My first thought had been "Oh god, what if someone sees us?" Then I
realised we were on university grounds, after all. The university campus
proper was only ten minutes up the hill, in fact, which gave me an idea.

"We should go and find a meeting room," I said. "Should be one free this
end of term."

She nodded, and we began walking.

"Is, um, everything all right?" I tried, but she flashed me a worried
look. I nodded. Okay. Clearly everything wasn't. We walked through the
sports grounds in an awkward silence. At least there weren't many people
around - most of the lecturers had left early and the students were home
working on their dissertations. Or they should have been, anyway.

When we got to the university, the corridors were half-empty, which made
it all the more embarrassing that we immediately walked straight past
Katie.

I barely noticed it was her until we'd gone past, distracted as I was by
Francesca chewing nervously on a thumbnail, which looked stupid, and
also got me worrying I'd get my body back with all the edges ragged.
Just walked past a smartly-dressed woman with long auburn hair and
clocked her looking at Francesa - or what she thought was me - who
missed her entirely, leaving her looking thrown and even a little
disgruntled before we turned the corner. I wish I could say I hadn't got
a little malicious sting of pleasure from seeing Katie inadvertently
being blanked, and clearly not liking it very much, but in reality I had
to bite my lip to stop myself smirking. There was now, of course, the
danger that the chances of rapprochement between Katie and me - the real
me, when this was all over, had gone down a bit now, but with a bit of
luck I could smooth things over when I talked to her tomorrow.

Which made my heart jump a little. Oh wow, was that tomorrow? Luckily, I
had the original owner of my body with me, so maybe she could help me
carry off my plan without a hitch. Although apparently there was
something else she needed to talk about first.

I shut the door behind me and pointed to a chair.

"What's the problem," I asked, in my special "consoling student" voice,
albeit not as low as it used to be. I was trying not to think how weird
this would look, the student in her twenties ushering the nearly-forty-
year-old lecturer into the meeting room and trying to put him at his
ease.

Francesca looked up at me, bottom lip wobbling. "Your dad's dead," she
blurted out and burst into tears.

My mum, it turned out, had called Francesca on my mobile earlier that
morning. She only normally called every other Sunday or so, so it hadn't
been something I'd even thought about. Francesca, to her credit, had
dealt with the call very well, by the sound of it, and it didn't sound
like my mum had put the phone down with the faintest idea anything was
wrong, although that was pretty much par for the course.

The thing is, I'd barely known my dad. He'd walked out on my mum when I
was very young, and after a year or so, she'd taken up with a perfectly
nice guy called Graham who, it turned out, definitely wasn't dead. So,
and not to sound too heartless, I really wasn't that bothered. In the
end, I was the one pushing a consoling box of tissues across the table
for Francesca to loudly blow her nose.

While she was getting herself together, I took the opportunity to see
what a true out-of-body experience actually felt like. I guessed the
academic part of me wanted to record something, even if the chances of
getting a paper published seemed remote.

It wasn't like looking in a mirror, not anymore, at least. Francesca was
thoroughly inhabiting my body now, just as I'd found a way to get semi-
comfortable in hers, so it was more like looking at someone who just
happened to look extraordinarily like how I looked a few days ago. Her
movements weren't noticeably more girlish and feminine. She came across
a bit more wide-eyed, perhaps, and kept looking down at her hands all
the time, but if you didn't know, you'd think that was me, across the
table from myself. I wondered how she felt I was doing in her place?

She blew her nose one last time. Her face was redder than I'd ever seen
it, the eyes pink and puffy. I couldn't remember when I'd last cried.

"So, you don't mind me talking to your mum instead of you?" She looked
at me imploringly.

"No, it's fine. You probably did better than I would have done anyway, I
never know what to say to my mum at the best of times."

She nodded, then blinked. Clearly something had just occurred to her.
"So, I'd only just got to the pitch when I saw you. Was that really
Mister Evans?"

I didn't know what she was talking about for a moment, then I remembered
Rob's real name. "Looking a lot like Banshari in her hockey kit having
won the game? Yes, ridiculously, it was."

"Wow," said Franchesca.

Wow indeed. "How's the real Banshari?" I asked.

She pulled a face. "We're not actually doing that well. Like, it was fun
that morning, but then when we realised that you and Mister Evans
weren't... that we'd convinced ourselves of a lot of stuff? It all felt a
bit weird after that. And Banshari's not used to being so big, so, erm,
I'm afraid she's broken a few things. We'll pay for everything," she
added quickly.

