Kira - the teaching assistant

You tap the accept button on the ProfPleasure request, and a confirmation screen appears with the details. "Just took a job," you inform Zoe, who's watching with undisguised fascination. "Tomorrow I'll be hopping into a teaching assistant during office hours."

"Office hours? That's actually pretty tame for Westlake," Zoe remarks, leaning against her desk. "The physics department did an experiment last semester where the professor and all the TAs swapped bodies for a week. Supposedly to demonstrate quantum entanglement principles, but everyone knows Dr. Harrison just wanted to experience having tits again."

You laugh as your phone pings with the client's follow-up message, containing the target's information. Kira Nakamura, 24, graduate student in Physics, office hours 2-4pm on Fridays in the Oppenheimer Science Building, room 342. There's a photo attached: an attractive Japanese-American woman with glasses and a serious expression, her dark hair pulled back in a practical bun.

Your phone buzzes again. It's another message from ProfPleasure with one final detail: "Kira always wears a silver pendant with a small blue stone. If you're not wearing it, I'll know it's not you. Don't screw this up."

You make a mental note about the pendant. Attention to detail is what separates the amateurs from the professionals in this business. Tomorrow will be your first Westlake job, and you intend to make it flawless.

Tomorrow, you wake up and head to Kira's office hours. The Oppenheimer Science Building looms over the east side of campus like a modernist monolith, all glass and steel with quantum equations etched into its façade. You arrive fifteen minutes before your job is set to begin, giving yourself time to locate your target and make the necessary preparations.

Room 342 is at the end of a quiet corridor lined with research posters and Nobel Prize replicas. Through the frosted glass door, you can see a figure moving inside – presumably Kira Nakamura, your hop target for the afternoon. You take a deep breath and knock.

"Come in," calls a crisp, clear voice.

You push open the door to find a small office cluttered with textbooks, scientific journals, and what appears to be a half-dismantled quantum computer. Kira sits behind a desk, her dark hair indeed pulled into a tight bun, rectangular glasses perched on her nose. The silver pendant with its blue stone hangs at her throat – the verification item your client mentioned. She wears a simple white blouse with a navy cardigan, looking every bit the serious graduate student.

"Can I help you?" she asks, her tone professional but not unfriendly.

"Hi, I'm Maya Rodriguez," you say, settling into the chair across from her. "I'm in Professor Daniels' Quantum Mechanics class, and I'm completely lost on these wave function problems."

Kira's expression softens slightly. "That's common. Professor Daniels tends to jump ahead in the curriculum." She pulls a notepad toward her. "Which problem set are you working on?"

You've done your homework on the course material, allowing you to ask just enough questions to observe her mannerisms – the way she tucks stray hairs behind her ear when thinking, how she occasionally taps her pendant when emphasizing a point, her habit of using her hands to illustrate complex concepts in three-dimensional space.

"You explain that so much better than the professor," you say after twenty minutes of discussion. "I really appreciate it."

Kira smiles – a genuine expression that transforms her serious face. "That's what office hours are for. Anything else I can help with?"

"Actually, yes," you say, leaning forward. "I'm also interested in your research focus. I heard you're working on quantum entanglement applications?"

This personal question lights up Kira's eyes. For the next ten minutes, she enthusiastically describes her work, revealing more of her personality than any textbook discussion could. Perfect – you now have enough material to convincingly replicate her during the hop.

"Anyway, I should let you get back to work," you say, standing. "Thanks again for your help."

"No problem," Kira replies, glancing at her watch. "I've got another hour of office hours if you think of any other questions."

You leave the office and find a single-occupancy bathroom at the end of the hall. Once inside, you lock the door and open the HopScotch app. Your client, ProfPleasure, has already sent confirmation of payment. You initiate the hop sequence, inputting Kira's details and location.

The familiar disorienting sensation washes over you as your consciousness separates from your body. For a moment, you float in the liminal space between vessels, before being pulled toward your target. There's the usual resistance – every consciousness naturally fights invasion – but you've done this enough times to navigate the barriers smoothly.

You open your eyes and find yourself sitting at Kira's desk. The sensation is always strange at first – different height, different weight distribution, different muscle memory. You flex Kira's fingers experimentally, feeling the callouses from hours of lab work. You touch the pendant at your throat, confirming it's in place.

Your phone – Kira's phone – buzzes with a text message from an unknown number: "I'll be there in five minutes. Can't wait to see you, Kira."

You smile with Kira's lips. Time to earn your fee.