This wasn’t my body; I knew that almost as soon as I awoke. It was as though my conscience didn’t quite fit – an out of place puzzle piece. I didn’t jump up and run to find a mirror as one might be expected to in such a situation. Rather, I remained lying down in this stranger’s bed, and stared at the yellow ceiling for a while. My mind was in a state of acute awareness. The heart beat differently to mine; with urgency. The lungs didn’t unfurl and fill like mine. This body lacked the firmness and rigidity of mine. It was soft, cushiony, I wasn’t sure where it ended and the mattress started. I looked down the bridge of my, well, the owner’s nose.
Dark cocoa, slightly wider nostrils.
A sweet, somewhat milky smell lingered about me. Beyond the nose, round breasts came in to focus, the weight of them suddenly apparent. My hands shot up to feel them, squeeze them and I winced as I sunk long nails in to them a little too aggressively (being a man, I didn’t stop to consider that I might have long nails). They were firm and pert in my- her, hand. The feeling of clutching her breast sent a warm and pleasant flush through her body and as her t-shirt gently brushed over her nipples a slight spasm shot down her spine, leaving behind a weak trail of ecstasy which faded rapidly. Intrigued, I ran my hands down the full length of her body, following the curves slowly and with care. Manicured fingertips traced over a flat stomach, tracking the slight indent in the centre down to her navel. As I sat up to reach lower, loose ringlets of lustrous black hair fell to shoulder length and that tropically sweet smell intensified. Her hips were womanly; set wide, but not in the same way that a mother’s are. Her legs; long, tight and her inner thighs just touched.
The absence of a dick between my legs felt alien – it’s a part of us males that we are always subconsciously, protectively mindful of. A little uncomfortably, I placed a hand between her legs. It was warm and damp and when I touched it my soul jumped in her body. All of a sudden I felt invasive; a sharp chord of guilt rang in my mind. It would be wrong to indulge in my dark curiosity, so I promised myself I would not.
Her hands were trembling just slightly, but the trembling soon passed. I don’t know how long I sat in her bed gazing down at them as they lay in her lap. I studied every dark line etched in to her pale creamy palms with such intimacy; I could probably draw the patterns from memory. They were callous-less and soft, not like a manual worker’s hands. The back of her hands were strikingly smooth, deep brown too, like well-polished Indian rosewood. I curled her hands in to fists (forgetting her nails initially, again) and noticed a faded scar across the knuckles of her right hand. Maybe she had been a bit rougher in her youth.
It was when I jumped down from her bed that I realised our difference in height. Everything seemed a bit… higher-up, from her eye level. Her room was clinically neat but at the same time cosy, the walls were the same mellowing yellow shade as the ceiling which seemed to radiate warmth. I figured I would find ‘my identity’ amongst the stacks of books and papers on her desk. Making my way toward it I found that walking felt weird; my mannish bop and her body were fully incompatible.
Just as I reached her desk, my chest tightened as I caught glimpse of movement in my peripheral. I turned slowly, clenching her jaw to stop the butterflies in her stomach from escaping through her mouth. A woman of rare beauty stood before me in a nothing but a white t-shirt and a pair of red panties. I took a step toward her, and she took a step toward me. The warm yellow walls behind her were in stark contrast with her smooth, dark skin. I took another step forward, and she followed my lead. Eyes met, we held each other’s gazes… staring game ensued. Behind thin slits, her irises were set in the whites of her eyes like onyx in white marble. I blinked first.
High cheek bones held the unblemished skin of her cheeks taut, and her full lips made me salivate; a blend of browns and pinks, looking like fruit. I noticed one of her nostrils – the pierced one – sat just slightly higher than the other. It was the only imperfection I could identify on her face, barely noticeable but it reminded me that she was indeed a human.
I longed to touch her, kiss her. My nipples erected, some pleasant sensation stirred somewhere deep in my navel and between my legs I suddenly felt moist. I stretched out a manicured hand, as did she, but instead of the warmth of her pale palm I was met with the mocking coldness of a mirror.
