I’m currently writing a short story unlike anything I’ve tackled before. It’s called The Narcissists (a working title) and, whittled down, it’s essentially a body-swap story, à la Big or Vice Versa, but concerning a married couple – and minus Tom Hanks dancing on a giant keyboard.
The husband is shallow, the wife pretentious, each with their own unique brand of vanity, and their marriage is in tatters. But, one morning, they wake to find themselves in each other’s body.
Initially, there’s plenty of room for hilarity, with anatomical exploration and bewilderment, and gender-based high jinx. But the point of the story was to show how these two people separately find themselves intensely attractive – indeed, as soon as they see themselves as a separate person, they want to screw that person. So they do – they have this bizarre, twisted sex from inside the body of their erstwhile partner, but with themselves.
It’s weird and freaky and as likely to spark arousal as it is a spine-tingling cringe. It’s also a bit odd to write on the tube on my commute – I’ve bought a case for my phone to limit the potential viewing angles of my little, filth-filled screen (you dirty old man).