Eight Vials and a Syringe
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Eight Vials And A Syringe, Part II free porn video
Eight Vials & a Syringe - Part II
By Jen Moore
I felt the first dash of apprehension sitting there in the back of the
cab as I saw the driver's eyes flash once, then again, into the rearview
mirror looking at me. It made me wonder what he saw. Who he saw. I had
dashed out from the hotel quickly, riding on a high of adrenaline. But
now, away from the solitude of my hotel room, I was here, thrust into the
reality of the real world.
Traffic was light and it was only minutes before I was let out in front
of Bloomingdales. It occurred to me that I could use a cigarette. I'd
never felt that before. But I hadn't brought any.
I walked down the block to a corner store and asked for a pack of
Marlboros.
"Umm, no actually, I'll have a pack of Marlboro 100s. No ... a pack of
Virginia Slims." Silly, but it seemed to be my first decision as my new
self.
I unwrapped the pack and lit one as I walked back toward Bloomingdales.
I stood outside the entrance as I finished it, watching the people pass
on the sidewalk, getting in and out of cabs, revolving in and out of the
department store doors. Eyes flashing, noticing me. Three women,
smartly dressed, walked toward the entrance, talking, laughing. One of
them looked directly at me. Our eyes locked for a moment. An
uncomfortable moment.
I had no perception of what that look meant. I had no sense of self. I
took two quick drags of the cigarette, hardly conscious of the smoke
whooshing from my nostrils. I ground out the cigarette with my shoe.
Those mules, those stupid mules. This dress, those shoes, it was a
clumsy combination. That apprehension grew. Did they see me as a fraud?
Could they tell? How could they possibly tell? I glanced at this
cleavage, my bare legs. I thought of my vagina, my bush. But I had no
purse. I was holding a man's wallet and a pack of cigarettes. God, I
felt lost.
I had envisioned the ride up the escalator as a glorious moment, but I
felt so out of place. I made my way toward the make-up counters and my
apprehension only grew. I lurked on the outer edges of the cosmetic
area. The attendants, in their white smocks and their elaborate makeup,
were bustling behind the many counters, serving customers, talking
amongst themselves. The sights and smells were intoxicating.
In my plans I had seen myself confidently sitting down and letting one of
the women show me what looked best on me. I envisioned the intimacy of
her holding my chin, outlining my eyes, complimenting me, making me
beautifully made up.
But now that intimacy scared me. What would she ask me? I had no idea
about anything having to do with makeup. Could I possibly sit there,
under those lights, under that scrutiny? This was not going as I had
planned.
I walked through the clothing area. So many choices. All the items I
had envisioned were not readily apparent. I walked through the dresses,
the suits, skirts, sweaters, jackets.
I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and for a second didn't even
realize it was me. But it was. I'm a woman. Calm yourself Michael. I
walked toward another mirror, watching myself as I approached it. I had
nothing to be apprehensive about. God, look at me. Can this be me? I
was attractive. Curvey. Look at those slender arms, that face, the
eyebrows I had shaped, that eyeliner, those breasts. I took a deep
breath and made my way to the lingerie area.
I quickly eyed the saleswomen and walked up to the older one.
"Hi." My pulse quickened even hearing my new voice. Standing there,
preparing to ask her to actually measure me.
She looked up with a friendly smile.
"I've lost my luggage and need to get some new things," I said, not even
knowing where that idea had come from.
"Oh sure, that's a pain," she said. "Marcie, can you please help this
woman," she said turning to her associate. "I just have to finish this.
Marcie will take care of you," she said graciously.
But I had purposely avoided Marcie and hadn't even noticed that the older
woman was busy tallying receipts. Marcie was tall, elegant, confident,
beautiful. She was perhaps in her in mid-thirties, my age.
"What can I help you with?" Marcie asked brightly, subtly eyeing me.
"Umm." .Don't stammer. Calm yourself. "I need some new bras and
panties," I said. I said it. "And I could use a measurement. I've been
out of the country for a few years. Peace Corp," I added.
"Sure. Let's go back here," she said as she started to lead me toward
the dressing rooms in the back corner.
This might've been beyond my wildest dreams. The anticipation, the
reality of following this woman toward this utterly secret, almost
sanctified place of women changing, dressing. I watched her leading me
and felt my heart beating.
"So where were you?," she asked turning her head around toward me.
