The impeccably composed news anchor looks confidently into the camera, reading from the teleprompter with a cheerful, captivating voice. Her perfectly styled blonde hair frames a charming, youthful face filled with enthusiasm.

“…and for that special someone with a sweet tooth, Mallory’s Confectionary is offering twenty percent off their assorted chocolate boxes from now until Sunday. Speaking from experience, their raspberry truffles are to die for” she says, with one of her dazzling smiles. A smile that had certainly helped earn her the informal moniker: “Seattle’s Sweetheart.”

She glances over at her male counterpart, who adds “I’m glad the sale is on through the weekend. According to my wife, I’m a bit of a procrastinator when it comes to buying gifts.”

They share a brief, professional laugh. Hers is delightfully merry, undoubtedly contagious, and sure to enamour all those watching the broadcast.

The male anchor turns to the camera and concludes with a smile “Well, I’m Tom Richardson.”

Her bright blue eyes beam into the lens. “And I’m Emily Walker” she chirps. “Thank you so much for joining us, and have a safe and pleasant evening.”

The network sign-off music plays as the camera zooms out, and the two news anchors perform the nightly ritual of shuffling their notes and making brief, muted small talk.

Finally, the director announces a wrap, and they both begin to remove their earpieces.

“Another one in the books, Em!” Tom pipes, standing up and smoothing his suit jacket.

“Who’s counting?” She laughs. She rises gracefully from her chair, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

He gives her a smile and a half salute. “See ya in the morning.”

He turns and walks towards a long hallway, and Emily calls after him in her light, bubbly tone “Bright and early!”

She smiles and nods at some of the crew members, thanking them for their work, then heads down a hall in the opposite direction. She eventually comes to a door and swipes her badge across the reader next to it. It clicks open, and she steps through into another corridor. After another couple of turns, she reaches a door with her name on it.

Swiping again, she steps inside and is greeted by a brunette, thirty-something woman sitting in a swivel chair in front of a brightly-lit mirror. Her legs are crossed casually, and she looks up from her phone when Emily enters.

“Evening, hun!” She says, setting her phone on the vanity table.

“Hey, Marcia!” Emily replies, setting her papers on a small desk on the side of the room. She then walks over to the other woman and sits in the only other open chair, turning towards the mirror ringed with big, bright bulbs. “Time for the weekly check-in?”

“You know it” Marcia affirms. “That was a great broadcast! You were stunning, as always.” She smiles and nods towards the television mounted on the wall, currently tuned to the station.

“Thanks! That feature Madison did at the mom-and-pop flower store was adorable” she answers, removing a pair of diamond stud earrings.

Then, she opens a drawer and removes a few small packets. She tears one open and extracts a white, cotton pad, which she then begins to rub all over her face. It’s lightly coated with a liquid that has a mild chemical scent.

Marcia stands and steps towards her, leaning down to inspect the beautiful news anchor. “And how is everything?” She asks.

Emily nods enthusiastically. “No issues at all!” She replies. The pad is now fairly saturated with skin-coloured makeup, so she discards it in the trash and opens another.

“Wonderful” Marcia says, squinting her eyes and scrutinizing closer. Apparently satisfied, she backs away and places her hands on her hips. “And how is Jake?” She asks, referring to Emily’s fiancé.

The younger woman smiles. “He’s good. Work’s been keeping him pretty busy. He leaves for London next month for a business trip.”

They make small talk for another couple of minutes, until Emily finishes wiping her face and discards the used pads.

“All set?” Marcia inquires, gently brushing Emily’s hair behind her shoulder.

“I think so…” Emily replies.

She lifts a hand to her face and gently pinches her pale cheek in between her thumb and index finger. She pulls lightly, as if she’s making a funny face, and her skin stretches abnormally in her grasp.

An outside observer would find the sight shocking, but the strange act gets only a knowing grin from Marcia. Beneath the apparently fake flesh is another face, slightly darker in complexion, with a few freckles just barely visible in the gap created by Emily’s pulling.

“Looks ready to me” Marcia states, handing Emily what looks like a tiny, plastic prying tool with a flexible, tapered end.

The blonde slips the unusual object into the neckline of her stylish royal blue blouse, and appears to start working the flattened end along her collarbone, moving it back and forth gently and rhythmically. In no time, she’s worked it all the way from shoulder to shoulder.

“My, you’ve gotten good at that!” Marcia chirps.

Emily grins. “Practise!”

“Well, I’m here, so I might as well help!” Marcia extends her hand, and Emily places the plastic object into her open palm. She then lifts the young woman’s shoulder-length hair out of the way, and starts to work the tool around the back of her neck.

While she does so, Emily lifts a flap of skin out of her top, working her fingers underneath it all the way up to the base of her neck. The outlines of her fingers are clearly visible underneath the fake flesh.

Marcia stops working and nods. “All set!”

Emily’s hands begin to move upwards, one on either side of her neck. The tips of her fingers reach her jawline and slide along her cheeks, distorting her lovely face. Her pouty lips appear to snap away with a soft *pop* and her delicate chin scrunches up into her button nose.

“Looking good so far” Marcia says, eliciting a muffled grunt from the news anchor, who is in the middle of the somewhat unusual act of pulling off her own face.

