The Displaced Detective: A Body Hopper Tale – Part 3
by Limbo’s Mistress

The perky blonde newscaster’s voice remained completely somber as she stared out at us from the giant screen dominating the wall of Thomas’ living room.

“At this time, the police had no official explanation why Detective John Rollins, fifteen-year veteran of the force, abducted Sasha Dellinger from Mercy Grace Hospital earlier this evening. However, Chief Ronnie Dawson released a statement a few moments ago that the entire resources of the department would be brought into the hunt for Rollins and the missing fifteen-year-old. We here a Channel Five will continue to bring you updates on this story as they happen.”

Matthew, standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed over his chest turned his head to look at me, frowning.

“Looks like the Order has brought their considerable influence to bear. It only took an hour for them to turn the narrative around on us.”

I was reclining on the couch, in pretty much the same position I’d adopted since realizing that the body I was stuck in belonged to the daughter of one of the city’s most dangerous criminals. After that revelation, neither of us had said much about it, being more interested in what the television had to say.

Although I hadn’t realized it, I sleep had begun to press down on me. When Matthew spoke, his voice pulled me back into wakefulness. I pushed myself into a sitting position and rubbed at my tired, burning eyes.

“What? Did you say something about the Order?”

When I lowered my hands from my face to look up at him, there was a frown etched onto his face. On my face.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Before I could answer, I was immediately overcome by a yawn that felt as if it were big enough to drive a bus through. An involuntary stretch that sent my arms straining over my head, exposing the smooth, flat skin of my belly, followed the yawn.

I lowered my arms, tugged the sweater back down, then nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just really tired all of a sudden.”

An amused smirk appeared on his face. “Well, I’m pretty sure that body is used to already being in bed at this time of night. If you factor in all the running, the heightened emotions, and the drug the Order shot you with, it’s not at all surprising.”

I nodded again in agreement, biting down on my lip to stifle another yawn. When it finally passed, I gestured at the TV.

“Every cop in the city will be looking for my car. We won’t get five miles before we’re spotted.”

Matthew began stroking his face again. “First thing we need to do is decide where we’re going to go. Then we can figure out how we’re going to get there.” He looked around the room for a moment before turning his gaze back to me. “Does your friend have an office in this mansion? Perhaps with a phone and a computer?”

I lifted my arm, pointing at the hallway opposite the kitchen. “Third door on the left, just past the bathroom.

Matthew walked off in the direction I’d indicated. It was a few minutes after he was gone that I mused to myself that his gait had been a pretty decent facsimile of mine. Or rather, how I was when I was in that body.

A dash of ice water surged through my veins, chasing the fatigue away as if I’d just sucked down a double espresso.

I leapt off the couch in one quick motion, then attempted to walk from one side of the living room. I tried to make my motions resemble the ones I knew from memory. Though I managed to pull it off, for the most part, the sway of my new hips and breasts made it feel really unnatural.

Like I was trying to write with the wrong hand.

I stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, turned around, and then re-crossed the living room back to my starting point. This time, I deliberately didn’t attempt to influence my gait, though I did pay attention to it. As if following some eerie pre-programmed parameters, my hips rotated with each step, swinging my lower half slightly from side to side.

By the time I returned to the sofa, my vision was wet and blurry.

“Great,” I said, voice nearly choking with a sob. “I don’t even walk like a man anymore.” Anger bubbled up through my despair, and I went back across the floor a third time, this time pushing my strut into something just shy of a sashay.

“Look at me,” I snarled with righteous fury. “Take a look at my big, fat ass. I’m going to, like, have all the boys drooling.”

I ran back to the couch and threw myself face-first on it, feeling as if I’d just fumbled the ball and lost the homecoming game. The tears ran freely from my eyes, dripping onto the expensive leather. My progression from mature adult male to emotional teen girl was not only continuing, it was starting to accelerate.

How long did I have before the damage to my psyche was irreversible? A day? A week? I had no way of knowing. And with this being the first time Matthew had swapped with someone who wasn’t dead a few minutes later, I was pretty sure he would be just as clueless.

