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Description
     John kissed Barbara deeply as the waves washed over their feet, burying them in the sand.

     "This has been the best vacation ever," she said.  John nodded, but then again, he'd been paid to agree.

     "Well the rock climbing was fun, as well as the wind surfing.  But I'd have to say the best part was … Right now. Right here. With you," he said.  She sighed and kissed him again.

     Tomorrow they'd be on their way back home.  She would fly to Malibu and meet up with her husband who'd be eager to hear about her yoga retreat.  He, on the other hand, would fly back to Los Angeles where he'd lose his tan, 30 pounds of muscle and his strong jaw; but then he'd collect his check.

     John was in the 'tailor-made escort' business.  His company used nanites to alter his appearance to a client's specifications.  Then he would give them the best possible night, weekend or even month their money could buy.

     He's been Scandinavian, Aborigine, Asian, Scottish and even Eskimo to satisfy some people's fantasies.  But his jobs weren't all clan destine getaways with love-starved housewives.  He'd been a wingman to a Prince on a night out in Vegas and he'd filled in for a movie star who couldn't make the Oscars.

     He was uniquely suited to the job; both genetically and psychologically.  Only one in 200,000 people could be 'adjusted' by the nanites, and not all of them were good actors and impersonators.  He was one of the fortunate ones that provided the whole package.

     Kissing Barbara goodbye at the airport, he caught the eye of the stewardess on his flight back.  He flirted a bit, but did not pursue her affections.  She wouldn't understand if they met for coffee next week and he was suddenly a balding, hairy-chested Italian.  One reason he took so many jobs was he didn't care much for his true appearance.

     Back in Los Angeles, he checked in with the office and they told him to come in first thing in the morning for his 'adjustment.'  His neighbors were used to the string of different men that would use his apartment, and barely gave him a second glance when he came home.

     The next morning he went into the office and checked in with Stephanie.  She had started working there right around the same time he did, so they'd known each other for nearly four years.  While they were friends, he'd never tried asking her out or anything, even though she was one of the few women who knew his true self.

     "Hi, John. How was Maui?" she asked cheerfully, scanning his ID card.

     "Sunny and sandy, like always," he replied with a chuckle.  "Any new assignments?  More housewives in need of attention?"  She grinned.

     "Well, now that you mention it, we just got one … Where is it?" she said, checking through her files.

     "Hey, stud," said a sultry voice behind him.  He turned and saw an athletic redhead in a tennis outfit, carrying a racket.

     "Jane?" he guessed.  She looked disappointed.

     "How do you always know?" she whined, stepping up to the counter.

     "The eyes are the windows to the soul," he said.

     "Oh, Jane. You're back.  Good.  The guys said they needed you for a hot job," Stephanie said.

     "Oh, what's the fuss?" she asked.

     "Most eligible bachelor number six needs his regular girl for a charity ball tonight.  Becky usually handles his account, but she's got the flu."

     Funny thing about these nanites: They could alter the body in a matter of hours, heal injuries in a matter of minutes, but they couldn't help you get over the common cold.

     Jane rolled her eyes. "Oh, all right.  Load me up," she said, holding out her ID.  Jane hit a few keys and then scanned the body matrix into her card.

     "No rest for the weary, I guess," Jane said, giving John a wave as she saunter off to the nanite chambers in the back.

     "Your turn," Jane said, beckoning to John for his card.  She scanned his new body matrix in with a smile.

     "Have fun … Stud," she said.

     "Thanks, gorgeous," John responded with a salute.

     He headed back to the chambers, wondering exactly what she'd given him.  He like surprises though and looked forward to seeing how he turned out after his nap.  He preferred to sleep through the process, rather than watch the slow shifting of flesh and hair that occurred.

     Swiping his card into a chamber, the computer bleeped once the matrix had been loaded.  He disrobed and stepped in.  After the door sealed, a light mist filled the chamber, spraying all over his body like a shower.  He breathed some of it in, knowing the nanites would invade his whole body anyway, so there was no harm.  After a minute, the spray stopped and he watched the beads of liquid slowly seep into his pores, spreading throughout his bloodstream to alter his body in a matter of hours.

