Am I Cheryl? free porn video

Am I Cheryl? By Heather St. Claire I rapped softly on my boss? door, then opened it. ?Dan?? I said. ?I need to talk to you. It?s important.? He smiled slightly, then said, ?Come on in Cheryl, sit down.? I could feel the tension in my stomach, my heart beating heavily; it was a feeling of intense anxiety I hadn?t known since the early weeks of our great exchange. I took advantage of his offer, smoothing out my skirt and casually crossing my legs. This was, just five years ago, painstakingly learned behavior for me. At last, I was doing things like this?natural feminine actions?with out having to think about it. But the reality of this moment brought it all back to me. Dan looked me evenly in the eyes. There was always something about that I found unsettling; probably because his eyes were once mine, and mine were once his. ?I don?t like the sound of that, Cheryl, especially at 9:10 on a Monday morning. I?m guessing it?s not business, it?s personal. Am I right?? ?Yes Dan,? I said. ?I?m giving my notice. Peter?s asked me to marry him.? Dan looked taken aback. He knew I had been dating steadily, and that it was becoming serious, but had no idea we were on the verge of marriage. I tried to lighten the mood. ?Hey, you know I?m about to hit the big 3 -0! A girl?s got to take advantage of the situation while she?s still got her looks!? ?Well,? he finally said after a deep breath. ?Let me wish you both all the happiness in the world. When are you leaving?? ?The end of the month.? ?Oh Dan,? I said, the tears beginning to well up. ?I?ll never forget you. How can I ever thank you for all you?ve done for me?? He stood up and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and said, ?It?s no more than you?ve done for me.? I might spend the rest of my life asking who got the better of our accidental trade. But I knew there would never be a way to accurately weigh and balance our two lives. My mind raced back to that late fall day, almost five years ago, when I had been Dan Cosgrove, a 42 year- old business executive, and this body had belonged to Cheryl Snyder, my 25 year-old administrative assistant. As a man, I was fairly average in looks. I stood just under 6 feet tall, had a slight paunch, and moderately thinning brown hair. Just like a lot of guys in early middle age. Cheryl, who I had hired two years earlier, was, to put it quite simply, stunning. She stood about 5 feet, 8 inches tall, had wavy red hair that hung about halfway down her back, amazingly green eyes, an upturned nose, rosy lips, long legs, and a classic hourglass figure. But I didn?t hire her for her looks?honest, girls! At that time, I had been happily married for more than 10 years to Sandra, a wonderful woman and herself quite attractive. In addition to a great marriage, I had two wonderful children, a fast moving career?and a bad, bad case of mid-life stress. Although I had quit smoking half a dozen years before and was only slightly overweight, my blood pressure and cholesterol were both dangerously high. I never exercised, and was routinely working 60 to 70 hour weeks. Sandra begged me to take better care of myself, but, like a typical male, I knew best! ?I?m fine,? I kept telling her. It was the only thing we consistently fought about. Our last argument before that fateful day was one of our worst. Her final, tearful, words as I headed back to work that evening were, ?You?re going to work yourself into an early grave, Dan, and leave me a widow...and you don?t even seem to care!? Things were quiet, but uneasy between us for the next couple of days. I promised her when I left home that Friday morning that I would leave early. I did, but not in the way I intended. It was one of those early fall days when the weather can?t seem to decide what it wants to do. The morning had been mostly sunny, but there were threatening clouds in the eastern sky. By noon, they had rolled in over the city, and we were hit with a full-scale cloudburst. Cheryl and I both decided to stay in during the lunch hour and have sandwiches delivered. ?Maybe we can finish the project even earlier, and get home,? I said with a smile. I was looking forward to a real weekend with Sandra and the kids; maybe it was time to learn how to relax. The weather wasn?t too promising; the storm clouds had darkened, and we were now in the middle of a full-scale thunderstorm. The delivery guy was soaked when he brought your lunch. I gave him an extra-big tip. I remember Cheryl had a small pasta salad and iced tea. She winced when she saw me take a foot-long submarine sandwich out of the bag. ?Oh Cheryl, please,? I said. ?Don?t you start in on me too.? I had taken just a couple of bites when I began to feel the pain shooting up my left arm; then the viselike grip that seemed to be crushing my chest. ?Cheryl!? I cried. ?Oh God, I think I?m having a heart attack!? I