Samantha's Seduction

By Casanova

To say that ‘Samantha’s Seduction’ is written in the erotic romance paranormal genre would be a misnomer though having said that there is a lot of sex in the manuscript. I like to think of the story as a social commentary on the state of things in the world today.
In this day and age, where political correctness passes for reason, Samantha’s Seduction blurs the line between men and women’s hopes and desires with a man writing in the first person feminine voice.
The book follows Samantha from her dead end cubical hell to a life full of opulence and splendor where money is of no object, high fashion, haute couture is the norm, and wealth and privilege go hand in hand though at what cost?
For everything costs, something; as we find Samantha struggling to find out what she will pay to achieve the fairy tale ending she hopes awaits her.
A first person narrative, there are actually four voices in the story, Samantha’s who is telling the story, her inner voice, as well as the id, the ego and the super ego, each dealing with their own hopes and desires. Each interpreting events through their focus and giving vent to their thoughts as events unfold.
Full of humor and incite, a pro-feminist view point with a hint of danger to come we follow along as Samantha deals with life’s trials and tribulations.
And SEX, a lot of sex, as befits an erotic novel

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9780994022240

Book preview

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ONE

It was another Saturday morning in New York, but I thought to myself that this Saturday was going to be different. Saturdays were usually spent grocery shopping, stopping at the bookstore to see what was new and over to The Golden Bough for tea. Then home to Washington Heights to read a book or maybe do a little knitting.

Whom am I kidding? When I got home, I went online, adding to my blog, checking out the blogs I followed, logging into Reddit to see what was happening there, or maybe Tumblr to see if there were new pictures. Then checking out Facebook, answering emails, and maybe sneaking in a little porn before retiring for the night.

This Saturday I told myself was the first day of the new me, no more homebody for me. I was going to take on the world and have all the fun I read about in the books and magazines, and the first step toward the new me was going for a haircut.

And what’s wrong with our life so lived? asked my mind. We have stability and comfort and…

Boring, said my brain. What we have is boring. When was the last time anything exciting happened in our lives, ah, like never?

Quiet, you two, I said. I’ve decided and that’s that.

I normally just went to the place in the mall where they would take the usual three inches off the bottom and I would pay my fifteen dollars and be happy until the next time.

This time I made an appointment at Alfred’s and told myself that I was going to get a new look that went with my new life. Though, truth be told, the closer I got to Alfred’s, the more the ache in my stomach grew and I was at the point of not going through with it when Wendy, the most popular girl at the office where I worked, walked by without even acknowledging me and went straight in.

Well, if it was good enough for her, then it certainly was for me, but the ache in the pit of my stomach got worse. "I can’t," I thought. Whom was I fooling? Nobody but myself, I could never be one of those women I read and dreamed about. Then I was at the door and rather than giving into my fears and turning away, I opened it and went in.

We shouldn’t be doing this, said my mind. It will only end in disaster like it did every other time we tried something stupid like this.

SHUT UP! yelled my brain. Don’t you feel how exciting this is? Just imagine; we’ll come out the door in our new ‘do and bump into Sir Galahad or maybe Justin Timberlake. He’s beautiful and I hear he is hung…

SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU! I yelled, and then looked around to make sure that it was my inside voice I had used as I was embarrassed enough already with what my brain had said and I didn’t need any more embarrassment with people looking at me like I was crazy, well, okay, crazier. I mean, does anybody else hold conversations with themselves as I do?

I approached the receptionist with my purse clasped in my two hands and quietly said, Samantha, I have an appointment, and waited.

The receptionist was speaking on the phone and chewing gum, snapping it as she spoke. I know, I would never have thought, I know, snap, snap, I know, and putting one hand over the mouthpiece. Name? and when I said, Samantha again she said, Wait over there, and pointed to a row of chairs.

I looked over and saw Wendy sitting in the middle chair looking like she owned the place and I wondered if I could ever feel that confident and slunk over to a chair as far away from her as I could get.

I picked up a magazine and started paging through it, hoping to still the flutterflies I had. When the receptionist came by and offered me a coffee, I felt so stupid as I stuttered, No, no thank you, knowing that I would have spilled it all over myself the way my hands were shaking.