"Well, that's okay," I said. "Rob - Mister Evans broke a few glasses
himself, tidying up. You know, it takes a while to adjust to having,
erm..." I looked down, suddenly embarrassed to say it.

"Boobs," said Francesca, helpfully.

"Well, sure," I said quickly. "Yes."

"It's quite weird having a penis too, to be honest."

"Okay," I said, having to remind myself these rooms were well sound-
insulated, so there wasn't much chance of being overheard.

She looked down at herself. "I mean, it's just there all the time, you
know?"

"I did know, yes," I said drily.

"Doing its own thing," she continued. "Banshari said the same. We
compared them, obviously, but I think yours is nicer."

"Hey!" I said desperately. "What about this mentor thing with Katie-
with Ms Holden, tomorrow. Anything I need to know for that?"

"Oh, that's okay," said Francesca, still staring down at her lap at a
part of me I hadn't seen since Tuesday night. "It's fine if you want to
miss it."

"No, no," I said. "It's your future. Honestly, I think it's important to
make those connections. Networking, you know. Anything I need to know
when we chat?"

Francesca shrugged. "We normally talk about print-making. She said she
might be able to get me experience working in a gallery, maybe, so that
would be interesting."

"All right," I said. "That gives me something to go for, thanks."

There was a moment of silence then. Francesca didn't seem to want to say
anything, but I didn't want to go either. I smiled at her reassuringly
for a moment, but then, oddly, I got distracted by her hands. My hands.
I'd seen them before, obviously, but I hadn't realised they were so...
nice. Long fingers, one of the nails a little chewed now, obviously, but
nothing that couldn't be sorted out with an emery board. A little hair
on the backs of the hands, but that just reminded me they were man's
hands, after all. Hands that could do a day's work.

I realised then that Francesca was staring at me. I coughed,
embarrassed, and looked away. Francesca suddenly smiled, holding her
hands up.

"I always thought you had lovely hands," she said and waved them at me.

We walked out together, chatting about nothing in particular, trying to
look like a regular student and teacher even though there was hardly
anyone around. God, was this what it was like when anyone had an affair
with their students? It must be exhausting. I kept a wary eye out for
Katie, but there was no sign of her.

"All right," I said when we were finally outside. "I'd better go back
to the car. I'd offer you a lift, but, um..."

"It would look a bit weird," she finished for me. "I really am sorry
about your dad, even if you didn't like him that much. And obviously I'm
sorry about..." She gestured vaguely at the both of us. "I guess it's
just for a few more days. Can I just say though?" She leaned forward and
whispered into my ear "I had no idea how great my arse looked in those
trousers', then walked briskly away.

I was still blushing as I got into the car, aware that somehow, and I
didn't quite know how it had happened, the balance of power appeared to
have turned. What was even more annoying was that for quite a lot of the
drive home, I kept getting distracted by thoughts of my own hands.

Rob wasn't waiting for me when I got back. I checked the Instagrams of a
couple of people on Francesca's feed who looked vaguely sporty and there
he was in the background of at least three pictures: still in his hockey
gear, being held aloft by other members of the team, downing shots, one
from each hand. I suspected he might not get in for a while.

Wandering the house alone, for the first time since I'd woken up and
wondered why I had long hair all of a sudden, I felt restless and
irritable. Self-conscious, too, after Francesca's parting words, even if
she was technically only talking about her own body. I checked out my
rear reflection in the hallway mirror. Her arse did look great in those
trousers, although I wasn't sure how appropriate it was for her to say
it. Then I realised I was just staring over my shoulder in the mirror at
what was, for the moment, my own butt.

I made myself a cup of earl grey, took one sip, remembered that
Francesca's body really didn't like earl grey tea, and tried again.
Herbal this time. While I waited for the bag to infuse, I thought back
to my body. My original body. Was Francesca feeling self-conscious about
any part of me? Apart from that part of me, obviously. I'd always felt a
bit awkward about being tall, I'd hit five eleven when I was barely
fourteen, but a few years of sharing a house with Rob - real Rob - had
ended that. I'd put on a stone or so in the last couple of years, but
you couldn't really tell.

Finally, the tea was ready. I sank down into the biggest armchair. I
mean, really, when you thought about it, she didn't have much to
complain about, especially now I'd seem my body from the outside on not
one but two occasions. Hair was scruffy, but in kind of a stylish way,
dark eyes that crinkled a little when you got my attention, and those
hands... Closing my eyes, I imagined those hands running over me now,
strong fingers working into my shoulders after a long day, thumbs really
working into my neck, then maybe sliding down a little, the feel of that
slightly stubbled chin rubbing the side of my face as those hands worked
their way down to my hips, a long lean body pressing into me from
behind...