I lay there, trying to fight the wave of fear and panic that continued to beat at my thoughts. I had to hang onto who I was, even if my chances of success sat between slim and none. I couldn’t let Sasha Dellinger’s natural reactions and motions overwhelm me. I had to fight back with the decades and discipline I’d acquired as Jack Rollins.

It was the only weapons I had in my arsenal. I could only pray they would be enough.

I wiped at my eyes and focused on my breathing and my training.

In … out. In … out. Relax. Calm down. Panic is the enemy of rational thought. Emotions distort logic. Fear clouds observation.

As the second ticked by, I started to unwind, feeling my racing pulse being to slow down. The terror and heartache running rampant in my petite frame slowly began to ebb.

Unfortunately, the meditation was too effective. I forgotten how exhausted I’d been earlier. By the time I reached a level of calm where I could be helpful in assisting Matthew with an escape plan, I was fast asleep.

“Jack?” A voice from somewhere really faraway said. It was followed by the sensation of being shaken softly. “Jack, wake up.”

For a second, I happily basking in the inky blackness of unconsciousness, enjoying the fact that I didn’t have to worry about anything currently going on in my life. Then I returned to the waking world as if I’d been shot out of a cannon.

One moment, nothing. The next, light and sounds and thoughts.

My eyes flapped open as a surprised squeal leapt out of my throat. I rolled away from the hand on my shoulder and experienced a heartbeat of vertigo as I fell off the couch, landing on the living room floor. Blinking rapidly, I sat up and looked around, trying to get my mind back into gear and determine where the hell I was.

I looked over to see myself sitting on the edge of the leather sofa, a concerned expression on my face. For some strange reason, I wore a baseball cap and a black windbreaker jacket, both of which I’d never seen. My first thought was that I was having one of those out-of-body experiences people always talked about. A heartbeat later, I remembered that I was already having one of those.

Only I wasn’t just out of my own body, I was in someone else’s.

“Matthew?” I asked. Even though I was still in the process of getting all my mental cylinders to firing properly, I realized how absurd the question was. Who else would be currently wearing my face? I shook my head back and forth to jumpstart my gray matter, then looked at my wrist for the watch that wasn’t there.

“It’s a little after two in the morning,” he said. There was a brown plastic bag in his hands, the logo of one of those twenty-four hour convenience stores stenciled across the front.

“You went out?” I asked accusingly as I climbed back to my feet. My arms automatically crossed over my chest, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “There’s a fucking manhunt for us and you thought you’d run out and get a slushy?”

He sighed. “No. I ran out to take care of our financial situation.”

I shot him a skeptical glance. “How did you manage that?”

“Using your friend’s computer. I logged into my emergency bank account and initiated a wire transfer. The nearest spot I could collect it was a store a couple of miles down the road.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? Why didn’t you just send up a signal flare to announce where we are?”

He looked at me like I was the complaining teen I appeared to be.

“Jack, I’ve been around for centuries. You think I’ve never prepared for contingencies? I pulled the money from a dummy account I keep on the side. No way it can be traced to Jack Rollins, Sasha Dellinger, or Matthew Lang. It’s untraceable.”

I gave the matter some thought before accepting that Matthew’s argument was actually pretty sound. Without any cash, we were pretty much screwed. Obviously, he’d realized that and taken care of the problem. Not too shabby on his part. The more worrisome issue for me was the realization I should have come to that same conclusion sooner.

“Now that we’ve got some cash,” I said, pushing my cop brain into gear. “We can take Thomas’ Hummer out of the city. We just need to figure out where to go.”

“Well, I didn’t just use the computer for a wire transfer, Jack. I also sent an email to a … friend of mine. Someone who might be able to help us.” He looked at my watch. “If we leave in the next hour or so, we can be there by nightfall.”

I planted one hand on my hip, gesturing in the air with the other. “What makes you think this friend of your will be able to help us? Like, with our situation?”

He shrugged. “For starters, she’s also a Hopper. I’ve known her for about a hundred years or so. She’s a lot older than me, more connected within our little secret community.” He flashed me a slightly forced smile. “If anyone can figure out how to get you back in your own body, it’s her.”