     Coming out the other side of the chamber, he put on the slippers robe waiting there.  The quarantine area was like a cozy recreation center, with TVs, games, library and computers.

     He waved at a pale African-American who was starting to look like Gerry.  As John settled onto a chaise lounge chair, he saw Jane the redhead putting on a robe.  She flashed him a naughty smile and headed to the kitchenette.

     John dozed off pretty quickly, and dreamed of Maui.

     He woke suddenly to a woman's scream.  Sitting up, he saw a couple of people gathered around someone kneeling on the floor.  Shifting to stand up, he wobbled a bit, realizing everything seemed a little bit bigger for some reason.  This next job of his must have asked for a shorter man.

     Moving over, he saw a strawberry blond man kneeling on the floor, robe open at the waist to reveal a small penis.  He blushed and someone else snickered.

     "This isn't funny!" the blonde yelled, covering the nascent organ again.  He looked up and spotted John.

     "You!" he said as he stood.  "What the hell, John?"

     John looked confused for a moment, but then saw the man's eyes clearly.

     "Jane?!  But I thought you were …" he started, but then a horrible realization entered his mind.  Opening his robe, John looked down and saw a pair of small but well-shaped breasts on his chest.

     "Oh, hell," he said, reaching under his robe to confirm what was missing.  He quickly ran to one of the many mirrors.

     He was definitely shorter, by at least six inches, and his long brown hair had already turned dirty blonde.  His face had softened with high eyebrows, pert nose and full lips.  A slender neck opened into dainty shoulders and slender arms.  His waist was already an hourglass, with wide hips leading down to athletic legs and dainty feet.

     "Fuck," he … she said.

     'Jane' came up behind 'her.' "My sentiments exactly ... Stud."

     It seemed that Barbara had accidentally switched up their body matrixes when she scanned their cards, giving Jane the body of a hunky young socialite, and John the bachelor's preferred sex goddess.  Long blonde hair, full yet firm breasts and long hairless legs rounded out the package once he was done adjusting.

     "Okay, it's done. Now change me back!" John insisted, pounding her dainty hands on the counter that was now annoyingly taller.  Before Stephanie could respond, Seth stepped up behind her.

     "John, can we talk?" he asked, guiding the custom-built woman into his office.  "I'm really sorry for the mix-up, and I do sympathize.  But I need you to just listen for a moment."

     John sat down and glared at the executive.  "Okay."

     "First, you know that it will take at least four hours for Jane to switch back into that body.  But this was a last minute call in the first place, and the client was expecting his … Date for pick up in another 30 minutes."

     "No," John said plainly.

     "John, please.  This client pays top dollar for our services and expects a return on that investment.  I'll triple your usual salary, if you'll just tough it out for this one night."

     John's perfectly shaped eyebrows went up.

     Pantyhose was a pain, John quickly realized.  She tore two pairs before Stephanie came to her rescue.  The receptionist apologized at least every other minute while she helped John get dressed.  Fortunately, all the clothes had already been picked out and were custom fit.

     Stephanie zipped up the back of the strapless red sequined gown that clung to John's hips like it was painted on and had a slit that went nearly to her waist.  Stepping into the 3-inch heels, she turned to the mirror and gasped.

     "Well, damn," she said.

     "You might need to watch that mouth," Stephanie said as she knelt down and buckled the straps of the shoes.  "He's paying for a lovely woman who can laugh at his jokes and smile on cue, not a Sailor home on leave."

     John chuckled.  "It's just another acting job.  I've played the sophisticated type before.  This time I'll just do it with breasts," he said.

     His first step in heels nearly landed him on his face.  Stephanie fought back the laughter.

     "Good luck … Stud."

     John was forced to learn quickly as she was led to a waiting limousine.  As she approached, the chauffeur opened the back door and a tall, dark-haired man slipped out.  He wore a fine tux with a handkerchief that matched her dress.

     "Becky, my dove.  You look lovely as ever," he said, approaching her with his arms outstretched.  John stumbled and he caught her.

     "Is everything all right?" he asked.  John smiled as she recovered.

