I woke up the next morning and, before I opened my eyes, felt my chest. “Shit,” I said, feeling breasts. “Shit shit shit.” Another day in drag. OK, I knew it wasn’t drag since I was Jess, but it may as well have been.

The alarm went off. Jess rolled over, opened her eyes and said, “So, it wasn’t a dream…”

“Nope. The nightmare continues.”

“That’s upbeat,” she said, getting up to pee. As she walked out, I walked in and sat down. The seat was wet.

“Would it kill you lift the seat?” I said.

She giggled. “Oops…maybe you’ll remember next time.”

“Having fun?” I said, washing my hands.

I walked out and she was waiting to give me a kiss. It felt weird to look up to get kissed. “A little,” she said. “Come on, it’s not that bad…is it?” she said with an edge.

“Not bad. Just weird. It’s just weird,” and I almost started about last night. Then I saw the panties in the laundry and decided not to go there.

“It’ll be over soon.”

“How do you know?”

She scratched her armpit. There’s a habit I now realized that I needed to break when this was done. She was right. I looked like an ape. “I don’t, I guess. I just figure it has to be.”’’

“Let’s hope.”

“Do you mind if I shower first? I have an early meeting. I’ll be quick.”

“I know. You have it easier.”

She laughed. “Glad to see you’re paying attention.”

I watched my naked self walk into the bathroom and close the door. While Jess was showering, I stared at the ceiling and thought, “did I do something? Say something?” I was still staring at the ceiling when Jess came out. “Thinking about this?” she said, sitting next to me.

“Yup. What else?”

“Me too,” she sighed. “I was trying to think about this meeting, but this,” she said, grabbing her crotch (or, more accurately, mine but who’s nitpicking) “kept getting in the way.”

“So, what do you think?”

“I don’t think. I think we do what we have to do and hope that it changes. You want it to change, right?” she said, with a smile.

“Of course I do,” I said angrily. “You don’t?”

She smiled. “I was trying to make a joke…”

“It’s not funny.”

She looked at me seriously. “It’s not. Do you think I wanted this?”

“No, sorry, we’re both on edge.”

“Sorry too. Go pick out an outfit.”

“What?”

“Pick out what you’re going to wear. I want to see what you pick. I want you to understand what I go through every day.”

“I’ll wear a navy suit.”

“You can’t. You wore that yesterday. People will notice.”

“Yes, they will and you know that.” She was right. I knew that. “So pick something else.”

I went to her closet and took out a cream colored suit and a blue shirt. For some reason, “shell” came into my mind. It was called a shell. 24 hours as a girl and I was calling it a shell.

I took it out and showed her. “Does this work? This shell works with this, right?”

She looked surprised. “Yes, it does...good job,” she said, in a tone of surprise and a little discomfort.

“What?”

“What what?”

“You seem annoyed.”

She shook her head. “No, not at all. Just surprised. That’s a good choice.”

I held my hands on my hips…on purpose, for effect. “I’m not completely unaware, you know.”

She gave me a kiss. “I know. I know. I just didn’t expect ‘shell’.”

I laughed. “Me either. That came into my head while I picked it.”

I showered and got dressed. I came out, “Do I look OK?” She was wearing a blue Ralph Lauren oxford shirt and khakis. I missed that.

She pointed to her dresser and said, “Makeup.” I went over and stood there. “Yes?” she said.

“Do it,” she said matter-of-factly. “I showed you yesterday. Teach one, do one. So do.”

“I don’t know how. What if I mess up?”

“Then, I’ll fix it. But do it first.”

I stood there and put on eyeliner first, then blush and then lipstick. I looked in the mirror. Jess came over.

“How did I do?”

She looked surprised. “Fine. You look…pretty,” she stumbled. “You look good. Good job.”

“What?”

“You’re a fast learner is all.”

“Please,” I said. “Please. Let’s not go there. I don’t want this to be a thing when we change back.”

She put her arms around me. “It won’t be.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. I know you’re a fast learner. It’s just…”

I stopped her. “I know what it’s just. We didn’t choose this. Whatever it is chose us. But I love you no matter what. Do you?”

She looked really upset. “Of course I do.”

I decided to tease her. I pouted and said, “Then why won’t you say it? Is it because you (sob) don’t (sob) love me?”

It took her a second then she said, “uh, you know it’s not that…it’s just…uh,” then she stopped. “I love you no matter what, Dan. You know that.”

I smiled. “Don’t get all girly on me. Man up. You have work. Dan has a meeting.”

She smiled back. “Grow some ovaries, Jess. You’re a litigator.”

We went off to work. I won’t tell you it was easy. It started in the train. I hated standing in the middle and getting bumped and getting dirty looks for standing there. But that wasn’t it. I got out of the train and was walking towards the stairs, when I saw a woman with a stroller. Her child appeared to be about two years old. A bunch of guys looked at her then walked past. “Do you need help?” I said. I always helped before.