It was Wendy’s laughing that did it and I bolted for the door. Well, I would have bolted, but I had to go back and get my coat and then make my escape. God, would I ever be able to live this experience down?

See, said my mind, another fiasco. You should have listened to me and we wouldn’t be getting into trouble like this.

I looked back into the salon where Wendy and the receptionist were having a good laugh, at my expense, I’m sure, and I could feel the heat from the flush of humiliation flowing over my face. If the fucking Devil was here, I’d sell him my soul right now, and for a discount. Please, just make today go away, I pleaded.

It was a long, slow, despondent walk back to the bus stop and an even longer bus ride home. I slunk into my apartment and went looking for something to drink so I could drown my sorrows. God, I was pathetic, couldn’t even get drunk when nothing turned up.

Putting the kettle on, I wondered how much tea I would have to drink to kill myself, you know, like a bathtub full or two, and sat and listened to the mournful whistle of the kettle, the sound track of my life, not even a wolf whistle, just a steady droning, on and on.

It was the rattling of the kettle on the stove that startled me out of my sorrow, the noise letting me know that I had let it boil dry and alerting me that I was in danger of burning the place down. Though I thought, "At least then I’d be in Hell and could give the Devil a piece of my mind about how he hadn’t taken me up on my offer."

It was Monday; I was on my way to work, going the usual way that I went, no change in routine for me, when I noticed a storefront that I had never seen before. "Where did that come from?" I wondered as I walked past and why hadn’t I seen it before? I mean, it’s not as if I hadn’t walked this street a thousand times, how could I have missed it all these years? But I kept walking.

As for work, Wendy, as usual, didn’t even notice I was alive. Was her life so exciting and full that she had already forgotten what had happened Saturday at the hair salon? I had dreaded coming into work all day Sunday and the pain in my stomach on the way to work could almost have sent me home sick and there she was, walking by me as if I didn’t exist, which was her normal way.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched her tease all the men that she talked to, casually tossing her hair, flashing that big smile, touching an arm here, laughing at some silly joke, and there I sat, afraid of my own shadow, too nervous to talk to anybody. I was green with envy, or maybe it was the potato salad that had smelled a little funny that I had eaten making its presence known.

The store was still there when I walked by after work and I shook my head again. The name of the store was Faustus’s and looking in the window, I saw mannequins dressed in the most unbelievable fashions, some quite risqué, I thought to myself, and so life-like that I had a hard time thinking they were just plastic and not real. Well, except for the part where they didn’t move. I stared for a number of minutes trying to take in as much as I could, having the tableau laid out before my eyes, feasting on such rich and exotic things unlike anything that I had ever seen before.

I turned to leave when the door opened and an older man walked out and approached me saying, Enjoying my displays?

His voice was a rich, dark baritone that made me weak in the knees just to hear it and it went so well with the clothes he wore, a grey suit with a white shirt and black shoes. But it was his face that drew my eyes to it, and held them. How stunning he looked, with his high forehead and dark eyes underneath bushy, salt and pepper eyebrows and a long nose over full lips. It had me thinking naughty thoughts about him. It was the goatee that stopped my inspection; it was trimmed and neat, came down to two points’ salt and pepper in the middle but outlined in black that hung just above the cravat that he wore. A very handsome, older man was all I could think.

Would you like to come in? There is much more to see inside. I’m sure there is something that will appeal to you and if I might be so bold to suggest, I think I have just what you are looking for, he said.

Again, the voice and again I felt weak; it was all I could do to keep standing. I don’t think so; everything is beautiful but far outside my expense range. I would have to work a hundred years to pay for anything in this window, I should think.

I think I can surprise you. I take things, and he hesitated, I take things on consignment and most of what you see here is quite reasonable and for someone as beautiful as you I am sure we can work out something.

I hesitated. It was just wonderful standing there listening to his voice and feeling the heat on my cheeks from blushing, I thought he must think I was just some silly little girl. I, ah, thank you for the compliment, but I really don’t think there is anything I can afford and I’m late getting home as it is. I am sorry for bothering you.

