Surprisingly enough, screaming doesn't help. I'm still a gorgeous young woman stuck in a man's body with only a letter filled with beady cursive handwriting for a clue.

So, I stop screaming, which is a blessing, since my ears were starting to ache from the sound, and do what any sane person in my predicament should have done the moment they woke up. Pick up that exquisite Ralph Lauren dress off the floor.

Of course, this means I'd have to also pick myself up, but since it's still me inside this body, it's not like some strange man is fondling me.

I stand from the floor, ready to put my man-muscles to work. I'm slightly shocked by how tall I am. Even with the most fabulous heels, I've never seen the world from this height. #seethegoodineverything.

That's right, I know better. I will not panic and accept this with poise and grace until I can figure out just what the freak-frack happened and how to get back into my own slender body. #mindfulness.

I pick my body off the floor and I'm instantly filled with pride. I'm so light and delicate. But that's not relevant now since I'm maybe dead? I don't dare take my pulse. In truth, I'm not really sure how to do that, but maybe it's better this way. I place myself on the table/bed and step back to admire myself.

If I had ebony hair, I could be Snow White, awaiting true love's kiss to break the spell. If I were blonde, I could be Princess Aurora, awaiting true love's kiss to break the curse.

I sigh wistfully and it sounds really weird so I make a mental note not to do that again. For a moment, I am tempted to cover my body with a blanket, since the room is so cold, but I have no idea where to find a blanket and just in case I'm dead, freezing temperatures are better for preserving the body. I might just become a fabulous icicle yet.

Unfortunately, being in the same room as my corpse is not helping me think, so I haul ass out of there towards the only visible door. The moment I'm out of the room, I stumble in shock.

For one thing, it's warm. And it's not the hallway of some freaky lab.

I've just entered a carpeted hallway with dark wooden-panel covered walls in mahogany shades. There's a door on my left and an opening on my right which seems to lead to a living room or a library, because all I can see is a giant bookcase filled to the brim and half of a creme couch.

This is difficult. Exit or comfortable living space? I'm still cold so I could do with a hot coco. Maybe they have a kitchen. But as I look towards the exit, my mind is instantly made up.

Bingo! There's a mirror hanging halfway down the hall. Even if I half-fear this, I need to know what I look like now. How ugly and gross I might be. So with more bravery than I thought I had, I strut down the hall. Okay, strutting is a lot less effective without the high heels. I just walk then.

The moment I reach the mirror, I close my eyes and place myself in front of it.

Deep breaths, Carolyn. This is the biggest trial of your life, but you can do it! Of course I can do it. I can do anything because #girlpower. #womanempowerment. #idontneednoman.

I open my eyes. Bright blues stare back at me, so gorgeous, my breath hitches. They're not even blue, but cerulean, so deep and strong. Just like the rest of my gorgeous face. Gorgeous upper body. Gorgeous everything. I've never seen such a beautiful man except...

Holy crapsticks, I'm Damian!

I scream again, only to stop in seconds. Damian is not made to scream. He is a hot, hot hunk of man meant to brood and give witty one-liners. I can't help but touch my face, my arms, my abs. Holy hell, my abs!

This is a freakish, aggravating, mindboggling situation and my throat is still raw from screaming, but damn, that body! I can't keep my hands off it. I swear I'm totally in love with myself right now.

I guess this could've been worse. I could've woken up in the body of a pot-bellied, sweaty, paper pusher from City Hall. Instead, I'm in the body of a god. Maybe he is a god or something and that's how he managed to body swap or whatever he did to me.

I pick up the letter again and scan the first paragraph which I've already read. Blah, blah, this body used to be mine. It's complicated. I snort. What isn't complicated? 

It's strange how clear the text is, as if he can focus his eyesight better than me. It's true that during my last checkup my physician said that I might need glasses, but I thought he'd meant it as a fashion accessory, so I told him I already had some. Which is true. They're the cutest thick pink frames, but the lenses are glass.

Anyway, back to the letter. It's long. I flip the page. And front-and-back. I flip more pages. Five pages? Five freaking front-and-back pages? I skip to the end and see the name.

Damian.

At least he gave me his real name, the bastard. Who does he think he is? Shakespeare? Who has time to read that much? Essential for my survival? Please! I can survive just fine without his lousy indications.

I lower the letter for a moment, then grit my teeth. I have no idea what to do with his body except fondle it. There must be something in that letter. With an annoyed groan, I flip it back to the first page.

There will be men coming after you, and they will not be the normal type. They will have skills and bad intentions and will want to take you out, because what I'm going to say next is very important.

If it's so darn important, why doesn't he just spell it out? Thanks for making me panic but not telling me what I can do to stop it. I'm being sarcastic. He doesn't deserve my thanks.

These men will be after something you must find first. Because that's the reason you're in my body now. They can't see what they have to find, but you can.

What the hell is he talking about?

I guess I should start with the beginning.

I swear I'm a lady and poise and grace are my middle names, but I so want to swear like a sailor right now. This is like a bad movie plot where the writer forgot where he was going half-way through. But I give him one last chance.

