Jason read the booking confirmation twice.
Then he looked at his wife.
"Fourteen days?"
"Fourteen nights," Claire replied, a little too brightly.
"Inside your body?"
"And I'll be inside yours."
He looked down at the brochure again. A smiling couple stood beside a turquoise swimming pool beneath the words:
A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE. A CLOSER CONNECTION.
"Whatever happened to a weekend in Bournemouth?"
Claire laughed, but when she sat beside him, her expression softened.
"We keep saying we need time together. Proper time. No work, no washing machine to fix, no falling asleep halfway through a conversation."
"I'm quite capable of having a conversation while fixing the washing machine."
"You asked me whether my sister's divorce needed a new filter."
Jason considered defending himself, then changed his mind.
Claire took his hand.
"I should have talked to you before booking. We don't have to go through with the swap."
That helped more than her enthusiasm had.
He studied the photograph again.
"Do they have a normal bar?"
"A very normal bar."
"And we can stop if either of us hates it?"
"The therapy team will be there throughout."
Jason sighed.
"All right. But you're explaining your wardrobe."
The transformation itself took less than ten minutes.
Learning to recognise himself afterwards took considerably longer.
Jason stood before the mirror in their cabin, watching Claire's familiar face wear his astonished expression.
He raised a hand.
The woman in the mirror raised hers.
Behind him, his own body sat on the edge of the bed.
"Oh," Claire said in his deeper voice.
Jason turned.
"What?"
"Your knees make that noise every time you sit down?"
"Yes."
"Why haven't you mentioned it?"
"I thought everybody did."
She looked at him with sudden concern, then flexed one leg experimentally.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Jason pushed a strand of hair out of his mouth.
"How do you keep this out of everything?"
"Usually by tying it back."
"Where's the thing?"
"What thing?"
"The hair thing."
Claire smiled.
Their education had begun.
The first afternoon involved a swimsuit, three rejected cover-ups, and an argument with a bikini clasp.
Jason emerged from the bathroom, holding the top against his chest.
"I believe this has been designed by somebody who dislikes people."
Claire put down the cruise itinerary.
"Come here."
He stood patiently while she fastened it.
"You don't have to wear this one," she said. "There's a swimming costume in the case."
"I know. I want to understand how you manage."
"Well, usually without looking quite so offended."
He studied himself in the mirror. It was strange to see a body he knew so well from a position he'd never known.
"Is it meant to feel this… exposed?"
"Sometimes."
"You always look so comfortable."
"Looking comfortable and feeling comfortable aren't always the same thing."
He glanced at her reflection.
That was the first thing he learned, and it stayed with him.
Claire handed him a loose beach shirt, and they walked to the pool together.
He spent the first ten minutes tugging at straps and wondering where to put his hands.
Claire spent them discovering that his longer legs needed more room under a sun lounger.
When Jason finally lowered himself into the warm water, his expression changed.
"Oh, that's lovely."
Claire joined him.
For the next hour, they floated, talked, and laughed whenever one called across the pool and was startled to hear their own voice answer.
Later, sitting beneath an umbrella, Claire passed him a bottle of sun cream.
"Your shoulders."
He began rubbing it in, then hesitated.
"My shoulders?"
"Our shoulders, for the fortnight."
He smiled and turned his back towards her.
"Would you?"
Her hands moved gently over his skin.
It was a small kindness. Perhaps that was why it touched him so much.
Their morning sessions were less embarrassing than Jason had feared.
Their counsellor mostly asked questions.
What did each of them find tiring?
What made them feel appreciated?
What had they stopped asking for?
Jason discovered that Claire liked being offered help without having to organise it first.
Claire discovered that when Jason went quiet after a difficult day, he often wanted company but couldn't figure out how to ask.
"I thought you wanted leaving alone," she admitted.
"Sometimes I do."
"How am I supposed to tell?"
He looked at her.
"I could probably try telling you."
She smiled.
"That might be a promising start."
Outside the sessions, their lessons were often less dignified.
Claire used far too much shaving foam and regarded the razor as though it might attack.
Jason stood beside her, explaining the angle with unexpected patience.
"You do this every morning?"
"Most mornings."
She examined the result.
"I owe you an apology for suggesting it only takes two minutes."
That evening, he tried to walk to dinner in her heels.
Halfway down the corridor, he stopped.
Claire looked back.
"Everything all right?"
"I've changed my mind about your walking speed."
She fetched his flats without saying a word.
He kissed her cheek when she returned.
There was one subject Jason avoided.
He could discuss bikini straps, unfamiliar balance, and the extraordinary number of bottles in Claire's washbag.
He could not quite discuss bedtime.
For two nights, they changed separately and lay beneath the sheets with an awkward politeness that hadn't existed between them in years.
On the second night Claire reached for his hand.
"Are you frightened of me?"
"No."
"Of this?"
After a long silence, he nodded.
She moved a little closer.
"So am I."
That surprised him.
"You are?"
"Jason, I keep looking at you and seeing myself. Then you say something ridiculous about the pillows, and you're completely you again."
He laughed softly.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted.
"Neither do I."
"What if it's strange?"
"It probably will be."
"What if I don't like it?"
"Then we stop."
She kissed his forehead.
Her voice held no disappointment, no expectation that he had to satisfy.
He fell asleep holding her hand.
On the third evening, they took their time getting ready.
Jason chose a blue dress Claire had packed almost as an afterthought.
He struggled with the fastening until she came to help.
When he turned around, she went quiet.
"What?"
"I'd forgotten how much I liked that dress."
"You're allowed to compliment the person wearing it."
Claire grinned.
"You look beautiful."
He glanced away, unexpectedly pleased.
"You look rather handsome yourself."
She straightened his dinner jacket.