We should leave, said my mind. I don’t like how I’m feeling and that is bad. I have a bad feeling about this. We should leave now.

We should stay, said my brain. That voice is so seductive and the clothes are so beautiful. I’m getting excited just standing here.

You get excited when the weatherman on TV talks, said my mind, and need I remind you again that he is not talking directly to you? He is on TV!

He’s seductive, too, said my brain, but not as seductive as this guy and this guy is right here and he is talking to us.

Talking with a beautiful woman is never a bother and as for rushing home, what awaits you there that you are in such a hurry? he said and extended a hand toward me.

Again, I blushed knowing that there was nothing at home that couldn’t wait. "Hell, it could wait for a hundred years," I thought to myself and when he reached out his hand and said, Come, I very nearly did.

Please, my name is Asmodeus, he said. Won’t you come in and just take a look? No harm in looking, is there?

There’s lots of harm in looking, said my mind. It makes us dream and do stupid things like trying to get that haircut we didn’t get.

Pretty please, said my brain. I promise I’ll be good and not drool or make funny whimpering noises if I see something adorable.

Fat chance of that, said my mind. You get excited when someone bumps into us on the street.

I can’t help it, said my brain. So little happens in our life that even the thought of being mugged is enough to get me going.

Hush, girls, I said, there will be ice cream when we get home if you two will just chill for a bit here.

Yes, Ma’am, they both said.

I offered him my hand and he gently wrapped it in both of his, so soft and warm they were, and then, one hand in mine, the other on my elbow, he steered me into the store. What had seemed dark from outside was brilliantly lit when we entered and what the windows had held seemed drab in comparison to what the store contained. Blood red flowers of every description were everywhere. Gold, silver, and jewels sparkled wherever I looked. It took my breath away.

I felt a gentle pressure on my elbow and he said, This way, I have something to show you.

I thought, "So this is what it is like to enter a dream." As we moved through the store, everywhere I looked something attracted my eye, my heart, my breath, and still there was more to see.

We passed a display on a small table, a stack of books, with one standing, the title, Tissues and Razor Blades, the World’s Saddest Love Poems. The cover, mostly black and white, with deep, dark blood red highlights, a vase with a bouquet of dead roses, and where the water should have been was coloured black. A box of tissues, a bunch of crumpled ones and razor blades littering around completed the picture.

I stopped, mesmerized by the cover, and Asmodeus picked one up and said, Here, a present for you. The poet is a dear friend of mine. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.

It was such a casual thing he did, but it thrilled me. The most intriguing book I had seen in a long while, and books are my weakness, so I thanked him and put it in my purse. Okay, now maybe some of you would call it a satchel, but it let me carry everything I felt I needed, and of course, being a satchel I could never find what I needed when I needed it.

Deeper into the store we walked and the deeper I fell in love with everything I looked at. We stood before another life-like mannequin standing on a pedestal dressed in the very dress I had dreamed of wearing but never thought I would. Like a second skin, it hugged every curve, with a sculpted neckline, that revealed the sides of two breasts, which seemed to defy gravity they sat up so high, and a hemline that came to mid-thigh but seemed shorter for some reason. The deepest black, three-inch stiletto points that sparkled as if they were covered in diamonds sculpted the legs in a form I could only dream of. I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to walk in those shoes because the tallest heel I wore was on my running shoes.

It’s okay, he said, you can breathe, and it was only then that I realized that I was holding my breath.

It’s gorgeous, I said, beyond gorgeous, but it must cost a fortune. There is no way I can afford even the price tag let alone the dress.

Nonsense, he said, would you like to try it on? I’ll have one of the ladies help you, and he led me to an open area where I could see there were doors that led to fitting rooms. There were huge armchairs to sit in and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Marguerite, he called, and a tall woman came from the back of the store, it is the customer I told you about. She would like to try on the black Sathariel if you would be so kind as to assist her, please.

I…I don’t think… I stuttered, I don’t think I should, worrying that if it fit, I would die knowing that I could never have it and just the memory of it, even now, was causing me pain. It was too beautiful for someone like me and to have my dream so near was more than I could bear.