pitched forward out my chair, tumbled to the floor, and then all went black. One of my last thoughts was how sorry I was not to have taken better care of myself, and how I?d give anything for another chance at life..... Fortunately, our company was one of the first to purchase defibrillators, and insist that staff people be trained in their use. Cheryl knew what to do. She relaxed I was in full-scale cardiac arrest, and ran quickly to get the equipment. She was a real shining example of grace under pressure. Much later, she told me that even as she turned me on my back, ripped my shirt open, and turned on the machine, she was thinking about how I had wasted my life in so many ways; and how she would learn to find a proper balance between work, family, and caring for self, if only she could walk a few miles in my shoes. As she got ready to apply the paddles, there was a tremendous crash of thunder outside, and all the lights in the building went dark. Give all the credit in the world to Cheryl; she never lost her cool; she deliberately kept her focus on the task at hand, gripped the paddles tightly, pressed them d own on my chest, and the first shock arched through my body. When she saw no response, Cheryl got ready to administer another jolt. At the same moment she did, the lights flashed back on..... .....and she and I switched bodies.... It was so very strange. One nano-second, I had been unconscious; now, I was fully conscious. But I was in Cheryl?s body, leaning over the form that had, until an instant before, been mine. My body?now hers?was breathing again, but I knew if I was to save her?me? I would need medical help, fast. I spun around, picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1. When I had finished giving the operator the pertinent information, she ask ed for my name. I was, for the first time since the switch, taken aback. ?Miss?? the operator asked. ?Is everything still O-K?? ?Yes,? I told her. ?My....uh, boss, seems to be breathing steadily now. And my name....is Cheryl Snyder.? As I waited for the paramedics to arrive, I took a moment to size up the situation. The long, red hair that I now had to brush out of my eyes...the soft, slim hands that I used to do that....the sweet soprano voice that came out of my mouth when I spoke....the strange new weight on my chest.....the dress that I wore....everything brought home the reality that I was now female. I wondered what was going on inside Cheryl?s mind?if it was, indeed, in side of my body now! She?he?damn this was confusing! remained unconscious while the paramedics were working over him. Once I found out he appeared to be stable and was headed for University Hospital, I picked up the phone and made another call....one that I had been dreading.....to Sandra. Fortunately, Cheryl had gotten to know Sandra, so it wasn?t like she would be hearing from a complete stranger. As I expected, she cried, ?Oh my God!? when I told her the news. When she asked me if I would meet her at the hospital, I told her, ?Of course.? For a moment, I almost grabbed the spare keys to my?Dan?s?BMW?from hi s bottom desk drawer. But how the hell would I explain to Sandra why I was driving Dan?s car? Ohh, this was going to be complicated. I went to Cheryl?s desk, picked up her purse, and found the keys to her Saturn. I slung the purse over her?my?shoulder, and headed to her parking space. As I walked through the parking garage, I thought back to that movie, ?Switch,? the one with the guy who gets shot and comes back as Ellen Barkin ? He had so much trouble navigating on high heels. They really milked it for laughs. Too strenuously, IMHO. But now, I realized, I was making my way a cross the parking garage in Cheryl?s three inch stilettos without giving it a second thought. Maybe because her body was quite well adapted to them? Anyway, I was soon pulling into the visitor area of the hospital, and hurrying to the emergency room. I sat there, waiting nervously, until I saw Sandra come running through the doorway. She looked so frightened; I wanted to wrap my arms around her and tell her that her husband was okay, that he was right here with her. But everything inside of me told me that would just upset her further. But it did feel right to hug her. She was crying, and to my surprise, so was I! I found myself stroking her hair and telling her, ?There, there, it?s going to be all right.? Soon, we were sitting side by side, holding hands, when a doctor came out. ?Mrs. Cosgrove? Your husband is stable and out of danger. It looks like his heart didn?t suffer any serious damage. We?re going to be transferring him to a private room. You can see him in about half an hour. He?s awake, but very groggy.? ?Thank you, doctor,? Sandra said tearfully. Then the doctor looked directly at me. ?Are you Miss Snyder? Let me tell you, it?s because of your quick action that I expect your