     "Of course.  Sorry, sweetie," she said.  Looking a little perplexed, he escorted her back to the limo and helped her in before moving around to the other side and letting himself in.

     "Champagne?" he offered.

     "Thank you," she said.  He smiled a little.

     "Becky hates champagne.  She always preferred white wine," he said, pouring two glasses.  John was speechless.

     "Oh, don't worry, my dear," he said, offering one of the glasses.  "Becky may be my regular, but this is not the first time she had to be replaced by another."

     John took the glass and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good.  I probably should have told you right out.  She has the flu.  I'll be filling in tonight.  My name is Jo … Anne.  Joanne."  He raised his glass to her.

     "Joanne.  I am Ricardo Montoya, but you may call me Mr. Montoya," he said.

     "Yes … Mr. Montoya," she said, lowering her eyes.  He laughed.

     "A joke.  Please, just call me Rick," he said with a laugh.  Joanne smirked.

     "Touche," she replied, toasting him back.

     They made small talk during the ride, and it seemed they had very much in common.  Rick seemed impressed by her knowledge of college football, and she was pleased know that he was a Beatles fan.

     He was a social media mogul from Spain, having designed dozens of apps for Facebook and MySpace.  He was best known for a facial recognition program that could automatically tag photos based on similarities derived from the profile picture and any other tags.

     Joanna found herself honestly laughing at his jokes and marveling at the places he'd visited.  Too soon they came into the downtown district.

     "We'll be there soon," he said.  "Some of these people have met you … This body before.  I call her Katrina.  I will try to stay near in case we meet anyone 'she' knows."

     Joanne waved off his offer. "Ad lib is one of my best skills.  They'll never know," she said.  He seemed impressed already.

     The charity dinner was held in the middle of a baseball field.  Woodwork had been laid over the infield and painted to retain the lines and bases.  A green dance floor had been laid over most of the outfield, with a live band residing in left field.  Rick's table was on the pitcher's mound.

     "Nice seats.  I hope they don't expect us to field a bunt," Joanne said as he pulled out her seat.  He chuckled.

     "Indeed.  But just in case, I'll keep a close eye on the batter," he responded.

     Dinner was exquisite and no one at the table already knew 'Katrina.'  Playing along with Rick's stories, it seemed they'd been dating for two years after having met on the ski slopes in Switzerland.  Fortunately, she did know how to ski quite well and slipped into the story easily.

     Once the food was digested and the band started up, Rick stood and offered his hand.

     "May I have this dance," he asked.  Suddenly nervous but relaxed by champagne, she accepted and let him escort her to the dance floor.

     It was a bit disconcerting for a moment and she closed her eyes several times and reminded herself to let him lead.  Her muscle memory kept fighting with her, and they bumped awkwardly a few times.

     "Would you prefer to sit back down?" he offered.  She shook her head.

     "Sorry, I'm used to leading.  Little sister," she explained.  He nodded and they continued, and after a few more turns they were moving together fluidly.

     "I wanted to say I've had a lovely evening," he said as they turned.

     "Thank you, so have I," she responded.

     "I would like to ask if you'll be staying the weekend, as previously requested."  Joanna's eyes went a little wide.

     "I … Didn't know that," she said.  Could she pull this off for the whole weekend?  She was making triple time and the extra hours could be worth it.  Rick was certainly easy to talk to and seemed like a nice guy overall.

     "If you're not willing, I will understand, of course," he said graciously.

     "No, no.  It's okay.  I've got nowhere to be anyway.  What will we be … Doing?"

     "I had plans to fly to Yellowstone tomorrow and do some hiking, then overnight in the woods.  Is that all right?"

     Joanne loved camping, but she got to do so little of it with the clients 'he' normally attended.

     "That sounds lovely.  But I forgot my hiking boots," she chided.

     "Well, fortunately I already have a full wardrobe for you at home.  Becky used to stay over quite often.  But I think she did it more for the money," he said plainly.

     "Oh … Well …  They do pay us by the hour," she said sheepishly.

     "Of course.  I'm sorry, I meant 'my' money.  I think she enjoyed feeling like a debutante in a world where she could have anything with the snap of her fingers."

     "Yeah, that sounds like Becky," she said.

