No, return to your body

You stretch Vanessa's limbs languidly, feeling the unfamiliar post-coital sensitivity as you shift beside Adam. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your borrowed skin, his expression soft with rekindled affection.

"I should get going," you say, sliding away from his warmth.

Adam's brow furrows. "Already? It's not even midnight."

"Big team meeting tomorrow morning," you lie smoothly, sitting up and letting the sheet fall away from Vanessa's naked body. You enjoy his appreciative gaze one last time. "Coach wants to review tonight's game footage."

You stand, reaching for the black dress pooled on his floor. As you slip it over Vanessa's head, you deliberately leave her lacy black underwear peeking out from beneath his pillow—a souvenir of your visit and a complication for the real Vanessa to discover later.

"When will I see you again?" Adam asks, watching you smooth down the dress. "Like this, I mean."

"Soon," you promise vaguely, leaning down to kiss him one last time, savoring the sensation through Vanessa's lips. "Tonight was... educational."

He laughs. "That's a new word for it."

You slip on Vanessa's heels by the door, feeling deliciously bare underneath the tight dress. "Don't walk me out," you tell him with a wink. "I prefer the mystery."

The cool night air hits your skin as you step outside Jefferson Hall. You check Vanessa's phone—11:48 PM. Plenty of time before your twenty-four hours expire, but you've gotten what you wanted from this particular vessel.

You cross the quad, heading away from both the athletics building where your real body sleeps and Vanessa's dormitory in Edison Hall. The sensation of walking without underwear in Vanessa's body sends thrills up your spine—one last novel experience before you release her.

The Humanities building looms ahead, dark and empty this time of night. Perfect. You know from campus gossip that the building's back entrance is often left unlocked for graduate students working late. You test the door—it opens with a soft click.

You climb the stairs to the third floor, your heels echoing in the empty stairwell. Finding an unused classroom, you slip inside and lock the door behind you. Moonlight streams through tall windows, illuminating empty desks.

"Sorry about this," you whisper to Vanessa, though she can't hear you. You know she'll wake confused, disoriented.

You run your hands over Vanessa's body one last time, cupping her breasts through the tight black dress. The sensation is still novel—feeling rather than being felt. Your fingers trail down to her ass, squeezing appreciatively, the absence of underwear making the experience more illicit.

"Thanks for the ride, Vanessa," you murmur to the empty room, savoring these final moments in her skin.

You close her eyes, concentrating on the familiar sensation of releasing your hold. There's the usual vertigo, a moment of floating weightlessness, and then—instead of snapping back to your own body—you remain, a disembodied consciousness in the moonlit classroom.

Vanessa's body slumps forward in the chair, momentarily motionless. Then she gasps, her back arching as she returns to consciousness. Her hands fly to her face, then down to her body, feeling the tight dress, the bare legs. She stands unsteadily, wobbling on the heels she rarely wears.

"What the...?" Her voice is small in the empty room. "How did I get here?"

You watch, fascinated, as she examines her surroundings with increasing panic. She checks her phone—11:52 PM—then looks at her reflection in the darkened window. Her fingers touch her smudged lipstick, her disheveled hair.

"Oh my god," she whispers, realization dawning. "Did someone **** me?"

She pats the dress, searching for pockets that don't exist, then notices something else. Her eyes widen. She lifts the hem of her dress slightly, confirming what you already know—her underwear is gone.

Rather than increasing her panic, this discovery seems to trigger something else. Her breathing changes. She leans against a desk, her hand moving to her inner thigh.

"Holy shit," she murmurs. "Did I...?"

Memories seem to flicker across her face—not complete, but sensations, fragments. Her fingers trace her lips, her neck, places Adam's mouth had been. A flush spreads across her cheeks.

"The game," she says suddenly. "We won. The scout... then what?"

She scrolls through her phone, finding congratulatory texts from teammates. Nothing incriminating. Nothing to explain her current situation.

To your surprise, a small smile forms on her lips. "Whoever you are," she whispers to the empty room, "thanks for the celebration."

She straightens her dress, runs fingers through her hair, and makes her way to the classroom door with newfound determination. Before leaving, she catches her reflection again and pauses.

"Not bad, Chen," she says to herself. "Not bad at all."

You follow her spectral form down the hallway, watching as she navigates through the empty building. Outside, the night air makes her shiver slightly in the revealing dress, but she walks with surprising confidence across the quad toward her dormitory.

As she passes near Jefferson Hall, her pace slows. She looks up at the windows, as if she could determine which one might be Adam's. For a moment, she seems to consider stopping, but then continues on her way.

"Tomorrow's problem," she murmurs to herself, and you realize she must have some fragmented memory of the encounter.

You feel a sudden tug—your consciousness being pulled back toward your original body. The connection to Vanessa is fading. The last thing you see is her entering Edison Hall, her roommate's surprised face as she opens the door, and Vanessa's enigmatic smile as she says, "Don't ask. Best game ever."