A real, genuine smile formed on my face, and I really had to resist the urge to lunge at him and hug him tightly. If his friend could come through, then I could kiss pleated skirts and ill-fitting bras good-bye. I could be Jack Rollins again, instead of an adolescent schoolgirl.

Then a dark thought intruded on my moment.

“What about Sasha?” I asked him, looking down at myself for a moment. “We have to get her back into her rightful body too.”

His mouth turned down into a deep frown, and he looked away from me.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible, Jack. She’s dead.”

“What?” A shard of ice pierced my heart. “What do you mean by ‘dead’?” I couldn’t resist doing the air quotes around the last word.

He sighed. “While you were sleeping, I scoured all the local news website. Late this afternoon, a pair of fishermen down by the wharf discovered the body of an adult male who’d had his hands and head removed. I have no doubts that it was Matthew’s body. The condition matches some of the things I’ve heard about the Order’s M.O.”

My knees gave out, sending me down to couch. Another wave of despair rolled through me, threatening to send me back into being a bawling, worthless mess. I clenched my hands into fists, pressing the pink nails hard against my palm. I struggled to replace my sadness at Sasha’s passing with anger.

“They killed her,” I said through gritted teeth. “They grabbed you and when they found out you weren’t in there any more, they butchered an innocent girl and tossed her into the ocean. Fucking animals.”

Some of my fury was directed at Matthew, since he’d been the one to originally switch with the innocent girl. However, I also knew that he’d Hopped in a panic, not thinking about the life he was sacrificing to save his own. Could I honestly say I wouldn’t do the same? If not for my training and experience?

Therefore, I reserved the majority of my ire for the Order of the Dawn. It was their actions that led to Matthew making that terrible decision to switch places with the teen.

“Those bastards are going to pay,” I growled, rising to my feet. Despite my youthful lilt, there was no mistaking the determination in my voice.

Matthew nodded. “They will. I promise.” Then he put his hand on my denim-covered knee. “However, the first thing we need to do is get out of here. Taking Thomas’s SUV is a good idea. However, let me ask you this. You said only a few people know of your friendship with him. How many is a few?”

I shrugged. “Maybe less than a half-dozen. Two of them are local, but I can tell you that they, like, wouldn’t tell anyone where I might be.”

He shook his head. “The Order has people who are experts in getting information. Particularly from unwilling participants. By now, I can promise they’ve already compiled a list of your closest friends and family. At some point, probably sooner rather than later, someone will mention Thomas’ name. When the Order checks and sees that he owns a house on the outskirts of the city, they will make this the first place they look.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to ignore the nervous fluttering beginning to take place in my tummy. I balled my hands into tiny fists. I was not going to give into the panic threatening to rear its head. “Then we need to get out of here.”

“Don’t worry,” Matthew said, “We’ll go. But first,” he held up the plastic bag. “We have to make a few changes.”

“Changes?”

“To help hide us.”

He reached into the bag and began to pull out the contents one at a time, placing them on the table beside the recliner. When he was done, the polished surface was adorned with a pair of scissors with a dark blue handle, a pair of ladies’ sunglasses with a floral pattern on the earpieces, and two boxes of hair dye. One was labeled “Darkest Brown” and the other “Ravishing Copper.”

“Seriously?” I said, rolling my eyes.

Dammit! That fucking action was becoming a unconscious permanent reaction to everything. Did Sasha roll her eyes at everything she found stupid? Or was that something that belonged to a less-mature version of me?

“What?” Matthew asked, looking at the stuff on the table then back to me.

“That’s your big plan? Disguise ourselves with a trim and some hair dye? You do know that, like, us cops are trained to see through totally lame shit like that, right?”

He gave me a stern look that caused me to flinch.

“Jack, the police and the Order will pay extra attention to any male travelling alone with a young girl. No amount of disguise is going to fool them. The appearance changes are to hide us from the general public and any surveillance cameras we encounter.”

My face ignited, burning my cheeks with heart-crushing shame. I should have realized that all on my own.

