The Displaced Detective, Part 3 free porn video

Square Peg, Round Hole The perky blonde newscaster remained somber as she stared at us from the giant screen dominating the wall of Thomas' living room. "At this time, the police have no explanation why Detective Jack Hamilton abducted Sasha Dellinger from Mercy Grace Hospital this earlier evening. However, at a press conference moments go, Chief Roland Dawson pledged to use the entire resources of the department in the hunt for the missing fifteen-year-old and her kidnapper. We here a Channel Five will continue to bring you updates on this story as they happen." Matthew, standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed over his chest turned his head to look at me. "Looks like the Order has brought their considerable influence to bear. Only took an hour for them to turn the narrative around on us." I was reclining on the couch, in pretty much the same position I'd adopted since realizing that I was stuck in the body of one of the city's most dangerous criminals. Neither of us had said much in the intervening time from then to now, both of us more interested in what the television had to say. Although I hadn't realized it, I had begun to drift off to sleep. When Matthew spoke, his voice pulled me back from the abyss of peaceful slumber, and I sat upright, rubbing at my eyes. "What?" When I lowered my hands to look at him, there was a frown etched onto his face. My face. "Are you okay?" I nodded, suddenly overcome by a yawn that felt as if it were big enough to drive a bus through. It was immediately followed by an automatic stretch that sent my arms straining over my head, exposing the smooth, flat skin of my belly. Lowering my arms, I tugged the sweater back down and nodded again. "Yeah, I'm good," I said as I met his gaze. "Just a little tired for some reason." "Well, I imagine that body is used to being already in bed at this time. Throw in all the running, heightened emotions, and a ton of adrenaline, and it's not surprising." I bit down on my lip to stifle another yawn. When it passed, I nodded at the TV. "So now every cop in the city will be looking for my car. We won't get five miles before we're spotted." Matthew nodded. "We'll have to decide where we can go before we worry about how to get there." He looked around the room for a moment before turning his gaze back to me. "Does your friend have an office in this mansion? Perhaps with a phone and a computer?" I lifted my arm and pointed at the hallway opposite the kitchen. "Third door on the left, just past the bathroom. Matthew turned and strode in the direction I'd indicated. It wasn't until after he'd left the room that I realized he had been walking like me. Or rather, how I walked in my old body. A dash of ice water swam through my veins as I hopped off the couch and walked across the living room and back. At first, I attempted to make my gait resemble the one I knew from memory. I was able to pull it off, mostly, but the sway of my hips and breasts made it feel as unnatural. Like writing with the wrong hand. I stopped right before the entrance to the kitchen, turned around, and then crossed the living room again. This time, I made sure not to focus on my steps. Instead, the only on conscious part of my movement was to avoid running into any walls or furniture. As if on cue, my hips swung back and forth with each step. By the time I reached the far side of the cavernous room, my vision was wet and blurry. "Great," I said under my breath, voice nearly choking with a sob. "Now I can't even walk like a man anymore." Anger bubbled up through the grief and I crossed the room again, this time not bothering to even care how this body wanted to move. "Look at me," I snarled as I walked. "Take a look at this big, fat ass shaking. I'm going to, like, have all the boys drooling." When I reached the couch, I threw myself face-first on it, feeling as if I'd just fumbled the ball and lost the homecoming game. The tears ran freely from my eyes, dripping onto the expensive leather. My progression from mature adult male to emotional teen girl was not only continuing, it was starting to accelerate. How long would it be before the damage to my psyche was permanent? A day? A week? I had no way of knowing. And with this being the first time Matthew had swapped with someone who wasn't dead a few minutes later, I was pretty sure he was just as clueless. I lay there, trying to fight the wave of despair and fear that continued to beat at my thoughts. I had to hang onto who I was. Even though my chances of winning were slim and none, I had to fight against the reactions that came naturally to Sasha. I had decades of training and discipline to call upon, a weapon in my