6 comments/ 58583 views/ 30 favorites Pandora's Panties By: legerdemer Author's Notes: You know how sometimes you feel playful? Naughty? Mischievous? And sometimes, I don't know about you, but I just feel, well, raunchy! Like I MUST get the raw out. This story, written for the 2015 Halloween Contest, was originally meant to tease, mercilessly. However, the characters, one of them inanimate, took over in unexpected ways. The resulting story is loads better for the careful reading and suggestions made by my honest and insightful editor, the talented and very patient AlwaysHungry. Let me know whether you enjoyed the story - please vote and leave your comments. ~~~~~~~ Halloween in New Orleans, I thought, might be the best part of the meeting I had to attend. That, and Jack Presbitt. Now that would be a treat. I've always liked Halloween - my favorite holiday. These days, I liked to wear something a little sexy or a little scary, nothing too extreme, just a bit unexpected. I often wore a costume to work as well - I liked the surprise on the faces of my colleagues who don't expect any surprises from me, the sober CFO. What I usually hate is what happened to me last year - having to spend Halloween on a business trip. Except what I thought would be an awful, boring conference I hadn't wanted to attend turned out to be an opportunity for an enjoyable little romp with my friend Jack. I had been part of a project involving colleagues at a couple of other companies, a few universities, and even a government lab. We had all received money for a large education project, and had to attend a yearly meeting to discuss our progress and coordinate our plans for the following year. If the money I'd received for this project hadn't been so substantial, I would have blown off the meeting. But it was too big and I had to suck it up and go, even when I realized that the only time everyone could get together included October 31st. At least one of my favorite colleagues would be at the meeting, Jack Presbitt. He and I had been an item quite a few years back. We'd parted ways amicably, and he'd gotten married and had himself two blond, blue-eyed kids (both above average, of course). Whenever we'd run into each other, we'd flirt up a storm every time. Since Jack lived in New Orleans, I assumed he'd certainly be at the meeting. I'd managed to stay single - I always told my parents that they hadn't invested all that money in my education so I could spend my time washing some man's dirty underwear. In truth, when I'd been interested in getting married most, I hadn't met anyone who'd captured my imagination. Eventually I had given up on the idea and settled into a series of hot relationships that generally ended becoming comfortable and eventually boring, by which time both parties were ready to go on to greener pastures. Lately I'd started getting antsy again. It was a bit disturbing that the fuse on the fireworks was fizzling out faster than in the past, and my patience was getting shorter and shorter the closer I was getting to menopause. Frankly I felt like my time was running out and I didn't want to waste it on lukewarm relationships with "Mr. Nice Guy, But..." Instead, I'd take the opportunity, whenever I could, to let my hair down at out-of-town conferences. After the requisite happy hour mixers with glasses of white wine and hors d'oeuvres standing in for dinner, I'd beg off, pleading a long travel day. I'd go back to my room, change into some tight little black number, thigh highs and high-heeled boots, and head out clubbing. Preferably somewhere where they'd play good jazz, blues or funk, and where they had a good selection of single malts and a knowledgeable bartender who enjoyed surprising his customers with something out of the ordinary. If I was really lucky there'd be good dance music and a nice dance floor where I could lose myself in the grooves and feel myself getting hot and slick between my thighs. Well-oiled above my thigh highs and warm and fuzzy all over at 2 or 3 am, I'd hop a taxi ride to the hotel, strip down to my sexy lingerie, and have me a hot date with my fingers and my favorite travel vibrator before calling it a night. The last couple of times when I'd been at a conference with Jack, he'd come with me to the clubs. We'd had a few drinks, reminisced about old times, then he'd invited me to dance to some old song that had brought back memories. He was a great dancer - he had the body for it, tall and slim but not too thin, a graceful mover. He was one of those men at ease in his own skin, who liked to get down and to feel a woman's body rub up against his. I'd found it hard to part chastely from him at the end of those nights, but I didn't want to cause trouble in his marriage. I'd let him go with an easy laugh after indulging in our usual bouts of shameless flirtations that still managed to stay safely this side of cheating. The last time had been the hardest. Jack knew his way around a woman's body on the dance floor, and that time we'd gone to a Country & Western bar, even though neither one of us had dressed for it. We'd started with a nice and easy Texas two-step, and I'd leaned in to him, enjoying meeting him hip to hip. Later we'd trotted out our Texas swing steps and twirls, both of us taking advantage of the closeness. Casually, his arms or even hands would brush the sides of my breasts, and once I felt his thumb stray over my nipple, making it even stiffer than it had been before. No way he hadn't noticed! As he swung me in front of him, his arms crossed in front of my waist, I had pushed my buttocks into his crotch. I had made it look accidental at first, but by the end of the night I was grinding into him purposefully and feeling the shapely outline of his swollen shaft pressing between the cheeks of my ass and against my hip as he moved me around during the dance. Both our eyes were half-closed. He'd hugged me close and given me a kiss on the lips, half chaste and half very much not, and I'd let my pelvis rock forward for balance, feeling his cock rub my stomach and sending tingles down below. When we got into the taxi, I was very conscious of the hem of my tight dress riding up my legs to just below my butt. Under the guise of helping me in, he put his hand on my hip to steady me. I felt it brush the curve of my buttock and somehow, accidentally, his long fingers touched the too-narrow crotch of my panties. By then I was sopping wet, and there was no way he hadn't felt the moisture that had seeped through the thin satiny fabric, making a wet spot. The panties were entirely inadequate at containing the wetness, and having his fingers on the fabric and brushing against the naked tumescent flesh had been hot and infuriating. I felt