"Excuse me?" What did she mean?
"In the Peace Corp?," she said. "I had a roommate who did that."
"Oh. Um..east Africa. A few places," I stammered.
"Ok, right in here," she said. "I'm sure it was quite an experience. I
don't know that I could do that," she laughed.
"I'm glad to be home. But I'm so out of touch," I said trying to laugh.
"Why don't you just undress in here. I'll be back in a sec."
The tiny room was surrounded with mirrors. I made an effort to not look
as I slipped off my dress. I struggled again with the bra. Then, for
10....20...30 seconds I was staring at myself, dressed only in those
tight panties, my breasts hanging there, my areolas, my nipples. There
was a soft knock at the door.
"Come in," I said softly, turning away from the door.
"Ok. Let's just get some measurements," she said.
She said something else, some small talk that I didn't even register.
She was standing there in front of me, our height not that much
different. Just the two of us in that tiny room. She brought her arms
around me, her face inches from my breasts, as she quickly measured my
waist. I could smell her scent. I looked closely at her face until she
looked up and then I gently closed my eyes.
I felt her measure my waist. I think she jotted it down. I wondered if
she looked at me then, at my breasts, as I felt her bring the tape up to
my back, and the quick tightness of it against my sides and then my
breasts. My breasts. This was a dream. It was the most sublimely
luscious dream I could've ever imagined.
She measured quickly, expertly under my breasts.
"Ok," she said softly as she probably finished writing the size.
I stood there as though I were transfixed with my eyes gently shut. I
wanted her to reach down, pull off my panties, and see me there. I
wanted her to see my pussy, my labia, my clit. I wanted her to see how I
was like her. I felt a surging warmth run over me. I felt new
sensitivity that this body never experienced. If I still had a cock it
would've been incredibly erect. Look at me, I thought.
"I'll meet you over by the bras," she said, and quietly left.
Her tone wasn't like before. It wasn't that friendly, salesy tone she'd
had. She had spoken more softly, differently. Invitingly? It was
probably only my wishful thoughts.
Alone, I slowly opened my eyes. Still topless. Completely lost in
thought. But as I looked I saw for the first time my nipples extended,
erect. They were great, dark crimson bumps centered in those large
areolas. I felt no self-consciousness that perhaps she had seen them
that way. They were beautiful. I took one between my fingers. It was
large, pinchable and...exquisite, utterly extraordinary... to touch.
My body felt alive. For the very first time I felt a sexual connection to
this body...throughout this body.
I left my girlfriend's old bra on the hook in the dressing room and
watched in the mirror as I stepped into the black dress. It was time to
buy my first bra. I felt a new confidence.
She must've noticed that I wasn't wearing the old one as I walked up next
to her at the racks.
"These will be a lot better fitting," she said.
"It was my girlfriend's," I told her.
She looked at me. Maybe I should've nodded. I looked back at her.
"I am a lesbian," I thought. I wondered if she heard that.
She turned to the bras. "You're a full C. A 36. Are you looking for
just everyday? Something nice? Support? What are you thinking."
What was I thinking. I couldn't stop thinking. A swirl of emotions and
thoughts and feeling were going around my head. My body.
"Um...every-day I guess. Something pretty," I said.
She picked out three bras for me. She put them in the bag and took my
cash. She whispered, "there's a sale on bags too," and laughed. We both
looked at the wallet and cigarettes I had put up on the counter. We both
laughed.
Then, tenderly, she gave me her card. "Call me," she said softly.
"I will," I said.
God I will. I bought a small purse. I bought a pair of low-heels, open-
toed pumps, and red high heels with a delicate strap that crossed my
ankle. I went to the makeup counter.
"I need a new look," I told her.
As I sat there, with her doing my eyes, my cheeks, my lips, I felt that
fresh, new pink bump as it stretched, extended, there at edge of my
pussy. I yearned to touch it but restrained myself as hard as I could.
I yearned to get back to that hotel room. I felt myself emerging and I
wanted to look and see who this woman really was. To see the woman I had
become.
I left Bloomingdales and was going to catch a cab but I saw an array of
dress shops across the street. I took out a cigarette and went to the
crosswalk. The first one had bright, cheap knock-offs. I left with a
new pair of shaped jeans, a short black skirt, four different sets of
tops and ravishing print dress with a plunging neckline that I didn't
even bother to try on. I added two barrettes and looked wistfully at
their pierced earrings. Someday. But for now, they did have a small
selection of earrings with clasps. I bought two pairs of hoops, one
large, one smaller.
