Turnabout Page 4

  “Movies are highly inaccurate by nature. Now, go home, both of you. It’s too early to drink.”

  “Right.” Fee slipped off the stool and reached for Mal. “Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  At home, everything seemed strange. Anticlimactic, Fee decided. Something big and flashy should have happened, but it hadn’t.

  They settled in together on the couch, argued for a bit over the remote control, and finally settled on an old and very cheesy science fiction movie. Fee put her arm around Mal, tucking his small, soft body against her. It felt good. Almost right, as if she were getting used to her new habitation. But, seriously, she thought as she began to drift off, she really wanted her tits back.

  She woke with a feeling of disorientation. When she lifted her head, she realized she’d pillowed it against Mal’s chest -- his firm and very masculine chest. She had also drooled on his shirt.

  Slowly, she straightened and stretched. Everything felt strange. It should have felt right again, but she’d been getting used to Mal’s heavier, taller, wider form. She cupped her breasts, looked at her small, somewhat delicate hands.

  She smiled.

  “Mal.” Leaning toward him, she poked him in the chest. He grunted. “Mal!”

  “Wha --?” He opened his eyes, peered at her, then slow realization came into his face. “You’re you.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “That means…” Looking down at himself, he slapped his hands against his chest, then abruptly cupped his crotch. “Thank God. I’m me, too. And all my parts are here.”

  “Of course they are. Did you think I was going to damage them, or give them to Goodwill or something?”

  He gave her a look. “Of course not. Just thought that insane not-leprechaun might have done something to them.”

  “Understandable.” She looked up at the clock on the wall. It was past midnight. “I could use a good night’s sleep. In my own bed. And my own… nightgown.”

  He smiled. “I know what you mean.”

  Neither of them moved. Fee looked at Mal. Mal looked at Fee. Fee blinked a few times, then reached out to take his hand. “I love you,” she said quietly.

  He nodded, his smile softening. “I love you, too.”

  They rose from the couch, and, hand in hand, returned to the bedroom.

  Elizabeth Jewell

  Multi-published author, editor, and mother, Elizabeth Jewell is really one cool lady. She lives in Colorado with her kids. She claims she’s tired of talking about herself, but we know she has a day job in addition to all the fantastic stories she writes, and we’ve heard some rumors of a life outside work, involving both kids and occasional trips to coffee shops, where she’s been known to occasionally burst into song -- in Irish Gaelic.