arsenal that the teen didn't possess. As I lay there, resisting the urge to continue bawling over my situation, I focused on my breathing. In ... out. In ... out. That's it, Jack. Just relax and calm down. The enemy of rational thought is panic. You know this to be true. As the second ticked by, I felt myself begin to unwind. The terror and heartache running rampant in my petite frame slowly began to ebb. Unfortunately, when I began the mediation technique, I hadn't taken into account the exhaustion I'd felt earlier. By the time I was finally calmed down enough to stop crying and help Matthew formulate a plan, I was sound asleep. "Jack?" A voice from somewhere faraway said. "Wake up." This was followed by the sensation of being shaken softly. For a second, I was happily basking in the inky blackness of unconsciousness, enjoying the fact that I didn't have to worry about anything currently going on in my life. Then awareness returned to me like being shot out of a cannon. One moment, nothing. The next, light and sounds and thoughts. My eyes flapped open as a surprised squeal leapt out of my throat. I rolled away from the hand on my shoulder and experienced a heartbeat of vertigo as I fell off the couch and landed on the living room floor. Blinking rapidly, I sat up and looked around, trying to get my mind back into gear. I saw myself sitting on the edge of the leather sofa, concern on my face. For some strange reason, I was wearing a baseball cap and a black windbreaker jacket. My first thought was that maybe I'd startled myself right into one of those out-of-body experiences people always talked about. Then I remembered that I was already having one of those. Only I wasn't just out of my own body, I was in someone else's. "Matthew?" I asked. Even though I was still in the process of getting all my cylinders to firing, I realized the stupidity of the question the moment it passed through my lips. Before he could respond, I looked at my wrist for the watch that wasn't there. "It's a little after two in the morning," he said, interpreting my next inquiry. He followed my gaze to the brown plastic bag in one of his hands. The lettering across the front indicated it was from one of those twenty-four hour convenience stores. "You went out?" I asked accusingly. Then I climbed back to my feet, my arms automatically crossing over my chest. Even though I was standing and he was not, I was only a head taller. He nodded. "First, I took care of our financial situation." "How?" He smiled. "Using your friend's computer, I logged into my bank account and wired a couple thousand to Jack Hamilton." I blinked, mouth dropping open for a second. "You did what? What about the authorities tracing the transfer?" "It's okay," he said. "This isn't the first time I've had to do something like this, Jack. They would only be able to trace the money if they knew who the originator was. As far as I know, the police don't have that information." "Does the Order?" He shrugged. "It's a fair bet they only knew my previous life. Not the one before it. It was that identity's account that I used." I gave the matter some thought before accepting that Matthew's argument was actually pretty sound. He'd obviously realized that without any funds, we were pretty much stuck in place. Not too bad an idea on his part. The more worrisome realization was that it'd taken me longer than it probably should have to come to that same conclusion. "So, now we have some cash," I said. "What's Step Two?" "We get out of town. I sent an email to a ... friend who might be able to help us. If we leave in the next hour, we can get to her place by nightfall." I planted one hand on my hip, fighting against a smug smirk that wanted to form. "What sort of friend are we talking about? And what makes you so sure she can help?" He shrugged. "She's a Hopper. We've known each other for about a century. She's older and has been more involved with others of our kind." He flashed me a slightly sad smile. "She might know a way to get you back into your own body." My smirk quickly morphed into a genuine smile, and I had to resist the urge to tackle him in a grateful hug. Then a dark thought intruded on my moment. "What about Sasha?" I asked, looking down at myself for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "We have to get her back in the right place, too." His mouth turned down into a deep frown, and he looked away from me. "I'm afraid that's not going to be possible. She's dead." "What?" A shard of ice pierced my heart. "What do you mean by that?" He sighed. "While you were sleeping, I searched all the local news sites. Earlier today, a pair of fishermen down by the wharf reeled in a body that was missing its hands and head." A