boss to make a fully recovery.? As the doctor left, I suddenly found myself trembling. The heart attack, switching bodies, it was all a bit much to absorb. Sandra could sense my ups et feelings, though she had no idea of all the reasons why. She squeezed me tightly once more and said, ?Cheryl, dear, why don?t you go home! You?ve been through a lot. Dan and I owe you so much.....I don?t know how we?ll ever thank you!? I thought about the irony of it all, but couldn?t think of what to say to this woman who should, under all rational circumstances, still be my wife . I just nodded, hugged her one more time, and left. The thunderstorm had blown through, the rains had let up, and it was sunny again. As I walked out onto the parking lot, I realized that there was more than just an emotional overload behind the way I was feeling. The thunderstorm had blown through, the rains had let up, and it was sunny again. I looked over, and saw half a dozen smokers huddled in a circle. Then it hit me....the trembling, the nervous tension?I was having a nicotine fit! God, after all I had gone through to quit, and now I wound up in a smoker?s body. I stopped, opened what I was now thinking of as my purse, rummaged around, and soon found a pack and lighter. I walked over to the circle, nodded to my fellow puffers, and lit up for the first time in my new body. Almost immediately, with the first deep drag, I found the tension starting to dissipate. Damn! Now I remembered why it had been so hard to give these things up. Then I noticed something else strange happening. I caught sight of my reflection in one of the big windows of the hospital building. I was watching my new chest rising and falling as in inhaled and exhaled. I was getting turned on by the sight of myself smoking! Damn, this was ironic. One of the reasons I had picked up the habit in the first place was because I had found sexy women smoking to be so alluring! I put the butt out and shook my head. Clearly, this was going to take a lot of sorting out. I headed back to the Saturn, got in, and that?s when the next jolt hit me! I couldn?t go home?not to Dan?s home, anyway! I reached into the purse again, found the wallet, and located the address to Cheryl?s apartment. Hmm....Northwest Garden Court. A pretty nice neighborhood, not too far a way. Soon, I was pulling into the parking lot of the complex. I found my way to Cheryl?s apartment. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and although I had never been here before, realized that on some instinctive level, I knew this place. Although I was still in a state of shock, and emotionally exhausted, I couldn?t help going exploring. I looked for address books, appointment calendars, diaries, photo albums....anything that would give me more of a clue as to who I had become. I collected a pile of materials on the coffee table. I was ready to settle down, and went looking in the kitchen for a beer. Finding none, I settled for the white wine Cheryl had on hand. I kicked off my pumps, put up my feet, and lit another cigarette. Damn, these things were seductive! But I found the combination of alcohol and nicotine soon calmed me. While Cheryl had worked for me for two years, we had done very little socializing outside of the office. I knew that both of her parents were still l iving, that she was an only child, that she didn?t have a steady boyfriend (thank goodness!); and that she had been a business major in college. But who was she, really? What were her desires, her values, her dreams? I had to get some sense of this; I?m not sure why I was so desperate, except that I think some part of me knew that the journey I had made was one way , that this body would be my ?home? for the rest of my life. Whoever might be reading this will probably be wondering about my response to the extraordinary events of the afternoon. As I set this down on my computer, my responses all seem strangely rational. They?re probably asking why I wasn?t raging against my fate. Well, part of me wanted to do that, certainly. But I didn?t see what good that would do; it wouldn?t undo things, and in the long run, it would only make me feel worse instead of better. About the only thing that made sense to me at this point was to try to adapt, as best I could. So I settled in to try to sort through the pieces of this strange puzzle. I spent about an hour leafing through the items I had collected, and then another half hour exploring the apartment, but found it hard to absorb much. I had a sense that Cheryl was practical but fun-loving; well-organized in her business life, a bit sloppy in her personal (the apartment looked like it hadn?t had a good cleaning in a month); she had a cat; she seemed to like outdoor sports, especially skiing; and she seemed to have an almost Imelda Marcos-like shoe fixation. I counted more than 50 pairs before I gave up. In