He's Still In Her Body: a tale of body-swapping

By: Wendi K. Bennett

Narrated by: Virtual Voice

Length: 57 mins

Publisher's summary

BOOK 2 OF THE SERIES CHAPTER I. Yup. I'm still in her body. Now, before I begin, I have been thinking about something. You know, the so-called ontological shock that would happen when a man suddenly turns into a woman. Specifically, why didn't I suddenly go insane? I really don't know. But I'm glad I didn't—right? Let me explain, or hypothesize. I'm a paralegal, not a head-shrink, so I have no idea. One reason may be because in order to survive, I've had to adapt. You know, cruddy apartments, rejection from colleges and society, taking a series of dead-end jobs just to survive. That kind of stuff. Call it thick skin. Another reason may be because I was so busy working on the Stilman case, that I did not have time for shell shock. I was distracted. Or maybe, I was under a barrel, so to speak, and had to go through with it. I mean, I was—or still am—stuck here. I have no way to swap myself back. I am totally defendant on Big Momma Jane. Criminy. And this brings me to why I am sitting here at Laguna Beach, OC, in a bikini and lava-lava, and sipping something with a lot of coconut in it. You remember the law firm being bombed? We have been able to relocated to temporary offices in a strip mall, and reconstruct about 87% of our work from the off-site backup system. Thank you,whoever invented the Cloud. Blush Sechrist, who is now the senior partner, did some restructuring. And, this is not surprising, she was flooded with résumés from attorneys who, well, they saw the power vacuum, and offered their services. I guess this is a form of ambulance chasing. She and Amelia Cheng, another senior partner, have been interviewing. So when I get back, we should see some changes. Oh, and I'm on the beach right now. After the case, Blush came up to me, gave me a hug, and a big kiss on the lips, and then, taking both of my hands, “Honey, you need a vacation.” Well, gee, thanks. Big Momma Jane did rip me off of my three week vacation. No. I'm sorry. I should not be so cynical. This—body swapping, is so far out of the normal human experience, how could she possibly know? So, and this lends credence to the proposition that there is a God out there, she gave me a three week vacation …. and the keys to her time-share in OC. (Is there a method in God's madness?) I packed up the frumpiest clothes Jane had, book a first-class ticket, touched down at John Wayne (a man's man), and here I am, on the beach, in a bikini and lava-lava, sipping this beverage with a lot of coconut in it. So what about Big Momma Jane? Duh, she's still in my body. Our usual routine would be for her to come to my place (well, her place, but you get the idea), and then we would compare notes. She would also help develop briefs, and than sort of boring thing. I'm getting better at it. And Big Momma Jane as right: I am getting experience. Don't get me wrong, I do appreciate the mentoring. And it helped resolve a legal-ethical dilemma that would even perplex my namesake. You see, when I was arguing the case, me—B. H. Wrencher—was not an attorney, and I am not admitted to the bar. It's just that everyone thinks it's Big Momma Jane doing it. But if Big Momma Jane, does the actual work, and I just transmit that work as a proxy, then it is fine. I've been thinking of it this way: suppose someone is sick, with a sore throat, and then you step in and do their talking in their behalf. As long was what you say is in harmony with party A's wishes, then it is acceptable. So there. Well, after Blush told me to take three weeks off, I told Big Momma Jane. She nodded, and paused for a moment, knitting her brows. “Okay. Yes. That's a good idea.” And that was the end of that. I'm not sure what she's doing in her off time. I tried to ask, but as a successful lawyer, she's good at dodging the truth. I let the matter drop, since I do not want to tick her off. She has her reasons. And I really, really want to get bac