Description
     John kissed Barbara deeply as the waves washed over their feet, burying them in the sand.

     "This has been the best vacation ever," she said.  John nodded, but then again, he'd been paid to agree.

     "Well the rock climbing was fun, as well as the wind surfing.  But I'd have to say the best part was … Right now. Right here. With you," he said.  She sighed and kissed him again.

     Tomorrow they'd be on their way back home.  She would fly to Malibu and meet up with her husband who'd be eager to hear about her yoga retreat.  He, on the other hand, would fly back to Los Angeles where he'd lose his tan, 30 pounds of muscle and his strong jaw; but then he'd collect his check.

     John was in the 'tailor-made escort' business.  His company used nanites to alter his appearance to a client's specifications.  Then he would give them the best possible night, weekend or even month their money could buy.

     He's been Scandinavian, Aborigine, Asian, Scottish and even Eskimo to satisfy some people's fantasies.  But his jobs weren't all clan destine getaways with love-starved housewives.  He'd been a wingman to a Prince on a night out in Vegas and he'd filled in for a movie star who couldn't make the Oscars.

     He was uniquely suited to the job; both genetically and psychologically.  Only one in 200,000 people could be 'adjusted' by the nanites, and not all of them were good actors and impersonators.  He was one of the fortunate ones that provided the whole package.

     Kissing Barbara goodbye at the airport, he caught the eye of the stewardess on his flight back.  He flirted a bit, but did not pursue her affections.  She wouldn't understand if they met for coffee next week and he was suddenly a balding, hairy-chested Italian.  One reason he took so many jobs was he didn't care much for his true appearance.

     Back in Los Angeles, he checked in with the office and they told him to come in first thing in the morning for his 'adjustment.'  His neighbors were used to the string of different men that would use his apartment, and barely gave him a second glance when he came home.

     The next morning he went into the office and checked in with Stephanie.  She had started working there right around the same time he did, so they'd known each other for nearly four years.  While they were friends, he'd never tried asking her out or anything, even though she was one of the few women who knew his true self.

     "Hi, John. How was Maui?" she asked cheerfully, scanning his ID card.

     "Sunny and sandy, like always," he replied with a chuckle.  "Any new assignments?  More housewives in need of attention?"  She grinned.

     "Well, now that you mention it, we just got one … Where is it?" she said, checking through her files.

     "Hey, stud," said a sultry voice behind him.  He turned and saw an athletic redhead in a tennis outfit, carrying a racket.

     "Jane?" he guessed.  She looked disappointed.

     "How do you always know?" she whined, stepping up to the counter.

     "The eyes are the windows to the soul," he said.

     "Oh, Jane. You're back.  Good.  The guys said they needed you for a hot job," Stephanie said.

     "Oh, what's the fuss?" she asked.

     "Most eligible bachelor number six needs his regular girl for a charity ball tonight.  Becky usually handles his account, but she's got the flu."

     Funny thing about these nanites: They could alter the body in a matter of hours, heal injuries in a matter of minutes, but they couldn't help you get over the common cold.

     Jane rolled her eyes. "Oh, all right.  Load me up," she said, holding out her ID.  Jane hit a few keys and then scanned the body matrix into her card.

     "No rest for the weary, I guess," Jane said, giving John a wave as she saunter off to the nanite chambers in the back.

     "Your turn," Jane said, beckoning to John for his card.  She scanned his new body matrix in with a smile.

     "Have fun … Stud," she said.

     "Thanks, gorgeous," John responded with a salute.

     He headed back to the chambers, wondering exactly what she'd given him.  He like surprises though and looked forward to seeing how he turned out after his nap.  He preferred to sleep through the process, rather than watch the slow shifting of flesh and hair that occurred.

     Swiping his card into a chamber, the computer bleeped once the matrix had been loaded.  He disrobed and stepped in.  After the door sealed, a light mist filled the chamber, spraying all over his body like a shower.  He breathed some of it in, knowing the nanites would invade his whole body anyway, so there was no harm.  After a minute, the spray stopped and he watched the beads of liquid slowly seep into his pores, spreading throughout his bloodstream to alter his body in a matter of hours.

