The Body Thief - 5 (Patreon)

Miguel’s had a busy night the next evening. Denise had helped me put on a pair of fashionable jogging sweats over a sports bra with tennis shoes that had never played a round of tennis or set foot on anything athletic. She’d pulled my curly red hair up into a messy bun before helping me with some very light makeup.

We’d spent the day watching movies with both of them having the time of their lives. I, of course, was worried about everything from my low-income level, to wondering if the person in my body would help my sister get to school and my mom to work which were two of my daily routines I wasn’t completing. Dad would be pissed if I suddenly decided to not do these things, and I hoped the harmony of our home hadn’t been impacted.

I was also a competitive mountain biker and had a meet that weekend. Would I race as Denise? Or would ‘Geoffrey’ make the attempt? I’d paid a lot of money to enter and was a seeded fairly high, but that was before I found myself in this delectable if much less athletic body.

Sighing, I asked Jenn the host to sit me in Geoffrey’s section. She gave me a wink and a smile and sat me at table 14. 

“No guests with you this evening?” Jen said.

“Ah, not tonight.”

“Geoffrey will be glad to see that.” Jen’s eyes sparkled. “You know he has a crush on you, right?”

I smiled impishly.

“Mhm!” She set the menu down, turned on her heel, and left. She got back to the hostess stand and whispered in Melanie’s ear, and they both giggled looking at me. It was a quarter to eleven. 

‘Geoffrey’ came out a few minutes later. It was eerie looking at my body walking toward me. He didn’t look ‘right’ the way he walked and smiled, like ‘Geoff’ had been taken over by a facsimile. 

Which was true, I suppose. When a different person operates your body, they’d use different muscles to smile, to walk, to shrug. All the little motions that make us who we are.

“I still have ten minutes or so on my shift. Did you want anything?” He set down a bowl of chips and salsa, with a glass of water.

I shook my head, trying not to look daggers at the person who had stolen my body.

He sighed. “You’re going to have to put on a show. Remember, I supposedly have a crush on you, right?”

I rolled my eyes and gave a pert smile. “Better?” I said through clenched teeth.

He shrugged. “It’ll do.” Then he turned and walked back toward the kitchen.

I ate the chips and waited for him to return. It was eerie being the restaurant as an observer. I felt both like I belonged and was a stranger at the same time. It gave me a bit of a queasy feeling in my stomach.

I noticed several issues as he was away. My usual section had dirty dishes on nearly every table. It took everything inside of me not to get up and start clearing them away; the boss hated dirty empty tables. I also noticed he hadn’t run the carpet sweeper in what appeared to be ages. Did he really spill an entire dish of salsa and not clean it up? Dirty dishtowels hung from the wait station, hot food aged under the warming light ready for the final customers, who were glaring and starting to speak in hostile whispers about their lack of service. Finally, I saw him come out and stack a few plates on a serving platter, then awkwardly carry the platter over to the table and begin setting it down—except he’d apparently forgotten to take a clean towel to grab the plates and immediately burned his hand.

Rookie mistake.

Unfortunately, the pain caused him to flinch, and the tray overbalanced, sending hot food all over the table and the customers sitting at it. He apologized profusely, grabbing his apron and trying to wipe the mess off the woman’s blouse, in an effort to try to stop her shrieking in pain.

I got up and grabbed some clean towels and dashed over to the table, helping the woman to stand up and blotting the mess from her top.

“Oh, God! I’m burned!” she said, looking down at her arm where a large glop of what probably had been Chile Con Carne still steamed slightly. I took the towel and wiped it off as the man also got out of his seat.

“Where’s the manager!” He yelled. “I demand to speak with someone in authority!”

I pulled the woman away from the table. “Let’s get you into the ladies’ room and cleaned up,” I said, shooting a glare at the person in my body. He rolled his eyes.