few seconds drifted past while I processed this information. Once again, the obvious conclusion wasn't as obvious as it should have been. "When you Hopped into Sasha, it left her in your body. When the Order realized that you, ya know, weren't you, they killed the body and dumped it into the ocean." He nodded. "It's pretty much their standard M.O." My knees gave out, sending me down to couch. Another wave of despair rolled through me, threatening to send me back into being a bawling, worthless mess. I clenched my hands into fists, pressing the pink nails hard against my palm. I struggled to replace my sadness at Sasha's passing with anger. Some of that fury was directed at Matthew, since he'd been the one to originally switch with the innocent girl. However, I also knew that the Hop had been done out of fear, not malice. Therefore, I reserved the majority of my ire for the Order of the Dawn. If not for their machinations, Matthew wouldn't have made the decision to switch with the teen in order to escape their clutches. "They are going to have to pay," I growled through gritted teeth. Despite my girlish lilt, there was no mistaking the determination in my voice. Matthew nodded. "They will. I promise." Then he put his hand on my denim-covered knee. "However, the first thing we need to do is get out of here. You said very few people know of your association with Thomas. Conversely, that would mean that there are those who do." I nodded. "A few people. Maybe less than a half-dozen. But they wouldn't give me up, Matthew. They, like, wouldn't tell anyone about this place." He shook his head. "The Order has people who are experts in getting information. Particularly from unwilling participants. By now, they've already compiled a list of your closest friends and family. At some point, sooner rather than later, someone will mention Thomas' name. When the Order finds out that he has a house on the outskirts of the city, they will make this the first place they look." "Okay," I said, trying to ignore the fluttering beginning to take place in my tummy. I was not going to give into the panic threatening to rear its head. "We need to get gone quickly. What about someone spotting my car?" He held up a set of keys on an obsidian ring. "I found the keys to the Hummer." I couldn't help but grin. Mainly because I remember what it was like driving that huge road machine. Part of me couldn't wait to experience that again. Then I remembered that I was now far too short, and a year too young, to get behind the wheel. My grin faltered a bit. "Don't worry," Matthew said, obviously misinterpreting my concern. "I switched out the tags with a car down the street. It'll be days before anyone notices." He opened the bag on his lap, reaching inside. "Plus, I picked up some things to help keep us from being recognized." "Such as?" He pulled several items from inside the bag. A pair of scissors with a dark blue handle, a pair of ladies' sunglasses with a floral pattern on the earpieces, and two boxes of hair dye. One dark brown and the other scarlet red. "Seriously?" I said, rolling my eyes. "That's your big plan? Some dye and a haircut?" He gave me a stern look that made me flinch slightly. "The police and the Order will be giving extra scrutiny to any adult male and teen girl pairing. The disguises aren't for fooling them. It's for any cameras we might encounter as well as the general public." I felt my cheeks warm. Dammit, I should have realized that." He picked up the red dye and handed it out to me. "Granted this is just temporary. We'll have to think of something else that's more permanent in nature." "Permanent?" I said as I took the box from him. "Like, permanent permanent?" "Jack," he said, a note of finality in his voice. "No matter what happens over the next few days, we won't be going back to the way things were yesterday morning." "So, you want me to just abandon my whole life? My career?" I shook my head. "I got news for you, pal, I don't plan on being Sasha Dellinger, like, any longer than it takes for you to figure out how to swap us back." He shook his head. "It's not that simple, Jack. Even if we manage to switch, what are you going to do? I mean, I am sure as hell not stepping into Sasha's former life. Not when the Order knows who she is. It would only be a matter of time before they tried to capture me again. I will not let that happen." I opened my mouth to protest, but his next sentence took the air right out of my sails. "No offense. But right now, I'm the one who's thinking more like a cop." My mouth dropped open, and it felt as if someone had punched me as hard as they could in the abdomen. I sat there, staring at him, as my tired thoughts jumbled around. As loathe as I