“Do you mind? He’s kind of heavy.”

“It can’t be that bad,” I said, with a smile. She thanked me and I went to grab the front of the stroller. “One, two…” I said, struggling.

“It’s OK,” she said. “I appreciate the offer.”

“No, it’s OK,” I said. “We can do this. It’ll just take a while.” And it did. Which frustrated the hell out of me. Two days ago, I would’ve lifted the stroller myself. Today, it took two of us to do it and we had to stop half way up.

We got to the top and she said, “We did it. Girl power,” she said, with a smile. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Please. I can’t believe all those guys walked past.”

She looked rueful. “Believe it.” Then her son looked at me, smiled and said, “pretty.” I don’t know why but that made me happy.

“Why, thank you.”

His mother laughed, “he’s a flirt, this one.”

I smiled and leaned down and said, shocking myself, “you’re a smart one. Always tell a girl she’s pretty. We like that.” One day and it’s we?

I went to work. Mousy little Rachel alternated between giving me death stares and looking like she wanted to say something. Eventually, I called her in and said, “Rachel, I’m sorry if I took your head off yesterday.” She looked expectant then crestfallen when I said, “But, believe it or not, I’m trying to help. Everyone fights with their gir…boyfriend some time. But, you can’t let it affect you here.”

She looked upset, “I thought you’d understand.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a woman?” she said, upspeaking which I hated.

“I’m also your boss. As are Kevin, Jim and Mike. Would you have used that excuse with them?”

“I just thought…”

“Rachel, you’re great,” which was kind of lie. She was alright, a hard worker but not much for initiative. “But you need to understand. They already think you...we’re all emotional. If you did that with them, you’d be in deep trouble. Whatever goes on outside can’t come inside. Do you understand that?”

“I guess,” she said with upspeak again.

“Don’t guess. Know. Be more confident. If you want to litigate, be confident. Say ‘I know.’” I smiled, hoping that would show her that I was her friend.

“I know,” she said with a smile.

“Good. I’m here to teach you. Help me do that.”

“OK,” she said. “You seem different today. Is everything OK?” Sure, if you don’t count waking up again with breasts and no penis.

“Everything’s fine. I just thought about yesterday and wanted to clear the air. Because Mike wouldn’t. He’d just wait until your review,” which was true, especially when it came to female associates. He wasn’t a bad guy just afraid of getting sued for discrimination.

“Thanks.”

“Also, one more thing. Try to work on upspeak.”

“Upspeak?”

“Saying sentences like they’re questions.”

“Do I do that?” she said nervously.

“Lots of women do. My sister does. It says you don’t believe what you’re saying.” And then, in the ‘not believing what you’re saying’ category, I said, “you know what’s different between us and guys?” She giggled. OK, I had that coming. “No seriously,” I said laughing.

“What?”

“They say things with confidence. Even when they’re wrong and know it. We know we’re right and say things like questions.” Where the hell did that come from? “Be confident. That’s 50% of this job. Now go back to work.”

She smiled. “Thank you. You’re right,” she said, hitting ‘right’ a little too hard. OK, this was a long-term project.

She walked out of my office and I thought about what just happened. “Where did that come from?” I thought. Was I getting into this? No, that wasn’t it. I rolled it around in my head and decided that I only told her what Dan (male Dan, I was still Dan, just Jessica Dan) would have wanted to say but wouldn’t for fear of her crying or complaining. I resolved to mentor her no matter what. She needed a mentor. Jess had a mentor, her first boss Ken. He always pushed her to take on bigger jobs. That’s it. That’s what I was doing. The rest of the day was uneventful. I had few calls and could focus on paperwork which was good. The computer didn’t know if I was male or female.

At 7:00, I packed up and was leaving when Dan called. “Hey beautiful.”

“OK, stop.”

“I just want you to know what to say,” she said, laughing.

“Fine, you well-hung stallion.” She made retching noises.

“Touche. Dinner?”

“I was planning on eating, yes?”

“I meant, do you want to go out? PJ Clarke’s?” Dan worked at 53rd and 3rd. It was two blocks away. It wasn’t necessarily my favorite place. Great burgers but a loud after work crowd.

“Sure. I could use a drink.”

We met up in front. He kissed me on the lips. His stubble tickled. We went in. While we waited for a table, I sat a high top while Dan went to the bar. He came back with a bay breeze and a Stella Artois. He brought them over and handed me the beer. People looked at us. He took a sip of the bay breeze and I the beer. We both winced and switched them. Change is a thorough master.

“How was your day?”

“Actually, really good.”

“That’s great. What happened?” I related the Rachel story. I was proud of myself. Dan looked surprised and said, “That’s, uh, terrific.”

“What?”

“I could never do that.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I could never do that.”

“You think I hurt her? I didn’t mean that.”