Her soft cheeks buckle together and - as she gazes at her own reflection in the mirror - she sees her eye sockets separate and become hollow voids, just before her vision is completely obscured.

The forehead offers some resistance, so Marcia slides a finger into one of the face’s vacant eyes and pries gently until she feels it give way. As an outside observer, she watches as Emily’s face crumples under its own rubbery weight, deforming grotesquely until it finally separates with a soft *schlorp*.

The mass of fake flesh and hair falls into the lap of the woman in the chair, who turns it over so it’s empty face stares up at the tiled ceiling.

“Good to see you again, Kate” Marcia chuckles, looking at the newly revealed woman in the mirror.

She has short, dark hair currently held up under a nylon cap, and looks to be in her mid-twenties. While certainly not unattractive, her face looks nothing like the gorgeous blonde newscaster’s hollow, now discarded one.

Kate laughs and replies “Yeah, you too.”

She’s still speaking in Emily’s dulcet tones, which causes her to make a funny face. She lifts a hand to her neck and peels a nearly translucent strip from her skin, which she then sets on the table.

“Therrrrre we go” she says with a smile, now in a slightly lower voice.

“Good to be you again?” Marcia jokes, lifting the mask from her lap. She sticks her hand up inside it to support the top of the scalp from within, and Emily’s empty face gapes at them lifelessly.

“Always” Kate replies.

While she slips out her bright blue coloured contact lenses, Marcia carefully inspects the mask. After a while, she gently sets it down on a foam headstand, which turns “Emily” into a kind of stationary mannequin.

“I think another five or six weeks for this one” Marcia states, brushing out the mask’s elegant hair.

Kate nods. Putting on and taking off her “work face” every day was bound to wear it out after a while. This is the third one she’s used since starting the job.

She gazes at the empty visage of the woman she’d been pretending to be, just minutes prior. This unusual aspect of her job could still occasionally send a shiver down her spine, and as she looks into “Emily’s” vacant eyes, she feels the familiar chill. Every day she’d step into this room, and Kate Allen would cease to exist, replaced by the well-known and stunning news anchor, Emily Walker.

It had been an unusual interview process. She’d thought the number of headshots was excessive, but when she found out what they were for, she’d been completely astonished.

In their effort to regain viewers and top other channels, the network had turned to Vultus Talent Agency. Their company provides the highly confidential service of creating the perfect spokesperson. One specially designed to sell, charm, engage, or do whatever else the client happens to require.

In this case, using countless focus groups and dedicated computer algorithms, they’d created the ideal news anchor. Kate can’t help but grin as she remembers the over-the-top pitch Vultus’ salesman had given.

“Our research shows that people are craving authenticity. Someone they can trust to give them the news” he’d said. “Someone charismatic, of course, but also passionate and sincere. A thorough professional, with just a touch of ‘small town girl in the big city.’ Women will see her as the endearing sister or daughter they’d be proud to support, and men will see her as totally enchanting and - let’s be frank - wouldn’t mind getting her in bed.”

Kate had rolled her eyes at that last part, but the network executives had eaten it up. And, almost a year later, here she is. She’d had to learn to tone down her eye rolling, which she’d come to understand was “inconsistent” with Emily’s “optimistic and bubbly persona”.

Authenticity, she thinks, stroking the mask’s soft, empty cheek. Right.

“Every single detail has been optimized to induce the proper psychological, subconscious - even hormonal - reaction!” The man in the fancy suit had promised. “Her appearance, her style, her voice, her personality. Everything is designed to meet your criteria and achieve your goals.”

Well, they weren’t lying, Kate muses, as she takes off the nylon wig cap and brushes out her dark, pixie-cut hair. The mask’s flawless, cream-coloured skin, button nose, full lips and slightly pointed chin sure ticked all the boxes. The face of a woman who somehow appeared glamorous and chaste at the same time, with a just the right touch of raw sensuality. Her hair is shoulder length, and coloured in a style with a name like “blonde ombre balayage”, which Kate had to look up. Apparently, that style had scored the highest with the focus groups.

It had taken her a while to get used to wearing someone else’s face, but after a while “Emily” had grown to be like another part of her. And the extremely generous salary certainly helped smooth over her concerns. Not a bad gig, for someone top of her class in the university journalism program.

She reaches down to her forearm and carefully peels away a perfectly concealed strip of skin-coloured material, revealing an intricate tattoo depicting an owl sitting on a branch. Definitely not something Vultus would have approved for Emily.

“So, the network wants another nice, personal social media post from Emily tomorrow night” Marcia says with a smile. As Vultus’s “Creative Account Leader” for the network, she served as an intermediary and, in the process, her and Kate had grown quite close.

Kate chuckles. “Wonderful. What are they thinking this time?”

“They want you to be seen downtown!” Marcia chirps. “Maybe a date night? Jake loves those, right?”

Kate smiles. Understandably, Jake hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of her going out with other men as “Emily”, just to put in some face time with the public. And it wasn’t like he could accompany her. If one of her friends saw them out at dinner together, Jake might get stabbed with a fork before he could explain. Thankfully, Marcia was more than happy to help with a solution.

On cue, the woman opens a black case, and tilts it forward so Kate can see into it.

Inside is another amazingly realistic and detailed mask, but this one is of a ruggedly handsome man about her age. He has lightly tanned skin, a strong jaw, and a hint of manly stubble on his cheeks. Dark, medium length hair sits atop the empty mask, swept casually to the side in a parted fashion.

