Sophie and David lay on the cold concrete of the rooftop, their bodies still trembling from the transition and the icy wind that swept across the height.
To their surprise, they were clothed again, though only moments ago they had been wet and naked. Sophie wore an indecently tight black dress she would never have dared put on in their own world, paired with enormous sneakers—comfortable enough, oddly her size, but absurdly oversized, as if they belonged to a man.
David didn't fare much better. He now wore a torn T-shirt, clearly some designer piece with carefully arranged rips, and jeans so baggy it was unclear how one was meant to walk in them. One eyebrow was partially shaved, creating the illusion of a scar that wasn't really there."At least the glasses stayed," he thought grimly, then glanced at Sophie.
Her hair was shorter now, cropped just above her shoulders, styled in a deliberate asymmetry. A few strands gleamed violet under the city lights. A tiny stud glittered at the side of her nose. She tugged at the tight dress again and again, clearly unimpressed by this new image.
"You're beautiful even in this," David tried awkwardly to console her.
"It's freezing. Let's get off this roof," she suggested.
They noticed a metal door in the corner of the rooftop. Above it blinked a faint green indicator, like a silent invitation to step inside.
They exchanged a look. David squeezed her hand, and she nodded. The handle was icy to the touch, but the door opened easily, leading into a narrow corridor with an elevator at the end.
Inside, the lift closed with a soft hiss. Mirrors covered every wall, even the ceiling, multiplying their reflections into an endless kaleidoscope. The lighting was pale, almost clinical. Sophie's breath quickened.
The adrenaline from the transition, the rooftop chill, their bizarre clothes—all of it swirled together in her blood, awakening a heat she couldn't ignore. She turned toward David, and their eyes locked. His gaze was hungry, almost predatory, as if he weren't looking at Sophie he knew, but at this new, altered woman in the tight dress and outlandish shoes.
She stepped closer, lips parted, and that was all it took. David seized her hips, pulling her into him. His kiss was fierce, demanding—a spark that set fire to both of them. Sophie pressed against him, her fingers digging into the fabric of his ripped shirt. Around them, the mirrors reflected their entwined bodies over and over, an infinite chorus of shadows, amplifying the fever racing through her veins.
His hand slid beneath the hem of her dress. The fabric strained, whispering against itself as he lifted it over her thighs, gripping her as if she were made of fire. He spread her legs as far as the dress would allow, his finger finding its way inside, and she clenched around him instantly—wet, eager, desperate. She held him there with her muscles, with her whole body, as though she wanted to trap him inside forever.