No, today, there was something different.
Namely, she felt wonderful. Suspiciously wonderful. None of the arthritis she kept to herself. No cracks in places she didn't want to think about. And when her eyes fluttered open, things looked a mite different. Firmer. Less spotty, even. Sarah Jane Smith sat up in a rush and stared at herself, pushed both hands past her face. Her hair was thicker, the wrinkles were gone from her face. "It can't be!" she remarked, feeling more energetic than she had in ages. A quick check in a piece of glass she kept as a mirror only confirmed it, though.
She couldn't have been more than twenty-four, by the looks of her.
She stripped off her pajamas, reaching about for something, but everything fit rather ill now, which meant a trip to the Compound. One pair of blue trousers, a plaid peasant blouse and a blue tied corset-vest to match the trousers later and she was wandering the Island with a pleased smile on her face, clutching an orange and eating it eagerly, skin and all, spitting out the worthless parts as she wandered along.
She stopped in her walk, a slowly growing and knowing smile spreading upon her lips as her fingers tapped the orange thoughtfully. "Of course," she said to herself and changed tacks quickly, having to stop herself from running, simply because she could. She made her way to Peter's hut, opening the door quietly and creeping inside as she slowly began to untie her vest, crawling into the bed and smiling rather impishly.
Why not, indeed?
Her fingers hooked on his trousers, leaning up to press her lips to his ear. "It's Sarah," she promised. "I promise to violate you with all due enthusiasm," she guaranteed with a laugh, pressing kisses slowly down his neck, taking her time as she went lower and lower to push his pants down.
Something about being in her twenties reminded her how exciting this could all be, the way it made her stomach flutter. And with that thought in mind, she wrapped her pink lips around him.