ShilohChapter 31 Crossroads
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Of Paths To Take, The Path To The Crossroads free porn video
Introduction
The start of a journey in the mind to a point of divergence where the
reader will be free to chose down which path he or she wishes to
continue. But there is more to it for there are two themes at work in
this story. The obvious one being the story dividing into five different
stories giving the reader a chance to decide how the story is to
continue. The second theme has its root in ancient cultures where it is
believed that a divine force/deity will led/guide a person into the
future, one set by the direction a person has chosen or has been
influenced to go in. In this group of stories, a version of this belief
manifest it's self in the form of a female antagonist called Lynn. This
force/deity appears in all five continuations but in a form and capacity
it deems best suited to entice the traveler down to what waits at the end
of the path selected.
Of Paths to Take
The Path to the Crossroads
By: Zylux
Money, why is there never enough of it? It is a question I have been
asking myself all too frequently as of late. What little I make is
quickly eaten up by rent, utilities, and (if any is left) food. It seems
that there's never enough for even the cheapest of pleasures, and it
takes seemingly forever to save up to buy something for, well, lets just
call it my secret passion.
It is a passion that reaches as far back as I can remember. It would
seem that I have always been captivated by the feminine world. A world
seemingly created to tantalize the sense of sight and touch. To draw one
in, and retain them with things for the sense of smell and even for the
sense of hearing. It's a world I willing wanted to enter, possibly
forever.
I shall always remember my first trip into that world. It began one
summer day when I was eleven. I was getting the typewriter from the hall
closet near my parent's bedroom, when a large hanging rectangular cloth
bag perked my curiosity. Mother was outside in the garden and sis was
hold up in her room. Dad was of course at work, all of which meant I
was, for the moment, alone and able to act on my curiosity. The front
zipper was in two parts meeting at the middle of the bag. I pulled down
the lower zipper and peered inside.
The bag contained mother's older clothes, things that were of high
quality but no longer in style and she couldn't bring herself to throw
away. One dress caught my attention, well the skirt of it anyway, as I
couldn't see the upper half with the upper zipper still closed. It was a
full skirt in a large black and silver checkerboard pattern. The squares
were separated by thin gold lines, as if drawn on by a pen. It was made
of satin and felt smooth and cool as I ran my hands over it. Something
inside of me wanted that dress, willing me to take it out of the bag and
take it to my room. But I didn't dare as the chance of being caught was
just too great. I would have to wait for a more opportune time. And
such a time came soon there after.
It was on a Saturday family night a week and a half later. The plan was
for the whole family to go out to dinner at a restaurant and then a
drive-in movie. My young mind saw a chance for me to be home alone for a
few hours and acted upon it. I complained of a headache and nausea and
asked if I could stay home. Finding a sitter at literally the last
minute was iffy at best, and it looked like my parents would cancel the
evening. Fortunately, I was able to convince them that I was old enough
to stay by myself. Mom said that if I felt like eating something later,
that there were leftovers in the refrigerator I could help myself to.
With everything settled the rest of the family was off, leaving me to my
own devices.
I waited for twenty minutes before doing anything, just to be sure that
they wouldn't return to get something they had forgotten. When I had
felt that it was safe, I headed for the hall closet. My hand was shaking
as I reached for and grabbed the door knob. I pulled open the door and
stood for a moment staring at the bag with its hidden treasures. This
time I opened both zippers and then spread the opening wide, revealing
its contents.
There were many splendid clothes vying for my attention, but I was only
interested in one. I seized the black and silver skirt and slid my hand
up the dress to the hanger it was on. The hanger was hooked over a thick
wire at the top of the bag and it was with some difficulty that I freed
it. Instead of examining the dress, I bundled it up and headed for my
room in the other half of the house.
