You can't always get what you want. But when you finally do, can you let go of yesterday's pain
to embrace a future you never thought you'd get?

Dentistry for Gifted Equines
by Randalynn

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth." -- Proverb

"When opportunity knocks, answer the fricken DOOR!" -- C. H. Wagner

###

"I know what you want."

The words were soft, tender -- almost seductive. But they cut through the background noise of the mid-day city like a siren's call only I could hear. I paused, loosening my tie with one hand while gripping the handle of my briefcase tightly with the other.

"I know you can hear me."

Sweat trickled down inside my shirt under my jacket. It was too hot that day -- hotter than it should have been for that time of year. It was a Thursday towards the end of January in the Nation's Capital, but the mercury hovered in the mid-eighties. Nearly unprecedented, the weather people said. Record temperatures. But I hadn't watched the news that morning, and so I put on one of my best winter suits -- a blue wool double-breasted number that turned into a portable sauna by 10:30 that morning.

"I can give you what you need."

Again, the voice. Unmistakably male, with a slight accent. Possibly Irish? Almost mocking in its sweetness, like a good horse trainer gentling a skittish mare. I shook my head as if to clear it. Could I have imagined the voice? It was a little after twelve, and I was already late for a meeting I couldn't afford to miss. My sales quota went up last month, it was the thirty-first and I was still way behind, and my boss had called me in for a little chat this morning about my "lack of motivation." I really needed to get going. If anything else went wrong today, I'd have to amend my schedule to include throwing myself in front of a Metro train.

But that voice . . . I paused, waiting to hear it again.

"I'm still here, Johnny boy. And I heard your thoughts, as she walked past."

She, it said. As she walked past. I remembered the last 'she' I had seen. A pretty woman with green eyes and long reddish-brown hair, wearing a light green summer dress and two-inch heels. With a smile on her lips and a bounce in her step, looking like she just left her last problem on somebody else's doorstep. Swinging her small green handbag on its strap and turning the heads of every man she walked by. Including me.

Oh, yes, I remembered.

"Over here. I'm right beside you."

It came from my right. I turned, not knowing what to expect. He stood in a doorway, shrouded in the shadow of an overhead awning. Medium height and wiry, with dark brown curly hair, green eyes, and a smile that seemed almost too big for his mouth. He was dressed in a green suit and shirt, with a white tie and matching shoes. He leaned against the doorframe, arms and legs crossed, and his gaze seemed to slip past my eyes and into my mind, reading my confusion and doubt.

"I know what you were thinking," he said. "As she walked past."

I knew what I was thinking then, too. The same thing I always thought when I saw a beautiful woman. But I said nothing. He smiled again.

"I can give you what you want," he whispered softly. "I really can. If you really want it."

Again, I said nothing. As strange as it sounds, it seemed as if he could read my thoughts -- as if no words were really necessary between us. But how could that be?

Almost as if I had spoken, he responded. "I'm a magical creature, I am," he said. "And to one such as I, your deepest desires are as clear and strong as a breeze blowing in from the sea. Come, sit with me for a bit, if you're interested in a proposition." He straightened, and took a step toward me. He was almost my height, and with his face only inches from mine, I looked into his eyes and saw a strange warmth that made me dizzy in the noonday sun. Then he spoke, and I could feel his hot breath on my lips.

"I can make you a woman, and a pretty one, too," he whispered. I saw his hand come up, and felt his fingers trace the curve of my jaw. I shivered in spite of the heat. "Come, Johnny boy. Share a pint and we'll talk, you and I." He turned and walked through the doorway without a look back.

After a moment, I followed.

Inside was dark, and cool. The bar had all the trappings of an Irish pub, but aside from the two of us and the bartender, it was deserted. The green man sat in a corner booth, lowering himself with a smooth motion that seemed effortless. I stood a few feet away, briefcase still in hand, and waited for the stranger to continue.

The barkeep, a huge man with a receding hairline and wide-set eyes, drew a pint glass of hard cider from the tap behind the bar and set it down in front of my host without a word. The green man caught his eye and nodded slightly. The barkeep drifted away. Some time passed, and the stranger took a sip of the cider. Then he looked at me.

"It's what you've always wanted, Johnny," he said softly. "To be a woman. What you've always wanted and never could have. Because miracles don't happen in the modern world, and it would take a miracle to make it happen for you. Isn't that right, boyo?" It was my turn to nod. He smiled.

