Culture Shock (9 page)

Alex swallowed hard and sat up, looking into the living room. No explanation described how he felt sitting in bed looking at himself asleep on the couch. The word ‘weird’ fit, but unbelievable was more like it. He considered going back to sleep and hoping for better results upon re-
awakening, but, he needed to use the toilet.

Mentally bemoaning the fact he'd have to sit down, he rose. Last time he'd sat on a toilet to pee, he'd been two-years old.

Not wanting to wake Cynthia, he tiptoed to the bathroom, pulled the door closed and stood for a moment, looking into the mirror. Yep, definitely weird. He felt like himself but the face staring back at him belonged to Cynthia.

He touched her face, noting the smooth feel of her skin. He'd frequently wished he didn't have to shave, but what had happened wasn't exactly an answer to that prayer. Besides, at the moment he'd pay to have his own face back.

Alex pulled down Cynthia's tailored slacks and black thong then sat on the toilet. He was used to the manly sound of urine hitting the back of the bowl, not the almost inaudible tinkling sound he heard. While he waited for the steam to end, he fingered her lacy undergarment. He longed to see her in her underwear, but definitely not like this. He reached behind and touched Cynthia's soft bottom. At that moment he decided he was really a sick individual and jerked his hand away. When he finished urinating, he sat for a moment and wondered what to do next. Usually he just shook the dew off the lily, but…he wadded up a piece of toilet tissue and blotted the pubic moisture away, not enjoying the sensation at all. Standing, he pulled up his undergarment and pants then turned to the sink and washed his hands.

***

The flushing of the toilet caused the ancient water pipes to groan, waking Cynthia. Her pillow on the floor explained why her neck ached. For a moment, she remained, head resting against the hard sofa arm, and stared through blurry eyes at the faded paint on the ceiling. The events of the past evening replayed in her mind. A glance at her newly-acquired, hairy knuckles proved what had happened was all too real.

Her bladder screamed to be emptied, and something strained against the front of her jeans. She reached to adjust her crotch and grimaced. "Oh sheesh!" Her fingers found the morning "woody" guys always talked about.

She yanked her hand from beneath the blanket like it was on fire. Covering her face, she bemoaned her fate. The bathroom beckoned, but she wasn't ready for what else awaited her. The idea of touching Alex's penis was bad enough; she wasn't sure she knew how to aim one.

Unable to stand the growing discomfort, Cynthia passed Alex on her way into the bathroom. The sinister grin on his face told her he had already been. She
glared at him. "I don't want to discuss it," she spat, and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

In front of the toilet, she inched down the zipper on her Levis. Scrunching her eyes closed, she gingerly reached inside the open fly, took hold of the engorged member with two fingers, and pulled it free. Opening one eye, she looked down at the toilet and calculated a line of fire. The stream of urine seemed never-ending, but brought immediate relief…and ended the erection.

She tucked the flaccid penis back inside, closed her zipper and washed her hands. Alex's face stared back from the mirror, and despite her present traumatic situation, she almost laughed. Five o'clock shadow was nothing she ever expected to have, but fretting about such a minor thing seemed ridiculous. She had bigger worries to deal with. Much bigger!

Back in the living room, she looked at Alex, sitting on the couch, and wrinkled her nose. "Boy, it hurts to see how awful I look in the morning from someone else's perspective, but then, I just looked in the mirror and you don't look so hot either."

Alex glanced up at her and ran a hand through the disheveled hair atop his head. "Very funny. I'm not concerned about styles at the moment. Did any brilliant solutions come to you during the night?"

She sighed. "I wish. I was hoping this was all just a terrible dream. What are we going to do?"

"I don't have a clue," he said. "We can't even tell anyone. Can you image trying to explain this to someone else? We'd end up in an asylum somewhere."

"Are you sure you don't want to try the shock thing again?" she asked.

"I'm sure!" His brows knit into one. "There's got to be another way." Alex chewed his bottom lip. "We'd better come up with something because we both have to go to work tomorrow."

"Oh, God. That's right! I can't ask for time off unless I'm on my death bed. I just started this job. Think! What are we going to do? "

"I wish I knew. I can't miss work either. Asking for a vacation in the middle of an ongoing investigation would raise eyebrows." He shook his head. "This is horrible."

"Well then, we'd better spend the rest of the day briefing one another," she suggested.