Only in the relative safety of my room behind a closed door, did I look
over my prize. It was more beautiful then I had imagined. The upper
half was made of black satin with some gold metallic thread running
through out it, giving it some sparkle. It was sleeveless with a round
neckline just large enough for the neck in front and a keyhole opening in
back, closed at the top with a loop and button. I was wondering just how
one got into it when I discovered the side zipper. After unfastening the
zipper and keyhole button and removing the hanger, I stepped back and
stared at the dress laying front side down on my bed. It was calling to
me, willing me to wear it.
Obeying the call I quickly stripped to my shorts, dropping my clothes on
the floor, never once taking my eyes off the dress. Approaching the
dress, I slipped both hands under the back hem of the skirt and worked
them up to the armholes. I was trembling with excitement as I lifted the
dress up off the bed with my arms. I paused for a moment, staring at the
cool smooth satin mass on my arms, and then ducked my head down under the
hem. I raised my arms up over my head holding the dress by the shoulders
through the armholes. When the dress straightened out, I let go of it,
letting it float down my arms under what little weight it had.
As I slowly lowered my arms, I looked down at that beautiful black and
silver checkered skirt encircling my waist. A strange sensation came
over me as I zipped and buttoned it up. It felt like I was in a dream, I
just couldn't believe I was actually wearing something so beautiful. I
needed proof, I needed a mirror.
There was a full length mirror in my parent's bedroom at the other end of
the house, but that would mean having to leave the safety of my room,
risking exposure. I was hesitant about leaving the safety of my room,
but something inside me willed me to do so. I moved to my door and
cracked it open allowing me to peer out into an empty hallway. I knew I
was alone, but there was a small chance of someone seeing me as I crossed
the living room/entry junction. Of course there was also the possibility
of my family returning home early to worry about. I was considering
making due with the bathroom mirror when once again something came over
me. It was like I was quickly losing control of my actions. To my
amazement, the bedroom door suddenly flew open, and then the hallway
started to move past me, picking up speed as the front entry approached.
I dashed across and into the hallway leading to my parent's bedroom.
Inside the bedroom I paused to collect myself, not wanting to believe
what I had just done. It was a dreamlike blur with a lingering sensation
of the skirt rubbing against my legs. And there was also the sound, a
marvelous rustling sound that was still in my ears. Before I could slip
into some daydream, I remembered what I was there for and moved to the
mirror with the dreamlike feel and sound of the skirt returning. It was
all real, and the mirror confirmed it.
Mother was a little under the average sized woman, and I was tall for my
age, but her dress was still too big for me. It would be a couple of
years before I could properly fit into it, and a few more after that
before it would no longer fit me. I ignored the loose fit and began
exploring the dress with my hands watching myself in the mirror. Around
the waist I found a couple of string loops and guessed that they were for
a belt. That something in me just had to have a belt, so I opened up my
mother's closet and looked inside.
Hanging from a rack on the back of the closet door, I spotted a wide
silver belt. I lifted it off a hook and tried it in one of the loops.
It fit, and in no time the belt was around my waist with the buckle's
clasp fastened in the last hole. I raced back to the mirror. It was a
definite improvement, although the dress was still a little baggy on me.
I didn't care; to me it looked and felt fantastic. Some how I tore
myself from the mirror and set off to explore the house and see what new
sensations awaited me.
I spent as long as I dared in that dress, not wanting to take it off, but
knowing I had to before the family came home. When I finally decided
that risk of discovery was too great, I headed for my room and changed
back into my clothes. The dress was put back on the hanger and bundled
up along with the belt. I took the bundle back to the hall closet where
the dress was straightened out and put back in the bag with some
difficulty. The bag was zipped and the closet door closed. The belt was
returned to its spot on mother's closet door. A final check around, to
make sure that all was back as it had been, and then it was off to the
kitchen. I made a quick dinner from the leftovers I found in the
refrigerator. I stayed up a little while longer and then it was off to
bed before the family returned. They were none the wiser.
From then on, I took every opportunity to be home alone as a chance to
enter the feminine world. And after I grew into "my wardrobe" just
wearing a pretty dress wasn't enough, I wanted to explore the fit and
feel of lingerie and even try my hand at adding a little bit of makeup.
