It’s a beautiful day, and two people are sitting outside, sharing a table on a cafe patio.

The man appears to be in his sixties and, while not unattractive, his years of indulging in lavish food and drink have taken their toll. His expanded waistline is concealed by a nicely tailored shirt and matching slacks, and an expensive-looking gold watch decorates his wrist. He’s currently on his phone, navigating through the day’s stock market reports.

His companion, sitting directly next to him, is a stark contrast to himself. Young, perhaps in her early twenties, she has long blonde hair and a gorgeous, charming face. She’s wearing a tight, body-hugging red dress, which pushes up her chest seductively. Her legs are crossed, and one arm is draped gracefully across her body, while the other lifts a frothy, whipped-cream-topped beverage to her pouty lips.

She swallows a healthy gulp, then pulls out her phone and holds it up in front of her. She smiles widely, exposing two rows of pearly white teeth. Holding the drink up so the lens can see, she presses the side button and the camera shutter clicks.

“What do you think, baby?” She asks in a valley-girl tone, showing the man the image on the screen.

He glances at it and smirks. “Sexy as always, sweetheart.”

She giggles, and begins typing. “Coffee date with my favourite person” she announces, choosing a caption for her post.

A few other men sitting outside can’t help but sneak glances at the blonde bombshell. One man’s wife catches him looking, and swats him on the arm with a reproachful look. He quickly averts his eyes.

The blonde taps the keyboard one final time, then sets her phone down on the table. She gazes over at her companion with a bubbly expression and continues “Thank you so much for my new dress. I hope it wasn’t too expensive…”

The playful look on her face suggests that she actually has no issue with him spending exorbitant sums of money on her.

He places a hand on her exposed knee and rubs it gently. “Anything for you, sweetheart” he replies. “Especially after last night…”

That comment is overheard by a few other tables, causing one middle-aged woman to blush and frown disapprovingly. Another, older, woman looks at the man in disgust.

The blonde giggles, apparently oblivious to the dirty looks they’ve attracted. “And that dinner was sooo good! I’ve never been to such a fancy restaurant. The food was amazing, I can’t believe I ate so much! I have to watch my figure…”

She places a hand on her slim, toned stomach, and a woman with a small child in a stroller stares daggers at her.

The man laughs, then leans over. His pretty companion eagerly leans in as well, and they kiss passionately.

The older woman at a nearby table scoffs and stands. She tosses her empty cup in the trash and leaves.

The couple finally separates, now drawing more than a few stares. Some curious and amused, some offended.

The man smiles, placing his hand on his companion’s bare knee. “I have a surprise for you, sweetheart” he says. “I need to go to Paris for a business trip next week, and I’d like for you to join me.”

The blonde squeals in delight, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug before pulling away. “Ohmigod!” She chirps. “That’s so exciting! I would love to go with you!”

She pauses briefly, then lowers her voice and asks “But…wouldn’t your wife want to go?”

The comment is overheard by a few other patrons, and the middle-aged woman glares at the man with a look of pure judgement.

The man just shakes his head. “She’s perfectly content at home, don’t worry” he replies, patting her on the knee. “We have a sort of informal arrangement. Besides, I don’t think she would be as…fun…of a companion.”

The young woman giggles, and the man takes her hand as they both get up from their table to leave. She walks around in front of him, and he pinches her ass playfully as she squeals in delight. The women sitting around them shake their heads in disapproval at the demeaning gesture, and the couple departs.

When they’re gone, the woman with her child leans over and says in a not-so-quiet voice. “Can you believe that jerk? Flaunting his mistress out in public like that?”

The middle-aged brunette reading a book nods in agreement. “Unbelievable. If that was my husband, I would kill him.”

Sitting at a table on the edge of the patio, a dark-haired woman lowers her phone and drops it into her purse, before discreetly leaving the cafe.