It was early evening when I closed my hotel room door behind me and took
out my cameras. I called room service and ordered dinner, wine. 50
minutes they said. I lit a cigarette and went into the bath to run the
water. I avoided looking in any of the mirrors.
This time I had also brought a video camera. I set it up on the tripod
and sat at the end of the bed, holding my cigarette. I looked into the
camera, took a puff, and then began to inspect my purchases. I laid out
the three bras, the panties, the clothes, the shoes on the bed. I began
to give a running dialogue to the camera, excited about my new things,
exerting my personality. Smoking.
I put on one of the simpler, new bras and quickly the new pair of jeans.
Then, I permitted myself to walk to the mirror.
I felt myself melt as I stood there. 36 C. With my long hair, the
extravagant makeup. My ears were ringed seductively, my lashes were
thick with mascara, my lips were glossy and full. What would have been a
glorious erection was now an electricity that moved through my labia, my
clitoris, my breasts, my skin. I put on the hoops. I clipped my hair
back with a barrette. I went to the phone.
"Hi Marcie, this is ..... um...Jen... from today," I said into the
answering machine. I explained I was in town with no plans for tonite or
for tomorrow. Not knowing really how long I had this way, I didn't leave
Monday as a possibility.
Unable to stand any longer, I undid my jeans, and lied down on the bed.
Even before I could touch myself, it was more than I could take.
I had my first orgasm, captured on camera, just moments before room
service knocked. I pulled my jeans back on and tossed on one of the tops
over my now bra-less chest. My labia were still in bloom and now
innately familiar. My clit throbbed in its tight little skin. I
imagined the room smelt musky from my new wetness but couldn't have cared
less.
"Right over there," I said confidently as I lit a cigarette.
Marcie said she almost didn't recognize me when I met her at the bar on
the East Side later that evening. Perhaps it was the way I'd done my
hair differently, or the dress, the heels, probably the make-up. But I
saw how her eyes sparkled when she recognized me. I saw how they reacted
when my long-nailed fingers grazed along the inside of her thigh. I felt
her tender lips on mine when we kissed.
We made love in my room. Naked, against each other, our breasts rubbing,
we kissed and caressed. The first time her hand covered my pussy I just
wanted time to stop forever. I remember looking into her eyes, wanting
to ask her how my pussy felt to her. Perhaps she recognized that, for
she answered by putting two fingers inside me. I licked her face, her
breasts, her ears.
Until dawn we writhed and licked and tasted. I drank the succulent
wetness from her pussy and she drank from mine. We ordered food. We
tickled and teased. Made love again and again.
I awoke first, wrapped in her arms. I quietly turned my body to face her
and looked down at our breasts touching. I kissed her lips gently. I
lie there. Looking at her.
I had brought one more vial with me. But didn't intend to use it. I
don't even know why I had brought it. I couldn't. It could be so
difficult to determine how long it would last. It could be days. I
couldn't stay this way. What about my girlfriend? My work? My other
life?
"I want to see you again. Soon," she said after she'd awaken and we'd
both showered. She hugged me and we kissed. Pulling my pelvis to hers,
she said, "I really mean that."
"When," I asked.
"I have to go to work today til late," she said as she slipped on her
panties and her bra. She walked back over to me and let me feed her a
drag from my cigarette. "Monday I'm going out to Long Island for
something. Can I see you Tuesday? Please?"
I kissed her and nodded and kissed her again.
When she left I stood alone there for a moment and then went to my
suitcase. I held up the vial. If I took it, it meant extending my time
indeterminably. It was simply too soon. If I took it, it could means
days or even a week. I just couldn't. Its too irresponsible. Oh its
way too soon. Maybe I could call her and reschedule. I could do that
and then see her again in a few months.
But I knew what I would do. Even before I traced my labia with those
long nails, before I dragged hard on that cigarette, before I held my
breast in my hand, before I told myself I was such a dirty slut --- I
knew I would plunge that syringe into my thigh.
I just didn't know what was ahead of me.
Annalisa
- 20.05.2021
- 6
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Eight Vials and A Syringe III
- 2 years ago
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Eight Vials and A Syringe Part IV
- 1 year ago
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