“It's 27 Georgia Avenue, Miss.” The chauffeur’s tone was riddled with interest and curiosity. He talked through a boundary within the car; dividing the passengers from the drivers.
“Ah, of course.” Aaron could not help but smile. He was able see the slight reflection of his new vessel within the window. All that he could make out was a pair of red, plump lips.
Hmm, what should I do, now that I'm in this body? Drink, smoke, perhaps I could even… Indulge myself?
Aaron placed his hand on his new feminine legs. They were slightly tanned, most likely due to Hollywood’s immense amount of sunlight. Aaron noticed that, along with being tanned, they were also toned, even showing a faint line of muscle. He slowly started to massage them. Taking the moment to give an extra amount of attention to his warm thighs. They were so soft. So smooth. Obscene thoughts danced around in his head.
“Oooh” a deep, guttural sigh escaped Aaron’s lips.
“Ah, Miss?”
The chauffeur interrupted Aaron’s … Deep, ritual.
“Uhm, yes?” Shit, did he see me?
Aaron, however, quickly pushed this thought from his head. Not once during his exploration did the driver so much as look at him.
“Are you feeling well? You've been acting quite… Odd.”
Aaron’s heart stopped dead. His mouth stood agape at the man’s question. A cold sweat started to run down his back. Aaron’s mind raced to find a way to disarm the driver’s scrutiny.
Shit, shit. What do I say? Was it my question? It has to have been my question! Argh... I gotta stall him, and quick.
“It was my question, wasn't it?” Despite saying only a few words, Aaron’s voice wavered. His grip tightened on his leg as he realized his fatal mistake.
“Why yes, it was.” The chauffeur seemed glad that Aaron was able to precisely pinpoint his qualm; ignoring the small waver.
Whew. That was close.
“It was very unlike you. Is there any reason for that?”
Oh no.
Then, at that moment, a brilliant idea struck him. He lifted his leg over the other, and placed both hands in his lap; synthesizing a relaxed, casual stance. With a great deal of effort, he concealed his true emotions under a facade of grace and serenity.
“It was a joke. Do you take offense to that?” His last line was laced with poison. The sheer ferocity surprised even Aaron.
“N-no Miss!” The driver was stumbling over his words. The car seemed to drift slightly as this was occurring. “I'm sorry if I insulted you! Is there anything I could do?” The driver was nearly shaking in his seat. He squirmed and took several plea-full glances towards the back.
Aaron instinctively bit the upper part of his lip as he saw this. He formed a small smile. The more uncomfortable the driver was, the bigger the smile became. Seeing this man in such a state, it filled Aaron with a new sensation. He wasn't sure what it was, but he reveled in it.
“Why yes. Is it possible for you to close the window on the boundary? I would like to look at my clothes.”
“Y-yes, Miss.”
The man then closed window. Aaron let a large sigh escape him. The car then hit a small bump, making the bags near Aaron topple over. He reached over to fix them, only to quickly stopped himself in order to examine the logos of the bags.
Gucci? Armani? Prada? I've heard of Gucci and Armani, but who's Prada? And just who is this woman?
Five minutes passed when finally the lucrative shops that had spotted the streets were replaced by august, grandiose homes. The car came to a crawl near the gates of one of them. It was, by all means, the epitome of extravagance. The chauffeur rolled down his window and, before he pressed the button, he paused for a moment.
"Miss?"
"Uh, yes?"
"I was wondering... Is there anywhere else you would like to go to before we make our way home?"
"Hmm, what do you have in mind?"
"Perhaps the salon, or spa?"
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