"Well, today, my lad, you're in luck. I'm not a part of your modern world. I'm a miern ... an elemental. A magical creature, as I said. And magic may not be miraculous, but it's as good a way as any to achieve the impossible. Wouldn't you say?"

I looked at the briefcase in my hand, and then looked at the stranger. For the first time since I met him, I spoke.

"You seem to know how to read minds." He grinned a little wider. I ignored it. "I don't know how you're doing it, and frankly I don't care. But you just stuck your foot in a dream of mine, and I don't like it. Not at all. I don't know what game you're playing, but if you think you can trick me with fairy tales, you're wrong."

The green man looked at me over the lip of his glass. It was a moment before he spoke.

"I'm not playing any games. And I'm not talking about tricks, boyo. I'm talking about magic. There's a difference."

"Not in the real world," I shot back at him. "Not in the twenty-first century." I started turning towards the door. "Game over. I'm out of here."

"Ha!" A single laugh exploded across the table with such force that I almost felt it hit me in the back. I froze. He slammed his glass down on the tabletop. "Talk to me about the real world, will you? You, who only scratch the surface of true reality with your mundane life and your mundane job, your petty wars and meaningless deaths. Speak to me about reality? I can bend and shape your world with a whim, lad. Life or death, presidents or kings, countries could rise or fall with a word from my lips!" He stopped short, and in his eyes I could see an anger I'd never seen in anyone's eyes before. I took a step backward. "It took me a while to find you, Johnny boy. You're not leaving until I damned well say you are!"

I looked at him, and then I made my break for the door. Or rather, I tried to. But as I completed my turn, my feet slid out from under me and I fell in a heap on the floor. I heard him laugh.

"Now, as for being in the twenty-first century..." The scuffed hardwood floor beneath me turned to dirt and straw. I stood up. What was a modern pub had become a medieval inn, with hand-made tables and chairs. The bartender remained, although his costume had changed to reflect the time. And the green man had changed as well, into a green woolen shirt, a leather vest, and green tights.

"There, now! Maybe magic is more suited to the fifteenth century after all."

I stood up, brushing straw from the front of my suit. If this was a special effect, it was a damned good one. There was a persistent chill in the air. A cold breeze whipped through the open windows making the fire in the hearth flicker. The freezing wind made me shiver, and for the first time that day, I was glad I'd worn the winter suit.

The green man watched my reactions with a smile on his face. "Now we negotiate on my turf," he said. "That is, if you're convinced my credentials are genuine?"

I nodded, and sat down at his table. His smile grew wider. "Excellent!" He motioned to the barkeep. "Ale for my new friend!"

The bartender, the same man who tended the bar in the twentieth century pub, brought a leather tankard of ale and placed it on the table before me. I stared at the green man and he smiled back.

"Yes, I can read your mind," he replied, answering my unspoken question. "If I have to. But I'd really rather not. I've been through this so many times before, you mortals have become tedious and predictable."

I picked up the tankard, only to put it down again when I noticed the specks of dirt floating on the top of the liquid.

"You said before that it took you a while to find me," I said. "Why? What makes me so special?"

He sighed. "Well, lad, it's like this. Each miern is obligated by the Powers That Be to grant the innermost wishes of a single mortal once every hundred years."

"Why?"

"How should I know?" he said angrily. "No one ever told me why! When you're powerful enough to set the rules for creatures as powerful as the miern, you don't answer questions." He took a sip of ale. "As I was saying, in return for this service, we are given eternal life and allowed to do what we like, when we like. Tis a fine arrangement."

"Many people have wishes," I said in a neutral tone. "Finding someone to help once a century should be easy."

"That's where you're wrong!" He slammed his tankard on the table top. "There are strings attached. Aren't there always? It's got to be a wish that can't be granted except by magic. And granting the wish has to make the person who made the wish happy. You don't know how many times I've granted wishes for people, only to find that what they thought would make them happy made them miserable. That's what makes you special, boy."

"What?"

"You're so miserable already, anything I do to you will probably be an improvement."

"I'm not --," I began, but he stopped me in mid-sentence.

"Aren't you? Answer me this, Johnny. When was the last time you laughed?"

"Well, I --"

"I don't mean laughing just to be polite, now. I'm talking about a 'isn't it great to be alive' kind of laugh. The kind of laugh that reaches down deep inside and lets you know that things aren't so bad."