was to admit it, he had a very valid point. If I thought we were just going to swap back bodies and pretend that everything was back to normal, I was deluding myself. Even if "Sasha" claimed I helped her escape from someone who wanted to kidnap her, and completely denied me taking her against her will, I would looking at a lengthy session with Internal Affairs for not reporting my plan to my superiors as soon as possible. I would either be suspended, demoted, or terminated. My career would, effectively, be over. On the other hand, if Matthew followed through with his promise of not going back where the Order could reach him, everyone would think I'd murdered her and buried her body. I'd spend the next couple of decades behind bars. If I was lucky, that is. If not, then I'm sure Dellinger would have his associates make sure my last few hours on earth would be as painful as possible. That left two possible alternatives. We could each go our separate way, and try to create new lives in new cities. Of course, there weren't a lot of options for a fifteen-year-old runaway that didn't involve performing acts I'd rather not contemplate. Or we could stick together and watch each other's backs. Either way, the Order wouldn't stop looking for us. They wanted Matthew and his ability for their own purpose and Jack Hamilton was a loose thread they needed to have clipped. "Fine," I said, taking the box from his outstretched hand. The colored square on the front of it was labeled "Intense Red Copper." I looked back up to see Matthew was passing me the scissors. As I wrapped my thin fingers around the handles, he nodded at my head. "I would suggest you dye it first. Then cut it," he said with a tone of assured authority. "Probably something a lot shorter than it is now. I'll help you with the back if want. The important part is to not look like Sasha Dellinger anymore." I pulled the scissors from his grasp and rolled my eyes. "No kidding," I said. "Just because I'm having ... uh, moments ... doesn't mean I've forgotten everything I learned at the Academy." I climbed off the sofa and headed toward the stairs. "When do you plan on us leaving?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at him. "No more than two hours from now. Earlier, if possible. I want to be long gone from the city before the sun comes up." "Okay," I said. Then I went back upstairs to the bathroom off Karen's room. I closed the door behind me and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet to read the instructions on the box. I glanced over at the sink. The basin was probably deep enough to allow me to get my hair wet, but was far too shallow to allow a proper rinsing. That meant I'd have to use the shower. I set the scissors on the edge of the sink and looked at the girl in the mirror. The effect of staring at a reflection that wasn't familiar sent a tiny wave of vertigo through me. Part of my mind couldn't wrap itself around the fact that every motion, every expression, that appeared on the figure in the mirror was a duplicate of mine. Quickly, I turned away from the sink and walked over to the tub. The shower controls were the ultra-modern type. The kind where it was nearly impossible to not have the exact temperature one wanted. I turned the knob and adjusted the spray to a setting somewhere between warm and hot. As the steam started to fill the room, I waited a few minutes before daring to undress, refusing to look into the mirror as I stripped down to Sasha's birthday suit. Keeping my eyes firmly locked in a forward- looking position, I slid open the frosted door of the shower and climbed into the spray. The water felt uncomfortably hot for a second before acclimation made it comfortable. Turning around, I leaned back and let the water saturate my long blonde hair. I tried to ignore the way the thoughts of cutting it all off were making me feel. Part of me knew all the different ways I could style it, especially with as long as it was. When I was sure the strands were completely soaked, I broke open the box, removed the contents, and mixed the two concoctions together. After a vigorous shaking it, the liquid inside achieved a thick, slimy consistency and took on a dark crimson hue. "So long, Blondie," I said to no one. "And hello, Red." After donning a pair of plastic gloves, I liberally coated my hair with the pungent-smelling dye. I guess maybe Sasha had done this a couple of times, because I discovered that I handled the applicator like a seasoned pro. Hell, for all I knew, she wasn't a natural blonde. After all, it wasn't like I'd bothered to check how well the carpet matched the drapes. The box indicated I had to wait five minutes before I could rinse. So, while I was in the