     Coming out the other side of the chamber, he put on the slippers robe waiting there.  The quarantine area was like a cozy recreation center, with TVs, games, library and computers.

     He waved at a pale African-American who was starting to look like Gerry.  As John settled onto a chaise lounge chair, he saw Jane the redhead putting on a robe.  She flashed him a naughty smile and headed to the kitchenette.

     John dozed off pretty quickly, and dreamed of Maui.

     He woke suddenly to a woman's scream.  Sitting up, he saw a couple of people gathered around someone kneeling on the floor.  Shifting to stand up, he wobbled a bit, realizing everything seemed a little bit bigger for some reason.  This next job of his must have asked for a shorter man.

     Moving over, he saw a strawberry blond man kneeling on the floor, robe open at the waist to reveal a small penis.  He blushed and someone else snickered.

     "This isn't funny!" the blonde yelled, covering the nascent organ again.  He looked up and spotted John.

     "You!" he said as he stood.  "What the hell, John?"

     John looked confused for a moment, but then saw the man's eyes clearly.

     "Jane?!  But I thought you were …" he started, but then a horrible realization entered his mind.  Opening his robe, John looked down and saw a pair of small but well-shaped breasts on his chest.

     "Oh, hell," he said, reaching under his robe to confirm what was missing.  He quickly ran to one of the many mirrors.

     He was definitely shorter, by at least six inches, and his long brown hair had already turned dirty blonde.  His face had softened with high eyebrows, pert nose and full lips.  A slender neck opened into dainty shoulders and slender arms.  His waist was already an hourglass, with wide hips leading down to athletic legs and dainty feet.

     "Fuck," he … she said.

     'Jane' came up behind 'her.' "My sentiments exactly ... Stud."

     It seemed that Barbara had accidentally switched up their body matrixes when she scanned their cards, giving Jane the body of a hunky young socialite, and John the bachelor's preferred sex goddess.  Long blonde hair, full yet firm breasts and long hairless legs rounded out the package once he was done adjusting.

     "Okay, it's done. Now change me back!" John insisted, pounding her dainty hands on the counter that was now annoyingly taller.  Before Stephanie could respond, Seth stepped up behind her.

     "John, can we talk?" he asked, guiding the custom-built woman into his office.  "I'm really sorry for the mix-up, and I do sympathize.  But I need you to just listen for a moment."

     John sat down and glared at the executive.  "Okay."

     "First, you know that it will take at least four hours for Jane to switch back into that body.  But this was a last minute call in the first place, and the client was expecting his … Date for pick up in another 30 minutes."

     "No," John said plainly.

     "John, please.  This client pays top dollar for our services and expects a return on that investment.  I'll triple your usual salary, if you'll just tough it out for this one night."

     John's perfectly shaped eyebrows went up.

     Pantyhose was a pain, John quickly realized.  She tore two pairs before Stephanie came to her rescue.  The receptionist apologized at least every other minute while she helped John get dressed.  Fortunately, all the clothes had already been picked out and were custom fit.

     Stephanie zipped up the back of the strapless red sequined gown that clung to John's hips like it was painted on and had a slit that went nearly to her waist.  Stepping into the 3-inch heels, she turned to the mirror and gasped.

     "Well, damn," she said.

     "You might need to watch that mouth," Stephanie said as she knelt down and buckled the straps of the shoes.  "He's paying for a lovely woman who can laugh at his jokes and smile on cue, not a Sailor home on leave."

     John chuckled.  "It's just another acting job.  I've played the sophisticated type before.  This time I'll just do it with breasts," he said.

     His first step in heels nearly landed him on his face.  Stephanie fought back the laughter.

     "Good luck … Stud."

     John was forced to learn quickly as she was led to a waiting limousine.  As she approached, the chauffeur opened the back door and a tall, dark-haired man slipped out.  He wore a fine tux with a handkerchief that matched her dress.

     "Becky, my dove.  You look lovely as ever," he said, approaching her with his arms outstretched.  John stumbled and he caught her.

     "Is everything all right?" he asked.  John smiled as she recovered.