“That’s … pretty good actually. Sorry for snapping.”

Matthew shrugged. “It’s been a stressful night all the way around, Jack. Don’t worry about it.” He picked up the box of red dye, turning it over in his hands to look at the back of it. “Of course, this is just a temporary solution. We’ll have to come up with something better for a permanent one.”

“Permanent?” I said, trying not to scream. “Like, permanent permanent?”

“Jack,” he said with a note of finality in his voice. “No matter what happens over the next few days, even if my friend can figure out how to help us switch back, our lives won’t ever be the same as they were yesterday morning. We’re going to have to make new ones.”

I threw my hands in the air. “So, you want me to just abandon my whole life? My career?” I shook my head. “You’re going to stand there and tell me that even if I become Jack again, we’re still going to be running?”

“What else can we do? I mean, I am sure as hell not stepping into Sasha’s former life. Not when the Order knows who she is. It would only be a matter of time before they tried to capture me again. I will not let that happen.” His eyes hardened and he put his hands on his hips as he looked down at me. “Besides, what possible story can you come up with to explain why you ran off from the hospital with Dellinger’s daughter, dragged her across two states, then came back without her?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but his next sentence took the air right out of my sails.

“No offense, Jack. But right now, I’m the one who’s thinking more like a cop.”

My mouth dropped open, and it seemed as if someone had punched me as hard as they could in the abdomen. I stood there, staring up at him, as my tired thoughts jumbled around. As loathe as I was to admit it, he had a very valid point. If I thought we were just going to swap back bodies and pretend that everything was back to normal, I was deluding myself.

Even if “Sasha” claimed I helped her escape from someone who wanted to kidnap her, and completely denied me taking her against her will, I would looking at a lengthy session with Internal Affairs for not reporting my plan to my superiors as soon as possible. I would either be suspended, demoted, or terminated. My career would, effectively, be over.

On the other hand, if Matthew followed through with his promise of not going back where the Order could reach him, everyone would think I’d murdered her and buried her body. I’d spend the next couple of decades behind bars. If I was lucky, that is. If not, then I’m sure Dellinger would have his associates make sure my last few hours on earth would be as painful as possible.

That left two possible courses of action.

One, we could split up and go our separate ways. The problem with that is, while Matthew’s centuries of experience would probably mean he’d be just fine, there wasn’t a lot of options for a fifteen-year-old runaway. At least, none that didn’t involve doing things I’d rather not contemplate.

Two, we could stick together, watching each other’s backs, until we got to this mysterious friend’s house. Where we would hopefully be able to swap back. After that, we could probably get some fake identification and make our way out of the country. I had a few old contacts that could help.

Because I believed, wholehearted, that the Order of the Dawn would not stop looking for us. They obviously wanted Matthew, alive, for their own reasons. Jack Rollins, though, was merely a loose thread that needed to be clipped.

“Oh, all right,” I said, acquiescing to his plan. “One dye job coming up.” I leaned over ot grab the box sitting on the table.

Matthew, reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. “I should use that one,” he said, then pointed at the salt and pepper hair on his head. “It will cover the gray and make the black darker.” With a slightly amused smile, he held the other box out to me. “Besides, only a ‘Sasha’ could possibly pull off ‘Ravishing Copper’.”

I sighed, though managed to not roll my eyes. Score one for Jack!

“I assume the scissors are for me as well?” I asked, pointing at the long blonde strands falling past my shoulders.”

He nodded and picked them up. However, instead of handing them to me, he simply arched a brow.

“It would probably be better if I cut your hair, Jack. I’m pretty sure you’ll just butcher it.”

“Excuse me?” I said, a wave of indignation flaring up inside me. “Maybe this teeny bopper body comes with cosmetology skills.”

He smiled at me. It looked extremely condescending to be honest.

“Jack, while its is not impossible for skills like hair styling to carry across, I want you to think about this for second. Do you think Sasha Dellinger is the type of girl who cuts her own hair? If her father is as much of a made man as you believe, then I bet she has a personal stylist who makes house calls.”