Kate covers her mouth and starts to laugh. It wouldn’t be the first time Jake had become someone else and joined her on one of her outings, and it never failed to both amuse and excite her. She didn’t always take “Emily” out for a date, sometimes it was a simple work happy hour or a day spent shopping at the mall. But these were definitely her favourite.

“Holy shit. That’s great” Kate laughs, reaching out and touching the hollow face.

“I thought you’d like it” Marcia replies with a smile. “I’ve named him Elliot.”

Kate snorts. Tracing a finger around one of Elliot’s vacant eyes, she says “Jake is going to crack up!”

The other woman nods appreciatively and closes the lid. “Well, you two have fun on your date tomorrow” she says with a wink. “Text me and let me know how it goes. And I should be back around here at the end of next week.”

Kate stands and gives her a hug good-bye, and Marcia departs.

Minutes later, she’s taken off Emily’s professional pencil skirt and blouse, and now wears a much more casual outfit consisting of a pair of leggings, a tank top, and a dark jacket.

She texts Jake to let him know she’s on her way home, then grabs her purse from the vanity.

The back of her hand brushes the mask’s soft, pale cheek affectionately and she whispers “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

THE NEXT NIGHT

Emily Walker is sitting at an upscale bar, with dark wooden panels and a white marble bar top. Having come straight from work, she’s wearing a body-hugging maroon dress and a pair of white heels. Not an outfit to be found in Kate Allen’s closet, but that was the benefit of having a separate, curated wardrobe at work.

The place is crowded, but the host, Walter, always manages to find a seat for one of his favourite guests.

“Welcome back, Miss Walker” he had greeted her. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

The bartender served the gorgeous blonde her usual dry martini - with three olives - and she’d settled in on her phone, checking the headlines. Kate would have preferred a nice bourbon or even a cold pilsner, but her alter-ego’s personality profile is very detailed.

A woman sitting next to her leans over and whispers “Excuse me, but I just wanted to say that I’m such a big fan and I love watching your program. Channel seven, all the way!”

Emily beams at her with a pearly white smile. “Oh my gosh, thank you!” She replies. “That’s so nice of you to say. But I just read what’s on the teleprompter!” She adds with an adorable shrug and a grin.

The woman shakes her head and places a hand on her arm. “Oh, don’t be so modest, sweetheart. I’m sure it’s taken a lot of work to get to where you are!”

Emily smiles again, nodding appreciatively as the women turns back to her companion.

Minutes go by, and at one point Emily has to very politely decline a man’s offer to buy her a drink.

“I’m flattered” she explains, her face full of genuine kindness and warmth. “But I’m actually meeting someone. He should be here any minute.”

Emily’s charming smile and silky smooth voice is enough to soften any rejection, and the man respectfully retreats.

The woman wearing Emily’s charming, ravishing face feels a familiar thrill. Kate had never been one for attention, in fact, her ability to remain anonymous and still do what she loved was a big selling point of the job. But still, it was so exciting to be the centre of attention sometimes.

She tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and, at that moment, another man pulls up next to her at the bar.

“Sorry I’m late” he says. He leans over and plants a tender kiss on her cheek. “My meeting ran a bit late.”

Emily gazes into the face she’d seen yesterday, albeit under quite different circumstances. Elliot grins back at her, and she can see a mischievous twinkle in his familiar pair of brown eyes. It’s true that Kate might have made a sarcastic comment about her date’s tardiness, but that isn’t Emily’s style at all.

“Oh, it’s no problem!” She chirps with a smile, as he sits down next to her. “I haven’t been here very long. Don’t worry about it.”

“So, it’s true what they say about you. You really are the kindest soul in the city” he jokes.

She scrunches her nose adorably. “Who says that?” She replies, and he laughs.

He orders a drink and then says, smiling “So, my friends tell me it’s a bad idea to have a first date on Valentine’s Day.”

She places a fingertip on her chin and appears to think. “You know, you may be right. Should we call it a night?” She teases.

Elliot laughs again. “I knew I’d like you.”

They continue to make small talk, as though they’re unacquainted. For the disguised Kate, the charade is undeniably hot. She’d heard of couples doing this kind of role play, but how many of them wore different faces when they did?

She laughs at one of his jokes, and the musical sound causes even the bartender to smile.

“Well, I suppose now is a good time for my post…” Emily chimes, pulling her phone out of her purse.

She holds the device out in front of them as Elliot leans towards her, and she gives the camera another one of her bright, wholesome smiles.

The shutter clicks, and she checks the image.

“Perfect, as always?” Elliot says with a grin.

“Oh, I don’t know, my hair is a little messy. It’s been a long day…” she replies, twirling one of her perfectly curled strands. Kate had grown enamoured with the absentminded habit, having rarely had hair as long as Emily’s.

Elliot laughs. “Babe. Please. You look amazing.”

She gives him a cute smile. “Well, all right then.”

Her fingers tap the screen and her date leans over curiously. “What are you putting for the caption?” He inquires.

“Oh, Annie already drafted one. I just need to copy and paste” Emily replies, in a low voice. “Love, kisses and Valentine’s wishes! Heart emoji, emoji with hearts for eyes, martini emoji” she reads, chuckling.