ONE HOUR LATER

Across town, a couple is sitting at the bar of an upscale hotel. The woman looks to be somewhere in her fifties, attractive, with perfectly styled chestnut hair without even the slightest hint of grey. Her face shows subtle signs of cosmetic work, but the soft lines signalling her age somehow only add to her beauty. Her outfit is impeccable and expensive-looking. A dark navy pencil dress falls down to her knees, clinging to her slender body. She’s wearing a pair of dark heels, and a string of pearls hangs around her neck.

Sitting next to her is a handsome, muscular young man no older than thirty. He’s wearing a pair of dark, fashionable jeans, a white v-neck shirt and a grey suit jacket. His wavy brown hair is slicked back, and his cheeks are covered by a thick, dark stubble.

Confidently, the woman lifts her hand and addresses the bartender.

“Dry martini, please. With a twist” she orders, a British accent clearly detectable in her voice.

The bartender nods and looks at the young gentleman. “I’ll have a bourbon” he says, with a slight Southern twang.

The man across the bar leaves to prepare their drinks, and the woman looks to her companion. They begin chatting, and the bartender can only overhear snippets of their conversation. Having “seen it all”, he briefly wonders about their relationship. His curiosity is put to rest as the young man gently places his hand on the woman’s upper thigh. The bartender catches the eye of another patron, a middle-aged businessman, whose eyebrow raises in amusement.

After their drinks are delivered, the young man says to the woman “I feel the need to thank you again, darlin’. You really didn’t have to splurge on such a nice car for me. I mean, you’ve done more than enough already.”

The woman smirks at him knowingly, and places her hand on top of his. “Don’t be silly. It was my pleasure, and you deserved it. Especially after your brilliant performance last evening…” she replies, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

The bartender is about to snort in laughter, but catches himself at the last moment. He does hear two female patrons at the end of the bar giggle quietly, having overheard the elegant woman’s remark.

The young man grins. “You know, when I met you, I had no idea you’d be such a wild thing” he says.

The woman leans over, places her hand on the back of his neck assertively, and pulls him in for a long, deep kiss. The few customers looking on all glance at each other, a few of them smiling.

One of the women at the end of the bar leans over to her friend and comments “Damn! Well, good for her, I guess. I hope that’s me when I’m her age…”

The couple separates and the woman takes a long sip of her drink. “Anyway, my dear, if you keep…” she lowers her voice and continues in her charming accent “…shagging me the way you’ve been doing, the gifts will most assuredly continue.”

Clearly, her voice is still loud enough to be overheard, and the businessman snorts into his glass. Thankfully, the couple doesn’t seem to notice his reaction, or the fact that the two women at the end of the bar are both blushing, and have averted their eyes.

The woman sets her glass down on the bar top and asserts “Now, you will be joining me in Paris next week, won’t you?”

“Wouldn’t miss it” the man replies. Speaking quietly, he adds “But won’t your husband wonder?”

She smiles back at him. “Don’t you worry about him” she insists, patting his hand. “He’ll be plenty busy himself. Besides, we have…an arrangement.”

The bartender has his back to the couple, and his eyes widen. All right, this may just be a new one, he thinks to himself, with a small smirk.

After another ten minutes of flirtatious conversation, they finish their drinks and the woman reaches into her purse. She pays the bill, and the couple stands and departs, leaving behind several bemused customers and staff members.

“You go girl…” one of the women chuckles, and the businessman raises his glass in agreement.

At the other end of the bar, the same dark-haired woman from the cafe lowers her phone and drops it into her purse. Having already paid, she discreetly exits the hotel.

TWO HOURS LATER

The dark-haired woman is in front of a desktop computer, typing away at the keyboard. She’s sitting in what looks to be a kind of small workshop, with several workbenches placed throughout the room. Shelves of containers and equipment line the perimeter of the space, along with a few tall storage cabinets.

She hears the door open, and looks up from her work. A man and a woman walk into the room, each of them wheeling a travel suitcase behind them.

“About time” the woman at the computer states matter-of-factly, glancing at her watch with her eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, Chelsea” the other woman apologizes. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, slender, with pale skin and auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail. “We just stopped off at Ben’s place to…change.”

