Rhys’s Spanish girlfriend, Feliciana, is waaaay out of his league. She’s smart and gorgeous, with an incredible busty figure. Rhys thought everything was going great until she admits that she cheated on him. Now she’s going away for a 6 month internship which leaves Rhys plenty of time to stew over her. He’s angry and hurt and depressed. He wants to make Feliciana feel the same way he does.
That’s when he chances upon a spell that can allow two people to swap bodies.
Rhys tricks Feliciana into swapping them so that he can steal her life, ditching her boring corporate job for a new one selling lingerie then coming home to enjoy the company of Feliciana’s sexy lesbian roommate. The longer Rhys is in his ex’s body the more he comes to love it.
But to make the swap permanent he’ll have to trick Feliciana into enjoying her own banging body from the other side of the gender divide.
The mood in the car was tense as Rhys drove Feliciana down the M1 towards London. Rhys stared straight ahead at the road as his thoughts churned. Feliciana’s hands were in her lap, fingers twisting together. Her confession lay heavy in the air between them.
Finally, Rhys broke the silence. “How many times?”
“Just once. It was stupid. It was an accident. You and I were fighting and he was there—”
“An accident. So, like, you slipped and fell on his dick?”
“Aye, madre mia, Rhys. Don’t be so crude.” Feliciana admonished him.
Even when fighting over something that was so clearly her fault sometimes her Catholic Spanish upbringing came through. She’d lived in the UK long enough so that her accent was light—but still, to Rhys’s mind, cute—and her family often switched casually between Spanish and English. She was the whole reason Rhys had started learning Spanish. He loved her for fuck’s sake. And then she dropped this bomb on him.
“What the fuck? What the fuck?” Rhys slapped the wheel, causing the car to swerve slightly.
“I’m sorry, Rhys. It meant nothing. I still love you.” Her voice broke and she paused to sniff away a tear.
“But you’ll have sex with other blokes? I can’t trust you anymore, Feliciana. We have one argument and you go crawling into someone else’s bed.”
“Oh, come on, Rhys,” Feliciana retorted, becoming fiery. It was a habit of hers, twisting things around so that she was the victim. “It wasn’t one argument. You’ve been distant for a while.”
“I’m working on it!”
“Were you working on it when you went out to the bar with your colleague?”
“That was different. It wasn’t like that,” Rhys protested, suddenly and uncomfortably caught on the backfoot. His colleague had been flirting with him by asking him out and he’d accepted. He’d recently had a spat with Feliciana and it was nice to be wanted by someone. Nothing had happened though. But if something had happened, Rhys had a feeling he might not have resisted. “This isn’t about me. This is about you,” Rhys insisted, steering the conversation back to safer ground.
“This is about us, Rhys. Maybe this break will be good for us. I feel like you’ve been taking me for granted. We don’t go out anymore. You don’t leave me little notes. When’s the last time you bought me flowers?”
“Oh, so I don’t buy flowers means you can go out and snog other people?”
“It’s not just the flowers. It’s everything. I don’t even know whether you love me anymore. Or if I love you.”
There was a pause as they both took in her last outburst. She grabbed a cigarette from her packet in the cup holder, lit it, and rolled down the window to blow the smoke out. It was one of her habits he couldn’t stand and had always tried to break.
“I do. I did.” Rhys swiped at his watery eyes. “Maybe this break will be the end of us.”
“Maybe.” She fixed him with her sparkling brown eyes but he resolutely ignored her.
Feliciana tossed her long black hair back, folded her arms beneath her ample chest and glared out the passenger side window. How was she suddenly the angry one here?
Rhys wished he’d never agreed to help her move to London for her internship. It had only been an hour into the three hour trip that the truth had come out. Maybe if she hadn’t admitted what she’d done they could have pretended that everything was fine. It would have been just a six month break and when she came back they would have picked up good as new. Maybe he would have never known. Now, though, everything was broken.
They barely spoke for the remainder of the trip. Rhys finally pulled into the complex where Feliciana’s company had set up a corporate apartment for the duration of her internship. Rhys supposed he could have just dumped her crap on the ground and hightailed it out of there. But, despite everything, he still loved her. Still wanted her. So he hefted the heaviest suitcase as Feliciana grabbed two of her smaller bags.
Rhys followed her in. Despite his anger he couldn’t help but fix his eyes on her swaying ass and the wide hips and thick thighs that were so inviting. He’d kissed and caressed them so many times before. Her ass bounced back and forth in front of him all the way to the front desk. Even in his anger he ached for her.
He stewed in silence while she checked in and got her key. Feliciana entered the lift and held it open for Rhys. He had to brush past her through the doorway and got a quick hit of her tangerine body wash that always reminded him of her. She tucked her hair back behind each ear as the lift took them up to her temporary home. Rhys stared straight ahead at his reflection mirrored in the polished steel doors.
He was taller than she was. Bulkier with muscle. His shaved head gleamed in the lift lights. His pale English skin contrasted beautifully with her dark Spanish coloring. With her curvy hourglass figure, her perfectly arranged dark features and wonderfully buoyant breasts she could have had anyone. And, apparently, she did, Rhys thought morosely.
The flat was sterile and corporate but so much nicer than her flat back home where she had only a single room with a shared kitchen and bathroom. Rhys guessed that was one of the perks of studying international business: that one would be put up in a flat worthy of international business people.
It only took three trips to empty Rhys’s car of all Feliciana’s things. Rhys dumped the last bag onto the living room couch and turned to go.
He turned warily. Her hands were at her sides and she was rubbing her thumb and forefinger together, a sure sign of her nervousness.
“I am sorry.”
“I don’t know. I just…I don’t know.”
He returned back down the hallway and stepped into the lift. As the doors slid closed, the last thing he saw was Feliciana standing in front of her door, her shoulders stooped, her beautiful face a mask of pain.
Rhys had planned to spend the rest of that day with Feliciana. As usual, he was the organized one, setting up a whole itinerary for their short time together in London. He was even going to spend the night for some last pre-break sex. Now, heartbroken and miserable, he thought about just going home but he didn’t know if he could stomach the three hour drive back up north just stewing in his own silence. In the end he figured he may as well do some of what he’d planned on doing.
That was how he ended up inside the British Museum. He wandered the halls, peering at the sculptures and relics. Alongside all the other visitors he somehow felt even more lonely. Feliciana was supposed to be here with him. He knew she’d be awed at some of these artifacts and he missed her voice.
And then he descended into gloom. She’d cheated on him. She wasn’t worthy of his affection. He always harbored a deep-seated belief that she was too pretty for him. He was a five dating a nine and look where it had gotten him. But, god, he missed her. God, how he wanted her to feel like he did. He wanted her to know that she’d taken his whole life from him and turned everything upside down.
Rhys’s attention was caught by a sign announcing the newest exhibition: a display on the supernatural and occult. The exhibition room was darker than the others, attempting a spooky atmosphere. Early Christian occult artifacts sat behind thick glass cases. The descriptions on them revolved around strange rituals and beliefs. From the earliest times, people wanted to believe that they could control their destiny with magic, that they could punish their enemies and find true happiness.
Rhys empathized with those early humans. Wouldn’t it be great to just say a few magic words and get revenge on anyone who’d wronged you? God, what he wouldn’t give for some magic to make Feliciana feel like he did right now. He wanted her to feel like her whole world had crumbled.