"Your wife has excellent taste."
They ate beside a window overlooking the darkening sea. For once, neither hurried. Claire told him about a pottery class she had wanted to try. Jason admitted he had been thinking of reducing his hours at work.
"Why didn't you say?"
"I wasn't sure what you'd think."
"I'd think I might get to see you before eight o'clock."
After dinner came cocktails, music, and a dance floor lit with warm golden lamps.
Their first attempt at dancing ended with both trying to guide the other.
"Someone needs to decide," Claire whispered.
Jason looked up at her familiar, unfamiliar face.
"You try."
She drew him closer.
He took a careful step, then another. Gradually, he stopped watching his feet.
"There," Claire murmured.
"What?"
"You've stopped looking as though we're assembling furniture."
He laughed against her shoulder.
They danced until the music slowed and the room seemed quieter around them.
On deck afterwards, the breeze lifted his hair. Claire draped her jacket around his shoulders.
"Cold?"
"A little."
She tucked the lapels closer beneath his chin.
He caught her hand before she could lower it.
"I think," he said carefully, "I'd like us to try being close tonight."
Claire searched his face.
"Are you sure?"
"Nervous. But sure."
They stayed outside a while longer, listening to the water. Back in the cabin, they drank a glass of water each and sat together on the bed.
For a few minutes they simply talked.
Then Jason leaned forward and kissed her.
There were awkward moments.
They bumped noses. Claire became tangled in a sleeve. Jason laughed so unexpectedly that she started laughing too.
"Very romantic," she said.
"I thought so."
They began again, more slowly.
Neither had to know everything. They asked, listened, paused, and discovered that familiar affection could make room for unfamiliar feelings.
When Jason grew shy, Claire waited. When she seemed uncertain, he drew her close and reassured her.
He found that he liked being held this way. He liked the tenderness of her attention, the chance to say what felt comfortable and what he wanted. The experience he had feared became something they could explore together.
Much later, resting against her, he traced a small circle across her hand.
"All right?" she whispered.
He nodded.
Then, because they were learning to say things properly, he added, "More than all right."
She kissed his hair.
They fell asleep wrapped around each other.
The rest of the cruise became easier.
Jason learned to put on his bikini without requiring technical assistance, although he still checked the clasp twice.
Claire learned how to shave without leaving a small island beneath her chin.
He discovered the pleasure of having his hair brushed while he sat on the balcony. She discovered how much she liked having someone take her hand and ask her to dance.
One afternoon, he rubbed sun cream onto her broad shoulders.
"You carry a lot of tension here," he said.
"So do you."
"I know. I can feel where it usually is."
She turned and looked at him.
He kissed her before she could answer.
They began asking little questions they had somehow neglected for years.
Was this touch pleasant?
Did she prefer the quiet restaurant?
Would he like company on his walk?
Sometimes the answers surprised them. Sometimes they changed from one day to the next.
They stopped treating that as a problem.
One afternoon, Claire returned from a walk around the ship and found Jason reading on the balcony.
"Good walk?" he asked.
She nodded but stayed by the doorway.
Jason put down his book.
"What is it?"
Claire looked at him for a moment.
"I've realised something rather embarrassing."
"Go on."
"When I'm upset, you often put your arms around me. But when you're upset, I usually ask you what you're going to do about it."
He thought about that.
"I suppose you do."
"I always thought you preferred being practical."
"Sometimes it helps."
"And sometimes?"
He shrugged.
"Sometimes I haven't got an answer yet."
Claire sat beside him.
At lunch, she admitted she felt anxious about going back to work. One of their new friends had immediately asked whether she had spoken to her manager. Another had suggested changing jobs. Both meant well, but she left wishing someone had simply listened.
"I wanted a cuddle," she said quietly. "And I felt silly asking."
Jason reached for her hand.
"You can always ask me."
"I know. So can you."
He looked down at their joined hands.
"I'm not very good at it."
"Neither was I, apparently."
She opened her arms with a small, uncertain smile.
"Would you like one now?"
Jason moved into her embrace. She held him without offering advice, one hand resting gently against his back.
After a while, she felt him relax.
"That?" she whispered.
"Yes," he said. "Exactly that."
Claire kissed the top of his head.
She would remember when they got home.
On their final evening, Jason stood on the balcony in the blue dress.
Claire joined him and slipped an arm around his waist.
"Regrets?"
He considered it.
"The heels."
"Anything else?"
"Not talking to you sooner."
She leaned against him.
"Me too."
They watched the ship's wake spread across the dark water. Tomorrow, they would return to their own bodies. Jason looked forward to it, though he knew he'd miss some things about these fourteen days.
Claire squeezed his hand.
"We can still dance at home, you know."
He smiled.
"I was just thinking that."
The next morning, restored to their own bodies, Jason reached automatically for the hair that no longer brushed his cheek.
Claire laughed.
He pulled her into his arms, then eased back enough to study her face.
"Hello, you."
"Hello."
The embrace felt familiar. It was comforting, too.
At the booking desk, Claire picked up a brochure for the following year.
Jason glanced over her shoulder.
"Same cabin?"
She turned.
"You mean that?"
"With the balcony."
"And the couples programme?"
He took the pen from her hand.
"Yes. But next time, I'm packing the sensible shoes."
Claire kissed his cheek while he signed.
Fourteen days earlier, he boarded, frightened of everything he didn't understand.
Now he knew how to fasten a bikini, why her feet hurt after a party, and how lovely it could feel to rest in her arms.
He also knew she liked her back stroked as she fell asleep.
That night, at home, he remembered.
When he grew quiet over breakfast the next morning, Claire set down her cup and opened her arms.
This time, he knew how to ask.
"Could you hold me a minute?"
"Of course," she said.
They stayed there until the tea went cold.
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