She held up her hands. “I know you didn’t. And you did a good thing for her. You let her know how guys perceive her. That’s actually really good.” She held up a fist, smiled and said, “Sisterhood!”

“Ha ha ha. How was your day?”

“Weird. It was weird not talking about anything.”

“I thought you had a meeting?”

“Not that kind of talking. Melissa, Ramona and I always talk over coffee about stuff. Today, the two of them did. I walked over and it was awkward. They were polite but I left in thirty seconds. They looked at me funny.”

“I’m sorry. I assume it’s girl stuff?”

“Home stuff. Marriage stuff.” She paused. “Yeah.”

I touched his arm the way she always touched me when I was upset. I found it calming and hoped she did. “I know you’re hurt. But it’s not you. It’s me.”

“Huh?”

“They’re not excluding Jessica, they’re excluding Dan. And they’re not even doing that. They’re just…being them.”

He sighed. “I know. I want to be them. I want to be me too.”

“Hopefully, tomorrow. I want to be me too.”

Well, I woke up the next morning and guess what? I still wasn’t me. The next day, still not me. Friday morning? If you guessed I was still Jess, you’d be right! I made it through every day at work fine, but I hated this. I hated having to get up a half an hour earlier to get ready. I hated being bumped around on the train. I hated being smaller and weaker. And I hated that Jess seemed to be dealing with it without a hitch. She’d say things like, “It’s so much fun not having to think about clothes,” and “I like being able to walk down the street and not have to think about it.” I resented this and was starting to resent her.

Saturday morning came and I woke up. There they still were and there it still wasn’t. “Goddamn it!” I yelled. “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.”

Jess rolled over, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? I’m still you. And I can’t take it anymore! I’m tired and I hate it!”

She laughed, “Is it so horrible being me?”

“Yes, it is! It’s not funny! It’s horrible and I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I absolutely hate it!”

She gave me a cold stare. “Do you think I like being you? Do you?”

“You seem to be enjoying it. ‘I like no makeup. I like being strong.’ You get the better end of the deal.”

“The better end of the deal? Keep digging that hole, Dan. You’ll find out that being you is no bed of roses.”

“Sorry, I just want to be me again. And you seem fine,” I sighed.

“I like being me too. I miss my clothes and makeup. But, welcome to Holland?”

“What? What does that mean?”

“Mikey’s bris.” Mike was our friend’s son, who had Down’s syndrome. They didn’t know until he was born.

“Still lost.”

“At the bris, Jodi’s father read this story called ‘Welcome to Holland.’ Basically, it’s you plan for this trip to Italy. You pack everything. You read guidebooks. You plan where you’re going to go. And then the plane lands in Holland. You can either complain and regret, or you can accept and embrace it. I’d rather be in Italy but I’m not. I’m in Holland. Don’t know for how long but here I am, so I’m dealing.”

“Holland.”

“Yup. Holland.” She went over to my dresser and took out a t-shirt and shorts.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going for a run. I figure, if I’m going to be you, I’m going to take care of myself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She leaned over and kissed me. “You said it the other day. We’ve let ourselves go. Let’s use this to get back in shape for when this goes back.”

“Like returning someone else’s car washed and filled up?” I said, with a smile.

“Exactly! Come on! We used to love running together.”

“You’re right,” I said, going to her drawer and taking out shorts and a t-shirt. “Let’s go.”

She went to the drawer and took out a sports bra. “You’ll need this. Otherwise, the gals will bounce around.”

“Thanks, I think.”

We got dressed and ran up to the park. I watched her run. She was running with her form. Like she had breasts and hips. I stopped her. “You’re running like you. You don’t have tits and hips anymore. Run with your arms closer in, like this,” and I showed her the form. “Got it?”

She laughed, “you look ridiculous, but yeah, I’ve got it,” she said, running off.

I tried to catch her. It was impossible with these shorter legs. Eventually, she slowed down for me to catch up. We ran for an hour. It was arguably the best run I’d ever had. It really helped me clear my mind. I felt in control for the first time in a week. It was just me, Jess and the road. It was, to use a cliché, cathartic.

When we got home, we were both tired and sweaty. “That was a great idea, honey. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. We both needed that. You shower first.”

I showered and picked out an outfit. When Jess got out of the shower, she looked at me. “Wow,” was all she said. I was wearing a blue sleeveless cotton dress. It came to mid-thigh.

“Is there something wrong with this? I’ve seen you wear this on weekends, I thought.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” she said, kissing my shoulder. “It looks fine. I’m just surprised is all.”

“You’re right. We’re in Holland. I hope for not too long but we’re here. So I figured I’d see what it’s like. Is this freaking you out?”

She smiled. “Not at all. I’m glad you’re willing to try. You look cute. Pick out some shoes to go with it. I want to see how much you’ve paid attention.”

I took a pair of sandals. “Do these work?”

She looked surprised. “Good choice. You’ve been…paying attention.”

