Finally the day of the concert had arrived. Three months ago I bought two tickets for one show only in our city. In a way an anniversary, as it was twenty-five years ago that my then girlfriend and I went to our first concert together, by the same artist. The concert was sold out within two hours. And as we got ready to leave, my wife injured her hand.

Believe me, when you close a car door onto your fingers, you will cry. And I took her to the urgent-care rather than the concert. Two broken fingers. And with her arm in a sling she did not feel like going out at all. But she wanted me to go.

It was too late to offer her ticket for sale, and no one we called could change their plans for the evening, so I ended up going by myself. Dressed in the same leather pants I wore so many years ago. Very tight around my belly, as I had added a few pounds right in my waist area.

I knew that parking close to the arena would be a problem when leaving, so where I parked was about a ten minute walk in quite a cold night. A lot of people did the same, as there was a stream of pedestrians walking into the direction of the arena.

Getting closer, there was a woman on the sidewalk, asking for money or something, and I saw people shake their heads. By the time I reached her, I realized she wasn't an old beggar at all, she was in her early thirties, pretty and dressed in a long winter coat. And she wasn't asking for money, she was asking if she could buy my ticket.

Obviously, I wasn't going to sell mine, but I had my wife's ticket on my phone, and instead of asking her to pay for it, I told her she could have it for free. It was simply a good feeling when I saw the smile on her face.

As we walked together to the arena, I learned her name was Lavinia, which I thought was exotic. When I asked her why she hadn't bought her ticket sooner, she said she had only found out today. She was from Seattle, and visiting a customer here, and from them she learned about the concert.

As a matter of fact, she did buy tickets a week ago, for the show in Seattle in three months. And if I was interested, I could go with her, if I was willing to fly to the other side of the country. As long as I'd wear my leather pants again, as she loved the “real” leather on me. I could stay at her place.

Recognizing the hint, I made sure to tell her about my wife and her injury, and that I didn't expect more than her and I to enjoy the concert together as friends. She smiled, as she appreciated my directness and my dedication to my wife. “Just my luck”, she said, jokingly.

Later though I felt like eating my words, because once inside she took off her coat, and she wore a brown full length leather dress under it, perfectly fitting her generous curves. And my body betrayed me as my pants suddenly got even tighter in the crotch area.

I think she knew, as I saw her chuckling, but she was a good sport, so we talked just about the concert. I did manage, as we switched spots, so she could look over the shorter person in front of us, to brush my hand over her leather. And a thrill shot through my body. Why did my wife never wear a dress like this?

She was very upfront about it. “Look”, she said, “I know you are faithful to your wife, and I'm not asking for any sexual act, but I wouldn't mind your hands on my leather a bit more. It feels amazing being on the inside, I can tell you!”

And, knowing that it was innocent, but an incredible thrill, I touched her a lot after that, while sitting, or with my arm around her hip, as we were standing while cheering for the pre-show. Did I say innocent? In mere minutes I was hooked to simply touching her. And she moved her body more and more into mine.

It wasn't until the break before the main act, when she asked me, “You seem to really like touching my leather. But wouldn't you want to experience what it feels like on the inside while being touched?”

Now, what kind of question was that? Even though I was wondering about exactly that. But, I wasn't going to ask to try on her dress, right? I'm not some crossdresser wanting to wear a dress, but I did want to feel it, if I were honest with myself.

As if she could read my thoughts, she explained that she wasn't asking me to put on her dress. She was asking if I was interested in swapping bodies for a while. Or our minds really.

If she hadn't looked so serious, I would have laughed and dismissed it. And thus, trying to explain it better, she started explaining her gift. She said that people have a soul, or some call it a spirit. It lives inside the brain and it defines ourselves. Who we are and what we are. It controls the brain, and uses most of it to store memories, etc. But the spirit holds the most precious ones, plus about everything that has happened for the past hour or so, before it gets “filed” in solid memory.

But, that spirit, that energy, together with our self-being and precious memory, can be isolated from the brain. It will do so, for example, when your body dies. In which case the spirit will float around the world, waiting for new life to spring, in which it can settle again. The longer that takes, the more memories get lost, and even when absorbed, the brain that is still developing, can't hold much initially. And by the time a new baby is born, the only thing that is often left, is the self-being.

But, when a new host is quickly found after dying, with a more developed brain, memories are remembered in the new life, and people often call that reincarnation.

