'Borrowed' Body - Part Four

Reaching into my pocket I pull the phone back out, clutching it in two hands as the notification drops down from the top once more to read.

 'Upload Complete'

"What a fucking bitch..." I grumble, unhappy with how Steph had gone about this whole endeavor. It's not like I could have done anything though, my dazed state and tiny frame lacking much in the way of the requisite physical or mental prowess to maneuver around her betrayal of that poor young woman. "Guess I'm... like... the bully now or something..."

Pursing my lips and twisting them from side to side I open up the phones calendar, my gaze falling on the first item tomorrow morning.

 "Cross Fit - Taylor Session <3" - 7am 

I can't help but groan aloud as I read the time, my lips curling into a grimace at the idea of having to wake up well enough ahead of time to even make the appointment. Worse yet, I feel my breath catch and my heart hammer home in my chest as I read the name accented by the little heart.

"Who the fuck is Taylor?" I whisper to myself, the warm giddy feeling rumbling up from my butterfly filled stomach telling me more than I really cared to know. Still, as I read the calendar my shoulders only slump further, the day seeming far more filled than the former blonde had let on.

 

"Oh... my...gaaaaawd..." I groan, rolling my eyes as I click my white painted nails against the sides of the phone in frustration. "That fucking biiiiitch..." I seethe, hissing under my breath as I read over the rest of the calendar.

"Music in Art and the Moving Picture - Class 12/12" - 11am

"<3 Coffee with Andrew <3" - 12pm

"Roland..." I grumble under my breath, my mind turning to the rake thin man with the monotone voice from the old art department. The man had worked at Latham for decades and it showed, his limited graying hairs having receded back to become more of a circlet than anything else while his lithe frame had withered to a practical skeleton.

His way of teaching had remained unchanged, or at least I thought so. My brow creases as I try to remember his classes, having taken them when I was still a student at the college.

However, as I cast my mind to the lecture halls I find myself overcome with a haze of boredom and distraction. Moment to moment memories are completely gone, the time spent messaging on my phone and browsing fashion outlets online all blurring together into one time wasting milieu.

Biting at my plush bottom lip, my pearly whites turning the pillowy flesh red and flush, I find my thoughts lingering on one particular distraction. Broad shouldered and tall, his short black hair featuring a fuckboy fade that revealed his lightly tan flesh beneath. In practically ever class I had stolen glances at him, my gaze darting from his strong jawline to his exposed strong arms.

Looking at the next event in the calendar I squeeze my soft thighs together, a soft whimper escaping my lips as it hits me.

"So... I like... that... guy?" I mutter weakly, my breath quickening as I shove my phone away and into my jacket pocket. "Fuckin' bitch..." I huff, my mind recoiling at my seemingly more limited vocabulary for describing my displeasure.

Taking a deep breath I try to calm down, my hands raising up to my faux-fur lined hood as I pull it forward and recede deeper inside. "Something tomorrow" I spit in a mocking tone, pushing the door open as I slink outside and into the cold air.

"Stupid fuckin'..." I grumble, pausing as I try to find the right word in my dimmed scattered mind. "... Bitch... fuckin' damn it..."

 

Trudging home in the cold night air almost feels like second nature, a short giggle erupting from my lips as I blurt out the first thing to come to mind.

"Soooo much easier sober..." I laugh, the errant thought forcing its way out as I quickly clam up. My lip quivers as I feel the strange new thoughts bounce around in my head, from admiring and fawning over cute shoes in shop windows to glaring enviously at women being wined and dined in passing restaurants.

"I sooooo need a drink..." I grumble, shivering despite my many layers. Had it always been this cold at night? My mind searches for an answer only to find blurry hazy half-memories of staggering around in ankle-breaking heels and tight mini-dresses in the dead of night.

"... Like... really need a fuckin' drink..."

 

Once I make it back to the apartment the uncanny blend of memories doesn't make things any easier. Bounding up the steps and rounding past each landing I pause for a moment on the fourth floor, my body lurching to move up to the next flight while something tells me I was missing something here.

"Wait..." I mutter through chattering teeth. "I Mr Hughes lives here" I mutter, wincing as my tongue swerves to avoid any reference to me and my usual self. With a huff I quickly push off the step and up to the next flight, my energetic albeit short body making light work of the final leg.

Reaching the fifth floor landing I simply walk down the hall to the apartment above what had been my own, my hand reaching into my back pocket instinctively as I fish out a set of keys. Rattling the keys inside the lock I finally manage to get them to turn, the tumblers inside seemingly in desperate need of repairs.

"Urgh..." I groan, pushing the door open. "Great... more shit to deal with..."

"What was that?" calls a voice from inside the apartment, my heart skipping a beat as I hear the slightly husky voice of Gracie call out from somewhere beyond the door. As I push the door the rest of the way open I'm met with the sight of a downright disaster zone, the two college girls obviously still not used to not having a parent clean up after them.

The overall layout of the apartment is the same and the one beneath, the entry way leading to a long living space before giving way to the kitchen and hallway disappearing to the right. From my own knowledge of the space I can only guess that one of us got the smaller room, what I had used for a study, as a bedroom while the other received the opposite and only real bedroom.

 The living space is flanked with two sofas, one heavily worn red three seater of half-decent quality sitting to the right while a cheap flat pack white couch sits opposite from the first and against the left wall. Both feature more than a few stains, though the red one appears to have handled it better as the coffee and wine marks seem to blend in better with the fabric.