Chelsea appears doubtful. “Well, it sure took you a while” she replies, with a hint of suspicion. She’d worked with the other woman, Liz, for over six years, and had learned how to read her expressions. Seeing a subtly flustered look on her face, she continues “Oh, you didn’t! You guys…”

The man, Ben, starts laughing and interrupts her. “Well, in a certain sense, we didn’t do anything” he replies, humour in his voice. He looks to be about the same age as Liz, slim, and is wearing a baseball cap over short, dirty blonde hair.

While Liz blushes, Chelsea rolls her eyes. “Uck” she grumbles.

The newcomers heft their suitcases onto two separate workbenches, and undo the zippers.

“So, did you get some good content?” Liz asks, happy to change the subject.

Her friend and coworker nods. “Uh-huh. I’m uploading it to the cloud now, so you can look it over.”

“Excellent!” Liz chirps, with a happy look on her face.

She reaches into the suitcase and lifts out some of its contents. What might cause an outside observer to recoil in fright elicits only a knowing smirk from Chelsea, sitting across the room.

The empty face of the middle-aged British woman, now revealed to be nothing but an intricate mask, flops back against Liz as she picks it up, its features crumpled against her body. Its once perfectly styled chestnut hair drapes sloppily as Liz continues to drag more of the eerily realistic-looking “costume” out of the suitcase. One of the “woman’s” pale, slender arms flops out, its hollow fingers squishing against the table.

She pulls out the rest of the deflated woman-suit, revealing an impossibly detailed body attached to the lifelike mask. Her slightly drooping breasts hang from the suit’s chest, and the three people in the room appear strangely unaffected by the fact that the “woman” is completely nude, and her intimate areas are immodestly on display for all to see.

The suit’s empty legs flop out of the suitcase, smacking against the floor with a light thwack. Liz holds up the impressive costume from underneath its armpits, proudly showing it off.

“Those ladies at the bar really seemed quite taken with Vivian, here…” Liz chuckles, poking at the mask’s floppy, lightly wrinkled cheek. Its empty eye sockets gape directly at Chelsea, who just smiles back at her in return.

Chelsea laughs. “I noticed. I bet they were jealous of her hot date” she says, gesturing to Ben. While Liz was busy pulling Vivian out, he had done the same with Samuel, the fictitious name they’d given the young man.

“Who, this guy?” Ben jokes, lifting the deflated arm and waving at Chelsea with its limp, masculine hand. She can’t help but giggle, particularly at the sight of the rather generous manhood dangling between the suit’s legs. It, too, appears hollow, apparently designed to be “filled” by the wearer.

Chelsea waves back sarcastically at the eerie, prothetic husk of a man. “Uh-huh” she replies. “I could see those women practically undressing you with their eyes. I see you decided to go with some extra padding on the arms? Thought it would be easier than hitting the gym for once?” She teases.

Ben subtly gives her the middle finger, then squishes the suit’s padded biceps. “He is in pretty good shape, huh?” He says with a smirk.

Liz and Ben both heft their disguises face-up onto the tabletops. There they lie, their intricate features distorted, crumpled by their own weight.

Grinning, Ben digs around and retrieves a pair of men’s underwear from his suitcase. “Don’t worry, Sam. I’ve got you covered” he jokes, draping the fabric over the suit’s large member. “See how nice I am? Unlike Liz over there…” he says, pointing to Vivian’s exposed groin.

Liz rolls her eyes. “Hilarious” she remarks. Chelsea starts to giggle and she adds “Don’t encourage him.”

Smiling, Chelsea says “These two were amusing, for sure. But I think I liked the first performance better. Those people at the cafe looked like they wanted to strangle Mr. Campbell.”

Surprisingly, from her own suitcase, Liz lifts the fake man’s empty husk by its short grey hair. It’s sunspot-freckled arms dangle limply back down into the bag.

“It was strange playing an old dude” Liz remarks, running her fingers along the torso’s hairy chest and pudgy stomach.