Now, her gift, as Lavinia explained, was that she was able to isolate her spirit from her body as well as that from someone else, and make them swap. She would become me, and I would become her. Until we switched back, later tonight. Or whenever we felt like.

She explained that it may feel weird, but due to the enormous amount of memories stored in the physical brain, we would each be able to live like the other person. But I would know that I was a man named Jack before, and the most intimate details of Jack's life. But, the longer we would wait before swapping back, a piece of Lavinia would become part of my spirit, my soul, giving me an insight into what it is to be a woman.

As the break was almost over, I had to decide quickly, and to be honest, I didn't really believe her, but I wanted her to humor me. So, I nodded to give my consent.

And just like that, she took my face in her hands, and pulled me in a deep kiss, her tongue almost in my throat. And it felt so good, I answered with my own tongue in hers, as people around us whistled.

The change was so smooth, I didn't even realize it until he pulled back. And when I saw his face, my old face, I was in shock. For just a moment, because I knew I was Lavinia, and always had been. And he was Jack, a man I met only an hour ago or so.

I remember being him, being aroused by my dress. I remember his kids' names, Jack Junior or JJ and Carrie, even though he never mentioned them. But I couldn't remember their age, or their birth dates, just that they were in college. It was easier on his brother and mother, just like I knew my sister's birthday and my own mother's. I remember feeling his hands on me, as well as putting those hands on me. These double memories were really confusing.

I saw him smiling at me, as if he could read my mind. “It's awkward, isn't it?” I nodded, and he continued. “You won't forget the memories you brought over with your spirit, but they will soon be overshadowed by existing and new memories. You could live my life and I yours and nobody would probably find out. It's a bit different for me, as my spirit is capable of carrying way more knowledge with me. You should have access to some of that as well, as I've had that body since birth.”

I had so many questions, but the music started and we all stood up to cheer. And when my idol started singing, I could not stop myself from singing along. I knew every word, of course, but suddenly I remembered being uncomfortable as Jack, loving the lyrics but not capable of hanging on to them, so unable to sing along more than just the first sentence. And indeed, looking at him, he was sort of moving his mouth but no sound came out. It wasn't one of those things you store in your precious spirit memory.

While singing and enjoying the concert, my thoughts were on him. How had he known, while still me, that he could swap souls with someone? And I found the answer in my own memories. He had been doing this for hundreds of years, leaving pieces of his previous lives in each new body.

It seemed exhausting almost, as each time he died, his spirit would wander, until it was sucked in by an unborn child, whose brain was mature enough to hang on to the spirit. Then he would be born and live that new life, unless he decided to swap with someone.

He never took someone else's body. It was always agreed on between both. Sometimes a short time, for fun, just like we are doing, sometimes to prove a point for a longer period of time, and sometimes it was permanent, where he gave somebody else his younger body, as he would live out the life that was left in his or her new body.

As I went through all these new thoughts, someone else's memories, I felt his hand on my butt, and a flash of desire shot through me. I knew my dress wasn't lined with any other material, it was just an extra skin that followed my curves, and thanks to the G-string I was wearing I could feel his fingers like on my own skin.

I knew I wanted him and as I felt his leather crotch I knew he wanted me as well. I knew he wouldn't cheat on his wife, but maybe I could rub one out for him? Blow him? I could feel my pussy leaking, just from the thought, as I opened his zipper and slid my hand in. Everyone around us was too involved in the concert to notice how I was stroking his dick, but I wanted more.

“Come with me”, I shouted in his ear, and I pulled him with me to the nearest exit. I had seen a family bathroom just outside the exit, and thank God it wasn't in use. As he closed the door behind us I was already on my knees, pulling his hard-on through the opening in his pants, and I sucked it in. I loved the smell of leather in my nose, and I suddenly realized that my old self would want his hands on my leather as well, which was almost impossible in the position we were in now.

So, I pulled him down to the ground, lifted my skirt up as good as I could, and sitting doggy style I offered him my dripping pussy. “Don't think, just take me”, I urged him. And as far as I had taken him already he simply had no chance. He pulled the little swat of my panties to the side and pushed straight in, his hands caressing the leather that was still on my hips. Neither of us had a chance really, and although I had memories of being with men before, this was the first time for my own soul. And I loved every second of it. And as he shot his load inside me, taking me over the edge with him, I was in heaven. How was I ever going to be myself again?