I thought about it. Lately, I'd been shuffling from home to work in a perpetual malaise, just this side of acute depression. I'd been thinking about what I was (and what I wasn't), and it had begun preying on my mind more and more, to the exclusion of other, less ethereal concerns.

"I concede the point," I said lamely. The green man roared, and the barkeep smiled a wry little smile and kept washing the tankard he held in his hands. For an instant, I wondered how all this dirt got into my ale if the barkeep spent so much time keeping the tankards clean.

"Do you hear that, Clarence?" the miern asked, still laughing. "So proper is he. 'I concede the point,' indeed. As politic as friend John is, I think he'll make a fine she, don't you?" The barkeep tilted his head slightly, and turned away.

"As far as I can tell," the green man said, "you really feel that becoming a woman would make you happy. Since I've never been miserable enough to think that changing my sex would improve matters, I'm afraid I'll have to take your word for it. To each his ... or her . . . own, eh?"

I said nothing. He looked at me and sighed.

"So. Do you accept my offer?"

I looked down at my tankard and thought for a moment. "Is there some kind of guarantee attached to this?"

He looked sourly at me for a moment. "Have ye never heard of lookin' a gift horse in the mouth, boy? Here I am offering you what you've always wanted, and you're asking for guarantees. In life, nothing is certain. Nothing!"

"Still," I said, looking up from my drink. "This is my life we're talking about here. I would have to be a fool ten times over not to at least ask for a guarantee, now wouldn't I?"

The green man thought for a moment, then raised his tankard and smiled. "I concede the point," he said. "An unhappy you wouldn't solve my problem in any case. The powers that be would just send me out looking for somebody else to help, and I'd still be on the hook until I found them." He looked at me while he took a sip, and I seemed to see resolve in his eyes. He put down his ale with a slam that made even Clarence look up from his meticulous polishing.

"All right, then," he roared, and rose to his feet. "You've got your guarantee, Johnny boy. I'll make you the woman you always wanted to be, but I'll give you a week in your new life to change your mind."

"A month," I said evenly. He looked at me in amazement.

"Are you negotiating with me, boy?"

A smile crept onto my face. "Yes. I want a month."

His lip twitched with a suppressed smile. "I could just walk away and leave you here in the fifteenth century, now couldn't I?"

"Yes, you could. But you won't."

"Yes, I would. And I could do even worse, friend John," he said, and raised a finger from the top of his tankard in my direction. I felt dizzy and reached forward to steady myself against the table in front of me. And stopped.

Two long slender arms with tiny hands stretched out in front of me. Long copper red hair fell forward over my bare shoulders to brush the tops of large, round breasts that threatened to jostle their way free of the top of a long green dress. I rose slowly to my feet, balancing awkwardly on wide hips and tiny bare feet.

"I could do even worse," he repeated softly. "I could just walk away and leave you here … looking like this. Not a lot of choices for a pretty girl back in the dark ages. And everybody dies young here in the past, don't you know?"

I took a deep breath, and shook my head, feeling the hair brush against my shoulders. "You won't leave me here." My voice was a soft contralto. "You need me to be happy if you're to go on your merry way, free of obligation for another century. I want at least two weeks to decide if this is right for me. Then you'll have your answer."

"You aren't the only one I could help, girl," he said with a smirk. "I don't need you enough to wait on your pleasure for two whole weeks. And it might suit my warped sense of humor to give you what you want and leave you here in Merry Olde England to die of syphillis, or the plague." He moved closer, brought his face close to mine, and raised a hand to cup a breast. His thumb stroked the nipple. It swelled and hardened, its outline clearly visible through the thin fabric of the dress. I shivered.

"Or I could take you right here on this table," he said softly, his lips only inches from my own. I could smell the ale on his breath. "I could rip your dress off, spread your legs and rape you. Over and over again. All Clarence would do is watch. I could even make you like it." His fingers tightened around my breast and squeezed. It was all I could do not to cry out from the pain. His voice hardened. "Then, after I had my way with you, I would go back to your time and leave you here pregnant, to grow fat with child and suffer in poverty for nine months before you die in childbirth, spewing blood into the dust." Abruptly, he let go and stepped back. My hands moved to my chest in a vain attempt to massage away the pain, and the tears I was holding back flowed into my eyes. He smiled, picked up his tankard, and took a sip. His gaze never left my face.