neighborhood, I figured I could do with a proper bath. Grabbing a loofah hanging from a plastic hook on the tile wall, I squirted a generous helping of a rather pleasant-smelling body lotion on it. A second later, bubbles and the aroma of lavender ran from between my kneading fingers. First, I dragged the rough sponge over my arms, around my neck, and as much across my back as I could reach. Which, incidentally, was quite a bit. Looks like Sasha's body was three times more flexible than Jack's. I didn't dare bend over to get to my legs, since that would probably send dye painfully into my eyes. Instead, I lifted my foot and placed it on the edge of the tub at a bent angle. The loofah slid easily over the smooth flesh. I followed it with my other hand, feeling the tiny prickles beneath the suds. I was going to need to shave them soon. Straightening up, I paused. I still needed to clean three other areas. Areas that were extremely private. Part of me wanted to just skip them altogether, but another part chided me about not getting clean everywhere. Come on, Jack," I said softly, attempting to rationalize with the more prudish side of myself. "Don't think of it as in appropriately touching a minor. Until things get fixed, that's your body, not hers. There's nothing perverted about washing your own body, right?" I nodded in agreement with that argument, glossing over the addendum that my inhabiting this body might be more permanent than I was ready to accept. If that was the case, I'd either get over my inhibitions or else become a walking bag of body odor and grime. Steeling myself for any guilty backlash, I brought the soap-covered loofah up and began to clean my upper torso. I stared with my tummy, almost giggling a bit as the tendrils of woven gourd tickled the skin right above my hip bone. When that area was done, I brought it up to the perky mounds on my chest. The slickened sponge glided beneath them, feeling slightly intriguing. Washing the sides and tops also brought about a strange tingle of warmth. However, when I finished by rubbing across the hardened nubs jutting from the front of them ... "Oh dear god," I breathed, a wave of intense pleasure rocketing from the point of contact outward through my body. Without a second thought, I grazed them again ... harder. Another blast of something wonderful exploded inside me, followed by a tinge of heat appearing between my thighs. Leaving one hand on my breast, I raised the other and encircled the jutting nipple and pinched. The flicker of heat down below expanded, making my knees tremble. Eyes half-closed, I allowed my fingers to slide down the front of my body, drifting over my navel, past the curved area of the pelvis bone below, seeking the source of the sudden warmth. The soft feel of wet hair located there tickled my palms, but I ignored that sensation as I extended a single finger lower. The tip of my nail encountered the slick wetness of the feminine folds nestled at the apex of my thighs. Whether the dampness was from the shower, the soap, or my arousal, I couldn't be sure. If I had to bet, I would have said it was the last. Of course, I didn't really give it much thought. Sliding the edge of my nail just inside the opening, I gasped when I hit the hardened pearl hiding inside with just the slightest of glances. I gasped, dropping the loofah to plant my hand on the cold tile of the wall. Just in case my shaking legs decided to give out on me. The heat inside grew bolder. More demanding. Now staring at nothing through a pair of slitted lids, I pushed my finger back down and deeper into the opening. The amount of moisture leaking from that area was more than enough to provide the perfect amount of lubrication. Lips slightly apart, heart hammering in my chest, I flexed my wrist to send the exploring digit another couple of centimeters into my fiery cove. A tiny moan came from somewhere in my throat as I slowly withdrew my finger until the tip was touching the throbbing knob just north of the entrance. I needed more. A lot more. The wellspring of desire that had come across me was too strong to ignore. Not that I even wanted to. However, just as my finger began to work its way back into me, the sound of someone knocking on the bathroom door yanked me back to my senses. "Jack? You okay in there?" Matthew called out. The burning between my legs instantly went cold as it transferred to my cheeks. Conscious thought immediately replaced whatever had been in control of my actions. I blinked rapidly, glancing down at my still- extended finger hovering a few inches from my womanly parts. Had I really been about to do ... that? Really. I mean, accepting that I had to touch Sasha's naked body in the shower was one thing. Jilling