I glared up at him for a few seconds, mulling his comment around. Eventually, I figured he was probably right. I only knew Dellinger in a cursory, professional way. But everything I’d heard seemed to fall in along those lines.

“What makes you so sure you won’t butcher it just as bad?” I countered.

“Because, I worked in a beauty salon in the early nineties.” He twirled the shears around one finger like a gunslinger, then pointed at the ceiling. “You need to dye it first. Just follow the directions on the box.” His eyes softened a bit. “When you, uh, changed clothes earlier? Did you explore your … you know?”

“Did I …” My mouth dropped open as I seriously considered kicking him square in the balls. Except that I would have to deal with the aftermath. “No! Jesus, Matt!. I’m not a pervert! What makes you think I would just go fondling a minor just because I happen to be in her body?”

He facepalmed. Literally. When he lowered his hand, he should his head.

“I meant, did you take the time to look at it? From an owner’s perspective? Because if you haven’t, then you might be a little weirded out when you shower.”

“Oh,” I said, shrugging as the memory of standing in Karen’s closet, gazing into the mirror came back to me. “Yeah, I sort of did.”

He nodded. “Body dysphoria isn’t uncommon. Especially for new Hoppers.”

I turned around and went back up stairs to the bathroom I’d used earlier. I sat down on the lid of the toilet and perused the instructions on the back of the box. Then I glanced from the shower to the sink. The basin might be deep enough to soak my hair, but unless I could float upside down, I wouldn’t be able to rinse thoroughly.

Which meant I had no choice but to use the shower.

door behind me and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet to read the instructions on the box. I glanced over at the sink. The basin was probably deep enough to allow me to get my hair wet, but was far too shallow to allow a proper rinsing.

That meant I’d have to use the shower.

The tub’s controls were the ultra-modern type. The kind where it was nearly impossible to not have the exact temperature one wanted. I turned the knob and adjusted the spray to a setting somewhere between warm and hot. As the steam filled the room, I pulled out the contents of the box and mixed the powerful-smelling chemicals inside together in the provided plastic bottle.

Then I pulled off the clothes I’d just put on a couple of hours ago, folding them neatly and placing them on the side of the sink. The fogged up mirror helped to keep me focused on what I was doing, rather than watching myself.

That’s something you’re going to have to get used to, pal. Because if Matthew’s friend can’t help you …

I shoved the thought away, grabbed a fresh towel, and stepped into the shower.

The water blasting from the extra-large showerhead felt divine, and I closed my eyes and stood there, letting it gently massage my shoulders and back. I tilted my head back, letting the water saturate the long, blonde strands.

When I was sure every inch of hair was completely soaked, I grabbed the plastic bottle, shook it vigorously until the ingredients inside blended to a dark crimson hue and seemed to have the consistency of a milkshake.

“So long, Blondie,” I said to myself. “And hello there, Red.”

I stepped to the side, away from the water. After donning a pair of plastic gloves, I liberally coated my hair with the pungent-smelling dye. My actions seemed to come unbidden, making me wonder if perhaps Miss Dellinger had dyed her hair before.

After all, it wasn’t like I’d bothered to check to see how well the carpet matched the drapes. For all I knew, she wasn’t a natural blonde.

The box had suggested waiting at least five minutes before rinsing. I thought about simply counting off the seconds to pass the time. However, right as I started, I thought about what Matthew had said about being comfortable in this body. Even if I had no intention of keeping it, waking around, behaving as if I weren’t a teenaged girl would likely draw attention.

Attention we totally didn’t need.

So, I took a proper bath. There was a loofa hanging from a hook on the wall and a couple of bottles of body wash in various scents. I grabbed one that smelled kind of nice and squirted a liberal amount on the small sponge. A few seconds of kneading later, I had a crap-ton of foamy suds.

First, I dragged the rough sponge over my arms, around my neck, and as much across my back as I could reach. Which, incidentally, was quite a bit. Apparently Sasha was a lot more flexible than Jack. Then I went to work on my belly and sides, giggling a bit when I brushed the loofa over one particular spot above my hip. Looks like the teen was ticklish in places.