Ben scoffs. “Oh please, how do you think I felt, playing the ditzy sugar baby? I know you swapped our molds on purpose. Accident, my ass.”

As Liz and Chelsea giggle, he reaches inside his case and grabs a handful of wavy blonde hair. He lifts his hand out, pulling the deflated face and body of Autumn along with it.

Her pouty, pink lips flop around loosely as he drags the suit out. A pair of breasts with small, pale areolas hang from the chest area, their fullness apparent even when not being worn. Her empty hands slide out of the bag, followed by her abdomen and smoothly shaven, exquisitely detailed sex. Finally, her legs flop onto the tabletop as he lays the womanly disguise out next to Samuel.

While he works, Chelsea comments “I dunno, Ben. It looked to me like you were enjoying yourself quite a bit playing her. Is there something you want to tell us?”

He ignores the jibe. Instead, humming to himself, he rolls the empty suit over and expertly slips his arm inside the open seam, into its hollow limb. Tugging briefly on the stretchy material, his fingers quickly snap inside their prosthetic counterparts. As he wiggles them around, the entire appendage appears to come to life.

Then, slowly, he extends his new, pink-tipped middle finger and holds it up towards Chelsea as the rest of the suit flops around limply.

Liz bursts out into laughter, and Chelsea can’t help but chuckle herself, covering her mouth with her hand. Grinning, Ben pulls his arm out of the suit once again, and it falls to the table with a thwap.

As he rearranges its hollow limbs, he says “I will admit it was a fun role to play. The coffee was delicious. I should order that kind of drink more often.”

Chelsea stands and approaches the tables, appraising the remarkable disguises. “In all seriousness, really nice job with these, guys. I thought I’d gotten used to how lifelike these things can be, but I feel like these are even more so.”

Liz beams proudly. “Thanks! We tried a couple new things this time around. I used a new kind of hair puncher that’s able to work with even tinier hair follicles.”

She lifts Vivian’s face up by its wavy mane and points to the edges of her hairline. Sure enough, the fake skin and intricate strands appear incredibly lifelike, indistinguishable from the real deal.

“And Ben was able to work some magic tweaking the materials” Liz adds, dropping the hollow mask back down to the table.

“Yeah” Ben affirms. “I have really zeroed in on the perfect process. You see, it’s important to be able to control the density depending on the final thickness and…”

He catches Liz and Chelsea staring at him blankly, and stops himself. “Never mind the details” he says, shrugging.

“Well, it is impressive” Chelsea states. “But do you really think it’s worth all the effort? I mean, just to get some short videos?”

Liz nods enthusiastically, while Ben puts away their suitcases and all of the clothing they’d used in their disguises.

“Definitely! The videos are going to be a commentary on society, you know? Double standards, and such. Plus, they’re going to be a big part of the marketing strategy I’m working on. When we reveal that the characters in the videos are just disguises we made, people will go nuts!” Liz explains.

“Yes, I’m sure the stock price will go through the roof” Chelsea says sarcastically, commenting on the small nature of their company.

Liz laughs and swats her friend and coworker on the arm. “You’ll see!” She chirps.

Chelsea doesn’t look convinced. “If you say so” she says. Smirking, she adds “But, really, this is just a way for you and Ben to dress up as other people, right? You can be honest.”

Liz rolls her eyes and chuckles. “Oh, please. I will admit, Ben and I used to act in plays together, so in that sense, this is kind of fun.” She pokes Chelsea’s shoulder. “And you’re one to talk, pal. I remember someone enjoying herself when we got you into that “busty superhero” costume.”

Now it’s Chelsea’s turn to blush, just as Ben returns.

Liz turns to her boyfriend and asks “What do you think, are you up for one more today?”

He grins and nods. “Definitely. I’ve been particularly looking forward to this one.”

Chelsea smirks and looks over at Liz. “Told you so…”

“Hey, screw you” Ben says, but in a playful tone, with a smile on his face. He walks over to one of the large, upright storage closets and opens it up.