We spent the afternoon walking around the city and talking.

“How are you doing Dan,” she said.

“I’m Jessica, remember? We have to be careful.”

“Sorry, how are you doing, Jess?”

“Fine. My feet are tired, but fine. I don’t like the thing between my toes.”

“Being a girl isn’t all fun,” she said. “How is it otherwise? How do you like wearing a dress?”

“It was weird at first, but now I don’t even notice. Does it look weird?”

“Not at all. You look like a girl. My girl,” she said, taking my hand. That sounded weird.

“Am I your girl? Is that weird for you?”

She smiled, “Not at all. Is it for you?”

I thought about it. “No. I figure we’re us. Are we us?”

“We are,” she said, taking me in her arms and kissing me. “Does that tell you?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry I’ve been crabby the past few days.”

“It’s OK. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot.”

“It’s no excuse. How can I make it up to you?”

She smiled. “Kiss me again.”

We kissed long enough for someone to say, “get a room, you two.”

“You heard him, Dan. Let’s get a room,” I said, with a flirty smile.

We went home and made love. I wore her sexy baby doll nightie. She was on top. When in Holland….

We went to dinner. While we were eating, I said, “I have an idea. We both need to lose weight, right?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Let’s make it a competition.”

“Competition?” she smiled

“Yeah, we weigh in once a week. Loser has to do something the winner wants.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever they want.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Whatever they want?

“I mean not like run around outside naked or something. Within reason.”

“OK…” she said, sticking out her hand, which dwarfed mine. “Deal.” And we shook.

I made a mistake. A big mistake. I worked out three times that week. Jess was busy at work so she only went to the gym once.

Jess had a dinner meeting on Wednesday. She called me while I was eating.

“Hey, babe.” Babe? I’m ‘babe?’ “What’s up?”
“Eating dinner. Grilled salmon and vegetables.”

“Oh boy. We’re at Mastro’s. I just ordered chicken parm. We had really good appetizers.”

“OK,” I laughed. “Remember the bet…”

She chuckled. “I remember.”

“You’ll be sorry.”

She chuckled again, which should have told me something. “We’ll see.”

Saturday came. I got on the scale. I lost 2 pounds.

“Two pounds? How is that possible? I worked out. I ate fish and vegetables? How?” I paused. “The only saving grace is that you have done absolutely nothing…”

Jess smiled and got on the scale. “Five pounds,” she smirked.

“How is that even possible?” I shrieked.

“I don’t know. I ate light Thursday and Friday. Worked out yesterday.”

“That is sooooo not fair!”

She smirked some more. “Fair or unfair, bet’s a bet.”

“Oh g-d. What is it?”

She picked up my hand. “You are not taking care of me. You need a manicure and pedicure…”

“That’s it? That’s easy.”

“I’m not finished,” she grinned evilly. “I noticed when you went into the shower. You need a wax.”

“What kind of wax? Eyebrow, right?” I said hopefully.

“Not exactly. You know what kind…I mean you don’t have to. You’d be going back on our deal though…”

“No, a bet is a bet. And, next week, when I win, I’m not going to be kind…”

“Uh huh. Sure.”
“I can do it. You do it. Women all over Brazil do it. I can totally handle it.”

I could not handle it. This was easily the worst pain that I had ever suffered. Picture someone yanking the hair out of your head…while kicking you in the balls.

I got home and Jess was on the couch. She smiled and said, “So, how did it go?”

“I. HATE. YOU.” I went over to the couch and started hitting her. Unfortunately, I was hitting her girly-style, swinging from the elbow. I kept saying, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” while she laughed.

“Good. It’s not all fun being a girl, is it? You like it when I’m clean? Now you know what it involves?”

“I thought you like it too.”

“I do. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck doing it…Can I see?”

“Seriously? I just had hair yanked out of my groin and you want a show?”

“Aw come on…”

I pulled down my yoga pants and flashed a little bit. “Happy, you pig?” I laughed. “Enjoy it now, because next week, you are going to pay.”

Jess did not pay. I went to the gym every day. I ate salads. I walked home. I read that water helps you lose weight. I drank an ocean. She went to the gym three times that week and skipped desserts.

Saturday came. I knew I was going to win. I was formulating what I was going to make her do.

I stepped on the scale. Three pounds. OK, not great. But I knew I had her beat.

“Five pounds,” she said, doing the ‘raise the roof’ gesture.

“How the fuck did that happen? I was on fire. How could this happen?”

She smiled cryptically. “How is not important. What is important is that it did. Want to know what you have to do?”

“Not especially.”

She walked to her closet and pulled out a short blue lined lace dress. “You have to wear this to dinner tonight,” and then she picked up a pair of blue 3” heels. “And these.”

“OK. I’ll need some practice in the heels but I can do this…”

She smiled, “And one more thing. No panties.”