short, Cheryl was like most women?hell, most people?that I knew, a mixture of noble and not-so-noble traits, commitments, values, superstitions, faults and fears. I had just swapped my set for hers. Since I was in the bedroom, counting shoes, I thought it might be time to finally call it a night. I looked in the full-length mirror, and tried to sze myself up. I had been looking at Cheryl for two years, so I thought I k new her features pretty well; but now, I was on the inside, looking out. I had to say she was a very attractive young woman; if I had to make a change like this, at least I hadn?t ended up an old hag. Still staring in the mirror, I smiled, frowned, tried out a dozen different expressions. I tossed my head back and watched my hair go flying; this new weight on my head was something that was going to take some getting used to. I just stood there for what seemed like an eternity, but it was likely only a few minutes. Finally, I began to unbutton the cream-colored silk blouse that Cheryl had put on that morning. this exposed the lacy white bra that held her?my?breasts in place. After just a little bit of fumbling, I was able to get the bra off and put my hands on my new breasts for the first time. They felt, well, nice, but I didn?t feel right about exploring too much. This was my body now, but I still felt like a visitor. Even though in my heart, I think I knew I was never going back to my original body, this one really didn?t feel like mine yet. I kicked off my pumps, pulled off the black A-line skirt that seemed to compliment the blouse so well, then sat down on the end of the bed to peel off my pantyhose. Suddenly, I felt very tired, and knew I needed to try to sleep. I was feeling cold; this smaller body seemed to be more temperature-sensitive than my old one; I found a floor-length green nightgown with a lacy white collar, and slipped it over my head. It seemed strangely comfortable. I was looking around for a pair of slippers, when the phone rang. I picked it up, and was startled, although I shouldn?t have been, to find it was Sandra calling. ?Cheryl?? she said, sounding very tired. ?I didn?t wake you, did I?? ?No, Sandra. How are you doing? How?s Dan?? ?All things considered, doing really well. I just got home from the hospital. They say he should be out in a few days, and make a full recovery.? ?Th-that?s great. Now what about you?? ?Oh,? she said with a slight laugh, ?I?ve had a hell of a scare, but I?ll live.? I could just see her at the other end of the line; a brave face hiding an almost-broken heart. How I so desperately wanted to put m y arms around her, tell her that everything was going to be O-K. But I knew I?d probably never be able to do that again. ?Listen, dear, I can?t thank you enough times for saving his life.? ?Oh?I was just doing what I was supposed to do, what I was trained to do. I?m just glad he?s doing fine.? ?Uh, normally, they only want immediate family visiting in intensive care, but he was asking for you tonight, and his doctor wants to make an exception. Can you come up tomorrow?? ?Oh!--Of course,? I said. I had been so focused on absorbing what had happened to me, I hadn?t given much thought to poor Cheryl. She had been ripped out of a young, healthy body and suddenly deposited in an ill, middle-aged one. If I was having trouble figuring things out, imagine what she must be going through! I climbed into bed. I had been used to sleeping on my stomach, but quickly learned why that wouldn?t be practical any longer. Although my mind was still racing with a thousand questions, I was so exhausted, it wasn?t long before I dropped off to sleep. When I awoke the next morning, I had to brush a few strands of my new, long red hair out of my face. I suppose I should have been wondering if it was all a strangely vivid dream, but I wasn?t. It had all been too real; I fully expected to wake up in Cheryl?s body?or was in mine now? I took a shower, and while I learned that my new, softer skin, couldn?t handle the rough scrubbing and drying I was used to, and that my new breast s and pussy could generate some wonderfully pleasant sensations, my thought s were elsewhere, for the most part. I?ve never been a deeply religious or philosophical person, but I found myself asking all sorts of questions. Was I still Dan? I was in Cheryl?s body; I would have to do my best to learn to act as Cheryl would. If the world perceived me as Cheryl, and I acted as Cheryl, then wouldn?t I be her ....just with her memories replaced by Dan?s? Was I still Sandra?s husband? Or was it that man lying in the hospital bed who looked the way I used to, but now had Cheryl?s memories? It was way, way too much for me to figure out. I dressed as quickly as I could, putting on a sports bra, topped by a yellow T-shirt, panties, white shorts, slouch socks, and sneakers. Since this w as a Saturday, I figured I didn?t