FRIDAY MORNING

By the time I'd woken up, Rob was in the shower, singing a whole new
batch of rugby songs. Or possibly hockey songs, I couldn't tell the
difference. Either way, I was glad to have the room to myself as there
was research to be done. Mainly by scrolling through Francesca's phone,
which contained photos of each and every mentoring event she'd attended.
Plenty of pictures of Katie too, but this time it was the photos of
Francesca I was interested in. If I was going to avoid raising Katie's
suspicions, I would have to go completely under the radar. Francesca's
wardrobes for these events were more formal than her normal clothes. She
wore more makeup as well, which was more of a worry, but they had
YouTube tutorials on that sort of thing, and it was all pretty discreet
anyway. Finally, I found a picture from a month or so ago I thought I
could duplicate. A smart black denim skirt, pale blue ruffled blouse
thing, discreet gold necklace, hair loose and glossy, shoes with a bit
of a heel but didn't look like they'd pitch me through a glass door any
moment.

For a moment I had a hysterical desire to just go in the cat onesie, but
it was okay, I could do this. I had all morning to prepare. Although... I
lifted the hem of Francesca's dressing gown, ran a finger down one calf
and frowned. I'd have to shave these legs and probably my armpits as
well. At least I wouldn't be in Francesca's body long enough to worry
about complicated things with eyebrows. Just basic maintenance.

When I went down to the kitchen, still wearing the dressing gown, Rob
was noisily finishing a slice of toast. He was wearing sports gear, the
big puffa coat over the top, hair scraped back in a scrunchie.

"All right?"

I nodded. He gestured over to Banshari's sports bag. "Practise day.
Thought I'd better keep in shape, you know. You got any plans?"

I made myself a coffee. "There's a mentoring thing this afternoon," I
said as lightly as I could. "I think it's important so I thought I'd
better go in. You around for dinner?"

Rob shrugged. "Sounds like we're going out for a pint after so probably
get a curry or something. I'll guess I'll catch you later."

He swung the bag over his shoulder then stopped, a funny expression on
his face.

I frowned. "What?"

"Just occurred to me, technically this is our first normal conversation,
you know? House share stuff."

The coffee cups stopped halfway to my lips. "Huh."

The house was very quiet without Rob in it. Whatever body he was in, he
had a way of filling all the available space. It could be comforting
sometimes, but right now a bit of space was exactly what I needed.

First thing to do was sort out the clothes. I laid everything out neatly
on the bed. Okay, for a start, the skirt hadn't been put away properly
and was all crumpled, and the top had some sort of mark on the sleeve.
Nothing I couldn't iron or sponge away. At least that gave me something
to fill the hours.

I ended up doing all the ironing in the house as well as putting a new
wash on. Then I had to sort out the crate of underwear that had been
filling up ever since we'd got here. Wasn't too hard to sort out which
items belonged to who: I couldn't help smirking as I lifted one of
Banshari's bras out of the crate, far more capacious than anything
Francesca needed. Not that she had anything to worry about.

Eventually I ran out of displacement activities, although the house was
pretty damn spotless as a result. The immersion had done its work too, a
far cry from the crappy boiler in my and Rob's house, that took an hour
to heat the water to merely warm and sounded like a broken steam engine
while it did it.

Pouring anything that looked like it might have come from the Body Shop
into the bath, I went back into the bedroom where I thought I'd seen a
pack of fresh razors. I was correct. Daringly, I slipped off the
dressing gown, and last night's t-shirts and pants too. I hadn't thought
to close the curtains, but the road was wide, and you could barely see
the house opposite. Anyone in there trying to get a view deserved what
they saw, frankly.

Something about the dancing last night had removed the last sense of
unfamiliarity with this body, as though I'd stretched myself into every
available combination, twisted and thrown myself around until I now
occupied it fully. For a moment, I considered another handstand. I knew
I could do it. But instead, I lowered myself to the floor, lay down on
the thick, soft sheepskin rug and closed my eyes.

It was like finally getting attuned to Francesca's body had removed a
layer of something between her skin and the surrounding world. I could
feel every tuft of wool, every minute shift of the air from the window
that couldn't have been open more than a centimetre, the few strands of
Francesca's hair that had drifted across my face. I could smell the
faintest traces of the toast Rob had slightly burned, the traces of
coffee that had made it up the stairs. Also, a slightly musky smell I
realised had been left behind by Rob having a big wank in the bed last
night.