“What?” I had to give her credit. I couldn’t have come up with this. “No way.”

“Bet’s a bet. Is my Danny afwaid?”

“I. can. do. This,” I said gritting my teeth.

She spent several hours teaching me how to walk in the dress and heels.

“Imagine you’re on a tightrope,” she said. “Little steps. Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe.” We practiced sitting. After what seemed to be several hours, she looked surprised.

“What?” I said. “I thought that I was doing OK.”

“That’s the thing. You are. You’re doing great. If I didn’t know, I’d guess that you’d been wearing a dress and heels for years.”

“Maybe, it’s sense memory from having your body?”

“Maybe. Anyway,” she said, shaking her head. “Tonight will be so much fun.”

“Are you sure the panties are that important?”

She laughed. “Not at all. Just leave them home.”

We went out. “Let’s walk to the restaurant,” she said, snickering.

Initially, it was, as expected, very frightening. I feared that I’d fall. I feared a wind. I feared someone figuring it out. Then, after about ten blocks…

Jess looked at me, “How does it feel?”

I smiled seductively at her. “Actually, it feels really good. It feels…transgressive.”

‘Transgressive?” She looked intrigued.

“Yes,” I said, licking my lips. Hey, if you’re going in, go all in. “Here I am, walking down the street, in my little dress and heels. And people are looking. But, little do they know, I’ve got nothing on. But I do. When I’m walking, I can feel the wind blow right up. And there’s nothing to block it….”
Jess was sweating, “Dan…” she whispered.

I smiled. “I’m not Dan. I’m Jessica. Look at me. Do I look like a Dan to you, silly boy?”

She sweated. “Tell me some more of how it feels, Jessica…”

“Well, the wind blows right up. You can feel it go…right…through…you. It makes me feel so good. It’s making me very excited.” I looked her right in the eye. “It is a shame that we’re going to dinner though. I mean, I imagine I’ll get used to this feeling by then…”

We went home. Jess didn’t even take the dress or the shoes off me. All she said was, “I want to fuck you dressed, you slut…” This was not love-making. It was sex. Raw, rough sex and it was amazing.

We lay there in our wrinkled clothes. “Wow. What came over you?” I said.

“I don’t know. What came over you?”

“I don’t really know. But it felt really good. Is that too weird?”

She smiled, “No, I mean that’s why I did it.”

“Seriously? You’ve done it? Why didn’t you tell me? Or was it with someone else?”

“No. I’ve never done it. I’ve never had the guts. That’s why I made you do it. I figured I’d see what it was like. Clearly, it’s…transgressive.”

“Shut up,” I said with a smile. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“I will,” she said, with a lascivious grin.

I got up and put on a pair of jeans and a shirt. “You going to buy a girl dinner or what?”

I went to work on Monday. At lunch time, Robin peeked her head in. “Lunch? Or are you too busy?” She and I had become friendly since I became Jess.

“I’m not busy. I just need to go someplace where I can get something light. Stupid bet.”

“What stupid bet?”

“I’ve had an ongoing bet with Dan. We’re trying to lose weight. We weigh in once a week and loser has to do what the winner says…”

She laughed, “Jessie, what were you thinking? He’s a guy. You can’t beat a guy at weight loss. They can skip like one meal and lose four pounds.”

“Shit.” She was right. Now I knew why whenever I lost weight, Jess’ sister always looked like she wanted to cut me.

“So what have you bet?” She said, as we went to the elevators.

I blushed. “It is beyond embarrassing…”

“It can’t be that bad…”

“Well, the first week, I had to get waxed…”

“Big deal.”

“It had…been…a while.”

“Oooh,” she winced. “What did the sick bastard want for week two?”

“You have to swear that you will never tell anyone.”

She smiled. “Well, this has to be good.”

“Seriously, no one. Not even Gib,” her husband.

“Oooh…”

“Seriously, or I’m not talking.”

She laughed, “I swear.”

I looked at the ground. “I had to go out. In a mini, 3” heels and,” I took a deep breath, “no underwear.” She laughed loud enough that people turned around. “Come on…people are looking, Robin.”

She was gasping, “Now…that…is…a…bet. You poor thing.”

I smiled, “It wasn’t that bad. It actually felt really good. “

She looked shocked. “I had no idea you were such a little exhibitionist, Miss J. What has gotten into you?” I wanted to tell her the better question was what had fallen off of me, but chose not to. Then she paused, “So what is it you’ve been doing to lose the weight?”

I told her my regimen and she said, “OK, so tomorrow morning, 6 AM. My pilates class.”

“I’m not a big class person. I just like the machines,” I said. And I meant it. Classes were for women and gay guys.

She smiled. “And how’s that working for you? Or do you want to see what he comes up with next?”

The next morning at 5:30, I was up and getting ready.

Jess rolled over. “Where are you going,” he yawned.

“Pilates. With Robin.”