Elliot rolls his eyes. “Very original” he says, grinning.

He then places a hand on her knee, just below her dress’s hemline.

She raises an eyebrow and feigns innocence. “Someone’s handsy. And so quickly” she purrs.

He’s about to reply, when the host arrives next to them.

“Miss Walker, your table is ready” he announces.

“Oh, wonderful! Thank you, Walter” she replies, dropping her phone back into her purse. The couple stands up to follow him.

As they walk to the back of the restaurant, numerous heads turn to gaze at the stunning woman and her date. She smiles and nods at a few of them, ever the gracious socialite.

“Wow, dating you is like dating Margot Robbie” Elliot jokes, as they sit down at their table.

She swats his arm, smiling. “Oh, stop it.”

After the host leaves, she continues “So, tell me about your day, honey.”

“Honey? Are we adopting pet names this soon?” He teases.

She rolls her deep blue eyes. “Fine, you be Elliot all night” she replies, with a pout.

He laughs again. “No, we should give our alter-egos a break, I suppose” he snickers. “Well, I had one hell of a conference call…”

Their dinner carries on, as each of them gazes across the table at their familiar yet unfamiliar companion.

LATER THAT NIGHT

“Nice place you have!” Elliot calls out, walking around the dimly lit apartment.

So weird that Emily has a bunch of pictures of some other couple hanging all over the place, he thinks, with a sly grin. Why do they seem so familiar?

Then, the bedroom door opens, and Emily appears in the doorway, silhouetted by the soft lighting behind her.

Elliot’s eyes widen when he sees that she has slipped out of her professional attire, and is now wearing a silky red babydoll and matching thigh-high, sheer stockings. The babydoll’s soft fabric falls to just below her waist, and its lacy cups push up her chest enticingly. Thin straps sit delicately on her shoulders, and a red ribbon lies tucked between her breasts.

She has one leg in front of the other, slightly bent, and her hands rest gingerly on the wooden door frame.

“Wow…” Elliot whispers, captivated by the sight of the gorgeous, scantily-clad woman.

Emily smiles. “Well, it is Valentine’s Day” she purrs.

Elliot reaches his hand into the neckline of his dress shirt, but she shakes her head, biting her lower lip seductively.

He stops and lowers his hand, smirking with a raised eyebrow. The man wearing the mask knows exactly what she wants. Her recalls her past, teasing words: “You get to sleep with the city’s most popular news anchor. Don’t I get to have a little fun?”

She walks slowly, barefooted, across the floor towards him, until her hands rest on his chest. She starts to unbutton his dress shirt, and whispers “I’m so fucking horny…”

She looks up at him with her big, blue, doe eyes, and he feels his arousal building. Sometimes, Emily would maintain her chaste, delicate persona when they got intimate. But sometimes, she’d let a little bit of Kate slip paste the facade, and he found the combination to be so incredibly erotic.

He reaches down to her chest, and she lets out a soft, happy moan.

In just moments, their lips are locked together, and his clothes are dropping to the floor.

SIX WEEKS LATER

“…the entry fee is only twenty-five dollars per team, so gather some of your friends and family, and come down to Lakewood Community Centre this weekend to play some volleyball! All proceeds from the tournament will go to local homeless shelters, to help those in need.”

Emily Walker glances around at the group of children and teenagers that has gathered on either side of her. She’s wearing a long-sleeved, turquoise workout shirt, tight, grey athletic shorts and a pair of pink sneakers with white socks. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, and a thin pink headband is wrapped around the top of her head.

She gazes confidently, happily into the camera. “This is Emily Walker reporting from Lakewood Community Centre, for this week’s Anchor Outing. It sure is nice to get out from behind that desk!” she sings, with one of her effervescent smiles.

“Back to you, Tom!”

The red light on the camera goes off, and she hands the assistant her microphone.

“Great job, everyone!” She chirps.

The crowd begins to dissipate, but a little girl - perhaps six years old - remains. She looks up at Emily with wide eyes and says “You’re so pretty.”

Emily beams at her and then squats down so she’s at eye level.

“You’re so pretty!” She replies, giving the girl a hug.

Kate had never been super into kids, and she certainly is in no rush to have any of her own. But Emily was a different story, according to her profile. Kate even recalled seeing something in her five-year plan about a possible pregnancy. She wondered if they’d make her wear some kind of prosthetic baby bump. That might be taking things a bit too far.

“Now run along back to your group” Emily says. “I’ll be in soon to play another game with you all!”

The girl departs, and Emily briefly checks her phone. Then, she begins to make her way back into the gymnasium.

I’m glad Emily’s athletic abilities mirror my own, she muses, with a subtle smirk.

THREE HOURS LATER

“Hrgggmrphhh” Emily grunts. Her face is, at the moment, horribly distorted, as the woman wearing it tries to pry it off. One of her eye sockets appears stretched to its limit, refusing to peel free.

“Mhmm” Marcia murmurs. “I think this is the last night for this one.”

Kate lets out an unintelligible string of syllables, and Marcia can’t help but chuckle.

She helps the poor news anchor, sliding her fingers into the mask’s open mouth and eyes, pulling the fake flesh away from the real.

Finally, it snaps free with a noisy *squelch*, and a panting Kate is revealed.