When I was young, I made some very bad choices. I left a party drunk and rammed my car into a tree. I hit my head hard enough to black out for a few hours. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. There was no one beside me. The doctors told me what had happened, that upon hearing the news, my parents, together with my baby sister, jumped in their car and rushed over. They collided with a truck on the way. They didn't make it.

When I found out, it felt like a great chunk of me was torn out, floating away into the nether and I was left only with a shell of a soul, filled with darkness.

"Oh, cry me a river, you dramatic ass," I mumble, folding the letter. Honestly, this isn't a letter giving me indications on how to survive. It's his whole life's story, and right now I'm in too much of a dire situation to care about what he went through a million years ago.

"Damian, is that you?"

I freeze and stuff the letter in the breast pocket of my vest. I spend a moment rejoicing at how stylish this suit is, but I'm interrupted by a set of footsteps. A gorgeous blonde goddess, tall and lean, approaches me, wearing nothing but a short silk robe of the purest of white.

My jaw drops. How can people look like that? I mean I'm pretty tall and lean and goddess looking myself, but her! It's like she's floating through the room on an ethereal cloud of light and happiness, her hair bouncing artistically behind her. She has natural highlights! #lifegoals.

"There you are," she says once she sees me. I swear, even her voice sounds like a nightingale's chirping. "Your suit is ready."

This confuses me. "Aren't I wearing one already?"

She narrows her cerulean eyes. "Did you hit your head again? Who was it this time? Lucius? Clyde? Should I get the potion?"

I have no idea what she's talking about, but telling her I'm actually a successful influencer trapped in Damian's body doesn't seem like a very good idea. Especially since I have no clue who she is.

"Damiaaaan." She waves her hand in front of my eyes. "Oh, God. Here we go." She places her perfectly manicured fingers on her chest, over her very large breasts. "Desirée. This is your home."

"I know who you are," I snap, though I have no idea who she is. "And I know this is my home." Even if I don't know, but wow, it looks like a nice place. If I can free that huge bookcase of all those books, I could have a lot of room for decorations and quotes about mindfulness.

"Okay, then get your ass upstairs, put your suit on, and get out of here before our friend comes calling."

Who is she? I mean I know she's Desirée, duh, I'm not deaf. But is she Damian's friend? She wouldn't be wondering around in a silk robe then. Though if I looked like her, I'd probably go out shopping in that robe. Anyway, not friend. Girlfriend? Wife?

Ugh, he was just kissing me last night! What an ass! I swear, if I didn't know it would hurt me, I'd punch his beautiful face in right now. How could he do something like that to me?

I need to vent. I also need expert advice on this matter. But before that, I need to get this suit the goddess is talking about and get out of here before she either realizes I'm not her boyfriend/husband or offers to let me do her on the couch, which I'm not sure I'd be able to refuse because damn, this woman!

So I head in the direction she's indicating which is some stairs and I find the door to the room which seems to belong to Damian on the first try. It has more books in it, but it also has male perfume, so this should be it. Huh. He's a Boss Bottled type of guy.

The suit's also in there, so I must have the right room. Except this time, it's not an elegant three-piece, but a leather ensemble which looks a lot like full motorcycle gear. Wow, even if I'm mad at him, I must admit that's pretty badass. Maybe he's a secret spy or something. The prospect is thrilling because it would explain everything except the body swap.

I put on the suit, which feels a lot like an armor, really, grab the guns that I find in my nightstand and then text the cavalry using Damian's phone which is thankfully placed on the bed.

Fifi, it's Carolyn. I really need to c u. Meet me at the Starbucks?

I'm dousing myself in that glorious perfume when I get a text back. My best friend never disappoints me.

Carolyn!!! Where were u girl????? I was so worried. See you in 10.

I'm not sure I can make it in ten because I have no idea where I actually am as opposed to our usual Starbucks, but yeah, sure, why not? Beating New York traffic wouldn't be the freakiest thing to happen this week.

So I confirm, take the stupid letter, and let myself out, just to run into Desirée. She's holding a key, the loop of the ring around her index finger.

"Go get 'em, tiger," she says in good humor and I instantly hate her.

"Right'o," I answer, though I'm pretty sure that word has never left Damian's gorgeous lips before. I really need to use my man brain. #wereallhuman.

She raises a perfect eyebrow, but doesn't comment, so I trot down the stairs and let myself out of the house. Yes, it's a house with a gravel driveway and one of those Japanese gardens. Even if I have no time for it, I take in the two-story, its giant glass walls and brown paneling. Damian probably craps money for a living because the place looks extremely expensive, like one of those self-sustainable modern eco houses.

No time for that now, but once things cool down, I will do my research and find out how much a house like this costs.

For now, I am stuck with a much more pressing problem.

There's a motorcycle waiting for me in the driveway and I have no idea how to ride one.

👸👸👸

I have successfully passed the 2k mark because this chapter alone is over 2k. Yay me! #goals.

I'm still having mad fun with the story, and a bit of prompt number 4 is coming through.

I want to give a huge thank you to all the people supporting my entry and I do hope you'll stick with the story, because I'm planning a crazy (and hilarious) ride.

Vote and comment for support!

Word count: 2219

Total Word Count: 3966