Inside, as expected, are two more empty suits dangling from plastic hangers. While each of them recreates the impeccable appearance of a woman, the one on the left appears a bit older than the one next to it.

Whoever she is, she looks to be in her mid-to-late thirties, with wiry, dirty blonde hair and a pretty, if not unassuming face. Her modest breasts sit above an abdomen and pair of thighs carrying just a little extra weight. As with the other suits, her body is adorned with a variety of lifelike freckles, blemishes, and a coin-sized birthmark on the inside of her left arm.

The other empty husk hanging next to her look like a young woman in her mid-twenties. She has flowing, dark hair styled into delicate loose curls. Her lovely, gaping face features a set of high cheekbones, an upturned nose, and full, pink lips. Her perky chest guarantees male attention, as does her slim waist and wide hips.

Liz brushes past Ben and lifts the elaborate disguises off of their mounts as he facetiously asks with a smile “I forgot, which one am I, again?”

She just smirks back at him, and hefts the suit of the dark-haired beauty into his arms. It’s hollow arms hang down over his, and it’s crumpled face gazes up at him through a tangled, silky mane.

“You’re very funny today” Liz replies sarcastically, holding the other suit in her hands.

While Chelsea returns to the computer, the two “performers” quickly disrobe. Ben strips down to the pair of tight, skin-coloured swim briefs he’d kept on after taking off Samuel. Liz tosses her jeans to the side, standing in a similar garment, with a set of nipple covers ensuring her modesty.

With a big grin on his face, Ben lifts his suit and ducks his foot inside the rear seam. The empty upper body slides off of the tabletop and flops down against his legs with a thwap. He tugs on the stretchy, lifelike material one leg at a time, until both of his feet slide into place. He wiggles his new, slightly tanner toes, admiring their impeccable red nail polish. The suit’s thighs hug his own tightly, adding a substantial amount of soft padding to alter his slender frame.

He seats the suit’s rear over his own, and nestles its smooth, feminine groin into place. He blushes slightly, blaming Liz’s insistence on making their disguises as “flawless” as possible.

Liz, having tugged on the lower body of her own suit, catches him inspecting his new, intimate mound. She rolls her eyes and says “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, right? I mean, you helped me punch the hairs…”

Ben chuckles. “Fair point. But still, it’s different to be wearing it. You’re telling me it wasn’t strange to have that tucked between your legs?”

He points to the exposed manhood of the deflated “Mr. Campbell”.

Liz giggles. “Yeah, it definitely took some getting used to. But it’s part of the fun, right?” She says, with a twinkle in her eye.

The two of them continue to pull on the upper portions of their disguise, guiding their arms into the corresponding hollow limbs. The suits stretch easily to accommodate them, until their fingers snap into place.

Liz walks over to Ben and pokes his slender arm, now encased in a soft, perfectly lifelike sheath. “Lucky you don’t work out as much as Samuel, huh?” She jokes.

“Yeah, yeah” Ben replies. “Now help me with the straps.”

While Liz’s suit would hug her feminine body, and even add a little extra padding to it, Ben’s would need to mildly compress his waist to give him the right shape. To do that, the suit incorporated paper-thin, stretchy straps which could be cinched down underneath the fake flesh, remaining totally invisible.

Ben winces slightly as the straps are tightened, having already experienced it when he dressed up as Autumn earlier that day.

“Sorry…” Liz says, as she finishes with the last one.

“No worries” Ben replies. “After a while you don’t really notice them.”

He uses his new hands to settle his much fuller, weightier chest into position, as Liz tugs the minuscule zipper up his back. The suit clings to his reshaped body, transforming him completely. The only thing remaining is the deflated husk of the gorgeous woman’s face, currently hanging down from the front of his neck.

He helps Liz with her zipper, then she turns around and the two of them examine each other. Across the room, Chelsea giggles. “Looking good, Ben!” She jests, enjoying the ridiculous sight of his head atop the sensual prosthetic body.

Liz points to the empty mask dangling onto his new bust. “Make sure you use the extra-strength adhesive!”

