10.
"Why did you bump your head on the sink, Dad?" Hugh asked, staring at the lump on Ciaran's forehead. Ciaran quickly combed his bangs with his fingers to cover it.
"I was dizzy and I fell," he answered. "But I'm strongheaded, so it's nothing."
"You have a horn, not a bump," Colin commented with a chuckle.
"Well, if it's only one, I'm not the devil, right?" he replied. "Go get dressed, it's late!"
He met Charlene's eyes and she slowly smiled.
"Glad to have you back," she whispered, but didn't move forward. She was observing him from the bathroom door and hadn't touched him after giving him ice for his bump.
"Glad to be back." He went to her and took her in his arms. "I'm sorry... this adventure was totally unexpected."
"Don't tell me!" She blushed with pleasure. "Harith made you behave quite strangely."
"Not all bad, I hope."
"Nah. He is good with kids. But he's definitely doesn't know his way around a woman."
"I'll see what I can do tonight," he promised, letting her go. "Let's get ready for Mass."
Later, oblivious to the priest's words, he thanked God for having given him back his family and helping him to see more clearly inside himself. He could have kept Harith's body and started a completely new life, but he was glad to be back. He shouldn't have hesitated in calling Samantha, but a part of him was enjoying the freedom from family duty. Or he could have accepted Samantha's offer, but he was too grounded in reality to live in a fantasy world. And he loved his family and his life with all the ups and downs. Especially after the latest "down", when he had reached the depth of his dark side. At least now he was aware of it.
His thoughts went to Harith and he wondered what he was doing. Hopefully not the naughty stuff with Keith with his mother next door, but then, who knew. Harith was a self-proclaimed shameless person.
After Mass, Ciaran dropped Charlene and the kids off at home, telling them he needed to see someone. He winked at Charlene and she understood. He went to Keith's for the last time – or so he hoped. Harith's eyes sparkled with happiness when he opened the door. Ciaran showed him the bump on his head as he handed him the phone.
"Keep in touch," he said with a smile. "I still want you to coach Colin's team."
"I will, just tell me who I'm supposed to talk to," Harith assured.
"We'll go together tomorrow at five..."
"Let's make it Tuesday." Harith grinned. "We might even meet the witch at the kid's school, so we can thank her."
"So you're busy tomorrow?" Ciaran teased.
"Yep. My favorite customer. Missed him last weekend."
"Would his name be Keith?"
"Of course. Who else?"
"When is your mother leaving?"
"She has a plane to catch tonight."
"Good. So I'll see you on Tuesday at five. Can you reach the bank by bus or something?"
"Or I can walk. It's always good exercise."
"Nobody walks in America."
"That's why they're all so fat."
Ciaran guffawed. "You're crazy, Harith."
"I know, thank you," he answered with a bow. "Ek tha larka diwana..."
"Whatever. See you."
Ciaran shook his head and left, not even asking to be let in. He didn't mind talking at the door – he'd rather not see Rekha again. He drove back to his family, finally feeling at peace.
***
Harith woke up in his own bed, in Keith's arms, and inhaled the scent of their sex marathon still lingering in the room with pure joy. They must have gone through the whole gay Kamasutra until they had collapsed, exhausted. As if he needed a reminder of why he had fallen in love with Keith!
"You awake?" Keith asked.
Harith sighed in bliss, and opened his eyes, tilting his head to look at his beloved without allowing his cheek to lose touch with Keith's naked torso. "Yes," he answered, still sleepy.
Keith grinned and closed Harith's eyelids with two kisses. "Shut those bedroom eyes of yours or I won't be responsible for my actions," he threatened playfully.
Harith chuckled and kissed the torso that was his pillow. "You shut up with your bedroom voice or I'll take you on another ride."
Keith squeezed him in his arms. "Missed you, babe."
"Missed you too. Did I oversleep?"
"Let's see." Keith glanced at the alarm clock. "It's almost noon, what do you think?"
"You could have woken me," Harith chided.
"I like watching you sleep," Keith replied tenderly.
"Did you call in sick?" Harith asked, blushing under Keith's warm stare.