"Now, don't play games with me, girl," he said. "Think carefully before you answer me again. Do you still want to bargain?"

I looked into his eyes and shivered. In that instant, I saw through his jovial mask and into his soul. I realized that his power and immortality made him totally alien to me. He wasn't human, and I couldn't expect him to behave like one. I wasn't even sure he understood the concepts of good and evil.

"Of course I understand them, girl," he muttered, reading my mind again. "I just don't have any use for them."

Now I understood, I thought. I couldn't negotiate with him. When it came right down to the bottom line, I had nothing to bargain with -- nothing he couldn't find somewhere else. And he would leave me here. Why shouldn't he? I shook my head again.

"You're right," I whispered through the tears. "I accept your offer. And your week." I turned away and looked out the window at nothing -- anything to stop looking into those alien eyes. "Now let's get out of here. Please."

"It's already done, darlin'."

As he spoke the words, the tavern blurred, its outlines replaced by the pub we had left only moments ago. I felt my clothing shift as well, crawling across my new skin like a living thing. I almost fell forward as a pair of high-heeled pumps grew under my feet. The skirt of the dress pulled up from ankle length to just above the knee, revealing clean-shaven legs in sheer hose, held in place by a garter belt that seemed to shimmer into existence against my skin. I looked down the front of my dress to see my new breasts resting safely (if not comfortably) in a dark green bra. The right one still hurt, but I tried not to let him see how I felt.

Which was stupid of me. He could, after all, read my mind whenever he wished. And he did. Before I could stop him, he reached forward and brushed the underside of the breast with his fingertips. Instantly, the hurt went away.

"The door's where it was when you came in," he said softly. Then he turned back to the table and sat. Clarence brought him a new glass of hard cider. I stared at both of them for a moment, then started to bend at the waist reaching for my briefcase. I checked myself, and bent at the knees instead.

"Well done," he said. I ignored him. Ankles wobbling slightly, I gave him one last glance and turned to go. The door was slightly ajar and I stepped carefully across the wooden floor. As I reached for the handle, he spoke. Even though his voice was low, I heard him clearly. I stopped.

"I'm sorry, girl," he whispered. "You tried to make me dance to your tune, and I don't take well to being played with. And with the Powers pushin' me to meet their price for my freedom, I felt the need to push back, and you were handy. I'm sorry."

I thought about that for a second. If there was one thing that raised my blood pressure, it was somebody else setting deadlines for me. And if I was a powerful magical being, jerked to heel every hundred years, I bet it would feel a hell of a lot worse. I nodded to myself.

There was a long silence, and then he spoke again. "You've got your two weeks, lass. Make the most of them."

I felt my shoulders relax. I turned to thank him, but stopped. His chair at the table was empty. His glass was gone as well, and my gaze went to the bartender. It was a young guy in a red vest, with long brown hair and a mustache. He looked up from the glass he was cleaning, and his eyes hit mine and slid down to my breasts, where they stayed for the duration of our conversation.

"Can I help you?" he asked. "Buy you a drink?"

"No," I said. "Thank you." Automatically, I looked at my wrist. In place of my old watch was a small gold number with a barely readable face. "I'm late for an appointment."

"Maybe later?" he asked. "I'm on until six, but I'll be around until seven. I'll look for you."

'What am I doing?' I thought weakly. 'Making a date with the bartender,' a part of me replied.

"Maybe," I replied. I threw him a small smile, turned, and walked out into the street.

###

After the semi-darkness of the pub, the sun was blindingly bright. The street was just as crowded with noon-day traffic as it was before I entered the green man's world. The only thing that had changed was me.

And the heat. The temperature was almost as oppressive as it had been a few moments before, but my clothes had changed along with the rest of me. In place of my blue winter suit, the miern had given me a green silk dress, and a brown linen jacket. The whole ensemble seemed to breathe in the D.C. humidity, although the stockings made my legs feel both sexy-smooth and hot as hell at the same time. Well, trade-offs are trade-offs, I said to myself. I'll take silk and linen over winter wool any day.

Truth be told, I was almost giddy. I couldn't believe my luck could change so completely. I was a woman! I spun around fast enough for my skirt to flare, just a bit, and stared at my reflection in the pub's front window. 'Still me,' I thought, lips stretching into a happy smile. 'Just the me I always wanted to be, that's all.'