Bending over to wash my legs would likely send the dye rushing into my eyes, so I lifted each limb in turn and placed it on the edge of the tub to clean them. The edge of my hand trailed behind the sponge, feeling the slightly prickly skin beneath.

I was going to need to shave soon.

After my legs were complete, I stood up again and prepared myself to tackled the remaining two parts. I started with my chest, washing the perky mounds with care. As a guy, I would have just scrubbed my chest. However, I wasn’t sure the rough approach was going to be viable in this situation.

The slickened sponge glided beneath my breasts and over the tops, sending a not-unpleasant tingle running through me. A tiny smile formed on my face as I enjoyed the sensation for a bit before moving my ministrations to the little hardened nubs jutting from the front of them.

“Oh dear god,” I breathed as a wave of intense pleasure rocketing from the point of contact outward through my body. Without a second thought, I grazed them again … harder.

Another blast of something wonderful exploded inside me, followed by a tinge of heat appearing between my thighs. Leaving one hand on my breast, I raised the other pinched the tingling nub. The flicker of heat down below expanded, making my knees tremble.

I let go of conscious thought, allowing my fingers to slide down my body all on their own, drifting over my navel, past the curved area of the pelvis bone below, seeking the source of the sudden warmth. The soft feel of wet hair located there tickled my palms, but I ignored that sensation as I extended a single finger lower.

The tip of the nail encountered the slick wetness of the feminine folds nestled at the apex of my thighs. Whether the dampness was from the shower, the soap, or my unexpected arousal, I wasn’t sure. If I’d been examining the situation from a professional standpoint, I would have said it was the last.

Of course, I was running on autopilot.

When I moved just inside the damp opening, I gasped aloud. The hardened pearl nestled there thrummed from the brief contact. I couldn’t stop myself from striking it again, this time with a bit more force. The gasp turned into a soft moan, and I dropped the loofa to put my hand on the wall of the shower.

The desire inside grew bolder, more demanding.

I pushed my finger deeper, gliding it into the slickened opening. My heart hammered in my chest, and my knees trembled. I wanted more. Needed it. My eyes closed as I slide the digit fully inside, my thumb curling to stimulate the engorged bean that seemed to pulse with a power all its own.

“Yessss,” I crooned softly, sliding the penetrating finger most of the way back out before delving into the fiery cove between my legs again. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, a rump-rump-rump that seemed to echo throughout my core.

A sharp rapping on the bathroom door snapped me out of my erotic haze.

“Jack? You okay in there?” Matthew called out from the other side of the wood.

The heat of desire between my legs instantly went cold as it transferred to my cheeks. Awareness of what I had just been doing, what I had been about to do, slammed into me, sending waves of intense guilty crashing across my soul. I washed my hands under the water, attempting to remove any trace of evidence like some adolescent Lady McBeth.

“Yes!” I yelled louder than I intended. “I mean, yeah. I’m good. Just finishing up now.” I could hear the shame in my voice, and felt sure the man on the other side of the door could hear it too.

Jesus, Jack! What the hell is wrong with you? It’s one thing to be comfortable enough in this body to clean it. Jilling yourself is something completely different.

“Just checking,” Matthew said. “When you’re dressed, stay in there and I’ll trim you up.”

I sighed, feeling the tension drain from my muscles as a wave of fatigue rolled through me. The nap earlier hadn’t nearly been enough rest, and the shock of adrenaline about nearly being discovered masturbating in the shower was already fading, leaving me even more drained of energy.

I quickly rinsed the soap from my body, then went to work removing the dye from my tingling scalp. The water around my feet turned a sickly shade of reddish-pink, swirling around before vanishing down the drain. After a few more minutes, the stream turned clear.

I squirted a large dollop of conditioner from one of the bottles lining the tub and worked it thoroughly into my hair. Once I’d rinsed again, and was sure all of the dye was gone, I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower.

Thankfully, the mirror was still completely obscured. There was no way I could face the girl I would see in it. Not after what I’d been attempting a few minutes earlier. I felt like I owed her some kind of apology, even though I already knew she was never coming back.