myself in the shower was another matter entirely. "Uh, yeah," I responded, quickly dragging the soapy sponge between my legs in the barest of swipes. "Just finishing up now." "Okay. Just checking." I sighed, the tension draining from my muscles. Fatigue slammed into me. I'd obviously not gotten enough of a nap earlier and the momentary rush of adrenaline that had accompanied my surprise at nearly being caught in the act of masturbating only served to drain me even more. After hanging the loofah back on the hook, I rinsed the dye out of my hair until the water ran clear. Then I squirted a bit of Karen's conditioner into my palm, worked it into the strands, then rinsed again. When I was satisfied all the dye that was going to come out had, I shut off the water and slid open the shower door. My cheeks still felt like lasers were focused on them, and I was thankful that the mirror was a fog-covered field that reflected only my basic shape. I don't think I could have looked into those eyes that weren't mine and not felt the need to profusely apologize. It really didn't matter that the rightful owner wasn't ever coming back. I slipped back into the clothes littering the floor, ignoring the way that the material stuck to the parts of me that weren't completely dry. I left off the sweater, however, since I still had a trim job to perform. Using the towel to clean off the remnants of the steamy shower from the mirror, I picked up the scissors and went to work on the mostly damp, but no longer honey gold, hair hanging down to my bare back. The stainless steel shears made short work of the bright crimson strands. Within a few minutes, the long waves had been reduced to a short bob cut that I'd noticed had become a trend with young girls lately. The removal of a few remaining stragglers of red later, and I slipped into my sweater, threw the dye box and as much hair as I could collect into the wastebasket. Not that I figured it would matter in the end. Much like the story of the Three Bears, at some point, Karen was going to come into her bathroom to find someone else had been using it. Only Goldilocks wasn't so much Goldie any more. Downstairs, I found Matthew sitting on the arm of the sofa. The salt and pepper beard and mustache was now completely jet black, and the graying hair formerly topping my head had been shaved off completely. Though I hadn't really given any consideration to adopting the bald look, I had to admit that it didn't look half bad. Even managed to shave a decade off his appearance. As I reached the bottom of the steps and approached him, he stood up. His eyes went to the now-crimson hair hanging down to frame my face. After a second, his stern expression morphed into one of approval, and he inclined his head just the slightest bit. The look and action made my heartbeat increase just the tiniest bit. Then I gave him a similar examination. Apparently, he'd taken my cue and borrowed some of my friend's clothing. However, where Karen's stuff was slightly too big on me in some places, the opposite was true of Thomas'. Beneath a well-worn black leather jacket, the dark blue t-shirt hugging his torso was pulled rather tightly across his chest. It didn't look ill-fitting so much as snug. And it only served to show off how much effort I'd put into keeping myself fit through the years. My eyes drifted to the rather noticeable outline of the pecs pushing against the front of the dark blue t-shirt. I'd seen them enough times in the mirror to know that they were more like what one would find on a guy in his mid-thirties, not one who was approaching fifty-five. I suddenly wondered what it would feel like to touch those hard muscles. Sure, I'd touched them thousands of times before, but never with the hands I possessed now. Would they feel different to my much- softer palms? If I dragged my nails across them, would wickedly red welts be left behind. If I placed my cheek against them, would they feel warm and inviting? My already elevated pulse quickened at these thoughts, and it seemed the temperature in the room went up several degrees. Matthew must of wondered what I was staring at because he tilted his head to the side, looked down at himself, then back to me with an arched eyebrow. "Jack?" I blinked, quickly shoving those alien desires aside, clenching my jaw so tightly it hurt. I narrowed my eyes at him, then shook my head. "I'm fine," I grumbled. "Let's get out of here." Without waiting for his response, I spun around to grab the Nikes from their spot next to the sofa. Sliding my feet into the slightly too-large footwear, I stalked off toward the door leading back into the garage. "Jack ..." Matthew said. Then he sighed and I heard him starting to follow