Well, that was that moment ruined. Running the bath, I stripped the
bedclothes, dumped them in the washing machine and put on fresh sheets,
not even bothering to get dressed. Something about bending and
stretching in this twenty-one-year-old body was a novelty that would
never pass. God, it wasn't like my real body was that old. I hoped
Francesca wasn't creaking when she bent down to pick up something. I'd
even started to make a noise when I sat down. That wouldn't even occur
to me now.

Finally, the bath was run. Still a full two hours before I had to be at
the university, just twenty minutes away. I sank gratefully beneath the
bubbles and stretched out until I felt the far end against my toes,
something I couldn't do normally unless I somehow came into possession
of a bath six and a half feet long.

Shaving my legs turned out to be not quite the sensual treat I had
expected. In fact, it was annoying and quite painful, a few missteps
here and there turning the bathwater pink. Shaving under the arms was
even more difficult, although I got there in the end. I even decided to
tidy up between Francesca's legs, trimming more carefully than I'd ever
trimmed before. At first, I tried hard to not look too hard at what I
now had down there, but after a while it seemed pointlessly squeamish.
After all, Francesca had openly told me she and Banshari had been
comparing penises, so whose dignity was I sparing, exactly?

Reaching out a cautious finger, I slid it beneath the warm water and
touched... my special place. The outer lips of it, at least. I realised
it was the first time I'd touched there without the express intention of
having an orgasm, and since that didn't seem on the cards currently, the
pressure was off, for now.

It felt... sensitive. No immediate thrill, or trembling, or anything.
Just a sense of "ahhhhh." Holding my breath, I pushed a fingertip
further in. Okay, that was... tingly, and certainly not unpleasant, but
it didn't feel like Little Francesca was in the mood. I paused for a
moment. It wasn't like I was in a rush, and if I wanted to play the part
of Francesca this was certainly a way of getting into the spirit of the
role but... it didn't feel right.

Of course, it turned you had to have a whole extra shower after shaving,
to get the bits of hair and gunk off, but once I was done and slathered
with lightly-scented moisturiser dried and wrapped in a huge fluffy
towel, I was starting to see why it took Katie so long to get out of the
bathroom in the evening.

And now it was time to get into costume in my role as "bright-eyed
student who looks up to her beloved mentor and in return gets some
insight as to why she left someone who was perfect for her."

I drew Francesca's clothes on like a priest putting on sacred robes, but
to be honest, it still felt a bit creepy. I couldn't work out why at
first. After all, I'd been wearing someone else's clothes since I'd
woken up in this body. But then, I hadn't been intending to deceive. And
I still wasn't, I told myself firmly. I was attending an event that
Francesca needed to go to and if I got into a nice chat with Katie while
I was there, so much the better. If we just ended up talking about
galleries and printmaking and nothing else, it wasn't like I'd be any
worse off.

The skirt did feel a bit weird though. It felt a lot shorter when it was
on and my freshly-shaved legs felt exposed and I hadn't even been
outside yet. The top was so thin it was barely like wearing anything at
all. The next steps were to brush Francesca's long hair until it shone,
then hold it back with a band I found on her dressing table while I did
her makeup. The YouTube tutorials I'd watched were surprisingly
practical and thorough and checking back on Francesca's selfies I
realised there was no need to overdo it: a bit of foundation (making
sure I did under the jaw as well) and eyeliner should do it. I managed
to overdo the eyeliner a bit, going a bit more goth than I'd intended. I
wiped it off, ready to start again, then realised I'd accidentally found
the perfect balance. There was a makeup tip: put too much on, wipe most
of it off and you're left with the perfect amount. Maybe I could start
my own YouTube channel. I snapped the compact shut and stuck in it the
black shoulder bag that was a constant feature in any selfie where it
appeared Francesca wanted to make an impression. I had a feeling it cost
more than my first month's wages.

When I was done, I tried on the pair of low black heels I'd been
avoiding thinking about since I'd decided to recreate The Francesca
Look. I definitely wobbled on my way over to the full-length mirror in
the corridor, but by the time I'd got there some sort of muscle memory
had kicked in. Rather than moving like someone stepping over broken
glass, I could now move at almost normal speed, if I kept in mind my
advice to Rob on the hockey pitch and made sure I drove forwards with my
hips rather than my shoulders.

Although... somehow it still wasn't Francesca looking back at me from
the mirror. It was definitely a version of her, not the weird travesty
I'd feared, a parody that would set off all of Katie's alarms (and she
had a few), but something still wasn't right. Then I realised: it was
the shoulders again. I couldn't force my way forwards with them like I
would in my old body, but I didn't need to slump them either.
Consciously, I straightened up, pulled my shoulders back, which, yes,
did have the effect of pushing Francesca's boobs forward, but they were
nice boobs, so why try to hide them? Nearly there now, but still
something... missing.