The woman’s name was Misty and she was on a date with someone she had met on an app. She was more embarrassed than hurt, and we were able to get most of the dinner off her skin and clothes with a minimum of fuss. The couple stomped out of the restaurant, both of them mentioned lawyers, and Jim, my boss, tried to hand them free meal coupons.

After they left, I shot another glare at the body thief. “You probably just cost me my job!” I hissed.

He shrugged. “Who cares.”

“I care, this is my life you’re fucking up!”

We walked back to the table where he slid across from me. “This is why we needed to meet, so I can extract memories from you,” he said.

“I don’t want you extracting anything!” I tried to calm myself down. “Give me back my body!”

“Look, like I told you, one week,” he said, sitting back. “Then we can talk.”

“The time for talking is over,” I hissed. “Come back to Denise’s apartment with me and sort this all out!”

“I could figure this out on my own, or you could help me to not lose your job.”

I sighed, looking around. “Well, first, you need to clean the— “

He grabbed my arm again, and I saw his eyes go black. “I can take what I need.”

I felt that strange rushing sensation, mixed with what sounded like a million voices whispering all at the same time. The point of contact where he held my arm felt hot, and I struggled to pull away from his grip but he was too strong. After what felt like an hour and was probably only a few minutes, he released me.

“Perfect,” he said, glancing around.

“What did you do?” I glanced down. I was still in Denise’s body.

“Pretty simple,” he smiled. “What table are we sitting at?”

I frowned. “Table…” damn, it was right on the tip of my tongue. I could see the graphic tacked up on the waiters’ station in my head, but all the numbers were blurry.

“Fuck!” I said.

“Table 12.”

Shaking my head, I stood up. “This is not what I came in for.”

“And I have closing work to do. Holy cow, did I screw up today. I’m lucky Jim didn’t fire your ass!”

“Look, you’ve had your fun.” I said, trying to reason with him. “Do whatever you need to do, but put me back in my body, I can deal with your closing duties, and we can forget this all happened.”

He grinned at me. “You realize, I could make you forget this all happened. I could have you remember nothing but your first kiss with Jimmy Finklebottom, your first Sad Little Susie doll, the time Stevie Fucknugget first stole your sweet little cherry. I can make you remember all of that and more, and never even realize your not in the right body.”

I looked at him in horror. He couldn’t really do that, could he?

“But I won’t.” I wagged a finger in front of my eyes. “I won’t as long as you be a nice little girl and suck it up and let me live your life for a week. It’s just a week, it’s not like I’m asking for much, right? Didn’t you used to go to summer camp for a week when you were a kid?”

“Well, yeah, but— “

“So, think of this as Denise Peek camp. You get to peek under her panties, learn what makes her tick. Go through her phone, find all her contacts. Dream her dreams, live her life…and then at the end when you switch back?” He gave me a wide grin. “Who will know her better than anyone else in the world?

 He wasn’t wrong. But this wasn’t the way I wanted—

“You will.” He put his arm over my shoulder, leading me out the door. “You’ll be able to really give her that emotional support she’s always craved. You’ll know what hobbies she likes, what her favorite perfume is, what she does to unwind. You’ll have her history, her family, her friends, her enemies! Think about it Geoff! I’m giving you a gift here, man, er..woman!”

I sighed. “A week. That’s all.”

He held his hand up. “I swear.”

“And you’ll keep my job, not fuck up my friends, and everything will go back to normal.”

He gave a little shrug with a bob of his head. “As normal as can be expected.”

“Alright, dammit.” 

“That’s the spirit!” He patted me on the head. “Come back tomorrow night if you’d like.”

“Not a chance,” I spit. “I’m not giving you any more of me!”

“Aww, well. You might change your mind on that, but you know my work schedule!”

I blinked thinking about it. I had known his work schedule, but— “

“Hah!” he snorted. “I guess you don’t anymore. Well, I work through the end of the weekend, off Monday and Tuesday, and here Wed, through Friday.”

“A week would be Thursday night.”

“Yep!” he waved. “See you on Thursday!”

I gritted my teeth and walked out into the cold night.