I toweled off and slipped back into my clothes, ignoring the way the material stuck to parts of my body that weren’t completely dry. I held off on donning the sweater, though, since I knew that Matthew still needed to cut my hair.

Wrapping the towel around my bra-clad torso, I opened the door to find myself standing there.

The brown dye had removed every trace of gray from my old head, leaving it looking as it had back in my Academy days. He’d also used a razor on my scruff of a beard, leaving his face smooth and hairless. The effect had a similar result to what I’d seen when I took off Sasha’s makeup, managing to turn the clock back some.

He’d also raided Thomas’ closet. My friend was a slightly smaller build than me, but still close enough that it didn’t make that much of a difference. The suit I’d put on the previous morning had been replaced with a pair of khaki slacks and a dark blue polo shirt. The chest and arms of the shirt seemed more snug, than tight. Which only highlighted how much I’d managed to keep myself in shape over the years.

When I brought my gaze back up to his face, Matthew shrugged.

“I thought about just going bald, rather than coloring it. But I wasn’t sure how well you’d take it.”

I simply nodded, forcing a strained smile onto my face. When his own expression started to shift, I quickly pointed to the scissors in his hand.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get this over with.”

We went downstairs to the kitchen. I parked my bottom into one of the chairs at the small, round wooden table. As Matthew began to comb and snip, I closed my eyes and attempted to forget my indiscretion with the teenager’s body.

Why had I suddenly become so randy from just washing myself? Even more unsettling than what I had been doing was the knowledge that if Matthew hadn’t interrupted, I would have carried out the deed to its conclusion.

I wasn’t sure there was any way for me to get over that.

“Almost done,” he announced, pulling me from my internal struggle with morality.

“Anything new on the television,” I asked, my eyes remaining closed.

“Not really. The press showed up at Dellinger’s house. He made some comment that he had full faith in the police to return Sasha unharmed.”

“I doubt his faith is with the cops,” I replied. “He’s probably, like, already hired a dozen private investigators to start hunting for us.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re getting out of here.” The scissors snipped thrice more. “There.”

I opened my eyes and looked over at him.

“Good. The sooner we hit the road, the better.”

A suspicious look formed on his face. “Would you like to see?” He held out a small hand mirror.

“Might as well,” I muttered, taking it from him.

The girl in the small oval wore a sour-looking pout on her face. The long blonde hair she’d previously worn had been replaced by a deep reddish copper that made her green eyes seem to pop. Matthew had taken quite a bit of the length, leaving me with a short bob cut that hung down to my chin. Though the loss of the golden length bothered me, I couldn’t deny that my new appearance was extremely cute.

With the discarded uniform lying in the closet, the missing clothes, and the mess I’d left in the bathroom, Karen was going to know someone else had been using her stuff. Like the Three Bears returning home to find evidence of Goldilocks’ trespassing.

Only this Goldilocks wasn’t golden any longer.

“It works,” I said, handing the mirror back to him. Can we get out of here now?”

Before he could respond, I stood up and turned my back on him. I dropped the towel over the back of the chair and slipped into the sweater.

Matthew didn’t answer me. Instead, he walked back into the living room and returned wearing a black leather jacket. In his hand he carried a much smaller white one. He handed it to me.

“It’s still chilly outside, Jack. You’ll probably need this.”

The jacket did something to his appearance. To my appearance. With the dye job, the clothes, and the whole package, he looked like a fit male in his late thirties, rather than someone pushing fifty.

I bit down on my lower lip as I wondered what the taut muscles beneath the polo would feel like now. Sure, I’d touched them millions of times over the years, but not from the outside. How would those hard pecs feel under my now smaller, softer hands. If I dragged my nails across those hard pecs, would the leave little red welts behind? Would he feel firm, warm, and inviting if I placed my cheek against his chest?

“Jack?”

I shook over those alien, disturbing thoughts, snatching the jacket from his grip. I pulled it on with hasty, jerking motions. Emotions bubbled beneath the surface of my mind ebbed and flowed like an out-of-control tide. Desire. Shame. Fear. Anger. A virtual typhoon that seemed to spring up from nowhere and slam at me relentlessly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, giving me a concerned look.