"Yes."
"How come I didn't hear you?"
"Because you still sleep like a child, lucky bummer."
"Mm..." Harith's smile expanded from ear to ear. "Did I manage to cure you of your insomnia?"
Keith chuckled. "I slept six hours in a row, chikna whatever," he admitted.
Harith guffawed. "Chikna ghada." He pulled up to look Keith in the eyes from a better position. "Glad I was good medicine, Doctor."
"I think I'd have slept anyway after having you back." Keith caressed Harith's cheek and hair, serious now. "What are you going to do with your life now?"
"I have a couple of ideas." Harith slowly smiled, seeing the reflection of his happiness on Keith's face.
***
Monday morning was business as usual at the bank. Ciaran had slept in his bedroom, listening to Charlene's breathing and pondering on the previous week. They hadn't touched yet, but he felt different now – ready to commit again to the mother of his children. He assumed she hadn't tried anything after the night with Harith-in-his-body, which probably had left a bad memory. Which made things more interesting, if he had to chase and seduce his own wife again.
Life could be exciting once more. He'd been too buried in reality and his responsibilities. Harith's happy-go-lucky view on life had made him realize how he was indeed too serious and had forgotten how to be happy. Samantha's suggestion had opened his eyes to how he actually liked reality and responsibilities and having a family. He didn't miss his innocence anymore – especially now that he had discovered that his secret desires weren't so innocent after all.
He went to work feeling at peace with himself. Jim noticed the absence of Harith and immediately understood the clue. But only at lunchtime did they have time to talk.
"So... you're back? In every sense?" Jim asked.
"Yes." Ciaran smiled. "It was the strangest week of my life. But I think it changed both of us. I mean, even Harith will never be the same again."
"He sounded quite fun to be around," Jim said, thoughtful. "Do you still have his number?"
"How about we go to the Desi Boys Magik Club with the wives on Friday?" Ciaran suggested, amused. "Hopefully the babysitter will be available – or maybe I could call Samantha again." He chuckled.
"Sorry, you lost me," Jim replied.
"Never mind." Ciaran shrugged. "So, will you come with Wendy? Harith works in that club on Fridays and Saturdays."
"Really? What does he do?"
"Entertains people." Ciaran smiled. "I bet The Hijra won't show up on Friday, though."
"The what?" Jim asked, puzzled.
"Your baseball champion loves to cross-dress. He wears a sari and impersonates an Indian woman. Sort of. I've never seen him doing it, although I've seen pictures of him in a sari."
"You gotta be kidding!" Jim was shocked. "I mean, I got he was gay, but I didn't expect him to be some kind of drag queen as well!"
"And he is married to a man," Ciaran added – another shock for Jim while he pondered.
"I think our wives will drool over The Stripper, though." He chuckled at the sight of Jim's shock. "Yes, he has many faces. But The Hijra will turn into The Little League Coach soon, so you can worship the sportsman again."
Jim shook his head, incredulous. "I do look forward to Friday night, then..."
***
Alice – the
babysitter – was punctual on Friday night, and Ciaran and Charlene went to the club, excited at the prospect of watching Harith's show. They sat with Keith, Jim and his wife Wendy, and waited, chatting and exchanging news.
Harith was the new coach of the local Little League, and Colin had dropped the hostility after the first game. Keith said Harith also did fewer hours at the gym.
"And he has a surprise for tonight," Keith concluded, amused. "I guess he's changing his numbers, but I have no idea of what he has in mind."
"Mind if I join you?" Samantha took the last free chair at their table, smiling mischievously at Ciaran. "I think we're going to love the new Harith."
"As much as we love the new Ciaran?" Charlene asked, amused.
"More," Samantha promised. "I sure hope the new Ciaran is not jealous."
"Not of Harith," Ciaran answered. "And I don't know about Jim."
"He was a great baseball player..." Jim started.
"That's not the man you're going to see tonight," Keith warned. "This is the real Harith. Keep your eyes on that stage."
"Or on your wife's face." Samantha giggled. "Or all the women's faces when he comes out and starts dancing."
