Newer Model
By Timothy A. Fenner
        
        "So what do you think?"
        The man kneads at the graying stubble on his chin. "I dunno. What do you think, dear?"
        "What I think," the woman says, picking at her fingernails, “is the same thing I thought last night when you brought up this ridiculous idea."
        The man groans and lowers his eyes to near slits. "Would you please stop and just tell me which model you like the best?"
        It’s clear this sale would require a little finessing to lock in. But I have to wait for the opportune time to slide in the hook. “Is there any other details I can provide you, miss?”
        The woman rolls her eyes and steps up to the glass encasing the display. Her headshakes increase as she browses between the models.
        She doesn’t seem pleased with any of them, so I offer, "We do have more options, if you'd-"
        "God no," she says, flipping out a hand to stop me. "We’ve looked at plenty. Don't need to look at any more."
        "Judith, please..." the man says, pinching at the bridge of his nose. 
        "Fine.” She stabs a finger against the glass. “That one."
        I grit my teeth to hold back the grimace threatening to break free. Everyone goes for the 2147 model. Sure it’s got a decent style, solid frame, and a great price, but it also carries the worst margins. Won’t be any commission. Damn.
        The man traces his gaze along her pointed arm until landing upon her choice. His face bunches. "That one? Really?"
        "Yeah,” she says, “its fine."
        The man looks back. "Why that one?"
        The woman purses her lips and cocks her head to the side as she studies her choice once more. "It’s got great lines. Looks like it would be fun to ride... And I like the color."
        "You like the color? Since when do you like mahogany?"
        The woman crosses her arms in a huff. "Since today, you big jerk. You asked my opinion and I gave it to you. You don't get to complain if you don't like it afterward. "
        "But honey," he says, taking her hand into his own, to which she responds with a cold front so fierce it could freeze the sun. "I wanted to get something with a little more... muscle."
        "Oh God," she says, shoving his hands away. "You're not trying to relive your glory days, are you?”
        The man turns back to the display and sighs.
        "Now you listen to me, mister, and you listen good. I've already lived through enough of your mid-life crises, and I'm not going to go through another round of the extreme, breakneck crap you used to pull. So pick something sensible."
        A scowl darkens the man's face. “Didn’t expect you to understand.”
        The woman's face flushes red and I step back fearing an explosion. But then her shoulders slump and as a slow breath deflates her body. Her face returns to normal, even softens a tad as she cups the sides of his face in her hands. "If it means that much to you, then I guess you better get the one you want."
        The man's face brightens. "You mean it?”
        She nods. "Just nothing too dangerous. You are over a hundred, remember?"
        "Absolutely," he says, spinning back to the display. "Let's go with that one."
        "The 2151?" I ask, trying to contain my elation at the potential windfall.
        "Yes, sir," he says, stepping closer to inspect it. "Gimme the lowdown.”
        "The lowdown on the 2151 can be summed up in a single word--perfection," I say, drawing a smile from the man. "There's more muscle in this model than any other in the market, yet the frame is still considered compact. If you're goal is to be extreme..." I give a quick smile to the woman, which she does not return. "...then the 2151 is the only choice. On a flat surface, the 2151’s acceleration cannot be beat. Its off-road capabilities are superb, capable of handling not only hills, but also has the clearance needed for a sixty-inch jump. And it operates on whatever fuel you want to feed it.” I nudge the man and say, “but no vegetables. The 2151 does not run well on vegetables.”
        "Sweet," the man says, almost drooling. "What about endurance?"
        "Again, best in the market. Though I have to admit the 2151 has been known to run out of gas during vigorous..." I wink to the woman, "...activities."
        She responds with a yawn. Clearly, my attempts at being funny are falling a tad…flat.
        "When can I get it?"
        "Fill out the paper work and we can get you in the 2151 today."
        The woman sneaks a spec sheet out of the nearby stand. She squints in the low light as she reads it over. "Its accessory package is a little…small, isn't it?”
        They both look to me, concern etching their faces.
        "Yes, the base model is a little lackluster in some areas," I say. "But we have a wide assortment of aftermarket upgrades. So there's nothing to worry about regarding any shortcomings."
        The man turns to the woman, his face a mix between giddy delight and a pleading beg. "Well?"
        She hands him the spec sheet, then nods.
        The man grins wide. But then his smile vanishes. After a perplexing look, the smile comes back so strong it bunches his cheeks into his eyes. "Let's get you something also.”
        The woman recoils. "What?"
        "Come on... it will be fun if we both got newer models."
        "But I just got mine."
        "Just got? It's been over ten years.”
        "So? It fits me fine and gets me where I need to be. "
        “Come on, honey. Get a new one with me.” The man jabs a thumb toward me. "I bet we could get a great multi-trade-in discount if we do it together."
        "Certainly," I say, setting the second hook. "We actually have a promotion, guaranteeing you the best price.” A lie, but my manager will back me on it to make our monthly numbers.
        The woman shakes her head, then rests her hands upon her stomach. After a few prods, she slides them back over her hips and down to cup her butt. She lets out a deflating sigh. "Fine."
        "Show us something sporty," the man says, his eyes wide and excited.
        “Oh god,” the woman groans as I tap a few buttons on my tablet.
        The performance units slid away, then five new ones take their place.
        "That one," the man says, tapping the glass in front of him.
        "The Bridgette?" the woman asks, her nose crinkling. "Really?"
        "Sure," he says. "You've been a brunette for so long. It'd be a nice to have a blonde to play with."
        The woman grunts her annoyance. "I’m surprised you noticed the hair, considering the ample size of her accessories package."
        The man tries and fails to hide a sly grin.
        After a few moments, the woman finally relents with a quick, "Whatever."
        “You won’t regret this,” the man says before spinning to me. “Let’s make this happen.”
        "Perfect," I say. "I'll have the papers written up and get our team ready for a cerebral transfer. You’ll both be in your new bodies by the end of the day. Thank you for bringing your business into Body Swap."