Marcia lifts the mask into her hands while Kate prods at her real face.

“Damn. That was the toughest time ever.” She states, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes.

“Sorry, dear” Marcia acknowledges. “I probably should have come in earlier this week to check on you.”

Kate pulls the wig cap from her head, and her short, dark hair falls free. “That all right. I’m glad you were here to help.” She replies with a grin.

While she takes out the contact lenses and puts herself together, Marcia pokes, prods and pulls at the deflated husk.

“Being a little rough with it, huh?” Kate inquires.

Marcia shrugs. “Once their life is up, I like to put them through the wringer a little.”

She pinches “Emily’s” pale cheeks and stretches them apart, turning the pretty news anchor into a deformed abomination. She releases one hand, and it snaps back into place. Then, she grips the centre of the face in a strong grip, squeezing the features into each other. The mask’s lips scrunch together tightly, like she’s eaten something sour. She releases her grasp again and nods.

“Not too bad!”

Kate snorts. “Thanks for waiting until I took it off before doing that.”

Marcia laughs along with her, and drops the discarded mask into a case. She tucks in its blonde ponytail and closes the lid.

“So” Marcia says, while Kate gets undressed. “You know how the network has been wanting to do some kind of family piece on Emily?”

Kate nods. “Uh huh.”

“Well, I’ve given it some thought. And I think we might be able to kill two birds with one stone…”

Kate raises an eyebrow. “Oh? How? And what’s the other bird?”

Marcia grins, but then she places a fingertip on her chin and appears to think. After a moment, she asks “So…Jake. Would you say he has a good sense of humour?”

“Yeah, totally. It’s one of the things I love most about him.”

“And he’s a good sport, too?”

“Sure. Why?”

Marcia smiles again, then reaches for another case. She opens it and presents it to the curious news anchor, whose hand flies to her mouth in a fit of laughter.

“Oh my God!” She says, in between laughs.

“I thought you’d like it” Marcia says, with a huge smile. “It turns out there was some kind of mix-up, and this was moulded to Jake’s face instead of the usual handsome stud. I’m so sorry!”

Kate reaches out and touches the fake flesh inside the case. She then looks up at Marcia with a wicked grin. “It’s fucking perfect.”

“Language, young lady” Marcia teases. She then adds, “There’s some more to it, but it won’t be ready until tomorrow.”

Kate smiles. Looking back down into the case, she whispers “April Fool’s, babe.”

THE FOLLOWING DAY

“Yeah, no.” Jake insists, gazing apprehensively at the floppy, fleshy mass in Kate’s hands.

The empty face of a middle-aged woman gapes back at him, framed by long, chestnut hair with wavy ends and blonde highlights. She looks to be in her early fifties, but has inarguably aged well. Some light wrinkles and subtle crows feet are some of the only things that betray her age. With the right makeup, she could pass easily for a decade younger. On top of that, her facial features bear a distinct resemblance to a certain blonde news anchor.

“Marcia apologizes for the mix-up, babe” Kate insists, with a sincere expression. “She doesn’t know how this happened.”

She’s holding up the mask by the back of the head, her fingers intertwined with its hair. Kate tries to keep a straight face, but her goodhearted nature gets the better of her, and the corner of her mouth lifts into a small smile.

Jake notices immediately.

“You had a hand in this, didn’t you?” He accuses, smirking back at her.

“Noooo…”

She shakes her head, but his confident, suspicious frown causes her to break. “Okay, I just maybe hinted to Marcia that I wanted to play a little April Fool’s prank on you. I had no idea it would be this!” she says, jiggling the rubbery husk.

“Well, you can take that thing right back to her!” Jake exclaims, laughing.

“Oh come on!” Kate pleads. “We already made a reservation. We’re going to Danton’s!”

Jake’s eyebrow raises. “That fancy steakhouse?”

Kate nods. “Uh huh!”

He inspects the fake, hollow face. “And this is supposed to be who, Emily’s ‘mom’?”

His fiancée chuckles. “Indeed it is. Allow me to introduce you to Melissa Walker!” She announces, smoothing out the mask’s hair.

Jake rolls his eyes. “Well, I can see where ‘Emily’ gets her good looks…”

Kate laughs again. “Come on, it’ll be hilarious! We’ll play a little pretend while eating and drinking on the network’s dime.”

He folds his arms across his chest. “You really want me to dress up as a woman?”

She nods. “It’s going to be fun, I promise. Isn’t it always exciting to go out together in disguise? Besides, you know how these things are. No one will be able to tell.”

He frowns. “What about my voice?”

She reaches into the black case and pulls out a thin strip. “You’ll wear this. Just like the one I wear as Emily.”

Jake shakes his head. “And my body?” He asks, gesturing to himself. “I’m skinny, but I don’t think I’d look good in a dress.”

Kate reaches down and drags another, larger case from underneath their bed. The clasp is already unlatched, so she flips open the lid.

Inside is what appears to be the deflated upper torso belonging to the woman whose face she’s holding. It extends all the way into limp, flat hands, and a pair of bare breasts sit listlessly on its chest.

Jake bursts out laughing. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

“Come on, Melissa. Let’s get you dressed!” Kate quips, nudging the larger case with her foot.

“Babe, this is nuts.”

