Scanning her datebook you find she plans to go on a date this evening at a fancy high-rise restaurant. You say to yourself confused, “And how am I suppose to find that?”, partly surprise at the hoarseness (what you presume a cold caught from the Salon) in your throat that made your voice sound a lot softer and more feminine than usual and even more surprise when the phone vibrates and chimes a melody before the feminine Ai voice answers, “GPS Coordinates based on your previous reservations. Distance is 5 minutes on foot. Reminder: Don’t forget to take pill”
The last part confused you but you felt the need to look for what it asks, noticing for the first time a small cute pink purse you must of rushed out with on mistaking it for your wallet. The through of returning it comes to mind but more intrusive thoughts got the better of you as you peek inside. You’re shock as the first thing to greet you is a woman’s ID card reading ‘Stacey’ with the same pixie blonde hair cut as you. This must be the woman’s appointment you accidentally took and possibly the woman you crashed into earlier. Maybe she showed up while you nap there accidentally left her purse behind for them then try to return it to her or at least someone that looked like her. You notice other things, like cash and credit cards but also pills with a note that read, ‘for piercings and other aches’. You realize you’re still sore from the piercings is starting to really bother you and decide to take one. It was fast acting but your voice still sounded feminine.
****
Realizing you’re short on time, you rush and even doing so it became dark by the time you arrive to the date’s location. Taking the elevator, you reach the restaurant entrance just as a line forms behind you, but the reservation employee gestures to the a wall notice with fashionably dressed women and explains, “Sorry, fashion is heavily considered here.” Realizing you have no time to argue, you grumble and rush to the first clothing shop floor you spot on your way up.
Barging into shop, you beg the clerk, “Please, anything for a night club! I’m late for a date!” The lady nods and quickly pulls a set and heels for you. You rush into the dress room but the set’s too small to put over your clothes which forces you to quickly undress then squeeze into it. You let out a feminine gasp on seeing a straight up blonde dame looking back from the wall mirror, the skin treatment you got somehow made your body skin slender, softer without blemish, and not a hair below her head, dressed in a dark blue sequin sparkly mini dress with tight corset giving you an hourglass look. This is especially so at your chest which you struggle to cover due to in your utter horror, nipple piercings that made the nipples sensitive and likely causing the swelling mounds beneath each nipple that almost looks like A-cup breasts and B-Cups in the built in push-up bra of the dress. “Just how thorough were they?”, you murmur as you touch the nipple just to pull back from the soreness. “Ugh, the sooner this nightmare is over the better!”
Struggling back to the club in new high heels, you find to your horror a long line formed but surprisingly the clerk looks you over impressed and waves you through. You enter the elegant spacious 5-star high end sit down restaurant with light wood panel walls, dark blue carpet, and full of exotic potted plants and aquariums with soft piano music playing. This contrasts with the muffled DJ music that can be heard from the roof bar of the restaurant above for the more adventurous party goers. You’re shown your reservation seat but stayed at the fancy side bar as you watched for the boyfriend’s arrival.
A man behind asks, “Rough day, huh? Need a drink?” You being stressed beyond belief and not caring anymore, take up the offer. After another, you realize rather than the bartender, it’s a descent looking man who just sat beside you who offer.
You stammer softly, “O-oh! I’m sorry, I thought you’re-”
He answers gently, “Nah, it’s the least I can do with how tough your job is. Also, daring dress this time.”
“Hm?” you answer. It took you a moment (no thanks to the alcohol) to realize he knows you because the salon treatment must be the girlfriend’s usual, meaning he’s the boyfriend! “Oh, I uh… knew that…”
He looks at you just as confused but eventually answers, “Hey uh, I think I figured that password error to your phone you gave me earlier when I dropped by at your workplace.” Your eyes lit up. He has your phone? Before you can ask, the boyfriend perks up as well and interrupts, “Hey, ya hear that? That’s my favorite jam they’re playing upstairs! C’mon Let’s go!”, and immediate tries to usher you to the roof dance floor.
You groan at missing your chance and noticing a third drink he had lined up for you, you take a swig that aids your courage to go in pursuit upstairs to the crowded night club roof dance party. You aren’t much of dancer, and even worse in heels for obvious reasons, but he’s patient with you and eventually you started to get the hang of it. That or the alcohol is kicking in. Turns out you aren’t as much as a drinker… He isn’t hard on the eyes at least. Handsome with fairly light complexion that contrasts with a tan line likely from working out on his buff body under his sharp suit and even sharper hazel eyes and sandy color hair.
What happened next felt like a blur. Dancing, more drinks between the two of you, then a little more dancing. You become giddier and in the back of your mind afraid the alcohol will have you say too much but thankfully he seemed just as drunk now.
For a moment, you thought you actually are the girl that’s suppose to be on this date and wonder if you already have his number, maybe get a smooch in, or alone time in the hotel room below. These alcoholic visions overwhelm you until a bright light wakes you up to a grueling hangover.
****
You jolt up from what you hope was only a fever dream to find yourself, eyes squinting to the morning sun light illuminating over you in a large bed in an unfamiliar fancy bedroom. On the dresser beside you, you find your/her phone charging beside wine bottles and glasses that are a reminder of the growing massive headache and bloated feeling from all it’s carbohydrates. You swig what’s left and immediately regret it as the intoxication forced you in the restroom to barf.
Once your unsavory business is done, you go to the mirror to wash up, shock momentarily that you still look like a pixie haircut blonde in a tight hourglass dark dress and surprisingly convincing now B-cup looking chest. You still felt sick and remember the pills. You promptly take one and to your relief is quick to ease your uneasy stomach and head. Just great. No phone, no boyfriend. Looks like you’re back to square one. What’s more curious was that you didn’t see his girlfriend there. Was she late and you stole her date before she got there, or maybe she really needed her datebook to remember due to being so busy? Maybe a no show? You smirk at the crass thought of you being a better girlfriend than she was. Checking her datebook, you see…   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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