We have to go, said my mind. Your hopes and dreams have been crushed enough already and this crushing will be the end of us.

It’s beautiful, said my brain. Just touch it, okay? I want to feel it. There is nothing wrong with just touching it, is there?

The woman looked me in the face and said, Ah? and she raised an eyebrow and waited.

Samantha, I whispered, Samantha, after my great aunt, though why I added that I don’t know.

A very pretty name for a very pretty woman, and held out her hand, Marguerite.

Her hand felt as soft as the gentleman’s did, as that was how I could only imagine him, a gentleman out of my dreams or a fairy tale. There was strength in her hands and when she pulled gently, I followed and she led me to one of the dressing rooms and opened the door.

It was the largest dressing room I had ever been in. There were three chairs to sit in, a clothing rack, a wall of mirrors and along one wall a selection of things to drink, wine, liquors, hard and soft, mixed and straight; more than some lounges I have been in.

Marguerite turned and looked at me and then walked over to the bar. She lifted one bottle and then set it down and then another. This went on for a minute and then she said, Ah, just what you need, and poured me a shot glass from a purple bottle and handed it to me. This will help settle your nerves.

I took the glass from her and smelled it gingerly. The aroma was sweet, spicy, with a hint of flowers, and sandalwood and things I couldn’t think of; I took a small sip.

My mouth exploded with tastes and flavours. It was the best thing I had ever drunk when she said, All of it, dear, all of it at once. That’s how one drinks it.

WOW! said my brain. That is delicious.

Ah, said my mind, that was very delicious, but do we know what it was? Maybe it’s a drug and they are going to kidnap us and sell us into white slavery or something. We should leave NOW!

I hesitated, then throwing caution to the wind downed the whole glass. I felt the warmth of the alcohol as it worked its way down into my stomach. The aromas brought all sorts of pictures to my mind, castles, forests, moors, and fog-bound coasts all rushing past; and then I felt a calmness settle over me and I smiled. Whatever that is, I wouldn’t mind some more. It’s the best thing I have ever had.

Patience, my dear, she said, good things in small doses are best savoured and enjoyed and while one can never have too much of some things, others become less rather than more. Now, shall we begin?

With that, she motioned me to stand in the middle of the room on a raised platform. I stepped up on it and she said, Undress, please. There are a few measurements that I need to take and then we can begin the fitting. You’ll look ravishing in that little number, I might add.

I deliberated. I had never been in a fitting room with a sales woman before, the thought of undressing got me nervous, and then, it was as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and as this feeling came over me I began to disrobe.

I was down to my bra and thong and I stopped, waiting to see if she wanted me to take off more. I was just about to ask when I saw her looking at me, and she said, I see we’ll have to do something about those. Bra, please, and I unhooked it and handed it to her and she let it fall to the floor letting me know what she thought about my lingerie.

That will do for now, she said.

Marguerite called out, Delilah, and another woman entered the room. She could have been Marguerite’s twin except where Marguerite was auburn the other woman was a brunette, same hairstyle and length, down to the middle of their backs. Their hair shone as if it were made of light and looked as soft and silky as anything I had ever seen.

Samantha, this is Delilah. She will assist you with your under-garments. Delilah, Asmodeus says to spare no expense; he has expressed a personal desire to see Samantha as his finest creation.

But first Asmodeus needs to attend, and she turned and left the room.

A minute later, they both returned and I felt my face flush, a stirring of embarrassment standing there topless. Asmodeus stopped and I thought if he looks any harder, he‘ll see what I had for lunch.

As if reading my mind, Tsk, tsk, Samantha, your diet needs some improving, and he turned a switch on the wall and the pedestal began to rotate.

He and Delilah stood close together and whispered so quietly that I couldn’t hear what they were saying. It went on for quite a while. All the time the room spun lazily before me and I wondered what needed so much discussion until I began to feel dizzy from spinning around. Again, as if he could read my mind, the pedestal stopped with me facing both of them.

What’s happening? said my brain.

What’s happening? said my mind.