I put my weight on one leg, a hand on one hip and peered at my
reflection from beneath my fringe with a half-smile.

"I really enjoy your lectures," Francesca said demurely. "I don't
normally look forward to writing dissertations, but I think this one's
going to be an interesting challenge. I do hope you like it."

And there it was.

I paused by the front door on the way out, considering whether to try
and stuff a pair of trainers into Francesca's shoulder bag, just to be
on the safe side. What if the fire alarm went? Or some incident, and I
needed to run? But that's not what Francesca would have done, so I left
the trainers behind.

The first mistake I made was to park in the lecturer's bit of the car
park. I was already distracted - driving in heels, even low heels, was a
whole new thing, so I suspect my brain had gone on autopilot and taken
me straight to my usual parking spot. Only when I got out of the car,
ignoring the glare from an older bearded lecturer next to me, did I
realise this was probably a good thing, suggesting at least one lower
level of this brain still belonged to me rather than Francesca. I moved
it anyway, best to keep in character and all that.

The student car part was noticeably further away and a cool breeze had
whipped up since I left the house. By the time I reached the foyer I was
shivering and flustered. It wasn't just that I was regretting the choice
of short skirt - as a teen I'd practically lived in combat shorts
whatever the weather, although having much hairier legs might have made
the difference - but that Francesca's nipples apparently reacted to the
chill by becoming as hard as diamond. Fortunately, I'd dug out a fairly
substantial bra in an attempt to make up for the flimsiness of the top,
so I wouldn't have to look down the whole time, but I felt distinctly
uncomfortable.

It wasn't until I got the front desk, picked up a plastic glass of warm
orange juice and peeled off a type-written name tag that I realised that
yes, Francesca had been invited to this event, but the only reason I was
coming was that I, as in the real me, had wangled an invite too. Which
me the other me, my actual body that was walking around with Francesca
in control of it might very well be here as well. Fortunately, my label
with my name on it was one of the few still on the sheet, so either
Francesca didn't know this was on my schedule or she'd very sensibly
decided to give it a miss, on the grounds she wasn't best placed to
mentor students who were exactly the same age as her.

I slapped Francesca's label onto my lapel, trilling a "Thanks Jill!" to
the lady behind the desk, who quite understandably rolled her eyes at
being patronised by someone half her age, and clacked my way into the
main hall, already full thanks to my poor choice of parking space.

The head of the art department was winding down his usual speech, one
I'd heard many times before, to a chorus of polite chuckles. Smoothly, I
made my way into the crowd feeling an unnerving sense of wrongness every
time I saw one of my old colleagues until I realised it was because from
my perspective, they were all suddenly four inches taller. For the first
time, I wished I'd worn higher heels.

And then I saw her. Katie, holding a glass of something, in polite
conversation with one of the women from the art department, all straggly
hair and multicoloured jumper. Katie, of course, was dressed for
business, looking stunning in smart black trousers and a crisp white
shirt with short sleeves. Her red hair was pinned back, a pale silver
necklace around her throat. I nearly gasped. Somehow, I'd forgotten just
how physically intimidating it was to be around her sometimes.
Nervously, I fingered the simple gold chain I had put around my own and
wondered if she would like it.

Oh god, what I was I thinking? I wasn't ready for this. I didn't like to
admit how much Katie had intimidated me all the time we were going out
with her brain alone, but now it all came flooding back, and however
much I had felt out of my depth and embarrassed at my lack of
convictions when I was the real me, being this close to her wearing a
fucking short skirt for fuck's sake, was a million times worse. She was
smart, she'd realise in an instant I wasn't Francesca and that something
seriously weird was going on.

I took a deep breath, fully prepared to spin round on my heels as
quickly as I could and get the hell out of Dodge without falling over,
when Katie saw me from across the room, raised her glass and called out
loudly, "Francesca!"

Christ. There was no way out of it now. Waving back, fortunately not
with the hand that had a glass in it, I managed a smile from God knows
where and walked over.

To my surprise, Katie gave me a hug, turning smiling to the arts
lecturer. "This is Francesca Ryan," she told her. "Rising star. Absolute
pleasure to teach."

Oh god, I was blushing. And I could still smell her perfume from that
brief touch alone. And now I could feel the heat rising in my face even
though I knew she wasn't talking about the real me. Frizzy haired woman
smiled politely and asked me some questions about how I was finding the
design course. Luckily, among the preparations I had made that morning
was going through every presentation and self-assessment Francesca had
on her laptop, so I didn't have to bluff so much as make a convincing
summary of my research. Frizzy Hair looked positively shaken by the time
I'd given her both barrels, and from Katie's smile I'd convincingly
nailed what wasn't so much an impersonation as a channelling.