have to do the full makeup routine that Cheryl did weekdays for the office. I did apply some lipstick, and didn?t have too much trouble ?staying inside the lines.? I blotted it as I had watched Sandra do a thousand times; ran a brush through my hair; and pronounced myself ready to face the day. Before I knew it, I was standing outside the hospital?s ICU, picking up the phone, and being told to enter. For the first time since the great change, I was about to come face to face...with myself. The nurse nodded at me, and pointed to a room just across from her station . I stepped around the sliding glass door, and saw?me. My former body look ed a little weak and pale, but surprisingly good for the ordeal it had been through. A monitor was recording ?her? blood pressure, heart rate, and oxygen saturation level constantly; a glucose IV was dripping into ?her ? arm; and she was breathing oxygen through a tube into ?her? nose. ?D-Dan? Cheryl?? I said ever-so-tentatively. ?Come on in!? he said, sounding surprisingly strong. It was so strange to hear what had been my voice coming from another body. ?Sit down!? he commanded. I did. ?So,? he began. ?When did you realize?? ?Uh, about as soon as it happened, I guess. I was flat on the floor, feeling this incredible pain, starting to black out. I saw you bringing the paddles to my chest. I remember thinking how I?d wasted my life in so many ways, how I?d give almost anything to start over....I said, heck, I don?t care if it?s as a woman this time! Right about then, there was the c rash of thunder, everything went black for an instant....and here I was...in your body.? He was watching me intently, gently shaking his head. ?Oh my. I remember seeing you keel over, running to get the defibrillator, looking down at you, and thinking, gee, DESPITE all the pressure and the heart attacks and everything, I sure wouldn?t mind finding out what life as a man is like.? There was a long silence. Then we both spoke together. ?I guess we both got our wish,? we said almost simultaneously; and then, for the first time since this strange odyssey began, we both laughed. Over the next hour, we talked about our feelings at suddenly finding ourselves in each other?s bodies (?strange?); whether or not we would tell anyone else (?for now, no?); and our strategy for survival (?you lean on me, I?ll lean on you?). Finally, he glanced up at the clock. ?Sandra will be here soon. Maybe you should go.? I nodded in agreement and stood up. I felt a sudden thickness in my throat that made it hard to swallow. My eyes were tearing up. I took Dan?s hand in mine. ?Hey,...Dan? Just in case we don?t get to change back, promise me you?ll take good care of her, and the kids?? ?Yeah,? he said, gripping my hand tightly. ?I promise.? When it came down to it all, I realized that was what troubled me most about this. Not the loss of my manhood, my position in society, my identity; it was the sudden, permanent severing of family ties with my wife and children. In an instant, all the extra hours I had put in at the office; all the time I had spent on the golf course; all the time I had wasted in commuting, in puttering in the garage, they all seemed to flash before my eyes. And I would have given anything to have all those wasted hours back. I was standing, waiting for the elevator, thinking about all this, when, to my surprise, I started crying. I think I had still been in a mild state of shock ever since the heart attack first hit me. I felt my cheeks trembling, then my eyes dampening, and then the floodgates really opened. Wouldn?t you know it, right then, the elevator doors opened, and Sandra stepped out. When she saw me, and saw the state I was in, she feared the worst. ?Oh m y God, Cheryl, what?s the matter? It?s not?? I immediately realized where she was heading with the thought. ?No, Sandra, oh God, no! Dan?s fine! He?s doing fine. It?s just... .? I couldn?t finish the thought. How could I even give her a clue to w hat I was really thinking and feeling? She immediately wrapped her arms around me in a protective gesture. ?Oh, dear! How silly of me! I should have realized that this whole thing would be a real emotional shock for you, too.? Before I knew what was happening , she was leading me over to a couch, where we sat down next to each other. She opened her purse and handed me a handkerchief; I took it gratefully. I expected her to talk to me in a calming, rational way, to point out that I was fine, that ?Dan,? was going to be fine....the sort of approach I would have taken in such a situation. But she just held me, gently stroked my forehead, and except for a few soothing noises, she didn?t say anything. All of a sudden, I saw one of the big differences between men and women illustrated for me very starkly. Men were problem-solvers, women were nurturers. I had heard it before, but it was all so clear to me