“Seriously? Why?”

“Why? Because I am NOT letting you win this week!”

“Uh huh. As I recall, you liked the last bet…”

“That is so not the point. I am NOT going to lose again. I don’t even want to think about what you’re going to come up with.”

“Whatever,” she said, rolling over. “I’m going back to bed. Good luck.”

“’Good luck?’” I thought. “That’s weird.” I soon realized why.

I got to the Pilates class and Robin was waiting. “Glad you made it.”

“OK, so what do we here?”

“Just follow my lead.” Class started. I figured there’d be some warm up. There were some stretches but even those hurt. Then the torture began.

“OK, we’re starting with swimming,” the instructor said. She came over to me and said, “lie on your stomach with your forehead down.” ‘OK, I’m tired,’ I can do that.

“You keep your pubis on the mat, and keep your thighs tightly together.” Ouch. “Stretch your arms out and palms down. Feet pointed together.” Really ouch.

“Lift your arms, legs, chest, and head up on one count, and hold. Inhale and exhale normally as you alternate lifting right arm/left leg, then left arm/right leg without touching them down to the mat.” I felt pain in my core like I never had before. “Start swimming. Count slowly from 1 to 10…doing great…lift higher and reach longer…excellent job.” I felt every muscle in my body.
We finished class and Robin said, smiling, “So what did you think?”

I was sweaty and my body ached. You’re supposed to say it was a good pain. And maybe it would be down the line, on the scale. But now was not that time. “It hurt like hell.”

She smiled, “Good. If you want to beat Dan, you’re going to have work hard.”

“I know. Thanks.”

“Are you going to do this again?”

I thought about it for a second. “Yes, definitely. I may regret it later, but I’m in.” And I meant it. Between the running and this, I felt like I was in control of myself for the first time since everything happened.

The week was hard. Did I like getting up at 5:30 every day? No. Did I like not being able to move my arms and legs? Not really. But two things kept me going. First and foremost, I was not going to lose the bet. If I had to cut off my foot, I was not losing. The second was a sign I saw in a store – “nothing tastes as good as thin feels.” Which was a very girly thing to say, but for some reason it motivated me.

Wednesday was the hardest. It was our office manager’s birthday and they had cake in the conference room.

Jasmine, one of the administrative assistants, handed me a piece of cake. “No thanks Jasmine.”

She looked hurt. “You’re not going to have cake with us?”

“Sorry, I’m trying to lose weight, but thanks.”

Chanique, one of the other admins, said, “Not even a small piece?” She looked genuinely hurt. I almost gave in. “I’ve been really good this week,” figuring that would end the discussion.

“Diets don’t work. You won’t keep it off,” she said.

“Thanks Chanique.” Ouch. I kept my calm and said, “Debbie, Happy Birthday. I think I’m going to finish some work,” and I left.

I went to back to my office and closed the door. How dare they? Why is my weight loss their business? I heard a knock on the door. “Who is it?”

“Robin. You busy?”

“No, come in. What’s up?”
“What happened in the conference room?”

“How did you hear about it?”

“That’s all the admins are talking about. What happened?”

“I didn’t take a piece of cake. I said I was trying to lose weight. This is a big deal?”

She smiled, “You’ll notice that I wasn’t there. I told Debbie happy birthday before. I told her that I had an assignment Steven needed done.”

“I can’t believe that I have to make up a story to not eat cake.”

She shrugged, “I’m proud of you, for what that’s worth.”

I smiled, “It means a lot.”

“How do you feel?”

“Sore. Good but sore. I’m not losing. If I have to cheat, I’m not losing.”

She smiled. “That’s my girl.”

“I keep telling myself nothing tastes as good as thin feels.”

“Good for you. It’s working.”

“Thanks. I can’t believe that they’re talking about me. They wouldn’t say one word if a guy did it.”

She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Duh.”

“Whatever. I’m doing this.”

She leaned over and touched my arm. It felt nice. Not sexual. Just comforting. “I know you are.” It felt good to have support.

Saturday came and we went to the bathroom.

“You first,” I said. I figured maybe the change would work.

“Two and half pounds,” she said, with a smile.

I got on. “Three pounds,” I cheered. I started dancing around. “Threee pounds. Threee pounds. I win. I win. I win.”

She smiled, “So what’s my punishment?”

“Hmmm.” I thought ‘make her get all dressed up and go to a gay bar? No, wait, she’s a girl. She’s been treated like a piece of meat before. Serve me breakfast in bed? Bo-ring. What could I come up with that was humiliating? Wait, why did it have to humiliate her? Why not make it something I wanted, but would never have asked for?’

“I want you to spank me.”

“What?”

“I want you to spank me. Then tie me to the bed and fuck me.”

“That’s weird.”

“Bet’s a bet. Or are you afwaid?”

“I’m not afraid. Just wondering. Where did this come from?”