"Mmmmm..." I heard myself mumble into my mug, then my eyes opened wide,
because what the fuck?

I leaped out of the armchair as quickly as I could without spilling hot
liquid over myself. Right. So, clearly, I was picking up on some
thoughts Francesca had about me that were... inappropriate. Flattering,
yes, no doubt about that. Clearly, for someone who'd thought I was gay
for a long time, she also harboured certain ideas about me not being all
that gay. But didn't she say things had gone a bit sour once she'd
realised Rob and I were just mates? And then I realised. That had
happened after she'd woken up in my body, which meant on some level, her
original feelings had remained with her body, which I was now walking
around in. Well, I wasn't walking round right now, I was leaning against
the kitchen counter, pouring myself a glass of cold water, but still.

My original concept, that although it really was me in here, it was my
software running on Francesca's hardware was solid, it's just that
things really were blurring around the edges more than I was comfortable
with.

I wished Rob would come home. I really needed a familiar... not face
exactly, although it was strange how quickly I'd got used to Rob's new
features, but his blunt, sensible way of looking at things. I downed the
glass of water, but it didn't help. I was sweating now. Oh god, was this
some sort of anxiety attack?

I stumbled up the stairs to Francesca's bedroom and collapsed onto the
bed, thanking my previous self for having the forethought to leave the
window open but the curtains half-drawn. I felt a little cooler now,
too, but couldn't even think about getting up.

Had I just had a panic attack? I'd never had one before, but then I
remembered the last time I'd suffered something similar. It had been a
few years ago, I was just starting at the university, and I'd have to
have a couple of vaccinations for insurance purposes. The nurse had
warned me I might feel a few after-affects, but I hadn't expected the
fever and then the chills that had followed, for twenty-four hours,
leaving me alternately sweating and shivering. Poor Rob, who'd only
moved in a few days before, had thought I was going to die, and I'd had
to persuade him not to call an ambulance but bring me some Bovril
instead. I think it was then that I'd realised Rob was something
special.

Was that what was going on here? Had Francesca's body realised I was an
intruder and was doing its best to get rid of me? I lay there, trying
not to panic. It wasn't like this body could push me out like a
splinter, where would I even go? Would the real me just disappear?

But then something else occurred to me. Was it possible this body was
just... horny? Francesca was twenty-one. At that age I was still at the
mercy of my hormones, maybe now I was just at the mercy of her hormones?

Instantly, I felt a little better. Because if that was case, I did have
one option open to me. Cautiously, I put one hand on my stomach,
marvelling once again at how flat and toned it was, and the other,
hardly daring to breathe now, on my chest. Okay, let's not be coy about
it, on Francesca's breast. Her left breast, to be exact.

Except I was wearing that padded bra, so it wasn't exactly sexy, there
was just some pressure on one boob. Okay, fine. I slid my other hand
down until it met the waistband of the trousers. Which was, by my
standards, ridiculously high. Okay, you know what? The trousers could
go. Wriggling out of them, I kicked them to the floor followed by the
socks, because that didn't look right. But then the stripey top had to
join the rest, because a long-sleeved top and bare legs just felt weird.
And then the bra, which took a while, because although it had gone on
fine, I couldn't quite get hold of the clasp to undo it and take it off.
Eventually, after much fumbling, I managed it and dropped that too, off
the side of the bed. Which might have seemed a devil-may-care sort of
act if I'd been watching someone else do it, but as it was me, I just
felt a bit chilly and exposed.

I lay back on the bed and took a deep breath. Okay, time for another go.
This time, my hand encountered an actual exposed breast. Warm, maybe a
little fuller-feeling than before? I flicked the erect nipple gently
with a fingernail and gasped. Okay, that wasn't entirely unpleasant.
Braver now, I ran the nail down to the exposed aureole, circling it
before going back to the nipple, now firmly erect. Remembering something
Katie liked, I pinched the nipple between thumb and forefinger, twisting
it gently.

Oh wow. Okay, that definitely did something. And if it felt that good
just doing one... Bringing my other hand up, I twisted both at the same
time and from a long way away, heard myself make a quiet "eep" noise.

The problem was, I couldn't imagine it was happening to "me" me. It was
working, it was definitely working, but just like when I was half-asleep
in the bath, it was like I didn't really need to be there.

Okay, so what if I made myself more present? I tried to imagine that the
hands that were even now moving slowly around my breasts, taking their
weight, were my hands, my real hands, but of course now I was thinking
of my original body from the outside, how the arms that went with those
hands were darker, broader, more powerful, yet possessed of a surprising
tenderness...