“I’m fine!” I snapped, turning around to march toward the door leading to the garage. Halfway across the room, the realization that I was walking like a girl hit me and I began to stomp with a deliberately masculine swagger.

I was a man, dammit! No matter how much this stupid body wanted to impose its feminine wiles on me.

Matthew followed, pulling the door closed behind him. He walked around to the driver’s side of the Hummer, unlocking the door to climb inside.

When I heard the passenger door unlock, I yanked it open forcefully, and pulled myself into the spacious interior. As Matthew started the engine, I leaned over to grab the handle with both hands and pull it closed with a slam that rattled the vehicle.

He sighed, turning in his seat to look at me.

“Jack, for the love of Pete, what the hell is going on? You’ve been a … bitch since you got out of the shower.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and ignored him to stare straight ahead at the closed garage door. After a few seconds, Matthew sighed again and clicked the remote over his visor. The door cranked up achingly slowly. When the way was clear, Matthew pulled the SUV out of the garage and back onto the street.

The digital clock on the Hummer’s dashboard indicated that it was almost four in the morning. Soon, Thomas’ neighbors would be rising to start their day. With any luck, it would be hours before anyone would show up at the house and find my sedan.

Silence permeated the inside of the vehicle as Matthew navigated back onto the highway and took us in a westerly direction. It wasn’t until we’d been riding along for about ten minutes before he spoke.

“This is going to be one extremely long ride if you’re planning on sitting there sulking like …” His voice drifted off, and I could see him tighten his grip on the steering wheel in my periphery.

My chin jutted out in defiance as I turned my face toward him. “Like what, Matty? Like a petulant teenaged girl? Well, guess what? That’s because that’s exactly what I am.”

He stared at me for a second, then shook his head, putting his eyes back on the road.

“No, Jack. I already explained this. You may have Sasha’s body and picked up some of her mannerisms, but you are still you.”

“Wrong,” I exclaimed, my voice rising in pitch. “What you explained was that the longer I was in here, the more like her I was going to behave. I figured that might be limited to the way I was talking. And walking.”

“Okay…”

“But it’s becoming more than that. Like, I keep having these … feelings.” My face started to warm, recent memories returning in full-color. “Urges. Things I can’t seem to control.”

“Jack, I’m sure that if you …”

“If I what? Pay more attention? Go with the flow?” A deaf person could have heard the sarcasm dripping from my words. “I feel like I’m damned either way. When I focus on being me, it feels strained. When I let go, I find myself thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking. Feeling emotions that scare the shit out of me.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, making me think he might be reconsidering our partnership. After all, who the hell wanted to be on the lam with a spoiled teenaged brat?

Then the thought that he might just up and abandon me caused my breath to hitch in my lungs and my eyes to fill with tears. I sniffled and wiped at my damp cheeks.

“Jack?”

I held out my wet hands in his direction, shaking my head.

“See? I can’t control myself. It’s becoming, like, one fucking crazy emotion after another.”

He looked at my hands, then to my face. There was a deductive expression in his eyes. Then he drew in a breath and released it with a sigh.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” I asked, realizing that something important had just occurred to him.

“Dammit, Jack, I didn’t even consider …”

“Consider what?” I interrupted, wiping at my eyes again. “What?”

He looked back at me, this time appearing very apologetic.

“I’ve never Hopped into someone who wasn’t an adult before. The youngest I’ve ever been is twenty-five.”

“So?”

“How old is Sasha? Fifteen?”

I nodded, attempting to follow the differential. “Just turned fifteen, I think.”

“So,” he said softly. “She’s a teenage girl. An adolescent teenage girl.” He looked back to the road. “And you’re in her body. With all the lovely biological processes that come with it.”

I took me a second to follow his logic train. However, when I arrived at the same destination, I flopped back into my seat and put my face in my hands.

“Oh…that means …”

I felt Matthew pat me on the head.

“It means you’re going through puberty again, Jack. This time as a girl.”