“I don’t know. I just always wanted it.”

“Wanted to do it to me? Or have it done to you?”

“Done to me,” I said, taking off the t-shirt I slept in and putting on a sexy nightie. I started moving my hips. “Are you up for it?”

She looked shocked then smiled. “You little slut. What kind of slut dances around like that?”

“Excuse me?”

She grabbed me roughly, which turned me on. “Look at you. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I…I…I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good enough,” she said, sitting down and pulling me down. “You have been a very bad girl and need to be punished.” She started spanking me. It was just what I expected. It felt amazing.

“Oh g-d,” I moaned.

“Is this OK?” she said, sounding concerned.

“Shut up and do it harder.”

Jessica was always a good loser and complied. “You are a very bad girl. OK, eight (slap), nine (slap), ten. That’s enough,” she said, flipping me over. She took our t-shirts and tied my wrists. Tight. I had no idea why I liked this so much, but I did. Then, she surprised me and took off her underwear. She tied it around my face, so I had to smell her…I mean my…I mean her scent.

We then had the most amazing sex that I had ever had. I came three times.

When she rolled off me, she said, “Wow,” and untied me. “That was…”

“Amazing,” I cooed.

“Yes. Weird but amazing.”

“What do you mean weird?” Now I felt self-conscious.

“Whoa whoa,” she said, holding me. “Not bad weird. I just did not expect that.”

“What did you expect? What would you have chosen?”

“I don’t know. Breakfast in bed?”

“That’s boring.”

“Served on me,” she said, with a grin.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next week.”

“Seriously? You always wanted that?”

“Yup.”

“Why didn’t you ask?”

“I figured you’d think it was weird. Creep you out.”

“Dan, we’re married. I love you. So long as you’re not cheating, you can always ask.”

“Seriously, are you weirded out?”

She grinned. “Not at all. I like you all girly and submissive. Makes me hot.”
“This won’t be weird when we change back?”

“We’re just playing, Dan. So long as you don’t expect to spank me,” she said, starting to tickle me.

“Stop,” I said, giggling like a girl.

“Say, I like when my big strong man spanks me.” She was enjoying this too much.

“No,” I said, squirming and giggling. It worried me that I was getting too into this.

She kept going, “Say it.”

“Fine, I like when my big strong man spanks me.” She let me go.

I caught my breath. “Seriously, are we OK?”

“We’re fine. This is just a game. Go for a run?”

“Let’s.”

We went out for a run. While we ran, two thoughts kept going through my head. The first was that this had brought us closer together. We hadn’t gone running together in years. The second was that I was doing this that we wouldn’t be able to undo. That I was acting too girly and that no matter what she said, when we changed back, she’d never be able to see me as a man again. That she’d leave me for someone else.

She looked over at me, “Are you OK, Danny?”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About,” I paused. “How great it is that we’re running together. It’s been fun doing this again. We need to keep doing this.”

“Yeah, we do. What else?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not a nothing tone, Danny. I know you.”

“I’m just…”

“Dan, I love you. Like I’ve said, you’re learning how the other half lives. That’s a good thing.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” she said. Then she sped up. “Come on, you girl!” she said, with a laugh.

We finished the run. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that we had gone somewhere from which we couldn’t come back. I decided, however, that I had to believe that we were what we were and that wouldn’t change.

We both came back and showered. I put on a blue t-shirt and blue and green skirt.

“Nice choice,” she said. “The working out is working. You look cute.”

“Is that OK?”

She sighed, “Yes. I like my girl looking cute.” My girl? Cute? “So what are you going to do today?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

“I’m meeting Mark for lunch, remember?” Mark was a friend of Jessica’s from college. Initially, I was bothered by her having a single guy friend. Fine, call me sexist and insecure, but I was. After one dinner, I realized they were like brother and sister.

“Oh yeah. Have a good time.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Walk around, I guess.”

“Have a good time,” she said, getting up. “I’ll be back around 4.”

He left and I walked around. I put on a pair of flats and remembered to put some lipstick in my pocketbook. It felt strange thinking my pocketbook. I walked around the Village and SoHo. I found myself looking in clothing stores and thinking how things would look on me. I walked past Anthropologie and saw a long sleeveless dress. I don’t know why but I felt an overwhelming desire to try it on.

I went it to the store and looked around. I felt self-conscious, like sooner or later, someone would realize I was a guy. I don’t know why. No one did anything but smile or ignore me. Like every other woman in the store.

I took the dress off the rack and held it up to me. I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw. Which worried me.

“May I help you, miss?”

“I was just looking at this. Do you have it in a 10?” I knew what size I was, which also worried me.

She handed it to me. “Try it on.”

I went it into the dressing room and put it on. I looked in the mirror. I liked the dress but it was tight around my stomach.

I came out and asked the clerk. “I don’t know. It’s a little tight?” I upspoke. Now I was getting very worried.