A thin coffee table separates the room ,yet another cheap flat pack made of flimsy white particle board. A stack of plates and bowls sit at one end of the narrow table, a laptop  and an empty food container at the other. The exhausted goth girl lays sprawled out on the red couch, her five foot eight frame clad in a set of baggy black shorts and a loose tank top emblazoned with some sort of band logo.

For a second my gaze lingers on the goth girl's chest, her pink areola and black bar pierced nipple being more than visible through the gaping neckline. However, where there would have once been lust or arousal now sits a sense of pride and superiority with a hint of disgust at the piercing.

"Hey! Earth to Stephanie" Gracie snaps, clicking her fingers as she places a black lipstick stained wine glass on the table precariously. "What did you just say?" she asks, narrowing her gaze at me as if I were about to start a fight.

"Nothin'..." I sigh, dragging myself inside as I kick my furry boots off by the door. Sneakers, work boots, dress shoes, heels, and more sit in a rough pile beside the entry way, the leaving place of all footwear for both the young women here. "... 'least they'll be easy to find..." I muse, giggling a little as I turn to head towards the kitchen.

"Seriously!" Gracie barks, rolling her eyes at me as I pass. "What's the problem now princess?" she huffs, snatching at the wine glass before guzzling down to the last drop.

"Urgh..." I groan back, throwing back my hood as platinum blonde hairs fall into my face. Pursing my lips together I blow the errant strands free before simply pouting, my face coming to rest this way immediately as Gracie begins to grumble at me.

As I reach the end of the coffee table I reach over to pick up the plates, the stack feeling way heavier than they have any right to be. I struggle to wrap my dainty hands around the pile, my fingers immediately beginning to ache as I quickly run them into the kitchen.

Much like in the room below I quickly find the old dish washer sitting beside the sink. Dropping the plates on the counter top I slide out the dishwasher, only to find it full of dirty crockery and cutlery. Exhaling sharply through my nose I begins to look through the drawers and cupboards, my search passing over more lipstick stained wine classes and an open bottle of cheap red by the edge of the U-shaped counter before eventually finding what I could only assume was the cheapest bulk dish washing tablets money could buy.

Tossing one into the dishwasher I go to close it, pausing for just long enough to quickly fiddle with the settings to meet my usual preference. As the machine begins to hum, draining what was left of the water from the bottom, I stand up with a stretch.

"A least I have my... uh... home... skills..." I muse, pausing as I try to find the right words to little success. Walking over to the wine bottle I give it a quick sniff, the sweet red assaulting my senses as I feel my mouth begin to water.

"Hey!" Gracie calls out, rolling over on the sofa to get a better look into the kitchen. "I was... I mean I was going to get around to that!" she snaps, a faint blush coming to her cheeks out of embarrassment.

"Well too fuckin' late..." I giggle, prancing over to a cupboard and retrieving a glass. I spin each in my hand before picking any out, my focus locked to the lip stick stains until I find a soft pink hue that screams Steph. "... and..." I coos, grabbing the wine before pouring myself a large glass.

"You can't keep stealing my.." Gracie snaps, her admonishment falling on deaf ears.

"It's like... payment" I chirp, poking out my tongue before taking a sip of the disgustingly sweet yet concerning delicious wine. "I'll do the next ones too, so just... fuckin' chill okay?" I ask mocking, giving the now older goth girl a smirk before prancing out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

"Bathroom ahead and too the right..." I quietly mutter, pausing as I get out of sight of the sour looking goth. "That means... like..." I continue, looking to my left and right at the two doors. Inching towards the main bedroom I peak through the gap in the door, the dark room appearing lit only by the light from the street lamps outside.

An unlit salt lamp sits beside a massive mattress on the floor, a sea of discarded clothes in all manner of dark reds and purples littering the remaining space around the makeshift bed. I purse my lips in frustration as I see the larger of the two spaces used so poorly, my stomach also sinking at the thought of how this messy blonde had managed her own space.

"So... this is Steph's mine..." I grumble, spinning around towards what was my study in the apartment below.

Pushing open the door I feel it catch on something, my eyes darting down immediately as I watch a loose gray drop shoulder top twist and tangle into the gap beneath the door and the floor. Kicking it aside I notice my toenails, the dainty little things dotted with white polish to match that on my hands.

As the top is less than gracefully moved and I fumble for the light I soon find myself on the cusp of a tight and cramped bedroom. Where my desk sat at the end of the rectangular room downstairs now sits a cheap double bed, the white frame and pink sheets both looking like they had been bought from some inexpensive and student friendly department store.

Underwear and workout gear sit mingling beneath the raised bed frame, a collage of pastel pinks and purples along with a few sweat stained whites in desperate need of a bleach. To the right, and taking up much of the space, sits an old hard wood wardrobe that looks well outside of the budget for the rest of the room.

Inching in I quickly walk over to the bed, my petite form dropping to the overly soft squishy mattress with a thud as I spill a few drops of wine on the pillow case.

I can't help but groan at the sight of the slowly growing stain, my head craning up as I take a few more gulps of the wine. "I'm so fuckin' stupid..." I groan, glaring for a moment at the glass as though it could just be the wines fault.

With one hand clutching the glass I begin to unzip the jacket, revealing white v-necked top and the generous cleavage beneath the white padded jacket. "Bitch sure has a style..." I grumble, reaching down as I begin to move to unbuckle and peel the skin tight jeans off of me.

"Though... like... it does look super cute..."