“Are you sure? Shrimp cocktail, filet mignon, expensive booze…”

“You’re really trying to bribe me into doing this with a nice meal?”

She sets the mask on the mattress, and Jake looks down into the vacant, staring face with a sense of wonderment and trepidation.

Kate places her hands in front of her, palms pressed together. “You know that spy TV show you’re into?” She asks, in an sly tone.

Jake tilts his head to the side. “Cliffhanger? Yeah, what about it?”

“You know that Australian actress you think is cute? The redhead?”

He rolls his eyes and smirks. “I remember vaguely alluding to that after you pestered me into it.”

Kate adopts a coy, playful smile. “Well…I could ask Marcia to have a look at some pictures of her, and…”

She gestures to the hollow mask on the bed.

Jake’s eyebrows raise. “Seriously?” He asks. “She could do that? And you’d be okay with it?”

Kate bites her lip and nods. “Uh huh. I think it would actually be fun.” She replies. “But first…”

Now, she gestures to the larger case on the floor, pointing at the empty torso.

He sighs. “Fine. But only because I love you.”

Ten minutes later, Jake feels his fingers snap into the floppy limb’s like a thin rubber glove. He wiggles them and makes a fist, then inspects his arms, marvelling at the transformation. His “skin” is now smooth and mostly hairless, with a touch of light wrinkling and a scattering of small freckles and blemishes. His fingertips now end in longer, painted nails, and his palms appear more delicate and aged. But perhaps the biggest change, is the pair of naked breasts that now hang from his chest. He cups them awkwardly in his new hands, noting a bit of sag, though they’re still impressively perky for someone of “Melissa’s” age.

As Jake fondles his new form, Kate breaks out into a fit of giggling.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this” he smirks, with another eye roll. But the voice that comes out of his mouth is lighter and breathier, the elegant tones of a mature, refined woman. The voice strip was the first thing Kate had put on him, which had elicited its own outburst of laughter.

She stifles another giggle and holds up the mask. “Time to put your face on, mom” she pipes.

Jake gawks at the empty face of the woman he’s about to become, imagining what it will be like to wear it as his own. He doesn’t have much time to ponder it, though, because Kate swiftly stretches the neck opening wide, and lifts it over his head.

A minute later, after considerable tugging and stretching, the astonished Jake - now “Melissa” - is prodding his new face with his nicely manicured fingers.

“Oh my God” “she” marvels, in a low murmur. “I can’t believe Marcia was able to do this to me…”

The new woman scrunches her face and purses her lips together, while running her hands through her luxuriously styled mane.

Kate had already helped her fiancé into the stretchy girdle that compressed his waist and widened his hips into a proper, womanly shape. While the fake woman looks entirely convincing due to the remarkable prosthetics, the seams around the edges of the fake flesh are all still visible.

Kate retrieves a clear tube of skin-coloured liquid from the case.

The disguised Jake meets her gaze in the mirror with wide eyes.

She holds up the tube. “Yeah, we are going to need a lot of concealer…” she says.

LATER ON

“Miss Walker!” The man inside the door greets her. “We were so pleased to see your name in the reservation book this evening.”

Emily beams at him with one of her charming smiles. “Thank you! I’m really looking forward to it. I’ve heard wonderful things” she professes. She then gestures to her companion. “This is my mother, Melissa.”

The maître d' extends his hand towards the elegantly dressed woman standing next to her. She’s wearing a stylish, dark grey herringbone cocktail dress with black pantyhose and brown, knee high boots. Her hair is elegantly styled, and her makeup is subtle, highlighting her undeniably attractive features.

“A pleasure, ma’am” the man says.

She takes his hand into hers. “Why, thank you” she replies. “I’m just happy to have dinner with my lovely daughter.” She shoots the cheerful blonde a knowing look.

“Well, I can see where she gets her good looks” he comments with a friendly wink.

Melissa laughs and flashes him a pearly white smile. “You know, you’re the second person to say that today” she chirps. “How kind.”

“Please, let me show you to your table” the man offers, extending his arm towards the dining room.

The two ladies follow him through the arrangement of tables, and Melissa notices several diners look up in recognition of Emily.

She leans over and comments, loud enough to be overheard “My little girl is so famous!”

Emily swats her arm. “Oh, stop it!” She whispers. Looking into her mom’s bright blue eyes, she can see a mischievous twinkle.

To her credit, the older woman appears to move with impressive grace. A few eyes even land on her as well, as they would on any other attractive, well-dressed woman.

They arrive at their table, and the host politely pulls back each of their chairs so they can sit.

“The waitress will be over to take your drink orders momentarily. Enjoy your meals” he says to them, before departing.

When he’s out of earshot, Melissa whispers “Feels like I’m sitting on a cushion. Your mom sure has a nice ass. I see where you get that, too…”

“Shh!” Emily whispers, suppressing a grin.

Melissa opens the menu and looks it over, commenting “My, this place is so fancy. Let’s get some fuckin’ nachos…” she adds, in a tone that sounds like she’s cheering at a sporting event.

“Mom!” Emily whispers harshly. “This isn’t a dive bar!”

Her mother chuckles as the waitress arrives.

“Hello!” She chirps. “My name is Kelly, and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I start either of you off with something to drink?”

Emily smiles up at her. “Definitely. I’ll have a dry martini with olives, and…mom, you like Cosmopolitans, right?”

