…Dickinson POV…
I hurriedly dialed Emile's number as I left the hospital, wanting to make sure she was safe and sound. After a few rings, she picked up.
"Dickinson, where are you?" she asked from the other end.
"I'm on my way. Listen, don't touch anything or do anything until I get there. And don't step out of the house."
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Emile grunted. "How did the check-up go?"
I flinched at the question, not wanting to think about the results of my appointment. "It doesn't matter. Just do as I say."
I hung up the phone, my scowl deepening as I stuffed it back into my pocket. The cab driver, noticing my frustration, spoke up.
"That's no way to talk to your man, miss," he said with a chuckle. "Is he your boyfriend or husband?"
I turned to him, my eyes seething in anger. "Focus on the road," I bellowed.
As we drove through the busy city streets, I couldn't help but worry about Emile. I knew she could be impulsiveAs we continued our journey, I suddenly felt an intense heat wave rush through my body. I began to sweat profusely, feeling like the cab had turned into an oven.
"Your AC doesn't work?" I asked the cab driver, hoping he could fix it somehow.
"It just suddenly stopped working," he responded apologetically.
I groaned in frustration and frustration as I tried to fan myself with my hands. Then I heard a faint whistle and looked up to see the cab driver staring at me in the rearview mirror with an awestruck expression.
"What?" I asked, confused.
The cab driver's eyes were fixated on my chest, and I realized with a start that I had forgotten to wear a bra. My breasts were half-visible through the opening of my gown. I quickly buttoned up my dress and rolled down the windows for some fresh air.
"Focus on the road," I snapped at the cab driver, who seemed unable to take his eyes off me.
I felt uncomfortable and embarrassed as we continued our journey, and the cab driver kept stealing glances at me in the rearview mirror. I was furious that he would objectify me in such a way, especially when I was feeling so vulnerable and exposed.
I knew that I couldn't let his behavior go unchecked, so I decided to speak up.
"What's your name?" I asked him.
"Uh, it's John," he responded nervously.
"Well, John, I need you to understand something. I am not an object for you to ogle at. I am a person, and I demand respect," I said, my voice filled with anger.
John shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly taken aback by my outburst.
"I'm sorry, Miss," he said, his eyes still fixed on the road aheadAs I approached the gate of my old estate, I felt a sense of unease wash over me. It had been years since I last stepped foot in this place, and the fact that I was now inhabiting the body of Emile, the current owner of the estate, only added to my discomfort.
As I walked towards the gate, I was stopped by the security man, Peter. He looked at me suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as he asked me where I was heading to.
I couldn't blame him for his skepticism. After all, I was a man in a woman's body, and I was now trying to gain entry into a property that I technically no longer owned.
"Tell your boss that Emile is here for him," I said, hoping to convince Peter to let me in.
He nodded slowly, maintaining eye contact with me as he turned and walked towards the telephone box inside the gate post.
As I waited, I couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over me. This estate had once been my home, and now, in a strange twist of fate, I was standing outside its gates, trying to gain entry as someone else.
As I waited, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Peter's voice. He had returned from the telephone box and was now looking at me expectantly.
"He'll see you now," he said, before opening the gate and motioning for me to enter.
I stepped through the gate, feeling a sense of trepidation as I made my way towards the main house. As I walked up to the door of my own house, my hand raised to knock, the door suddenly popped open to reveal a sight that left me dumbfounded. There stood my fiancée, or rather, my own body, wearing an apron and holding a spatula. The sight was jarring, to say the least.
His features were identical to mine, with the same sharp jawline and deep-set brown eyes. But seeing them on someone else's face was like looking in a distorted mirror. He was taller than me, and broader in the shoulders, with a scruffy beard on his chin. The apron he wore was white with black polka dots, and his hair was tied back in a messy bun. It was a bizarre sight to behold, and for a moment, I was speechless.
"Dickinson, is that you?" my own body asked, confusion etched on his face.
I nodded slowly, trying to wrap my head around the situation. It was then that I realized that we had swapped bodies. This was Emile, but it wasn't me.
I took a step forward, and he stepped back, holding the spatula defensively in front of him. It was a comical sight, and I had to suppress a smile.
"What's going on here?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even.
Emile hesitated for a moment, looking down at his own body, then back up at me. "I don't know," he said, his voice unsteady.
"I woke up like this, and I've been trying to figure out what's happened.
Looking at my body, couldn't remember the last time I wore an apron, let alone cooked anything.
As I stepped forward, I noticed that some things had been rearranged, and some of the things were unfamiliar to me. But I pushed those thoughts aside and continued walking towards the kitchen, following the scent.
I looked at the food in front of me with a frown on my face. It was a dish I had never eaten before. The aroma filled the kitchen and I could see the effort my former body had put into the preparation of the meal. But I didn't want to eat it.
"Do you want to eat while talking?" my former body said as she entered the kitchen.
"I don't eat this," I said, my frown deepeningThe food on the table is a green smoothie with chia seeds and kale mixed in.
As I looked at it, memories flooded back to me of the last time I had eaten something like that. It was years ago, at a health retreat that my ex-girlfriend had dragged me to.
I remembered taking a big gulp of the smoothie, feeling its slimy texture in my mouth, and then immediately running to the bathroom to throw up.
It was a humiliating experience, and ever since then, I had sworn off any kind of green smoothie or health drink.
Looking at the green concoction on the table, I felt a wave of disgust and nausea rising up in my throat and my eyebrows furrowed
Emile's face dropped slightly, but then she smiled and said, "You can still join me."
As she made to start eating, I turned to a shelf to remove a snack to eat. But then, she told me that she had eaten all of them. I growled in frustration. Everything was just so strange.
Emile then began to fish out her own dish and was ready to eat. As she scooped a spoonful of food into her mouth, I felt my mouth twitch. I knew I couldn't let her eat that.
"You can't eat that," I howled.
"Why?" Emile asked, looking amused.
"Because that's my body!" I screamed.
Emile's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, I thought I had gone too far. But then she started giggling.
"I'm sorry, it's just too funny," she said, still giggling.
I couldn't help but feel annoyed by her reaction. I didn't see what was so funny about the situation. How could she be so nonchalant about being in my body?
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just that this whole situation is so bizarre. I don't know how to react."
Emile nodded in understanding. "I know it's weird for you, but it's not exactly a walk in the park for me either. I mean, I'm in your body." I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at her words. She was right, I wasn't the only one affected by this strange turn of events.
"You're right, I'm sorry," I said, trying to make amends. "So, how did this happen? How did you end up in my body?"