Workman: Chapter Five - Part One

Workman

1

The oddest thing was that when I woke up there was no “bloody hell” moment.

I didn’t jerk upright, gaping down at my manly body in incredulity, instantly regretting what had happened, asking myself how I could have let it happen in the first place. I just opened my eyes and smiled contentedly and stretched. It didn’t even occur to me there was anything funny about my situation at first. When it did I just thought to myself, oh, I’m still a man. I didn’t have a shock reaction. And why would I really? Fifty percent of the population were men. It was a perfectly ordinary state for them. Why should I have a panic attack about it?

I’d slept really deeply; far deeper than I was used to. I’d been a light sleeper my whole life. I felt refreshed in a way I didn’t normally. I chuckled. Maybe I should always sleep like this and change back in the morning.

The bed was empty next to me. I pushed my hair back off my forehead and scratched my crown, then swung my legs off the bed. There was a note over on the drawers in a pretty, flowing, feminine script.

 

Hey Big Boy,

 

Had a really good time last night. It’s lovely to meet a good old-fashioned man. And even lovelier to shag him!

 

Sneaking out cause I have to meet the manager of Tower Gates this morning and I don’t have my uniform. You look almost as cute asleep as you do awake!

Give me a call.

Sangeeta

  xxJxx

 

She’d written her mobile number at the bottom. I reread the first paragraph then laid it back down, smiling to myself.

I went through to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror over the sink, stroking my cheek and smoothing down my new goatee beard. I hadn’t had a proper look at it until now. It looked good and suited me.

The restful night had done wonders for my state of mind. I didn’t feel jittery at all anymore about being a man. It continued to feel comfortable and normal.

I checked the time. There was only an hour before I was meant to be next door doing that plastering. I took hold of the ring, wondering if I should take it off for a bit. I turned it on my finger then let it go. There wasn’t any point really. I might as well stay as I was for now.

I opened the bathroom cabinet and frowned.

“That’s weird.”

It was full of stuff – more full than it had been – and a lot of it was guy’s stuff: shaving things; hair wax; a beard trimmer. I half closed it, keeping my hand on the door, looking back into the bedroom, then I went back through.

The wardrobe had changed too. A lot of my womanly clothes were in there still but intermingled with them were men’s things: shirts, trousers, sweaters, jeans. There were men’s shoes and trainers in the bottom laid neatly beside the haphazard pile of ladies’ shoes I owned.

I stoked my beard, looking at it, then got dressed in jeans and a T shirt and jogged downstairs. There was still unopened mail on the table in the hall. I picked up and flicked through the letters making a subtle nod when I saw what I was expecting.

There were letters addressed to me – Geoff – alongside letters addressed to my other self as Alison. The shift in reality that had created the ID card had gone a notch further. It had happened the night before I realised. I just hadn’t noticed at the time. The hair cream I’d used... It hadn’t been my dad’s at all. It belonged to me as Geoff.

I took another look at the ring.

It really was incredible.

I wondered again if I should take it off and chuck it away. But I’d passed that decision by. There was no point. I was going to get the house ready ten times faster as a bloke and that was on top of bringing in some proper money for a change doing this plastering across the road. And I’d had an excellent time with Sangeeta the night before. As far as I was concerned I was going to go on using this ring on and off from now on.

It was all good!