Afterwards, I cleaned his dick with my mouth, somehow sucking a bit more from his balls, and then I tucked everything back in his pants. He actually cleaned my pussy with his tongue, making me come a second time. By the time we were back at our seats we had only missed two songs.

Soon it was “half-time”, and most people went to pee or get some food. Not us, as we sat together, arm in arm like lovers. He asked if I was ready to switch back, and I begged if I could stay in my body until the end of the concert. He nodded, laughing, and saying how well my soul fit this body. And I realized he was right, both shocked and pleasantly surprised.

As people were slowly coming back to their seats, towards the end of the break, I suddenly heard the drum on the podium starting to play. It was really loud, and as we stood to look, there was nobody playing it. But there was a man on stage, with a rifle, randomly shooting into the audience. And everything went suddenly into slow motion.

I could hear people scream, saw some falling, blood pouring from their bodies, and as I looked at the shooter I saw him aim straight at me. I was frozen with fear, and couldn't move, as I thought I saw him pull the trigger. Just then, Jack stepped in front of me and as I heard a loud bang, his head slapped backwards and hit the side of my head. And all went black.

“Lavinia. Lavinia! Can you hear me?”

Someone was calling my name, but I couldn't open my eyes. A sharp hot pain shot through my head, and I could hear myself moaning in pain. “She's coming out of it”, I heard the same voice say, as a cool cloth was carefully pushed against the spot where all pain seemed to concentrate.

And finally I could open my eyes. It felt like I was in a driving car, and suddenly I understood. An ambulance. “What happened?”, I managed to say. “You got smashed in the head. We think you may have a concussion.” And suddenly I remembered. The shooter. Jack. “Jack! What happened to him?” The answer was devastating.

“Jack? Your boyfriend? He took a bullet for you. Part of his skull, ripped away by the bullet, knocked you out.”

“He's a friend. Not a boyfriend. Is he okay?”

“I'm sorry darling. He saved your life. But it cost him his own. He's dead.”

More memories came back. That was my body that got killed. He saved me. I would have done the same thing, I realized. Protecting was some sort of instinct. To Jack. No matter who was inside that body. “Oh no!”, I cried, suddenly knowing my future. There was no body anymore to switch back to. I was Lavinia now, permanently.

They checked me out in the hospital with more advanced equipment. It wasn't a concussion, but they were worried about my brain in that area swelling, so they kept me overnight.

Thank goodness the people taking me to the ambulance had also recovered my handbag. That's how they figured out my name, I guess, while I was out. But I had my phone now, and my credit cards. And as soon as I had a chance, I called my sister, who was still up due to the three hour time difference.

It was good to hear her voice when I explained what had happened. She'd heard about the shooting, killing twenty, including the gunman. But she was shocked to hear how I had looked death in the eyes. And that someone had sacrificed their life for me.

I managed to extend my hotel by another night, and my flight home by a day, so that I could still wrap up with my customer, once they let me out of there. Then a call to my best friend and roommate, telling her I'd be home a day later. And ofcourse she freaked out when she heard of the shooting and what a close call it had been for me. And when I finally slept I dreamed about being Jack, who gave his life up for me.

When I woke up, feeling much better, I was very aware of the difference between being a man or woman, when you're dealing with a bedpan to pee, as I wasn't allowed out of bed still. I managed only thanks to this body knowing itself intimately.

After breakfast a woman entered my room, and although I recognized her instantly, I managed to hide the fact that I knew she was Zoe, Jack's wife. My wife, only a day before.

After she had introduced herself, I told her how nice her husband had been, giving me his extra ticket. Her ticket really. And I was honest about initially offering him an intimate thank-you, but he was adamant about being married, with no desire to cheat on his wife.

Yet, he didn't hesitate when he moved his body between me and the shooter and saved my life.

We were both crying by then, and she hugged me, telling me it wasn't my fault. Her husband was an honorable man, and because we were really talking about me, I knew it to be true. I just wished he had pushed me down to the ground, out of the line of fire. But then again, I had not been able to move myself either, when it all went down.

She was concerned about my injury, and when I told her I was much better, hoping to be released soon, she gave me a small mirror, and I saw what they had done to my hair, a huge chunk simply gone. At least it made it easy to see that the swelling had indeed gone down, but once more I couldn't stop my tears. And this woman, until yesterday my wife, but now a widow, pushed away her own grief, and offered to help me once I got out of the hospital. She had a hairdresser who could do miracles. And when she asked me if I would come to the funeral, I said “Of course!”