A whole new life stretched out in front of me. What was I going to do next? I stood there on the sidewalk and considered my options. 'Man or woman, bills still have to be paid,' I thought. 'As tempting as it is to go explore what it means to be me for a change, maybe it's best if I go back to what I was doing before. I've got two whole weeks to play!'

Before I walked into the pub, Jonathan Barrett was almost late for a sales meeting with a new client. I assumed that when Jennifer Barrett walked out of the pub, she was also almost late for a sales meeting with the same client. It stood to reason, right? It's not like the miern would change me and leave me adrift in a world where there was only a Jonathan. After all, he needed me happy, didn't he?

His voice echoed in my head. "Yes, girl, you are who you're supposed to be in this reality. So go try out your brave new world."

I laughed, then flipped my long red hair back over my shoulders and set off on my three-inch heels to try and keep the appointment.

But just walking down Connecticut Avenue at lunch hour was the beginning of a major shift in my perception of the world. Balancing precariously on my new footwear, a wide range of new sensations followed my every move. My legs were longer, but between the shoes, the skirt, and my hips, I was forced to take smaller steps to keep from falling. My center of gravity had moved from my chest to my hips, which felt nearly a mile wide and swiveled provocatively as I walked. With my back straight and my head held high, my breasts pushed forward and moved in counterpoint to my hips, so the overall effect was constant movement of nearly every part of my new body. It wasn't uncomfortable, exactly -- just different.

What was uncomfortable was the persistent feeling that I was being watched. Constantly. I felt like I was performing in some kind of mobile theatre-in-the-round. Heads turned to follow my progress. Men walking in the other direction slowed perceptibly and tried to watch me without watching me. Once I realized this was happening, I started feeling annoyed. I began to try to make eye contact with every guy who tried to check me out as he passed. They would look away, but only until my attention wavered. Some wouldn't look away, but met my eyes and held them with a smile until we passed. Then they followed my departure until I was swallowed by the crowd.

Would I have to get used to always being on display? Could i?

Ten minutes of this was all I could take, and I ducked into a coffee shop for relief. Every man in the place turned to give me the eye, but the lure of lunch took precedence over the view of my newly curvaceous carcass, and they went back to their meals. I ordered a large cup of coffee and brought it to a booth over by the pay phone in the back. While it cooled, I called the office. To my relief, the receptionist I remembered answered.

"Conundrum Enterprises. The solution for every problem is waiting for you. This is Roni. How may I direct your call?"

"Roni, hi!" I smiled in spite of myself. "It's . . . Jennifer."

Her voice perked up. "Jen! Where have you been? I've been trying your beeper since before lunch."

"My beeper?" I opened my handbag and rummaged around until I found the offending piece of technology. "Oops. I forgot to turn it on. Sorry."

"Well, by now you already know about your one o'clock appointment."

"Know what?"

"You mean you don't know? Where have you been?"

"I got sidetracked," I said sheepishly. "What about my one o'clock?"

"Sam Parker's secretary called. The CEO at KarmaComm called a lunch meeting that ran over, and Mr. Parker needs to reschedule for Monday morning at ten. Is that okay?"

"Since it's nearly one thirty now, I'd say the answer's yes by default," I said with relief. "This hasn't been the best of days for me, Roni."

"Oh?" Her voice held concern. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I'm just feeling out of sorts," I replied. "I'm ... I'm not myself today, and I guess I'm glad I don't have to meet with Parker after all. I don't think I could sell anybody anything this afternoon."

"I can hear it in your voice. You sound fried." She paused for a moment, then spoke. "Well, that was your only appointment this afternoon, and you made your quota a week ago. I don't think Mr. Frankel will mind if his best sales person takes the rest of the day off." 'Huh? Made my quota? Best sales person?' I shook my head while Roni continued on, oblivious to my confusion. "Why don't you go home and relax and I'll catch up with you later at Jake's for a drink?"

"I don't know," I said doubtfully. "I've got a desk full of work waiting at the office..."

"And it can keep until tomorrow," she answered firmly. "Head for home. I'll let the boss know."

"Thanks, Roni."

"Hey, what are friends for? See ya later!"

We hung up simultaneously, and I sat down at my booth and sipped my coffee. Apparently, Jennifer was a better account exec than I had ever been. I was actually a little resentful. How could she be better than me if she was me? I was confused and slightly depressed. 'A few seconds ago, I was so happy,' I thought. 'What the hell is wrong with me?'