Dammit. New tactic. What if I thought about Katie? I thought of the
first time we'd kissed, unexpectedly, after an incredibly dull session
on university finances had led to a group of us bitching afterwards in a
nearby bar, then people leaving one by one until only Katie and I were
left, and how I'd surprised her after she'd said she ought to be
leaving, by leaning forward and kissing her. Surprised me too.

And then the confusion in my brain faded away, because I was thinking of
the smell of her hair that first time, the softness of her lips, how I'd
moved my hand to her waist, almost sliding my fingers under her white
silk blouse but trying to keep things straightforward for now. How back
at her place, a drink of wine had been almost immediately abandoned as
we'd rushed into bed but hadn't rushed anything else.

- I turned onto my side then - moved my hand to her thigh, then brought
it right up to her waist like this - okay, that was working. I moved my
hand down between my legs for the first time, fingers barely brushing
that neatly trimmed patch of hair before going beyond, fingers tracing
lightly over the soft folds, feeling a warm wetness growing there.

With my other hand, I pinched myself again, hard this time, harder than
I'd ever dared to do it to Katie - which, from the responding tremor of
pleasure than spread across me, I was starting to think had been a
mistake. I rolled over onto my knees, the side of my face pressed
against the duvet, the hand between my legs working furiously now. I
could feel everything: the long hair around my face, Francesca's breasts
swaying, the cool air against my bottom, now stuck up in the air. And
now something else: a growing knot deep in my stomach, a pressure
increasing as my fingers grew slicker, finding something new now,
something small but firm I could circle with one fingertip. My heart was
pounding, I felt flushed, biting hard on my bottom lip, the knot in my
stomach growing harder... and then it all slipped away.

I tried everything, pinching, slapping myself, even curling into a ball
with both hands between my legs, but I'd lost it something. Whatever had
built up inside me hung around, grudgingly for a moment longer, then was
gone without any accompanying sense of relief.

Swearing into the duvet, which barely even muffled it, I rolled onto my
back, panting.

"Fuuuuuuck," I growled - if Francesca's voice was even capable of
growling. It was infuriating. I felt ashamed, picturing my position just
a few seconds before, face down, arse up, and all for nothing.

Pulling on some leggings and a jumper, I made some lunch out of the few
things in the fridge that were still edible. Next, I took a small amount
of pleasure out of making an enormous food order from the most expensive
delivery service on Francesca's phone. I doubted she'd even notice the
bill, but I hoped it stung. And then I lay on the sofa, arms folded,
trying not to think about how much I missed my old body, specifically
the bit where I could relieve this sort of tension by disappearing to
the bathroom for five minutes with one of Rob's magazines.

The scratching of the key in the door woke me up, accompanied as it was
by a certain amount of female conversation. For a moment, I felt a surge
of relief - Francisca and Banshari had returned! They'd found a way of
swapping us back early! Then I remembered the voices they were currently
using were considerably deeper.

The door burst open and Rob fell in, accompanied by what I vaguely
recognised as two members of the hockey team, although all three of them
had changed now. The girls wore jeans and hoodies, Rob was wearing what
he'd chosen to take with him: denim shorts, a bright orange t-shirt cut
low enough to see at least he'd packed a sensible bra, and a grungey
shirt tied around his waist. He looked pretty good.

"Bud!" he announced, flying across the room and wrapping his arms around
me. "I've been drinking," he whispered hoarsely, "but I think I got away
with it." He turned to the two girls and flung his arms wide. "Of
course, you know Jessica and Tan!"

"Actually, I don't think she does," said Tan smoothly. She was South
Asian, like Rob - I mean Banshari - with short, cropped hair and a
sideways smile. Jessica, blonde, gave me a vaguer smile then collapsed
into the armchair.

"Bans, get me a drink, pleeeeease!"

Rob tottered into the kitchen. I gave Jessica a reassuring nod, then
followed him.

"Oh my God," hissed Rob the moment we were out of earshot. "These girls
can drink! Luckily, I think Bans can hold her own." He belched
confidently, then pulled a face.

I didn't even need a mirror nearby to know I was raising one of
Francesca's eyebrows. "It's Bans now, is it?"

Rob started hauling beers out of the fridge and handing them to me.
"Apparently. I just went with it."

"And did they notice Bans now sounds a lot more Welsh than she used to?"

"I just said I'd been visiting some family in Cardiff and I'd picked up
the accent. I don't honestly think they care."