now. I didn?t need to be reminded of things that I already knew; I just needed to be held, to be soothed, to receive loving reassurance. As I dried my eyes, I smiled at Sandra, thanked her, and told her she better get going before Dan started wondering what had happened to her. We hugged, I told her I was going to be fine, and she better concentrate on Dan. It wasn?t quite noon yet; I found myself with some unexpected time on my hands. I thought about my conversation with Dan, and decided to try to put some of ?his? advice to use. I figured work wouldn?t be too much of a problem; in Dan?s absence, I would most likely be asked to cover for him. The irony of covering for myself wasn?t lost on me. No, I was worried about other practical questions?like how to apply makeup. I had done okay with the lipstick, but I didn?t have the foggiest idea how to do anything beyond that! Dan had come up with what seemed like a good solution. I went to the makeup counter at one of the department stores and told the girl that I had been working in blue collar jobs ever since high school, and hadn?t really bothered much with getting ?all prettied up,? but needed to learn now. Someone I didn?t know would be happy to give me free lessons? It didn?t seem to make sense. ?Don?t worry,? he had assured me. ?As long as she thinks you? re a good prospect to spend money, she?ll be willing to spend all the time you need.? I was to soon learn that he was right. Some 45 minutes, and 175 dollars later, I walked away with a large bag of cosmetics, and the confidence that I could at least do a passable job of getting myself ready for work on Monday. I had lunch at the mall?s food court, and after that did a little bit of walking around and window shopping. I didn?t feel any overwhelming desire to shop 'til I dropped...so maybe that was more a result of cultural conditioning than an inherent female need. (Well, at least that?s what I thought then.) No, at that point, I was more concerned with getting comfortable in my new skin. I was just beginning to realize the different way people interacted with me, now that I was a woman. It wasn?t just the fellow in his late 50?s who held the door open for me, and smiled in a courtly, almost paternalistic manner; and it wasn?t just the stares from high school boys who were hanging out, either. I could see clearly, for the first time, that the world in general treated the two sexes very differently. As I woman, it seemed that I was being treated with more friendliness and warmth. Female clerks seemed to respond to me as a sister; males showed me more courtesy. More people were smiling at me, and I was smiling back at them?a lot more than I had as a man. Of course, I realized the flip side to this; if a woman was more welcome mid-day in a crowded mall, she was also a lot more vulnerable on a semi-deserted street in a mostly-empty parking garage. I spent most of the rest of that weekend in my apartment, practicing applying and removing makeup, and reading every diary, letter, or personal scrap of information about Cheryl I could lay my hands on. I felt more than a little like a snooper, but Dan had assured me it was the right thing to do. If I was going to live Cheryl?s life, for a short time or forever, I needed to know as much about it as I could. I found myself guzzling Diet Pepsi (it was Cheryl?s favorite soft drink; I had always preferred Coke) and absent-mindedly lighting one cigarette after another as I shifted through the piles of paper. I became increasingly frustrated by the enormity of the task. Parents, friends, classmates, old boyfriends.....how would I ever keep it all straight? Of course, I knew things weren?t going to be any easier for Cheryl. To suddenly find herself with a spouse and a couple of children she didn?t even know must have been quite a shock, too. As I got increasingly bleary-eyed, I decided it was time to take out my contact lenses and go to bed. (As Dan, I had undergone laser eye surgery two years earlier; it now looked like I was going to have to set aside the money to have it done a second time. I hated fumbling with contacts.) While curling up under Cheryl?s blankets, I found that I didn?t feel quite as lost and alone as I did 24 hours earlier. Maybe it was the quilt on top of the bed. When I had first seen it, I had thought the design was a little, well, girlish?even for a grown woman. But earlier that evening, I h ad come across some pictures in one of Cheryl?s albums. I realized that the quilt had been an 11th birthday gift from her grandmother; her mother?s mother, to be precise. ?Nanna? had died a few months later, and this had been the last piece of craftwork she had ever done. No wonder she prized it so; no wonder I felt a little closer to my new ?family.? I slept pretty well that night, and woke up with all kinds of ideas and resolves in my head. Sure it was Sunday, and