Suddenly, I was at loose ends. The rest of the afternoon was mine to do with what I wished. What did I want to do? I looked down at the lipstick on the rim of my cup. I had a whole new life to explore, but right now what I felt an overwhelming urge to go home, take my clothes off, and curl up under a blanket for a while. Maybe watch some mindless television, or listen to some soft music.

"That is actually not such a bad idea."

The voice came from across the table. I looked up and found that Clarence, the green man's bartender, was seated opposite me. He had a small smile on his face, and seemed to be slightly embarrassed.

"I don't mean to intrude . . ." he said softly. "I'll go if you want." He started to rise.

"No, really," I spoke quickly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Don't leave. It's good to have someone to talk to about this. I'm feeling a little . . . lost."

"That's understandable." Clarence looked down and stirred his coffee -- not because it needed stirring, but because I could tell he needed to avoid my eyes. "Your entire life has been revised. Some things are the same, but some things are radically different. It's overwhelming at first -- like walking through a mental minefield. You never know what will happen when you encounter someone from before . . . before the arrangement."

I took another sip from my own cup, and noticed my hands trembling.

"For example," Clarence continued softly, "in your old life, your dissatisfaction with who you were colored everything around you. Is it really such a surprise that you would do better at sales as Jennifer, without the weight of a body and a gender you hated holding you back?"

I nodded. "That makes sense. Even as Jonathan, the happier I was, the more sales I made."

"Exactly right." Clarence nodded. "The change also affects those around you and how you relate to them. In your old life, Roni was a friend, but not a close one. The sexual tension was always there, creating the boundaries that always exist between friends of the opposite sex. Never getting too close for fear of developing a relationship that could ruin your friendship."

I nodded, thinking about the verbal dancing Roni and I engaged in every morning as I walked through the door. Friendly, but with a firm distance between us. Clarence saw my nod and nodded in turn.

"You understand. Good. That was how it was. But now, in this life, Roni is the best friend you always wanted, but never had the chance to have. You spend entire days together, take weekend road trips to points you arbitrarily pick out on a map because they sound strange or exciting. Often, you wind up in just another boring little town, but the very act of traveling there together makes the exploring worthwhile. When Roni's latest boyfriend dumps her, it is you she comes to for sympathy and encouragement. When she finds a new one, it is you she calls at two in the morning to celebrate."

I looked down at my hands. "So what you're saying is, we're close," I said.

"Yes. Like sisters, only without the rivalry."

"I've never been that close with anyone."

"Jennifer has. And still is."

"But I'm Jennifer!"

"Yes. That is the problem. When the miern gave you this new body, he gave you a new history to go with it. This new history is so close to your own that you begin to think everything is the same, and it will all work out fine. Then along comes something like Roni, or Matt, and it highlights the fact that John has become Jen. It disturbs you."

"Yes." I took a deep breath and shuddered. Now I had a best friend, with all the rights and responsibilities that come with it. Not necessarily a bad thing, I thought warily. I had to rip down a lifetime's worth of emotional barriers, but a good friend is hard to find. I could cope.

Something else Clarence said began to penetrate. "You said something about Matt?"

Clarence paused, then spoke almost reluctantly. "I did. He was your best friend ... before. Now he is your lover."

I looked up at Clarence, stunned. He was clearly embarrassed.

"Matt? My . . . you've got to be kidding!"

It was his turn to look away. "I am not. It is a logical consequence of the change," he said stiffly. "Before, you were closer to Matt than to any other man on Earth. In this life, it is only natural that the closeness translates itself to more than tickets to hockey games and a fondness for . . . pick-up basketball, is it?"

I put my hands flat on the tabletop and stared at my now slim fingers and inch-long nails. I felt detached -- dizzy and numb, as if reality had taken a short vacation and left me behind to pick up the pieces as best I could. Matt and me -- lovers? It was information overload. Too much, too soon. I started to shiver violently, and my teeth began to chatter. The room began to spin, and I felt as if I was going to faint. Then I saw a hand move into my field of view and rest on top of mine. The shivering stopped. I tilted my head up until I could see Clarence's face. He was clearly upset.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I have only made things worse. I should go."

"No," I put my hand on top of his. "Please don't. It's not your fault. Just give me a minute. I'll be okay. Honest."

We stayed like that for a short time until the rest of the symptoms faded to a manageable level. I reached down inside and brought up a small smile for Clarence's benefit, and he smiled back tentatively.

