Then I remembered the events that transpired the night before. My hand darted to my crotch. I felt a vagina.
"Bailey? Bailey, are you here?" I hissed.
Nothing.
Bailey was always such a late riser.
"Time to wake up, Bailey! We're late to brunch!" my aunt's voice boomed through the bedroom door.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
"Bailey! Wake up!"
Still nothing.
I had to get dressed. I pulled on a fresh bra and panties from Bailey's drawer. Topped it with a girly skirt and tightly fitting top. Something she would probably wear.
The door swung open, "Oh good, you're dressed! Come on, honey. We've gotta get going. We have a reservation."
I was pulled out of the house and into the car before I could utter a word.
I wonder if physically being in another body helps you remember some of its memories over time.
ReplyDeleteWhat happened to the old 'Bailey'? Do you prefer being the new Bailey?
Is her pretty privilege life all that's its cracked up to be?