I could let it go by as another T-shirt, shorts and no-makeup day. But wouldn?t that be putting off the inevitable? I had to dress for the office on Monday, so why not get some practice? I had breakfast, showered, then made up my face. I was pretty pleased with the result on the second try. After that, I selected a white dress with a multi-colored floral print. I slipped on a pair of white pumps with two-inch heels, and headed out to face the world. I went to Mass first. It had been too long...far too long. Sandra was a Methodist, and she and the children were Sunday regulars. I always meant to g et to Mass, I told myself, but there was always something that needed taking care of around the house, or it seemed like too nice a day to pass up the golf course..... Well, enough of that! I was being given a brand-new start in life, and wanted to make the most of it. I felt wonderfully restored and not so alone after mass; and from there, the hospital was to be my next destination. When I got there, I was pleased to learn that Dan had been transferred out of ICU to a regular room. He was off the oxygen, and seemed to be looking and feeling much better. There was a nurse in the room when I entered, so he made sure to greet me with a cheery, ?Hi, Cheryl.? After the nurse had left, he told me that he was feeling a lot stronger physically; but was about as lost as I was in adapting mentally. ?There are some things that are nice, though,? she said with a grin. ?Like what?? I asked, making sure to follow his reminder to smooth the seat of my dress as I sat down. ?Well, like being treated with respect by doctors for a change,? he said. ?I couldn?t believe it! They asked me questions, and actually listened to the answers!? I crossed my legs. ?And why is that so amazing?? She chuckled softly. ?Maybe you?ll have better luck dear, but I fear you?re going to find that a lot of men in this world subtly patronize women. Why do you think doctors miss heart attacks in women far more often than in men?? I nodded, quietly taking in yet another lesson. ?Now,? he said. ?I don?t want you to think you?ve totally gotten the short end of this. I like.....liked being a woman. I hope, Dan, that you?ll open yourself up to it...you might find yourself in touch with a gentler, more sensitive part of yourself.? He looked at the ceiling, paused for a long moment, then went on. ?Oh, don?t think I?m trying to tell you that women are better than men, or anything like that. It?s just that, I think, well....the world allows us to be more in touch with our inner selves.? The talk turned to my, now Dan?s family. I had done a little discreet as king around. Although a heart attack might not cause memory loss, the use of electric shock might. So there was a plausible explanation for at least some of his memory ?gaps.? But he still had a lot to learn. Up until now, our conversations had focused mainly on Sandra; I wanted : ?Dan? to know how we had met, about our courtship, our shared values, dreams; that had been painful at one level, knowing that Sandra and I would never live together as husband and wife again; but I felt far worse when the time came to talk about the children. I kept using that phrase over and over inside my head, as if a generic label could help distance me from the guilt I was feeling. If I had put my career first and my relationship to Sandra second in my life, the children, Pamela and Bruce, had trouble even cracking the top ten. This was, without a doubt, my greatest regret and my greatest shame. Pam was six and Bruce was three at the time of our swap. I will declare before al mighty God and anyone else that I loved them; I guess I just fell into the old male trap of thinking that raising children was women?s work. Right then and there, I made some important resolves that I think went a long way toward pushing me toward acceptance of my new, female identity. I decided that I didn?t want to spend the rest of my days alone. That me an I would definitely marry someday and have children of my own; and that as important as I knew motherhood would be for me, I would also look for a life partner who was equally committed to shaping our children?s lives. Whoever my future husband might be, I was not going to let him repeat my mistakes! Pamela, who was named after Sandra?s mother, was a sweet, somewhat shy five-year-old, while Bruce was showing that the ?terrible twos? are aptly named. I found myself hoping and praying that Cheryl would adapt to her new life and role as a husband and father. It seemed to be a lot to ask of God?or whoever was in charge of the universe?but if he could allow a strange trick like this to befall us, was it too much to ask that no other innocents be hurt? My thought patterns seemed wildly illogical. One minute I?d be asking cosmic questions like that; the next, I?d be wondering how the hell Cheryl managed to