me. Halfway to the door, I realized that my anger at myself had caused me to not pay any attention to my stride. Suddenly, I abandoned my swaying walk for a more masculine, less graceful one. I clomped my way to the passenger side of the Hummer, waiting until I heard Matthew unlock the door with the fob before pulling it open and climbing into the spacious interior. Matthew climbed in behind me. After starting the engine, he half-turned in his seat to look at me. "Care to tell me what's going on?" I crossed my arms over my chest and stared straight ahead at the closed garage door. A few seconds passed before Matthew merely sighed, pressed the button on the remote attached to the sun visor, and waited for the door to roll up before pulling out onto the dark and quiet street. The digital clock on the Hummer's dashboard indicated that it was almost four in the morning. It wouldn't be long before Thomas' neighbors began their day. With any luck, any questions about activity at my friend's house would only return negative responses. Matthew waited until we were back on the highway, this time heading westbound, before attempting to speak to me again. "This is going to be one extremely long ride if you're planning on sitting there sulking like ..." His voice drifted off, and I could see him tighten his grip on the steering wheel in my periphery. My chin jutted out all on its own as I turned my face toward him. "Like what? Like a petulant teenaged girl? Well, guess what? That's exactly what I am." He stared at me for a second, then shook his head, putting his eyes back on the road. "No, Jack. You may have Sasha's body and some of her mannerisms, but you are still you." He sighed again. "We already discussed this." However, I wasn't so easily dissuaded. Annoyance, worry, and fear, that last one more vivid than the rest, kept me from so readily accepting his analysis of the situation. "No," I said, my voice rising in pitch. "What we discussed was what you experience when you steal someone's body. How the residual influences assist you. But you already, like, stated that you have no idea exactly how those influences would affect the person on the other end of the Hop." I unfurled my arms, curled my fingers into fists, then crossed them back over my chest again when I realized I didn't know what else to do with them. "True. However, I'm sure that ..." "You're sure?" A deaf person could have heard the sarcasm dripping from my words. "You're sure of what? Because, in addition to the new experience of having someone who isn't a Hopper sticking around, you've been unable to swap us back!" I shook my head, the now-dry crimson strands tickling my bare neck. "So the only thing I think you can be sure of, Matthew, is that you don't know shit about, like, what's happening to me." He refused to look in my direction, and it seemed as if his neck and cheeks were flushed. Either with anger at my tone or embarrassment at having been called out. Regardless, it was another minute or two before I noticed his shoulders relaxing a bit as he nodded his head. "You're right, Jack. I can't be completely sure what's happening to you. When I Hop into someone's body, the remnants are like a crutch that helps me to walk until I can do it on my own. But you don't have the experience I do. Nor do you have the ingrained ability." He pressed the button for the cruise control and turned his gaze back to me. "Did something else happen back at the house? You seemed fine until you cut and dyed your hair." I rolled my eyes as egregiously as I could. Did he really think ditching the blonde for the cherry was what had upset me? Just like a guy to be so thick headed. Of course, I wasn't about to tell him of what I'd attempted to do in the shower. Nor how I'd practically started swooning while staring at my old physique. Mainly because I thought I could pretty much ignore it as long as I didn't speak of it aloud. "The longer I'm trapped here, the less like me I feel." I frowned. "I guess that sounds kinda stupid." He shook his head. "Not at all. I imagine it's all a lot to process and get a grip on. Especially ... you know." "What?" I asked. "There's more than just the leftover bits of Sasha in there that's affecting you. How old did the television say she was? Fourteen? Fifteen?" "Fifteen. Just turned, I think." He nodded. "So in addition to the quirks and mannerisms, you're also having to fight against unfamiliar biological influences." I took me a second to follow his logic train. However, when I arrived at the same destination, I flopped back into my seat. "Oh crap," I groaned, looking down at myself. "I'm going through puberty. Again." My hands came up to cover my face. "Only this time, it's as a girl." "Afraid so."