Part 6 (1/2)
”Very funny...and that reminds me. Don't do anything to make me look stupid today.”
She stiffened. ”How in the world could I possibly do that? I don't know a blasted thing about being a cop, and you don't want me to make you look stupid. That makes perfect sense.”
”Okay, I guess I didn't explain myself very well. A few months ago, I took the Lieutenant's test and I'm still waiting to hear the results. I don't want anything to screw my chance to advance. This whole body exchange thing couldn't have happened at a worse time.”
She fixed her gaze on him. ”You don't actually think there would be good time for this to have happened, do you?”
”Of course not, but you know what I mean.”
”I hadn't considered the prospect of messing up your entire career. What if I do?” Worry thinned her lips.
”Don't worry. Just remember everything we've talked about and you'll do fine.”
His words of warning struck a chord in his own mind. ”But, what about me? I've always sucked at math and I'm supposed to go and crunch numbers. I'm beginning to think I might just take my chances with the shock thing again.”
Her brows rose. ”Really?”
”No!” he said adamantly. ”That's the last possible alternative.”
”Then come up with an alternative.” She glared at him.
”Right after I find a cure for the common cold.” His patience was already being tested and it wasn't even eight a.m.
Cynthia rubbed her thigh. ”I've slept in these same clothes for two days now, and I'll bet if I check, I have a bruise from sleeping on your stupid keys. It sucks to be you.” Unshaven, and grizzled, she sauntered toward the door.
Frustrated by the faulty door lock, she mumbled inaudibly under her breath. As she walked out, she looked over her shoulder. ”I'll be baaack,” she declared in a great Arnold Swartzenegger impression.
Despite the stress, Alex chuckled as he went back into the bedroom and scanned his clothing options for the day. Flipping through the hangers, he grimaced. Didn't the woman own anything but dresses?
Finally, he found some slacks, but feared the dress code didn't allow them. He pulled out a little black number with a white collar. All he had to do was stand it for eight hours. Wearing women's clothing couldn't be worse than an overnight stake-out. He draped the dress on the bed, went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. While he waited for the water to warm, he glanced in the mirror. ”Cripes, what a mess. And I don't have the first idea how to fix this hair. She'll have to show me.”
In the shower, Alex wanted to languish in the warmth and explore his new body, but unfortunately his knowledge of the hot water supply precluded it. Letting his hands slip slowly over her firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s and down her abdomen, he gently lathered every inch and crevice of her delicate skin. Somehow, it just wasn't the same. His actions were way too perverted and did nothing for him. He doubted it did much for her either.
After showering, Alex wrapped a towel around his waist. A glance at the mirror showed a problem. Although alone, he caved to the need for unexplained modesty and re-adjusted the wrap over his chest. Then opening the medicine cabinet, he was confronted with all types of face creams, lotions, and perfumes. He shut the door, refusing to imagine what all that c.r.a.p was for.
Back in the bedroom, he dropped his towel and left it where it fell. The black sheath proved to be harder to put on then it looked, as he awkwardly wriggled his body until it fell down past his hips.
He opened the closet and surveyed his shoe options. Tennis shoes? No, that wouldn't fly with business attire. He gaped at the row of high heels. ”No f.u.c.kin' way,” he mumbled.
Believing he wouldn't fall and break his neck in something less elevated, he opted for a pair of sandals with a short, block heel. He glanced at the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. The dress didn't look quite right. What had he overlooked? He caught sight of the bra.s.siere slung across the dresser. ”s.h.i.+t, now I have to start over!”
He tugged the dress up and over his head and tossed it on the bed. Looking at the bra, he tried to figure the best way to hook it. He'd always had a knack for undoing them, but he had no idea how in the h.e.l.l to put one on. After several tries he succeeded. He s.h.i.+mmied into the dress a second time, then, turning from side to side, checked the mirror again. This time, he looked just fine, but he understood the gravity issue women worried about. Cynthia definitely had nice b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but the uplift from the bra made a difference in the fit. G.o.d, what was wrong with him, thinking about how her t.i.ts looked in a dress? He might be inhabiting her body, but somewhere inside lurked her thoughts.
No sooner had Alex finished, Cynthia appeared in the doorway. ”Well, I'm ready...I think.”
She was a mess. Pieces of tissue dotted numerous razor cuts on her cheeks and she had combed his hair all wrong. ”Gees, Cyn, take it easy on my face. Should I call 911 and ask for a transfusion?”
”Very funny, Alex. I've been shaving my legs for years, but this was a lot tougher than I expected.”
”Come here and let me show you how to comb my hair. That looks ridiculous.”
”Can I help it if you have unmanageable hair? I'm not used to dealing with waves.”
Her gaze rested on him. ”And, what do you plan on doing with mine? You certainly can't go to my job looking like that.”
”Like what?”
”Like you just got out bed.”
”I did.”
”I know, and it shows.” She looked him up and down. ”Although I must say, you did okay picking out a dress.”
”Thanks.”
Cynthia lowered her gaze. ”The shoes aren't bad.” She looked closer. ”Wait! You forgot panty hose.”
”You're kidding, right?”
”I never go to work with bare legs.” She turned and rummaged through a drawer and withdrew a new package of nylons. ”Here, put these on.”
Alex groaned and kicked off his shoes. He sat on the bed, tore into the wrapping, and held up the delicate leg coverings. ”I don't have a clue how to put these things on.”
Cynthia took them from him and demonstrated how to gather them together. The rough skin of his hands snagged the silky fabric. ”Christ, Alex, don't you ever use lotion. Your hands feel like sandpaper.” She wrestled with the nylons. ”Like this,” she said as she handed them to him.
Not at all used to his new fingernails, Alex did further damage as he mimicked her actions. She grabbed his hands and made him stop. ”Take your time, go slow...and about the lotion. Don't let my hands get like these.” She rubbed his palms together, creating a grating noise.
”Yeah, like my biggest worry is hand lotion right now.”
After ma.s.sive grunts and groans, several attempts and a few more snags, Alex had wriggled his hips enough to get the waist where it belonged. ”I never knew what you women go through. I am so glad I was born a male.” He dipped his feet back into the shoes. ”Satisfied?”
”Not hardly! Let's do something with that hair.”
He followed her into the bathroom and sat on the commode while she gave him styling instructions. He rolled his eyes and acted like he cared.
She toyed with one last stray wisp. ”Okay, that looks pretty good.” She reached for a tall can. ”Close your eyes while I spray.”
Alex squeezed his eyes closed.
Obviously knowing her own hair, she administered a hearty dose of hair spray. ”There! It's actually easier to do my hair from this perspective,” she said as she stood back and admired the finished product.
Alex went into a coughing spasm. ”Are you trying to asphyxiate me?”
”Quit complaining. Now, for makeup.”
”Oh, no way!” He tried to stand.