The other woman looks back at her with a briefly displeased expression, before breaking into a smile. “That sounds good to me” she agrees, looking up at the young waitress. “Thank you, dear.”

“My pleasure!” Kelly replies. Then, she looks over at the pretty blonde and adds “I just want to say, Miss Walker, that I love watching you on the news. Your reporting is always so honest and fair. I’m actually considering a career in journalism myself.”

Emily looks happy and flattered. “That’s so nice of you to say! If you’re ever looking for any advice, feel free to reach out. Remind me to give you my email before we leave.”

The waitress beams at her, then leaves to get their drinks.

“That was very sweet of you, dear” Melissa says.

Emily smiles. “It’s nice to encourage other women to get into the field” she replies. “So…how was your day before I got home? We didn’t really have time to talk earlier.”

The two woman chat about their workdays, and the waitress brings their beverages and takes their appetizer order. The disguised Jake tells his fiancée about his actual job, although to any eavesdropper, “Melissa” would simply seem like a professional, working woman.

After a few sips of her bright pink cocktail, Melissa frowns and wipes her lipstick from the glass’s rim. “Uck” she mutters. “Why did you make me wear this gunk, again?”

“I think it looks very nice on you” Emily whispers, with a subtle wink.

Eventually, the waitress returns and ask them if they’d like another drink.

“Double scotch on the rocks, please, dear” Melissa says, before Emily can beat her to it.

Kelly’s eyebrows raise. “Oh…good choice, ma’am” she replies, with a surprised smile. “And for you, miss? Another martini?”

“Yes, please” Emily confirms, eyeing her mother across the table.

Before the waitress can depart, Melissa adds “I know I say this all the time, but I’m just so proud of you, honey. Isn’t she just remarkable?” She asks the waitress.

Kelly nods. “Totally!” She agrees. “It must really be something, being so famous.”

Emily gives her a modest smile. “Oh, hardly famous. But thank you.”

Melissa continues, unabated. “She was such a hard worker growing up. Always studying and reading the newspapers.” She grins and adds “She never had time for the boys. Can you believe she didn’t have her first kiss until she was nineteen? I think that’s so adorable.”

“Mom!” Emily whispers. Okay, that is actually true, but what the hell, Jake? The disguised Kate thinks.

“Maybe don’t announce that to the entire restaurant?” She says with a pained smile and doe eyes.

“Oh, hush” Melissa dismisses her, waving her hand. “Look where you are now. Right, Kelly?”

Kelly smiles, looking mildly amused. “Absolutely. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

When she’s gone, Emily folds her arms across her chest and says, with a smirk “Very funny.”

Melissa grins wickedly and takes another bite. Then, she glances over at the bar, at a man in a navy suit.

“You know, that guy over there has glanced over in my direction more than once” Melissa notes, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and flashing him a smile. “Maybe he’s looking for a little cougar action…”

Emily laughs. “You are unbelievable” she professes.

Her mother’s smile grows wider. “Well, this is your doing” she replies, subtly stroking her cheek.

They continue their meal, and all the while, the disguised Kate can’t help but be impressed by her fiancé’s performance. He really seems to be having fun with the challenge of bringing “Melissa” to life.

As the phony mother reaches the last few sips of scotch, Kelly returns to check in on them. They had been discussing Jake’s upcoming business trip, but Melissa apparently decides to change the subject entirely.

She says “So, honey, how about that nice young man you’ve been seeing. Elliot, right?”

Emily looks caught off guard. “Oh…um…yes, but I don’t think that’s really going anywhere.”

Melissa tilts her head. “Well, that’s a shame. I do want grandchildren one day.”

“Mom…” Emily pleads.

Melissa smiles. “Oh, I’m teasing. Well, sort of. I would love it if you found a nice man. You know, handsome and with a successful career…” she says with a wink. “Don’t you agree, Kelly?” She bats her eyelashes innocently.

The waitress lets out a short laugh. “Hah…well, I don’t think that will be an issue for her” she offers politely, collecting their plates.

“I’m just saying, I know it’s fun to date around, but you can’t do that forever” Melissa states. “Believe me, when I was your age…” She gives the waitress an exaggerated wink.

Kelly giggles and nods her head. “I’m sure!”

Emily groans.

“Just look at me and your father” Melissa continues, tracing a red-painted fingertip around the perimeter of her glass. A sizeable diamond ring is visible on her finger. “Married for almost thirty years and still happy to this day.”

Emily starts to subtly shake her head from side to side.

Undeterred, Melissa looks up to Kelly and says, with another conspiratorial wink and dazzling smile, “What’s that expression? Keep his belly full and his balls empty?”

Kelly blushes and laughs.

Emily harshly whispers “Mom!”, and kicks her stealthily underneath the table.

“All right, all right” Melissa says. “I’m just trying to offer some advice. I’m sure when you find the right man, he’ll very much appreciate it…”

She finishes off her drink, and her mascara-laden eyes gaze wickedly at Emily over the rim of her glass.

Seeing the embarrassed look on her daughter’s face, Melissa laughs and points to her empty glass. “One more please, Kelly.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Emily kindly asks, through lightly clenched teeth.

“Oh, please, honey” her mother assures her. “It’s a girl’s night out!”