The end result was what one would expect from a child playing with
something he knew nothing about. But to me, it was good enough for some
daydreams.
Eventually, of course, I outgrew mother's things, and a couple of years
after that, the nest. Moving out meant that one door to the feminine
world would close, but there were other doors I could try. Having my own
apartment meant that I could acquire my own wardrobe and indulge in my
secret passion on my own terms. Or so I thought, as it quickly became
apparent that having anything worth wearing took money, and I just didn't
have, nor could get, a job that paid much more then minimum wage. That
was just one of the unforeseen penalties of dropping out of collage to
experience the wonders of foreign lands.
My wardrobe ended up consisting of items that had gone out of style and
could be purchased on the cheep, and things scrounged from the trash.
Most items required some modification to fit me and that meant I had to
learn how to sew. A well used sewing machine was found and purchased at
a yard sale. It took a lot of practice, but I did become good enough to
modify things without it looking like it had been altered. Still, my
meager collection of clothing left a lot to be desired and would only add
to any bouts of depression brought on by my menial job and lack of money.
On the occasions when my depression would get the better of me, I have
found that a trip to the mall could go a long ways toward a cure. I love
to window shop at all the fashion stores that cater to women. There is
something about all the stylish and feminine clothes that sends me off on
wondrous daydreams. I probably should have been even more depressed at
seeing all the wonderful things I would, in all likelihood, never get to
wear, but I didn't. Maybe I'm an optimist, or just a hopeless dreamer.
It was on one particularly depressing weekday morning off from work, that
I departed for the mall with no clue that my life was about to go in an
unimaginable direction. The trip to the mall went as it normally did and
I had no trouble finding a parking space in front of a main entrance at
one end of the mall, one of the advantages of being there during a
weekday morning. Another advantage is window shopping without many
people around to stare at me.
At first it looked like it would be an uplifting day as the new fashion
season was being kicked off in every clothing store. But fortune was not
with me, as the incoming fashions were not to my liking. The main
emphasis was on the peasant and bohemian look with sleaze taking up the
rest. Gone was any sense of style, class, and true femininity.
I only found disappointment in store after store and my depression only
worsened. Soon, I could take no more and hastened out the nearest exit.
As luck would have it, that put me on the other side of the mall, down
toward the far end from where I had parked. It was a little
disorienting, and I had to pause to get my bearings. That's when I
caught a whiff of fresh brewed coffee carried in on the breeze. It had
several underlying aromas that told me that it had to be coming from a
specialty shop rather than some restaurant.
Coffee houses are one of my guilty little pleasures, one that I rarely
have enough money to indulge in. On that day, I did have enough money
and figured, why not. If the latest fashions couldn't cheer me up,
perhaps some exotic flavored cup of strong coffee could. Turning into
the breeze, I started to follow the sent to its source.
My trek took me to the far end of the mall grounds bordered by a main
boulevard, across which was a collection of boutique stores. I quickly
scanned over all the little stores, forgetting what had lured me there in
the first place. One shop caught my attention and I just had to get an
up close look.
I waited for a break in the traffic and then made a dash across the
boulevard, ignoring the horn from one driver who I guess would have
preferred I had gone down to the light to cross. The small parking lot
in front of the shops was quickly crossed, and I found myself staring in
the window of a small, high end and custom clothing shop for men and
women. Of course it was the women's half that had my attention. Little
did I know then, but I had arrived at a crossroads that would take my
life in a direction I could never have imagined.
The Path Ahead
Formal Gown
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YOU
The Path to the Left ===== ARE ===== The Path to the Right
Sundress HERE Skirt Suit
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The Path to the Mall The Path Back Home
Mini Skirts Advertisement
The reader is now free to choose how he or she wishes to continue. Sorry
for the lack of descriptions for each path, but then life doesn't come
with a preview when we are presented with a choice of paths to take.
However, unlike life, the reader is free to return to this point and
explore another path as often as he or she wishes.
Nadene
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