Charlene looked interested, but didn't comment. Wendy looked puzzled, but she had no idea of what to expect.
Then the show started. Ajay had the first number with two excellent female dancers. Then The Hijra was announced. Keith and Ciaran exchanged a glance – but it wasn't Harith. "Straight from Punjab", the new Hijra was very sensual. But it wasn't Harith.
"When is he coming out?" Ciaran started to worry.
"He's the best. He comes out last," Keith replied.
And then he was on stage, with normal male clothes, still as a Greek statue as the music started slowly. The two female dancers were right behind him, like they'd been with Ajay. When he started moving, Ciaran saw Charlene and Wendy gape. He must admit Harith could dance – he was very sexy and the effect on the audience was overwhelming. Both men and women drooled over the three magnificent dancers.
"He's probably opening a dance school as well," Keith told Ciaran as Harith bowed to thundering applause.
"He's good," Ciaran admitted, impressed. "Do you think he's going to keep his clothes on from now on?"
"I have no idea," Keith admitted. "I wouldn't mind having The Stripper all for myself."
"Oh, Ciaran, I'm going to cheat on you as soon as he joins us," Charlene warned.
"I doubt you'd enjoy it, you know what he is like in bed," Ciaran replied, amused.
"Damn! You're right." Charlene sighed heavily and turned to Wendy. "Sorry, that guy's gorgeous, but also desperately gay. He'd rather sleep with Jim than with me or you."
"What a waste..." Wendy's voice was shaky.
Charlene turned back to Ciaran and Keith. "But we could try a foursome."
Keith burst out laughing. "I thought you were Catholics!"
"Ciaran is," Charlene winked. "We should put him in the middle, since neither of you is interested in me. I'm sure Harith would love some of his attention – if he can get it, that is. I wouldn't mind watching them kiss."
"Charlene!" Ciaran protested, pretending to be shocked. "How does Harith say? Chicky something?"
"Chikna ghada," Harith's voice took them by surprise. He sat in Keith's lap, smiling at Charlene who chuckled.
"Are you done?" Keith asked him.
"No, I have three dance numbers," Harith replied. "Two solo and one with the whole cast."
"And is the other solo number by The Stripper?" Keith insisted.
"Not telling you. It's a surprise." Harith hugged him and sucked his neck.
"Stop it, you're not a Desi vampire," Keith chided.
Harith chuckled. "Hello, witch," he greeted Samantha.
"You know, you can call me Sam," she said. "If it sounds masculine enough you might remember my name, don't you think?"
"Sam it is," Harith approved. "So you aren't babysitting tonight?"
"Well, the kids didn't call me, and the other babysitter needs some money, so I thought I'd rather watch the show instead. Last time Ciaran didn't want to come in – I hope he's glad he did this time."
"Last time I had left my wife at home," Ciaran reminded her. "And of course I'm glad to be here tonight." He turned to Harith. "By the way, you can call my wife Charlie if it helps you remember her name."
"And you tell me this now?" Harith glared at him, then smiled, shaking his head. "Gotta go. See you later." He quickly kissed Keith's cheek and rushed back to the backstage.
"Why are all dancers so disgustingly gay?" Jim complained after Harith was gone. He obviously hadn't appreciated the real Harith.
"That's a Western cliché," Keith replied. "In India everybody likes dancing – men, women, gay, straight, it doesn't matter. It's in their culture, it's part of their joie de vivre."
"Keith, you speak French?" Charlene asked, impressed.
"Some things can't be translated," Keith grinned. "You should go to India one day. Harith's family would welcome you all because you're Harith's friends."
"I'm not ready to meet Rekha again, not yet." Ciaran replied. "But who knows, maybe one day..."
Harith was back onstage with the whole cast, so they stopped talking.
The Stripper didn't come out that night. The Dancer was born, and Ciaran wished him all the possible luck – although probably Harith didn't need it.
THE END
Author's note
This short series of body switches done by Samantha the witch will end with the next book. The previous one – mentioned by Samantha herself in this story – is Johnny and Marian. After the third body switch (between two very different women) I'll explore Samantha's relationship with a Desi vampire – and the Original Silvery Earth.