I don’t know, I said, but they seem like nice people, don’t they?

It’s decided then, said Asmodeus. Samantha, I think you need an enhancement, just a small adjustment, and then we can continue with the fitting.

What he meant by small adjustment, I couldn’t understand, but the only enhancements I knew about involved lots of money and lots of silicon and surgery and I had said that was something I would never do.

He stood before me and said, Close your eyes. This will tingle a bit and maybe hurt a little, but I’m sure that you will approve, and with that he reached out and cupped each breast in his hands and began to tenderly massage and squeeze them. I felt heat, pressure, and my nipples hardened. Then he began to tug on them and the tingling became a heaviness and then a burning sensation where his fingers touched. As he pulled and tugged, the pain increased and I cried out a little, but he kept at it.

It took a moment for it to sink in, but where my breasts had lain against my ribs before, they now didn’t and I could only imagine what was happening. The longer he worked, the heavier each breast became and still the itching and burning continued and then a pain, more of an ache, and he let go of them and said, Don’t open your eyes just yet and I knew even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t have.

Well, Delilah, how does Samantha look now? he said and the pedestal began to revolve.

You know, Boss, you’re a man and all men think bigger is better, but in this case I think you’re right. Congratulations on a job well done. Now if you’re finished, I can start my work, said Marguerite and the pedestal stopped turning.

Marguerite then said to me, Turn around, please, and I did and I was now facing a wall of mirrors and I gasped and nearly fainted.

Before whatever Asmodeus had done, I had been quite proud of my breasts. They weren’t huge, but a lot of boys had wanted to get their hands on them, so I knew they were big and as they had not yet begun to sag, the nipples were like beacons when they became aroused. Now looking at them, I saw that while the shape hadn’t changed, they were a lot larger and if possible, even perkier.

I reached up to touch them when Delilah said, Don’t touch. Not yet, you need to let them finish healing. Let me know when the burning and the itching have subsided and then we can continue.

I stood there staring at my chest and my new breasts, my mind doing summersaults just like my stomach and it was all I could do to keep from fainting. How, how, I stuttered, What just happened here? How did he do that? Where am I?

It’s okay, said Delilah, you won’t remember a thing in the morning. Now let me know when I can continue. We have a lot of things to do still.

I stood there for a few minutes and then said, Okay, there is no more burning or itching, just a heaviness.

That’s just your body adjusting to the new fullness. You’ll soon get used to that, said Marguerite.

Beautiful, said Asmodeus. Hurry, I want to see her complete, and he turned and walked out of the dressing room.

Yes, Boss, said Marguerite as she got out her tape and began to take measurements that she called out and Delilah wrote them down. Five eight and three quarters in height, neck, across front, chest around, bust around, front bust, bust point to point, and on it went.

The tape just flying and me twisting and turning, as Marguerite prompted me, legs open, legs closed, I remembered some boy a long time ago whispering about three fingers, and I blushed. Side nap to bust point, the waist, and when she was done, there wasn’t a part of me that she hadn’t touched. Well, maybe a few, but only two boys and my trusty vibrator knew for sure.

With that finished, Marguerite left the room and Delilah took over, measuring my breasts to and from various points on my body. Pushing and prodding and then she pulled one and then the other and my nipples jumped to attention and I could feel the flush on my face and then it moved down to my chest. Still she measured and then she said, I’ll make a casting and then make your bras. Women are very badly served in the fitting of their under-things and when I am finished, you will wonder how you could ever have lived in those others.

Please now, raise your hands over your head and I’ll begin making the casts, said Delilah.

I raised my arms as Delilah began rubbing Vaseline all over them, her fingers exploring the new flesh and my nipples responding in kind and then she began to paint silicone on them and then cover that with strips of fibre mesh and then another layer of silicone until my breast disappeared under the layers of blue. The heat of the curing rubber felt warm and nice to me. Now, don’t move for three minutes and then I will remove the moulds.

Delilah rubbed the rubber with a cool cloth as she gingerly began to remove the moulding and then they were free and I could see them again. Ain’t no way I will be forgetting this day, I thought and reached up and cupped them in my hands and gently squeezed them. They felt real, just as they had before, only there was a lot more of them, no lumpy bag of silicon to be found anywhere.

