"It feels right to me, this'll help!"

"It feels right to me," Hannah says, slipping her hand into her clutch. "This'll help!"

She pulls out a pen - this time brown, as deep and vivid at Hannah's perfect hair. Your first instinct is triumph; you knew that Hannah, dressed as she is in her bombshell red dress, was really Jessica. But any satisfaction at your guess soon gives way to fear. She's pointing a pen at you! And that means you're going to turn into a suit! You fall back in shock, Angelica's hazel eyes wide with terror as she fires at you. You trip in your heels and fall back, onto the sofa.

To your surprise, you're not deflated. You pat yourself quickly - your generous breasts, your perfectly made-up, expressive Italian face. And then you begin cursing. Cursing in a string of Italian that flows freely from your lips, twisting in phonetic somersaults as only Italian can.

Wait. You speak Italian. And much more.

Memories flood your mind, as if you are flying through clouds of a person's history. You remember watching your father in the kitchen as a young girl, how you always wanted to run the restaurant, and took over management in your late 20s, having worked just about every job in the place except chef. You remember how your father bought the flat above the restaurant, and papa gave it to you for your 25th birthday. You know how to run a restaurant, the names of your staff, the entire history and mind of Angelica Maria Baggio. It's overwhelming. Breath shudders from your body.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Hannah, really Jessica, poses above you, body curved to the light to show off Miss Wellington's stunning figure. You know everything about Angelica. You could be her for years and nobody, not her family or closest friends, could know the difference. You can think like her, act like her, talk like her. You know her likes - her passion for wildlife documentaries, for example - and her dislikes - she's not a fan of zombie movies. Beyond pointless trivia, you know about her failed attempts to quit smoking, and the secrets of applying her makeup just-so to give the perfect professional look. More, you know her emotions, from surface thoughts to those deep, repressed desires. She's a good Catholic girl, who has only had a handful of long-term relationships due to the nature of her work. She has always been curious about being with a woman, but she does not consider herself bisexual, and has never acted on such thoughts or desires. With her emotions come changes to her body. You feel the heat in her breast as she reacts to the slow seduction of Hannah Wellington, and that forbidden kiss moments ago.

Angelica would have protested, at least at first, but then she would have succumbed out of interest. Knowing that makes you feel at least somewhat better about how you're borrowing this life.

You sit up from the sofa, and catch sight of yourself in a large, ornate mirror she keeps in the lounge. Your large, high cheekbones are flushed, your dusky eyes wide, your painted lips catching your breath. But you look, even in your professional uniform, stunning. Your hands are fumbling for something, and you realize Angelica's instincts had taken over: you were reaching for a cigarette.

Hannah, or rather Jessica, has meanwhile returned to character. The pen has vanished, and she's brought you a glass of water. "Are you all right, Angelica?" she asks, feigning concern. "I guess you tripped. I'm kind of nervous about this too. But I think we've got a real connection."