The "other" Silvery Earth is an adult fantasy world for the stories of Barbara G.Tarn – another pseudonym of this prolific author.
***
Acknowledgments
Consultants – on India: Laxmi Hariharan and Shafali Anand; on Ireland: Alessia Alfieroni (my woman in Dublin!); on the US: Dave Hendrickson.
Beta-readers: Shafali Anand, Felicity Savage, Barbara "Abby" Palmer, Anna Lowenstein, Dave Hendrickson, Kelly Coffey, Fulvio Gatti – and the Rome Regulars for the inputs on the beginning of First Draft.
Editors: Tricia Kristufek and Katy Sozaeva.
Pat&Babs
1.
The catchy tune of "Diwana Dil" bounced through the house, as Babs and Rohit started the routine – Rohit leading and Babs clumsily repeating his sexy moves. Rohit was trying to teach the routine to his housemates without much success. In fact Kyle was slumped on the couch laughing his head off and refusing to participate in the wild dance.
"Come on, Kyle!" Rohit tried to drag him to his feet one last time, and then the song was over and Babs crashed on the couch next to Kyle, breathless.
"I'm too old to keep up with him," she panted. She should have known better than accepting Rohit's challenge and improvised dance lesson. He was younger and a professional and a skilled dancer and had worked with a choreographer with that song and...
"That's why I'm as still as a statue when he's on the dance floor," Kyle replied while Rohit curled up against him.
Babs stuck her tongue at him, knowing he'd never join them and feeling half her age once again. She should really kill her inner child and start behaving like the responsible, adult woman she was supposed to be. Except she never felt "almost fifty" when music was on – especially Eighties music. Or Bollywood songs.
"If you're done goofing around, we could get some work done now," Kyle continued.
"Aw, let me catch my breath, will you?" Babs moaned, leaning back with a sigh. Rohit was definitely in better shape than her, but she had no intention of going to the gym with him.
Kyle turned to Rohit. "What about you, are you done with the story or not?"
"Yes." Rohit acquiesced with his typical head wobble that made Babs chuckle. She loved how he was still the
Mumbai-born young man she'd seen in movies until over a year before. She never thought she'd end up living with him and Kyle, though. Not even in her wildest dreams had she imagined she'd meet someone who'd been on a movie screen – and that he'd be so sweet in person.
Rohit had been a shining star of the Bollywood firmament until things had gone awry – his beloved wife dumped him, a starlet involved him in a minor scandal that made him lose a major role, and he'd ended up attempting suicide. The scars on his wrists were proof that he'd gone to hell and back. Not that she'd ever asked him the details, all she knew about it was what she'd found on the internet – half a world away from India.
During a vacation break in Rome, he'd met Kyle, gossip-journalist-turned-novelist, and they'd started writing a book together. Kyle was in Rome not only for the fall Film Festival – not as glamorous as Venice, but still ripe with gossip – but also to meet Babs again, after a few years of emails and meetings in LA when she was attempting the conquest of Hollywood.
Now she'd given up the idea of writing screenplays and wrote novels in English under the pseudonym of Babs St George, and Kyle had helped her set up an independent publishing house for their books. Unicorn Books was based in Portland, Oregon, where they had all moved, and had three owners with three different passports (India, Italy and USA).
They had bought a house with two bedrooms – since Kyle and Rohit had started sharing a bed in LA – and a small office nearby as the seat of the publishing house where they took turns, although it was mostly Kyle who worked there. As a former journalist and the only American of the team, he was better suited to handle PR and business-related stuff.
"Give me the manuscript, I'm going to work," Kyle said, rising from the couch so Babs and Rohit sort of fell against each other.
"It's on Dropbox, as usual," Rohit replied, settling in the new position. "Just print it out at the office."
Kyle turned to glare at him, and Rohit blew him a kiss with his most innocent smile.
Kyle shook his head, grabbed his coat and left, muttering to himself.
As the front door banged closed, Babs and Rohit exchanged a glance and burst out laughing.
"Poor Kyle," Babs chided. "Although I'm sure he'll forgive you tonight."
Body Switches Page 17