I was lost in playing with my new boobs when Marguerite returned. Oh my, those are spectacular, though with what she had, she could easily have matched mine. Asmodeus certainly has a talent for knowing what’s just right. How do you like them, or would you rather just keep feeling yourself up?

I blushed and dropped my hands. I, I, stuttered, I and I couldn’t think of what to say, so I just stood there.

Delilah said she was done for now and would return with something that would do for the fitting before the custom work was completed. She left the room but was back in a moment; in her hands were the richest looking things, in the softest, royal purple colour, a bra and a thong.

She handed them to Marguerite and left the room.

Marguerite said, Put these on and then we can begin with the dress, and she handed the set to me.

Without even a thought, I dropped my thong and stepped into the new one, the softest, silkiest, smoothest thing I had ever felt, until I put on the bra. It was a bit of a struggle, like the first trainer I ever had put on, and Marguerite said, Here, let me help you, and then it was on and when I looked in the mirror, I saw that the colour was beyond perfect. When Marguerite loosened my ponytail and my blonde hair cascaded around as I shook it out, I stared and wondered who that was in the mirror because she looked like no one I had seen before.

Bit of a shock, Samantha. It always is. You’ll soon get used to it, but you’ll never get used to the attention it garners, said Marguerite and she held up the black dress. Step down and we’ll get this on and start fitting it, though when Asmodeus chooses a dress there is usually very little to be done.

I stepped into the dress and pulled the straps up onto my shoulders and Marguerite moved behind me and began to tug up the zipper. As she did, the dress became snugger and tighter and more form fitting.

It came down to mid-thigh, with a sculpted neckline that showed what was holding the dress out with a pinched waist and when I looked at it, it seemed almost translucent but not. There was just a hint of darkening from the bra and thong and when I stood back up on the pedestal and turned toward the mirrors again, I was stunned by the woman who looked back.

Marguerite said, Wait until we get the shoes on. That will be something to take your breath away.

She walked over to the side table, opened a box, and took out the pair of stiletto high heels. They sparkled and shone just like the others had and when she bent down, held my foot, and slipped them on, it was like being Cinderella.

It was when she got the second shoe on that the trouble began. Having never worn a heel higher than an inch, these three-inch spikes had me weaving and wavering and she grabbed my hand and said, Ah, that will take some getting used to, but in time you’ll think nothing of it. Just have to strengthen the ankles and the calves, but look how shapely your legs are and how the dress now hangs properly.

I stared and concentrated on not falling when she said, Here, and put a pole on the stand and said I could use that to help keep me upright.

Marguerite said, I’ll go get Asmodeus, and she left the room.

I stared at the mirror barely able to believe what I saw.

Asmodeus walked into the dressing room followed by Marguerite and Delilah and said, Beautiful, just beautiful. I told you she would be perfect. Look at those legs, how shapely and defined they are now. How her derriere moulds the dress and the hem hangs just the perfect distance from her thigh in back here.

Walking around, his hand brushed my legs and then across the front of my thighs and then up to my waist. Manifique, just marvellous, and look how the bust is, just perfect, and his hand ran up my side and across my arm. He took hold of my chin. Today, Helen has returned to us, and his eyes focused on mine and I looked into those deep, dark pools of blackness and felt my pulse quicken and my breath become shallower and it was all I could do to not throw myself at him. The spell was broken when he looked away and I wondered about how easily I had become aroused.

How does she do on the stilettos, Marguerite? he asked.

That will take some time, Mr. Asmodeus. She had never worn such shoes before and I think we should get her out of them before she falls over, said Marguerite.

People say they’re bad for the feet, but they’re good for the mind. What’s more important? said Asmodeus. See how regal she looks.

It was then that the pain in my feet broke through my amazement and I realized that I was about to fall over, the pressure on my toes, the strain on my calves and my thighs as the muscles were beginning to quiver and shake.

Marguerite, moving as quick as a cat, caught me just as my ankle collapsed and saved me from breaking something although the pain in my leg made me wince if I put any weight on it.