Ben sighs. “The one part of this I’m not too excited about. You bought the solvent, right? I don’t want to have to worry about spending ’48 to 72 hours’ as Gianna, here” he says, prodding the fake woman’s floppy cheeks.

Grinning, Liz tosses him a tube, and he begins applying a liberal coating of clear liquid all around his face. The interior of the body portion of the suit would become mildly sticky as it heated up, helping to transfer movement. But in order for the face to truly come to life, special adhesive was required.

Liz smears a different colour tube around her own face, checking herself in the mirror. Ben tosses his onto the table and grips the two sides of the mask, taking a moment to appraise the hollow, gaping face of the beauty he’s about to become.

“See ya later, babe!” He laughs, lifting the mask and ducking his head inside.

Having become very acquainted with the process, it takes only a little bit of tugging and stretching until he feels his nose, chin and ears snap into place. “Gianna’s” supple lips slide over his own, overlapping them and slipping into his mouth.

“Mrphh” he grunts softly, struggling momentarily to align the mask’s eye sockets. When he feels them shift into alignment, he opens his eyes.

His new, gorgeous female face smirks back at him in the mirror. He can see a few areas requiring adjustment, and overall it seems just a bit loose. But that is quickly remedied, as he tugs the zipper the remaining distance up the back of his neck. The mask clings to his face and, as he prods it gently, “Gianna” comes to life.

There’s a warm sensation as the adhesive activates, and he feels the mild electric tingle of the voice modifier as it turns on.

He turns and looks at Liz, who is now wearing “Katherine’s” somewhat homely face.

“Hey there, girlfriend!” the disguised Ben chirps, now in a much lighter and bubblier tone. He places his hands on his hips and thrusts his chest out proudly, posing as Gianna in all her naked glory.

Liz rolls her eyes, as she fixes an area where her mask’s lower lip had become slightly distorted. “You know our characters aren’t friends, right?” She asks, teasingly, in a slightly deeper, more nasally voice.

Gianna pouts. “I know…it was just a joke” she replies, with a wicked smirk. Ben paces back and forth a few times, getting used to the stability and balance of his new body.

Finished with her adjustment, Katherine fluffs her new dirty blonde hair around her face. “So, are you going to get dressed, or would you like to strut around naked some more?”

Gianna scrunches her face adorably. “Party pooper…” she grumbles, walking over to the closet.

She pulls a black thong up her legs, followed by a pair of tight, dark jeans with fashionable tears at the knees and mid-thigh. Then, she clasps a bra across the front of her chest, and slides it around her body.

“You bought me the right size, didn’t you?” She inquires, tugging on the lacy fabric, clearly struggling to get it positioned properly over her chest.

Katherine chuckles. “Yes, I did. Do I really have to help you again like I did with Autumn? Those boobs aren’t even as big as hers…”

Gianna bites her lip and nods, and the disguised Liz helps her adjust the skimpy garment until it settles into place.

The bombshell completes her outfit with a trendy, loose-fitting long-sleeved blouse and a pair of black high heels. Overall, her appearance is that of a stylish woman with upscale taste.

While she’d been getting dressed, Katherine had put on a pair of leggings, a grey sweatshirt, and a pair of sneakers. She’s in the process of pulling her hair back into a ponytail when she asks with a smile “Do you need help with your hair, too?”

Gianna rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “No, thank you very much” she replies sarcastically. “I’m actually good at this part. It must be all that time with the hair puncher…”

She picks up a brush and begins stroking it through her long, dark mane.

Minutes later, after a bit of self-grooming and the application of coloured contact lenses, the two phony women grab their purses from the closet.

Liz glances over at Gianna, and despite all of their disguise antics, she is still amazed to know it’s Ben underneath that lovely prosthetic face and body.

Catching her look, Gianna beams at her with her sparkling brown eyes.

“It's showtime!” She chirps, tossing her purse over her shoulder.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

A dark-haired beauty steps through the revolving door of the tall building out into the sunlight, her heels clacking on the hard pavement.