"It's not as bad as you might think," he said. "You have a new body, and some new memories come along with it. You are not totally lost in a strange new world. Just take it a step at a time. You'll see."

Clarence pulled his hand from between mine and rose to his feet. "Now you have the whole afternoon ahead of you," he declared confidently. "Go home and rest for a while. Let things happen at their own pace. This is your dream made real. Embrace it."

"I'll try," I said, rising also. I picked up my briefcase and walked toward the door. I turned to look back at him, and he met my gaze with his own.

"Why . . . why did you come here, now?"

Clarence looked at me for a moment, and I heard his voice in my head. "Because after what I saw today, I knew you would need me. And because He wouldn't think to explain anything, even though your happiness is just as important to Him as His own." Then he smiled a little smile. "I love Him, you see. So I do what I can."

"Well . . . thank you," I whispered. He nodded, and as I watched, Clarence shimmered like sunlight reflected on a pond. And then he was gone.

###

I took the Metro back to my apartment in North Arlington, on the Virginia side of the Potomac. Since it was early afternoon, the train was nearly empty, and I had a seat all to myself for the entire trip. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched men check me out as they got onto the car. After a while, I tried to ignore their looks, and I actually found it easier to do as the trip wore on, since I couldn't really keep them from looking. Besides, sitting there being angry about it seemed to be a waste of energy.

Instead, I concentrated on just feeling what it was like to live in this new body. There were a lot of new reflexes built into this female form. When I sat, I automatically tucked my skirt under, smoothing it to stop wrinkles before they started. My knees came together, my ankles crossed, and I felt my upper body balance on my hips with the perfect posture that only comes from years of practice. 'I'll just bet Jennifer's mom never let her slouch,' I thought with a sigh. 'My mom didn't let my sisters forget themselves for a second. I guess in this universe, I got the same treatment my sisters did. And I was probably just as jealous of my older brothers as they were of me.'

As I stared out the window into the darkness under the city, I realized that I was glad I didn't have to go through everything they did growing up. I had a lot more freedom as Jonathan than I ever did as Jen. At the same time, I began to remember that I couldn't go out alone -- just like my sisters -- and I felt frustrated that Tom could go wherever he wanted after dark, but I had to stay close to home. I couldn't even go to the drugstore by myself until I went away to college. As a teenager, I realized that being a girl meant being a target, and a younger female is just easier prey. One of the bitter truths of the twentieth century -- for all of the advances, biology was still destiny.

For a few seconds, the world spun around me as two sets of memories fought for dominance. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control a wave of nausea. Then I began to sort it out. This only happened when memories from before this morning came into direct conflict with who -- and what -- I was now. As long as I treated my Jonathan memories as if they belonged to somebody else, I was okay. Trying to hold on too hard to my old history wasn't such a good idea.

If everything went well, it wouldn't be my history anymore, anyway.

'If everything went well.' The part of me that remembered every personal failure throughout the years raised a hand to remind me how often THAT happened.

###

By the time I reached my apartment, my feet were killing me. It was a long walk to my building from the Metro stop, and I had walked too far that day in heels as it was. It wasn't until I had reached my door and was checking my shoulder bag for the keys that I found the plastic-wrapped running shoes nestled inside. I unlocked the door with one hand while I removed my heels with the other, grumbling all the while about my spotty new memory.

I stumbled into the foyer, my balance still skewed a good three inches off center from the pumps. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me and stopped me in my tracks, one hand against the doorframe to keep me from falling.

"Matt?" I said tentatively. My new voice echoed against the far wall. "Are you here?" There was no answer, and then I remembered. Matt was in Houston on a sales call. I could feel the tension leave my shoulders. I wouldn't have to deal with Matt right away. The minute I thought it, I felt a pang of disappointment and longing as well. 'God, how I miss him.'

As I looked at my apartment, I could see the similarities and differences between who I had been and who I had become illustrated in the decor. A similar taste in videos (50's sci fi, 40's film noir) and love for fine audio equipment clashed painfully with the delicate dining room set and a kitchen decorated in bright yellow and floral prints. The simply furnished bedroom had a master bath with so many pink accents that I could see my skin tone change as I walked through the door. Not Matt's choice, to be sure. And not Jonathan's, either. This was Jennifer's place, and as I relaxed into her memories, I realized I was home, and glad of it.

