"Marcy!" Her husband called.

"Yes?"
"You almost ready?" He called again.
"Yes, about two or three minutes at the most!"

"Okay!" He called back.

Alvin sighed and he turned, figuring that he had enough time to get the make-up on the staples. He walked over to the mirror and opened a drawer, applying it with practiced ease.

As he watched the sight of the staples fade as the make-up was applied, he wondered if Jacob would ever figure it out. That he was not Marcy. The real Marcy, the woman who had inhabited that body not more than three weeks ago was tired of her life as the wife of an ego-driven business asshole, being nothing more a prop for him and his idea of what success looked like. So, when she looked for ways out and found out about a certain surgery and a willing participant, she could do nothing but say yes to it.

Now her brain was in the body of a middle-aged man, fit and strong, and seemingly nothing more than just your average blue-collar type. She hadn't asked where he had gotten the money for his part in this but of course he hadn't asked her where she got hers as well.

As she lived her new life, he knew she'd figure it out eventually that he wasn't always the blue-collar worker she took him as, that he was once a rival of her husband and the stupid, egotistical bastard had forced him out of his position and out of the corporate world entirely.

Now here he was, his brain in the body of the wife of the man who ruined his life all those years ago. This was going to be fun.