The clerk looked nervous, “Um…”

“Be honest.”

“It’s a little tight.”

I smiled. “That’s why I asked. I’m trying to lose weight. Do you have it in a 12?”

“Only on-line. Plus it’ll be too big.”

“I appreciate your honesty. I’ll be back.” And I wanted to come back. I wanted to try on other dresses. Which was yet another thing that worried me. Did I want to be Jessica? I tried to put it out of my mind and kept walking around. I tried not to look in store windows but found myself looking at clothes and shoes and wondering how I’d look. Not how Jessica would look, but me.

I went home and was reading a book when Jess came home.

“How was lunch?”

“Weird.”

“What was weird?”

“Mark was. I could tell something was bothering him…”

“And?”

“And I asked if he wanted to talk about it?”

“And,” I sighed. “What did he say?”

“Not really. I told him he’d feel better if he did. He always does, by the way. And he looked at me weird and changed the topic.” She looked hurt.

I reached over to put my arm around her but she was so much taller, so I put my hand on her hand instead. “You have to remember you’re not you. You’re me. And guys don’t talk about that with other guys.”

“I hate that.”

“I know.”

“I was trying to help.”

“I know. But we don’t do that. We help by asking if you need something and telling you to call if you do.”

“I hate that. What did you do?”

“Walked around.”

“Just walked?”

“Looked at stores.”

She laughed, “Since when do you window shop?”

“I know. But I was walking past and I felt drawn to it. Must be genetic or something,” I laughed.

“That is sexist,” she laughed. “True but you don’t get to say it yet.” I let that go. “So, where did you look?”

“In SoHo.”

“Where?”

“A bunch of stores. Anthropologie.”

“Anthropologie, huh?”

“I don’t know. I just liked it.”

She smiled. “They have very nice stuff. Very feminine. Oh stop, it’s fine,” she said, picking up her iPad. “So show me what you liked.”

I showed her the dress. “I tried it on…”

“Really? How was it?”

“A little tight in the stomach.”

“Keep up the pilates and you’ll look great in it.” I let that ‘you’ go too. “How was trying it on?”

“Like trying on clothes.”

“It didn’t bother you?”

“No. I mean I’m you. I’m a woman. I mean I’m physically a woman. It’s a women’s clothing store. I just tried it on,” I shrugged.

“Good. I mean that. I’m glad you’re getting more comfortable. What else did you like?” I showed her a velvet peasant dress and a couple of swing dresses and a floral print. She smiled, “I had no idea you had such good taste. They’re very cute. In ten pounds, you’ll look adorable in them.”

“So will you.”

She smiled. “Not really my style.” I’m not sure what she meant, but I liked them. I wanted to lose the weight so I could see.

I woke up Tuesday morning and I felt like someone was wrenching my abdomen. The pain was unbearable. I thought I had food poisoning and went to the bathroom. I looked in my underwear and saw blood. “Jess!” I screamed.

She came in, “What’s wrong?”

“My abdomen is killing me and…”

She looked down and smiled. Then she looked up like she was calculating something. “Yup, there we go.”

“What?”

“Flo’s in town.”
“What are you talking about?”

“Your period. It’s been four weeks, I had right before all of this,” she said, with a smile.

“I’m glad you find this funny.”

She kissed me on the forehead. “Not funny. Just now you get the full experience. Everything.”

“I don’t want the full experience,” I moaned.

“No woman does. Now do you want to try a tampon or a pad?”

“What?”

“Tampons feel less bulky, but you have to put it up there.”

“Ick.”

“Grow up.”

“What about pads?”

“It’s easier. You just put it in your underwear, but it feels like a diaper.”

“I guess a pad. How often do you change it?”

“You’ll know.” I looked pleadingly at her. “You look pathetic. Every few hours today. Less so over the next couple of days.”

“How long does this last?”

“You really never paid attention? To your mom? Your sister? Me?”

Sheepishly, I said, “No…”

“Good, now you know.”

“Shower. Then put a pad in and get dressed.”

“I can’t go to work. This is killing me.”

“Man up. Every woman does it every month. Take some Advil and move on.”

“But…”

“No buts. Being a guy is cool,” she laughed.

“I hate you, you know.”

“I know. But this is part of it. Maybe now you’ll realize why I’m in such a bad mood when it happens.”

I went to work. It was painful. I felt like someone was punching me in the stomach hard. Jess was right though. I did feel it when it was time. Those were, however, the longest three days of my life. I felt gassy. My stomach pooched out. I felt awful, not just physically but mentally. I promised myself that, when we switched back, I’d be nicer when it happened.

After that period, something strange happened. Something changed between Jess and me. We didn’t talk as much about what we would do when we changed back. I called her Dan and she called me Jess. She didn’t comment on my clothes or makeup, and I stopped thinking as much about them. I won’t say we crossed a Rubicon. More like this was the new normal.