     "Of course.  Sorry, sweetie," she said.  Looking a little perplexed, he escorted her back to the limo and helped her in before moving around to the other side and letting himself in.

     "Champagne?" he offered.

     "Thank you," she said.  He smiled a little.

     "Becky hates champagne.  She always preferred white wine," he said, pouring two glasses.  John was speechless.

     "Oh, don't worry, my dear," he said, offering one of the glasses.  "Becky may be my regular, but this is not the first time she had to be replaced by another."

     John took the glass and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good.  I probably should have told you right out.  She has the flu.  I'll be filling in tonight.  My name is Jo … Anne.  Joanne."  He raised his glass to her.

     "Joanne.  I am Ricardo Montoya, but you may call me Mr. Montoya," he said.

     "Yes … Mr. Montoya," she said, lowering her eyes.  He laughed.

     "A joke.  Please, just call me Rick," he said with a laugh.  Joanne smirked.

     "Touche," she replied, toasting him back.

     They made small talk during the ride, and it seemed they had very much in common.  Rick seemed impressed by her knowledge of college football, and she was pleased know that he was a Beatles fan.

     He was a social media mogul from Spain, having designed dozens of apps for Facebook and MySpace.  He was best known for a facial recognition program that could automatically tag photos based on similarities derived from the profile picture and any other tags.

     Joanna found herself honestly laughing at his jokes and marveling at the places he'd visited.  Too soon they came into the downtown district.

     "We'll be there soon," he said.  "Some of these people have met you … This body before.  I call her Katrina.  I will try to stay near in case we meet anyone 'she' knows."

     Joanne waved off his offer. "Ad lib is one of my best skills.  They'll never know," she said.  He seemed impressed already.

     The charity dinner was held in the middle of a baseball field.  Woodwork had been laid over the infield and painted to retain the lines and bases.  A green dance floor had been laid over most of the outfield, with a live band residing in left field.  Rick's table was on the pitcher's mound.

     "Nice seats.  I hope they don't expect us to field a bunt," Joanne said as he pulled out her seat.  He chuckled.

     "Indeed.  But just in case, I'll keep a close eye on the batter," he responded.

     Dinner was exquisite and no one at the table already knew 'Katrina.'  Playing along with Rick's stories, it seemed they'd been dating for two years after having met on the ski slopes in Switzerland.  Fortunately, she did know how to ski quite well and slipped into the story easily.

     Once the food was digested and the band started up, Rick stood and offered his hand.

     "May I have this dance," he asked.  Suddenly nervous but relaxed by champagne, she accepted and let him escort her to the dance floor.

     It was a bit disconcerting for a moment and she closed her eyes several times and reminded herself to let him lead.  Her muscle memory kept fighting with her, and they bumped awkwardly a few times.

     "Would you prefer to sit back down?" he offered.  She shook her head.

     "Sorry, I'm used to leading.  Little sister," she explained.  He nodded and they continued, and after a few more turns they were moving together fluidly.

     "I wanted to say I've had a lovely evening," he said as they turned.

     "Thank you, so have I," she responded.

     "I would like to ask if you'll be staying the weekend, as previously requested."  Joanna's eyes went a little wide.

     "I … Didn't know that," she said.  Could she pull this off for the whole weekend?  She was making triple time and the extra hours could be worth it.  Rick was certainly easy to talk to and seemed like a nice guy overall.

     "If you're not willing, I will understand, of course," he said graciously.

     "No, no.  It's okay.  I've got nowhere to be anyway.  What will we be … Doing?"

     "I had plans to fly to Yellowstone tomorrow and do some hiking, then overnight in the woods.  Is that all right?"

     Joanne loved camping, but she got to do so little of it with the clients 'he' normally attended.

     "That sounds lovely.  But I forgot my hiking boots," she chided.

     "Well, fortunately I already have a full wardrobe for you at home.  Becky used to stay over quite often.  But I think she did it more for the money," he said plainly.

     "Oh … Well …  They do pay us by the hour," she said sheepishly.

     "Of course.  I'm sorry, I meant 'my' money.  I think she enjoyed feeling like a debutante in a world where she could have anything with the snap of her fingers."

     "Yeah, that sounds like Becky," she said.