Emily can’t help but break out into a reluctant smile. Oh, I’m going to kill him when we get home, she thinks.

As if reading her mind, Melissa leans over and whispers “Hey, remember last time when we got home you had me keep the…you know…on while we…you know? Do you think…”

The older woman bites her lower lip and brushes her hair to the side, shooting Emily a highly inappropriate and seductive look.

Emily rolls her eyes and recoils, blurting out “Oh my God, you freak.”

Melissa bursts out laughing, and eventually has to wipe the corner of her eye with a napkin.

“I’m glad you’re getting a kick out of yourself” Emily scoffs, but she still can’t help but grin.

“Oh man, this is so fun” Melissa beams. “But I actually have to use the restroom. That should be interesting…”

She then adopts a much more composed, elegant demeanour, and smooths out the sides of her dress. She adjusts the bracelet around her wrist and places her napkin gently on the table.

“Be right back, dear” she says, with a pleasant smile. “Perhaps I’ll strike up a conversation with that gentleman at the bar…”

“Oh, great.”

Melissa stands up from the table and walks past the bar, looking confident and graceful as her heels clack on the wooden floor.

She passes by a high-top table with two young women, and Emily groans when she sees her mother give them both the “finger guns” with a big grin. One of the women snorts into her glass, apparently finding the gesture amusing.

Kelly returns to the table and Emily whispers, with a bashful look “I am so sorry…”

“Are you kidding?” Kelly replies. “She’s a riot! You need to bring her here more often!”

Wonderful, Emily thinks. But I think ‘Melissa’ will be shoved into the back of the closet after tonight.

EPILOGUE

Back at the talent agency, Marcia is sitting in her own dressing room, which looks quite similar to Kate’s, over at the network headquarters. Her legs are crossed, and she’s scrolling absentmindedly on her phone.

The phone’s timer chimes, and she presses a button to silence it, before setting the device down on the counter.

Humming to herself, she happens to glance down at the trash can, which is full of discarded, soiled cotton pads.

Gazing at herself in the mirror, she slides her hands into the neckline of her blouse, under a tapered, skin-coloured flap of flesh. Working her fingers higher and higher with apparently expert ease, her pleasant face stretches as the fake skin strains against her effort, snapping free with muted sucking sounds.

Her lips pop loose and crumple together, right before her aquiline nose lifts away and scrunches between her now hollow, floppy cheeks.

With a rubbery *schlorp*, her entire head comes off, and the fleshy bundle of skin and hair collapses into a tangled heap.

The revealed imposter hefts the empty husk into his lap, peeling a voice strip from his neck. His skin is paler than Marcia’s, though he’s still sporting the rest of her womanly body. He slides a wig cap off of his head, revealing blondish hair buzzed short to the scalp.

“Another happy client, Marcia” he jokes. He prods the face’s soft, hollow cheek, and it squishes under his fingertip.

Grinning, he hefts the mask onto a stand, tugging on the fake flesh until it is seated properly. He quickly runs his fingers through its lightly curled, brunette mane, smoothing out some of the tangles.

Marcia’s empty eye sockets gaze back at him impassively, lacking their typical friendly disposition.

Then, the man’s phone rings, and he picks it up to check the screen.

“Line two…” he mutters, and he swiftly opens one of the vanity’s drawers. He extracts another voice strip, which he hastily applies to his neck, pressing firmly.

He answers the phone and says “Vultus Talent Agency, this is Hazel speaking!” In a high-pitched, modified feminine voice. “How can I direct your call?”

The man can’t help but smirk, glancing over at another mask. This one is of a young blonde, whose hair is tied up in a tight ponytail. Its pretty, hollow face also happens to be the “owner” of the voice he’s now appropriated.

“Yes, hello, my name is Chris Anderson” the man on the line replies. “I’m looking to speak with one of your salesmen, Logan Matthews?”

“Oh, sure!” The phony receptionist chirps. “I’ll put you right through. Just hang on a sec!”

The imposter puts the call on hold and peels the strip from his neck. He reaches into the drawer and selects another, then presses it against his skin.

He resumes the call and says, in a much more masculine and confident tone “Chris, my man! How’s it hanging? How’s the wife?” After a brief pause, he laughs “Oh boy, don’t I know it!”

The fact that Vultus’ operation is so small is one of the founder’s most closely guarded secrets. For appearance’s sake, he’d found that it was important to project an image of success and stature. And, without the funds to support a large staff, he’d taken a page out of his own book.

Why hire people, when you can make them? He thinks, gazing into Marcia’s vacant, gaping face, as the client prattles on.

After another minute, he jumps in and says “Chris, I’m tellin’ ya. I showed my wife these new undergarments you’ve come up with, and she was thrilled! Our receptionist loves ‘em too. They’re stylish, comfortable, affordable. You’ve got a real winner here. But it’s gotta be you out there sellin’ ‘em, and the brand is key.”

The client on the other end of the line rambles for another minute.

“Well I think you’re makin’ the right choice, Chris” the imposter responds, pumping his fist in the air.

“Let’s take a few minutes to talk ideas. Here’s what I’m thinkin’: imagine you got a woman with a couple kids, maybe she used to be some kind of engineer or scientist, but now she’s a stay-at-home mom, and one day when she’s getting dressed, she gets this idea…”