She brushes a stray lock behind her ear and turns to walk down the sidewalk, when she’s confronted by another, older woman wearing comfortable workout clothes.

“YOU!” The other woman shouts, sticking a finger in her face. “You fucking whore!”

Those around them can’t help but look on in surprise at the unexpected and vicious outburst.

The well-dressed woman looks startled and confused. “Excuse me?” She retorts. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

The accuser looks at her with narrow eyes, her face contorted in fury. She speaks slowly, her voice full of hatred. “My name is Katherine Martin. I’m the wife of the man you’ve been screwing up in that office.” She points upwards at the building.

The other woman glances away. “Uh…I-I don’t know what you’re talking about” she stammers unconvincingly, shifting on her feet.

“Bull…SHIT!” Katherine exclaims. “I knew something was going on. Ever since he mentioned meeting someone named Gianna at a sales conference, he’s been acting different. And then I found the hairs on his clothes and went through his computer. You slut.”

Now it’s Gianna’s turn to look angry. “You don’t get to talk to me that way!” she replies.

At this point, their confrontation has drawn a small group of curious onlookers.

“Fuck you!” Katherine shouts. “I’ll talk to you however I want. You’re just a fucking home wrecker.”

A man attempts to intervene. “Ladies, ladies” he says, holding his hands out.

Katherine turns and snarls “Back up!” She hisses. “This is none of your business!”

The man quickly retreats, clearly not wanting to push his luck.

She turns back to the apparent mistress. “So, do you have anything to say for yourself, tramp?”

Gianna glowers back at her and looks like she’s about to unleash an angry reply, but then her face settles into a sneer and she folds her arms across her ample chest.

“Yeah, so what? I’ve been screwing your husband” she jeers. “Maybe if you threw him a bone every once in a while, he wouldn’t look for someone else to get him off. But I do love it when he bends me over his desk…” Her dark eyes are wicked, taunting.

The motion happens so quickly, she can’t react. Katherine lifts her hand and brings it down across the woman’s face with a loud SLAP!

“WHORE!” Katherine exclaims, with tears in her eyes. She storms off, leaving the busty woman standing there, covering the side of her face with her palm in a look of pain.

After a few moments that feel like an eternity, Gianna glares around at the captivated spectators. “Hope you all enjoyed the show” she mutters. She leaves in embarrassment, still clutching her face, her heels clacking on the sidewalk.

A small group of men in business suits chuckle to themselves, shaking their heads. One of them comments “Holy shit, you don’t see that every day…”

Another one nods in agreement. “No, you do not. But I have to say, if I met someone at a conference who looked like her…”

A nearby woman gives them a disapproving look, remarking to her female companion “That was just awful. I feel so bad for that poor woman, and to do that in public…”

Eventually, the small crowd disperses, and a young woman in a hoodie stops recording on her phone, and quietly leaves the scene.

TEN MINUTES LATER

Gianna inspects her face in the bathroom of a coffee shop, one block from the office building.

Ben is sure his face is red underneath the lifelike mask, due to the force of Liz’s slap. But, thankfully, the strong, pliable material and tough adhesive have prevented any signs of damage on the outside.

Damn, she really didn’t hold back, he thinks, rubbing his gorgeous prosthetic face.

Gianna brushes her long hair back into place, after it had gotten mildly disheveled from the hard blow. She wipes a bit of smeared lipstick from her face, and reapplies some more.

Her phone buzzes in her purse, and she lifts it out to read the screen.

Sorry :D, the text reads. You did GREAT though.

Gianna can’t help but smile. She types her reply:

My face hurts :(

After a moment, her phone buzzes.

Oh, don’t be a baby! I’ll make it up to you. Remember “Kelly the cheerleader”? She’ll be waiting at your place…

Underneath the suit’s swollen chest, Ben feels his heart start to beat faster.

See you there ;), he types, then drops the phone back into the purse.

Gianna apprises herself in the mirror once more, then smiles and blows herself a kiss. She opens the door and steps back out into the world.