Manhattan Miracle Excerpt

The sun barely peeked through the blackout drapes when I woke. I sat up. Ginger had been right. Last night had been great fun. In fact it had been arguably the best sex of my life. Ooh, the things I did to that beautiful blonde bombshell. Ooh yeah, and the things she had perpetrated on me. How could this dazzling girl with the appearance of an angel be so naughty and wicked in bed? Ginger had cost me dearly, but I would've paid double or even triple for what had to be the greatest night of my life. What made it doubly fun was that Ginger, that gorgeous slab of woman flesh seemed to have a fabulous time too

I draped my legs over the edge of the bed and stretched. I had to pee something fierce, so I padded into the restroom. Naked from the glorious night of frolicking, I lifted the toilet seat and reached for dickie. Hmm. I frowned. What the f… There's nothing there. I mean no dick, no pubes, nothing.

I felt around down there a little more and suddenly jumped as if a bolt of lightning struck me. No, it was more like a bolt of pleasure—pure, joyous pleasure. I touched something that felt… I reached down again and rubbed it. God that feels good, but… "Where's my dick?"

I spun around. I'd spoke, but the voice I heard was Ginger's. I stomped to the vanity, hit the light switch and glared into the mirror. I wasn't there—Ginger was. I couldn't believe my eyes. I blinked, but Ginger was still there, albeit, with a worried look on her beautiful face and I who stood right in front of the mirror was nowhere to be seen. "What the f…" I said, but she moved her mouth and again it was her voice. I raised my hand to, touch the mirror and felt it, but it was Ginger who raised her hand in the mirror. Suddenly, I realized, "EEK, I'm Her!"

I am Ginger? This was fucking crazy. I'd become Ginger. I began to shake. My heart raced and I couldn't catch my breath. Christ, what's going on? Was Ginger a witch? A body snatcher? A she-devil?

I ran into the bedroom and flipped on the light. Ginger was in bed, with the covers pulled over her head. I pulled the cover down and was eye to eye with…Brad Fairchild—me!

"What's the matter?" The fake me said in my missing masculine voice. Suddenly, her eyes rounded and grew to the size of silver dollars. She pointed at me and exclaimed, "You're, me!" Then she pulled her hand back and examined the hair on the back of it and her lack of pointed, colored nails.

"And you're me!" I shouted, "What the f... is going on?"

He/she moved a hand around his face. "I really am…you. How did this happen?"

I held my hands out to the side. "I wish I knew."

He/she hopped out of bed and looked in the mirrored wardrobe door. "This is unbelievable. He/she started pacing. "Let's not panic. There has to be some logical explanation for this."

"I'm listening."

"Maybe it's some freak accident. You got me pretty hot and I know you were hot too."

I waited for her, I mean me, to continue. When she didn't, I asked, "Yeah. What're you saying?"

"I wish I knew. Maybe we got so passionate we entered each other's bodies."

"That part about switching bodies is a given, but it doesn't seem possible it happened while we got it on. It happened while we were asleep, not when we were in the throes of passion." I backed off. "At least I think it happened while we were sleeping."

"This is so bizarre." His eyes expanded! He grabbed hold of his/her/my cock. Look, can you believe it? I have a penis."

"I know—my penis, and I have a vagina—your vagina. Maybe this is a temporary phenomenon."

"That would be nice." Seeming to overcome her incredulity and accepting that we'd switched bodies, she postulated, "But not too quickly. If you think about it, in a perverse way this is kind of neat. It could be fun."

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