Sorry, my dear, said Asmodeus. I got ahead of myself here and rushed things that should not have been. Let me take a look.

I lifted my right leg and he took it in his hands. I felt the steel behind them as he traced my calf muscle with a finger.

It is just a strain, a pulled muscle, but we must not let that get in the way, and he began to press and massage. The tingling feeling I had felt earlier flowed into my leg and the pain was replaced by a warmth and then it was gone.

Thank, thank you, I said, is there anything you can’t do with those fingers?

My pleasure, he said, anything?’ and he leaned his head to one side and looked at me. I can do lots of things, but I can’t make what doesn’t already exist, like you. You are a gift from the gods.

I blushed and then looking at myself in the mirror said, I guess it’s time for this fairy tale to end. Thank you for all this, but I’m not whomever you think I am; I’m just an adolescent girl with a far too imaginative imagination. This isn’t me.

Slipping one of the straps off my shoulder and then the other, I struggled to reach the zipper when it slid down all on its own.

My eyes grew large and then I was out of the dress and pulling on my pants and my shirt and struggling to do up the buttons. Finding my boots and putting them on, I ran from the store.

The tears were already starting to flow as I ran for my bus, catching the first one to come along, letting it take me away from the fantasy, back to the real world; my world of drudgery and plainness.

What just happened? said my mind. So much was happening that I couldn’t keep up with things. Does anybody remember what just occurred?

It was all so dreamy, said my brain, like some romance story.

Changing buses, I was home in an hour and, taking out my keys, opened the front door of the apartment, and climbed the four flights of stairs to my apartment.

Standing there looking at my door, I sobbed. I felt the crushing of another one of my dreams was more than I could stand and undoing the three locks, stepped across the threshold and back into my dreary world with the dreary life stretching out before me. Closing and locking the door, I went and sat on the couch and then slumped over on my side and started crying.

Lying there, the book that had spilled out of my purse onto the coffee table caught my eye. I sat up, picked up the book, and opened it to a random page reading,

I’m Sorry I Hurt You

I’m sorry I hurt you

I’m sorry you cried

It’s this pain that we keep

Buried deep down inside

It wasn’t my intention

You know I really tried

But feelings like ours

Left scars when they died

All I have left

Is this memory of you

All that is left

Of this love that we knew

All of those days

Oh how we flew

All of those nights

When we were just two

All of these thoughts

They just leave me blue

All of these memories

There’s nothing I can do

All of this pain

Ain’t nothing to gain

All of this time

There’s no one to blame

Feelings for you

That I tried to hide

Feelings for you

I just can‘t let slide

I felt the tears start to run down my cheek again and I hugged the book to my chest as I sat there rocking back and forth thinking about life and love and what had happened today. The excitement followed by the crash and I thought about the person who had written those words and the pain that was written so large in black and white, yet filled with all the colours of emotions so bright.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but at some point, I must have fallen asleep. It was late when I woke and hauled myself into the bedroom, undressed, and crawled into bed. I pulled the covers over my head and sank into a deep, restless sleep.

I had the weirdest dreams. There was Asmodeus talking to someone I couldn’t see or hear, but I knew they were talking about me. Then there was a castle, fog, and even farther back in time, everything looking familiar, but not, and all was silent and as I slipped deeper into sleep, they faded away.

TWO

Iwoke early, lying in bed, the events of the previous day playing in my mind. It couldn’t have happened, I thought, "just a dream." There was no way that someone could just touch me and make my boobs grow and to prove it, I slid my hands under the covers moving them toward my breasts.

My stomach did a somersault when my fingers found the round flesh and the true size registered. While they were not huge, they were a lot bigger than before and the tingling sensation returned as my fingers found my nipples. The itching I remembered and the heat. The more I fondled, the more I wondered what had really happened, but then the hardening of my nipples beneath my fingers brought another feeling. I felt the warm flush as the blood filled them and the tightness increased as I squeezed each breast. My breath quickened.

I slid one hand down over my stomach and felt the hair, the silkiness, and then moved