I walked back out to the bedroom, slid the jacket off, and laid it carefully on the bed. Then I reached back and unzipped the green dress. As it slipped forward, I held my arms out to let it slide to the floor, and stepped forward. I bent at the knees, picked it up, and placed it carefully on the bed next to the jacket. I'll hang them later, I thought, as I walked back toward the bathroom.

My path took me past a full-length mirror, and I stopped and turned for a quick look at what I had become. The image in the mirror stared back at me with a bemused expression. Her red hair was tousled, and she stood with one hand resting on the upper curve of her breast and the other on the swell of her hip. She wore a dark green bra and matching panties, and as my eye swept over the smooth, pale curves of my new body, I noticed the garter belt and sheer hose for the first time that day. Suddenly, I felt the elastic of the garters against my thighs, and as I watched, my nipples grew hard and strained against the fabric of my bra.

My nipples. My bra. That was me in the mirror! The room took a quick spin, and I reached for the edge of the dresser to steady myself. Tripped up by another memory loop, I thought bitterly, and waited for the dizziness to settle. After a minute, I let go of the furniture and stood upright again.

"I am Jennifer," I said aloud, watching the woman in the mirror mouth the words along with me with a look of stern determination on her face. I shivered, and then I was just standing there in my underwear, looking at my reflection and feeling a little foolish. I turned around once, shook my head at myself, and headed for the bathroom.

I turned on the water in the tub and poured in scented bath oils from the medicine cabinet. While the water ran, I sat on the edge of the bathtub, unclipped the garters, slipped off the belt, and rolled the stockings carefully down my legs. Then I took off my panties and reached behind to undo my bra, as if it were second nature to me (which, of course, it was). The lingerie went into a small hamper under the sink I kept there for hand washables. Naked, I walked back into the bedroom and put a Meredith D'Ambrosio disk in the CD player. As she began to sing, I turned again and caught sight of my bare body in the mirror. Not bad, I said to myself, swiveling with my hands on my hips. I spun around to look at my rear, and turned again to throw myself a grin. Then I laughed out loud.

"Stop checking yourself out and get into the bathtub, you idiot," I said scornfully. And that's where I wound up a few seconds later, up to my neck in hot water and bath oils, with good jazz on the stereo and a song in my heart. If there had ever been a time in my life that I had been closest to heaven, that afternoon was it.

As I soaked and let my mind drift, I started thinking clearly for the first time since I met the green man. For a day that started so wrong, it had actually turned out pretty well. I had the body of my dreams, a terrific best friend, a sales record to die for, and a boyfriend that made me feel loved every time I thought about him. 'That still scares me some,' I thought, 'but I've got time to get my brain wrapped around the fact that this body thinks sex with Matt is . . . mmmmmmmm.'

I frowned, and then frowned at myself for frowning. 'What's wrong with me? Why should it bother me that I want to make love to him? I LOVE him! I love who I am now. But I keep trying to run away from what I always wanted. Why? Why do I have to ruin everything? Why can't I just be Jennifer?'

The answer came back at once, and I was ashamed at the truth of it.

'Because you're scared,' I replied. 'You've never been happy before, not like this. And you're afraid if you start counting on the happiness, it's all going to disappear and you'll wind up the way you were, alone and miserable. And male. You don't want to embrace it because it's too good to be true. For you, good things never last.'

I reached up and ran my hands over my body under the water. My skin was smooth and slick, and sensitive . . . and all mine. This was me, I realized. The real me. This was the me I should have been. The miern gave me my dream, free and clear. And the only person who could possibly take this me away from me . . . the only person who could screw this up . . . was me. Did I really want that? Did I really want to spoil my own happiness? Hell, no!

'What the hell is your problem? You've got everything you ever wanted and then some.' I breathed deep and watched my breasts bob on the surface of the water. 'And all you can think to do is look for ways to make it fail -- to make it less than it is. So knock it off! Stop looking for the unhappy ending, stop waiting for something to go wrong, and accept that, just once in your life, you actually WON! Just LIVE, girl! Be happy, damn it!'

So I did. And I was. For a long, long time.

###

Two weeks came and went, followed by months, then years, then decades.

I lived. I loved. I never looked back. I had a long and happy life. And I never saw the green man again.

Although Clarence did come to my wedding.

© 2007 as a work in progress, all rights reserved. Posted with permission of the author.