Things got less formal after that and to my surprise I found myself
starting to relax. In fact, we went into borderline gossip, something I
got a feeling Francesca was expected to receive rather than transmit.
She was being accepted into the inner sanctum here and the best thing to
do was quietly accept the tribute. As Frizzy Hair went into a near-
tirade about budget cuts, Katie murmuring quiet agreement, the panic
that had been rising in me since I saw Katie started to abate and I had
a bit of space to, mentally at least, withdraw and observe.

The first thing I noted was that Francesca and Katie were exactly the
same height. A discreet look downwards confirmed that she too, was
wearing low heels. She did look a little more mature than I remembered,
fine lines around the eyes, but then of course I'd been spending time
with people barely out of their teens since Wednesday morning. Katie was
younger than me and Rob, five years if I remembered correctly. And she
looked great. I'd seen photos of Katie at Francesca's age and she was
beautiful then and there was no reason to think she wouldn't be
beautiful another twenty years from now. Yet, looking around, it was
strange how I was already identifying with the students in the room
instead of the lecturers, who to me looked mostly old and shabbily-
dressed and talked too loudly.

"So," said Katie to me finally when budgets had run dry as a
conversational topic, "any decent galleries got back to you yet?"

I was able to bluff my way through this by going into a form of
autopilot, while inside I couldn't stop thinking about how weird it was
being able to look directly into Katie's eyes. I'd never felt we were
equals when we going out and Francesca certainly wasn't Katie's equal in
age or experience, but when I saw a look pass between Frizzy Hair and
Katie as a male lecturer who was the subject of a number of mildly
unpleasant rumours and not likely to be long in post stumbled past,
mumbling something that was supposed to be complimentary, I realised
what it was. All three of us were, for the moment, on the same side,
facing outwards against the gender of whom, just a few days ago, I'd
been a member.

After that, and when Frizzy Hair finally remembered she had her own
student she was supposed to be mentoring, it was plain sailing. Katie
and I just.. chatted, talking about things we'd seen on Netflix,
political events. I kept it light and the time flew by. I'd forgotten
how much I enjoyed her company, just hanging out talking about anything.
When we'd been together I'd become aware of Katie becoming more guarded
and closed off as time went on, but now she was practically her old
self.

Except none of this was helping me find out what had gone wrong between
us, and time was running out. I drained the last of the drink,
desperately thinking of how I could push the conversation further.
Fortunately, Katie misread me spinning my wheels for some sort of
emotional moment, because she leaned forward and asked quietly "So,
how's everything been going outside of coursework?"

This was potentially a sticky area, because much as I had plenty of
material on Francesca's university life, the question of her
relationships was a much murkier one. Her social media feeds were so in-
jokey as to be indecipherable, and it looked like she'd updated her
phone fairly recently, losing most of her texts in the process. So, I
had to wing it. And in that moment, I felt inspired.

"Well, I was seeing someone, you know," I said sounding a bit brave,
but not too brave. "I can't remember if I've talked about this before?"

Katie shook her head. Excellent. If I was breaking ground, there was
every chance she'd feel like opening up to me too.

"It just... fizzled out," I said sadly. "We were getting on really, then
they (I nearly said 'she' but managed to keep it ambiguous at the last
minute), just went quiet. Ghosted me. I assume it's over, but it's a bit
hard to tell. Been a couple of weeks now."

Katie was quiet suddenly. Finally, she managed "I'm sorry to hear that.
Maybe it... wasn't meant to be."

"Perhaps," I continued and managed a little shrug. "I wish I knew what
I'd done wrong though."

"Hey," said Katie, sounding as stern as I'd ever heard her. "You did
nothing wrong. Maybe this person just... wasn't sure what they wanted, you
know?"

Interesting, I thought. "Huh," I said. "I hadn't really thought about it
like that. Sometimes I wonder if they left it up to me. Maybe I should
make a move, now they've had a bit of space, what do you think?"

Katie thought about it for a moment. I stared into her eyes, I was so
close at that moment to saying something ridiculous like, "Also, I hear
your ex booked a mini break getaway thing so you could give each other a
second chance, what do you reckon?" but I before I could do anything,
Katie's phone chimed.

"Shit," she said. "I've got to pick up some boxes of research to take
home or they'll get thrown out."

Shit indeed. Shit, shit, shit. Although... "Do you want a hand?" I
asked, and the shyness in my voice wasn't put on.

Katie smiled at me. "That would be great."