed a bit much just for lunch. I tried asking where we were going a couple of times, but all he’d give me in reply was that knowing look of his.

Eventually we arrived at a small cottage in the middle of nowhere. Jerry climbed out, grabbed a rucksack from the back seat and came round to open my door. It wasn’t necessary, but I did like the gesture. In a way we were both playing caricatures of our adopted genders, behaving in ways we had learned to appreciate from books and films. I had slipped into a role of demure submissiveness which must’ve given any nearby ardent feminists the screaming habdabs. For his part, Jerry had become gallant and gentlemanly to the point of nobility.

I swivelled on the seat, reaching both feet out of the car together, so as to keep me modest, and allowed him to help me out of the car.

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” I asked for the umpteenth time.

“You’ll see soon enough.” He led me to the door and rapped the knocker three times.

A kindly, wrinkled face appeared from within.

“Ms Maxwell? I’m Jerry Goodman, we spoke earlier? And this is Laura Townsend. We used to be each other.”

“Jerry!” I was shocked that he’d share our secret so readily.

“Don’t worry dear, I know more about all this than you might think. Oh, and it’s Mrs if you don’t mind. My husband’s been gone a while now, but I never could be bothered with the Ms nonsense. Did you bring them?”

Jerry swung the rucksack round and opened it, pulling out the two halves of the bowl I’d broken a year ago, and the chipped but more complete one we’d acquired from Tony’s bankruptcy auction.

“You’d better come in,” Mrs Maxwell said, standing back and ushering us through. “Would you like some tea?”

We were polite. We sat in her small and overfilled living room, sipping tea from fine bone china and admiring the shelves full of trinkets that surrounded us. Mrs Maxwell cut us each a generous slice of Dundee cake, and we chatted about the weather and the state of her garden, like any good guest in an English home.

Eventually our host put aside her teacup and reached for Jerry’s bowl, examining it closely.

“Not very careful with it, were you?”

“While it was in my possession, I was very careful with it,” Jerry said. “It was stolen by someone who owned, and damaged, the other one.”

“Hmm, that would make it very unpredictable. I hope he didn’t try to use it in that state.”

“I don’t know. He never said as much, but I suspect he might have. I don’t think he’d have been so eager to get hold of mine unless he’d been certain his own didn’t work anymore.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate for whoever would have used it.”

“Unfortunate in what way?”

“Like I said, it’s unpredictable, but never good.”

“Give me a for instance.”

“The bowls transfer minds from one body to another. It’s a very complex thing to do correctly. With a damaged bowl, part of the process would be lost. It might remove minds from their original bodies but not put them into new ones, meaning death or something very close to it. It might shift only part of each mind making hybrid personalities and memories, resulting in madness in almost every case. It might not shift all the minds, meaning one body would end up empty and another would contain two minds, inevitably causing madness again.”

“How do you now so much about them?” I asked.

“Stories my grandmother told me before she passed her bowl into my care; the same as your friend here.”

“Except that your grandmother seemed to know a lot more than mine.”

“You said one of your ancestors found it in your attic. That means there was a break in the inheritance. You won’t have heard all there was to know.”

“Can you tell us?”

“I could, but it wouldn’t do any good.”

“Why not?”

“According to ancient lore, six bowls were made. Before your Jeremy called me, I know of three others that had been damaged and rendered unusable. Now you have shown me two more.”

“Which means there’s only one left,” Jerry said. “Yours.”

“Which I have kept hidden and unused until now, and which I fully intend to destroy now that I know that the others won’t work.”

“Why?” Jerry asked.

“You of all people should be able to answer that. Surely you can’t think it right that anyone should have the power to do what was done to you.”

“But it could be used for good. Surely there are people who could benefit from it. Blind people who could be given a chance to see for a while, paraplegics who could walk again…”

“And what about those who trade places with them? They’re not going to want to stay in the damaged bodies, are they? And when they change back, wouldn’t that be more cruel, to give an individual a taste of what they could have, then to take it away?

“And as for good, there are a hundred more ways in which it could be used for evil. I’m an old woman with an old woman’s aches. Don’t you think I’ve been tempted to use mine to trade places with someone younger and more beautiful, like yourself dear? No it’s safest that this power disappears from the world.”

“So why did you keep yours all this time?” I asked. I couldn’t fault her logic.

“Because of people like yourselves, dear. You didn’t choose to be transformed like this, and as things stand, my bowl is the only one left that can allow you to transform back. Once that’s done, I’ll be done with it.”

“What if there are others out there who’ve been switched around? We know of three at least.”

“I can’t advertise it, dear. There are people, like the former owner of this one,” she indicated Tony’s chipped bowl, “who know what the bowls can do, and would use them for selfish purposes. If any of them found out I had one, they’d come and take it from me.”

“We could stand as go-betweens; advertise on your behalf. Anyone who came to us having been shifted, we could send them to you to have it corrected.”

“I’m sorry, dear. It’s just too risky. I’ll sort you two out, and your three friends, but beyond that, this has to end here.”

I looked at Jerry, who was looking deep into my eyes.

“Do you want this?” I asked. “Really, do you want your life back?”

The look on his face was unreadable. He sat silent for a while then glanced at the old woman.

“I’ll leave you two in peace, shall I? Go and fetch it?” She stood and stepped out of the room.

“A year ago, you didn’t have a choice,” Jerry said quietly. “When you put your keys into the bowl you were expecting some silly game, not a magical transformation, and certainly not to be changed into a woman. Tony and his friends knew what was coming, and so did I. We walked into this with our eyes open, but you…”

“Look I may not have chosen this, but I’m content with the way things worked out. Have I given you any reason to believe in all of this past year that I wanted things to be otherwise?”

“No,” he glanced down at the table surface, avoiding my eyes for a moment, “but I’m concerned. I’ve done the gender swap thing a few times and I know how the different hormones and stuff can mess with the way you think. It worries me that a lot of the reason you don’t want to turn back is because your feelings are being affected by your body.

“I need to be sure. Laura, I need you to go back to being Jerry again, and when you’re fully yourself, I need you to make the decision then as to what you want.”

“But if we’re both happy the way we are now, why should either of us change? We fit the way we are, and I know I’ve never been happier.”

He didn’t answer; just stood there working his jaw.

“He’s right dear.” The old lady stood in the doorway with her bowl in hand. “You’re not fully you unless you’re in your own body. You should try the change, then come back in a week with your friends. By then you’ll know for sure whether or not you want to change back.”

“But…”

“One of you is obviously concerned. Wouldn’t it be better to try things for a week, if only to clear away any shadows of doubt? You needn’t worry; I’ll keep the bowl until you make your decision once and for all.”

She placed the bowl on the low table and Jerry, or perhaps I should start calling him (her?) Laura now, dropped his keys into it.

“We’re committed now,” Jerry told me, pointing at the bowl.

If we wanted to get home in the Maserati we were. I fumbled in my bag for the VW keys, hesitated, dropped mine in and reached for his.

He gave me an encouraging smile and grabbed mine.

-oOo-