accomplish anything useful with these hands and their inch-long nails. Even digging a quarter out of my wallet to buy a newspaper seemed like an insurmountable challenge. The next few weeks went by in a blur. I went back to work, back at my old desk for a couple of weeks even. I was placed in charge of our projects while Dan recuperated, first at the hospital, then at home. They brought in a temp from an agency to help me with the clerical and secretarial side of things, but all the major work was still on my shoulders. Maybe that was for the best. It gave me less time to think, and less time to brood. By the time almost three weeks had passed, I had actually persuaded myself I was falling into something of a routine. I was getting used to getting u p earlier to that I could go through my whole routine of showering, makeup and dressing. I was very relieved the third week when Dan was able to start coming into the office for a few hours a day again. His doctor had said the only way for him to regain strength was to spend some time up and around. We spent as much time in the office exchanging information and survival tips as we did actually working. Fortunately, none of our superiors wanted to put any pressure on Dan, so they didn?t raise a fuss about our diminished output. Dan seemed to be adapting about as well as I was. ?Sandra?s been so sweet to me, shown me so much support,? he said. ?I always thought she was a good woman.? A long pause. ?Thank God she hasn?t brought up......? After another extended silence, I finally spoke. ?What? Sex?? He looked off into the distance. ?Yes, sex! Oh, Cheryl, I don?t know if I can bring myself to make love to her.? I felt myself overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. Finally, when I was able to speak, I said, ?If it?s my permission, you?re looking for, Dan.. ..don?t worry. I want Sandra to be happy. I want you to be happy. And the way to do that, as far as I can see, is for you to have normal marital relations.? He was still staring at some mysterious point far, far away. ?Well, it ?s not just that. I?m worried about being able to.......perform.? I laughed, which broke the tension. ?Oh, shoot, is that all?? I said. ?Let me tell you, you can trust the equipment to work when the time comes . Besides, I wasn?t exactly the world?s most exciting lover. I think Sandra?s expectations will be at an appropriate level, that you shouldn?t feel any pressure.? Dan smiled and looked at me. ?And what about you Cheryl? What happens when t he first time comes when you want to give yourself to a guy who turns you on?? Now the shoe, or pump, was on the other foot. ?I...I don?t know,? I said. ?To be honest, I?ve been too preoccupied with getting used to this body that I haven?t thought much about sex.? Dan was still looking at me, and still smiling. ?What is it?? I asked, a little puzzled. ?Oh, I think you?ve got a treat waiting for you dear. A real treat.? ?And just what exactly do you mean by that?? ?Trust me dear,? he said, his smile as broad as ever. ?You?ll have to experience it yourself to really find out.? A little over a year later, I finally went on my first date as a woman. I probably wouldn?t have made the move then, except Sandra, of all people, insisted on fixing me up with a guy my age from their church. I had been spending more time at their house, baby-sitting for the children. When the time came to get ready and go out I wasn?t as nervous as I thought it would be, though I really did fret about getting my makeup and outfit just right. Guess I was well on my way to becoming a ?real? woman. Th e guy was pretty nice, but we just didn?t click. When he gave me a peck o n the check at the end of the evening, I had a feeling of letdown, but resolved to get right back on the bicycle. Not long after that, I accepted a second date, this time from a guy in the office. By the end of the night, I had been really kissed for the first time as a woman, but I wasn?t in a hurry to surrender my newly-regained virginity. In the almost three years that passed between that date, and meeting Peter, I was tempted a few times, but never gave in. I was young; I had a second chance; I saw no reason to rush things. When Peter and I did link up I was pleasantly surprised when he told me that he thought of himself as an old-fashioned guy, and wanted us to save things until after marriage. Soon, Dan, I?ll know just how great a treat female sex is. So now it?s been five years, and things have come full circle. It?s going to be strange not seeing Dan on a regular basis anymore; but I know I?ll always be a part of his life, just as he?ll always be a part of mine. As I prepare to leave this office forever, I think, possibly for the last time, about those questions that dominated my thoughts in the first few days after my change. Am I Dan? Am I Cheryl? In the end, I guess, it doesn?t matter.