His eyebrow arched. "About what?"

"Oh, I don't know..." Her voice rose. "How can you be so clueless? Don't you think it might be nice for you to know how to find my office, which desk is mine and who my co-workers are? After all, they will most likely expect you to know them since you work with them." She stomped across the room, rubbing the back of her neck. "Oh, and it's probably a good idea for you to feed me some details about your job since I have no idea what to expect. Of all the things I wanted to do in this lifetime, being a cop was never one of them."

***

Cynthia massaged her temples. "God, there's too much to remember. You can't expect me to store all that information in my brain. You went to an academy for months to learn all this stuff..." Suddenly her eyes widened. "I'm not going to have to shoot a gun am I?"

"No! I've never even taken mine out of the holster. Don't worry. You'll do fine. Just remember the basics. You'll be surprised how things sink in even if you don't think they did. You'll remember what you need to know when you need it."

"That's easy for you to say. I'm the one that has it the toughest."

He scrunched up his face. "You? How can you say that? I haven't the first idea about how to be a woman, and we all know how complex they are."

"We are not! Being feminine is very simple. Let me show you." She struck a pose that looked ridiculous and walked across the room. "The walk is the most important thing. Take small steps and lead with your hips. Let them be your guide."

Alex's flinched at the sight of his masculine frame sashaying around the floor. Even more annoying was the way she made feminine gestures with his hands. He rolled his eyes. "There's no way I can walk like that, and I wish you'd stop. You're making me look ridiculous. Promise me you won't walk like that as long as you have my body."

He jumped to his feet. "Real men walk heavy and hard ... and pull your shoulders back." He grabbed her forearms from behind, forcing her chest forward.

She jerked out of his grasp, turned and glared at him. "Don't worry. I'll play up the macho thing, but I want to see you walk like I just did."

He blew out a loud breath then reluctantly took one step, then another. The swivel didn't come naturally, but he tried following her example. Having a woman's form and a man's thought process was tough. The two didn't work well together. He walked across the room then turned. "Well, what do you think?"

"I think you look like someone who just had casts removed from their broken legs. But, we'll keep working on it. I also need to show you how to sit properly, drink with poise, and how to be graceful."

He grabbed two handfuls of her blonde hair and yanked in frustration. "Just kill me now."

"I can't. You promised I wouldn't have to shoot anyone, and I don't want to be the first to un-holster your gun." Her giggle sounded forced.

He sagged down on the sofa. "I guess I'll be spending the night again. Looks like we have a lot of ground to cover."

Chapter Six

Monday, the alarm sounded at six-thirty a.m. Disoriented by his surroundings, Alex recognized Cynthia's bedroom. He punched her wimpy pillow into a ball and rolled over and hit the snooze button. If he went back to sleep, he wouldn't have to face what lay in store. But no matter how hard he wished the problem away, he'd have to face it. Great! He had to gussy up for a job that wasn't his, pretend to be something he wasn't and continue to fake things until he and Cynthia could come up with a solution if there was one. The prospect of being stuck like this forever terrified him.

He rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Was Cynthia awake yet? Even though it was her idea, he felt bad making her sleep on the couch in her own apartment. With a deep sigh, he swiveled around and sat on the edge of the bed. Holding his head in his hands and staring at the floor, he spied her fuzzy slippers. "
Ohhh, nooo. I ain't wearin' em."

Barefooted, he walked to the door and leaned against the jamb. Cynthia still slept. "Hey, wake up. It's almost time to go to work," he called. "Let's run through things one more time."

Cynthia rolled over and moaned then sat and rubbed the back of her neck. "God, this couch is awful. I can't take too many more nights of this torture."

"I suggest you sleep in my apartment from now on. That's where all my clothes and shaving things are anyhow."

"Yeah, I guess." The tone in her voice showed she didn't welcome the idea. "I definitely have to change clothes and shower. This is disgusting…and I do need to shave, and I don't mean my legs."

He ran a gaze up and down his own body. "Well, you certainly won't fit into your clothes, and you’d look pretty ridiculous even if you did. I'm sure my wardrobe isn't nearly as extensive, but help yourself."

"I suppose wearing a dress would arouse a little suspicion about your sexuality," she said with a cocky tilt to her head.

"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 breasts 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 crap 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.