predatory and could barely keep myself under control, but took his hint as he said good night to me in the lobby of the hotel to check on his messages with the hotel desk. It would be just me and my vibe again, sharing some quality time. To my surprise, he'd called later that night. "Did I wake you?" "No, I couldn't sleep, I was doing some work." "You were so hot tonight, teasing me mercilessly." "Teasing you?" I demurred. "I did no such thing. What about you?" "Don't lie to me, Amy. Time for me to return the favor. Part your legs and reach down between them. Let your fingers travel up to the juncture between your thighs and tell me what you find there." I nearly closed my eyes as I reached my still-moist crotch. "My panties, as it turns out." "Tell me about them. They were quite wet earlier." "Still are, Jack. Feeling your fingers didn't help." "Or helped a lot. You deserved that, rubbing your ass against me like that, woman," he said. "I'm stroking my shaft. I can't not stroke it, it's so fucking hard right now, thinking of you. Press the fabric of your panties between your pussy lips, darling. Push the fabric around a bit, slide it around along those wet, wet lips. Tell me how it feels!" "Slimy and thick, Jack. The fabric is very slippery, and completely soaked though. The crotch is very narrow and bordered in lace, and the lace tickles me a little bit, and does nothing at all to contain my juice. My inner thighs are smeared with it." "I know - I could feel that fabric was whisper-thin. You may as well not have worn any panties, but they are so very hot. Push the fabric aside now, Amy. Dip your fingers into your... what do you call that place between your thighs?" I paused a bit before answering, enjoying heightening the mood. "My cunt, Jack. My cunt. How deep should I push my fingers in?" I heard him suck his breath in. "Before you do push in, run your fingers around the inside of the lips and enjoy the feel of the slimy-ness. Touch your clit for me, dear. I used to love to suck your clit, Amy. You liked me to suck it hard, so hard I was worried I would hurt you, give your cunt a hickey. But you always wanted it even harder. I loved your clit!" I could hear a soft squelching sound through the phone, and imagined his hand on his shaft, remembering its length and girth. I was salivating. "Now, use just one finger and go in to your second knuckle and rub it in and out," he said. I knew he wanted to taunt me - one finger was barely a tease. "Find your G-spot, darling," he continued. "Your G-spot had me enthralled - I still remember the first time I felt it. Do you remember? I wasn't convinced it existed - there'd been an article throwing doubt on G-spots. But you showed me where yours was, and told me how good it felt for me to rub it with my fingers and with my cock. Of course I had to defer to real life experience." I pushed my fingers in and twisted them about, moved them in and out and rubbed especially hard against the rough patch of nerve-filled skin he was reminiscing about. It felt so good I was squirming against my fingers and remembering his cock penetrating me and pushing all the way in, then changing the angle on the out-stroke so that he was rubbing harder against my clit. "OK, Amy, now I want you to take out your fingers and smear that thick fluid all over your mouth. Do you know what it did to me, to touch your wet panties in that damn taxi? I loved the wetness, Amy. I could smell you even in the club, when we were dancing. You were so wet and your scent was unmistakable, like an animal in heat. Your cunt must smell divine now!" I did as he asked, though he couldn't see me, I just couldn't resist the heat in his voice. I loved his request, and the fact that he'd made it. "How do your lips taste, Amy?" "So good, Jack - the same as you remember," I answered, trying to poke back at him a bit. "Amy, now I want you to use your vibrator..." "What vibrator?" "Don't bluff me, Amy. I know you always have a vibrator with you when you travel. Is it still that battery-driven, penis-shaped black one? Or is it your white one that you use to massage your clit?" I sighed. He remembered, all right. He knew my foibles, that's for sure. My libido had ratcheted up several notches in the past few years, and I often needed both vibrators to satisfy me. "Use it now - turn it on and stroke on either side of your clit. Push your fingers inside your cunt and find your G-spot, and while you're stroking it, massage your clit or wherever feels best." I did as he asked me. He hadn't had to ask, I was already on it, but I loved that he had asked. And that he'd remembered I didn't like the vibrator exactly on my clit until the very end, and that I loved my G-spot attended to. "You know I'm stroking myself faster now, Amy, as you're pleasuring yourself. My hips are moving too, as if I were fucking you. I know you wanted me to do that earlier today. Didn't you?" All I could manage was a whimper and a scream as the vibrator and my hand succeeded in bringing me to a climax. Through my shudders and clenching of my muscles, I heard him grunt out his own orgasm. "I'm cumming for you, Amy - I'm cumming! Ahhhhhhhhh!" I could hear his hand sliding fast along his shaft and the wet soft slapping sounds of what must have been lotion or lube making his shaft slick. We were both silent but breathing hard for the next twenty or thirty seconds. Through the fog of the orgasmic aftermath I remembered fondly the spectacular sessions of sex we'd shared, and wondered what had made us drift apart. Maybe it was his having to move when his company relocated him to Boston while I stayed on the West Coast. I couldn't remember us having had any huge fights, or even those long and painful downward slides that many relationships take to their inevitable denouement. "Oh, Amy," he finally spoke softly, his voice surprisingly intimate for having had to make it through both our phones. "I've missed you." "I've missed you too, Jack. You know, I can't remember what split us up. Made us drift apart." "Don't you? I do." "Yeah? What was it?" He sighed so softly I almost missed it. "I wanted kids. You wanted your career," he said. "At the time you didn't think you could have both at the same time." "Oh." There was nothing I could say. Truth was truth. "Amy? I still think of you often." "Thank you, Jack. I think of you as well." "Good night, Amy." "Good night, Jack. Sweet dreams. And thank you for..." "Yes, darling. Thank you, too." That had been a year or so ago, and my vaginal muscles still clenched and twitched every time I thought of our impromptu cybersex tryst. It was one my very favorite fantasies to think about when I felt the need to masturbate. Pandora's Panties I finished dressing, slipping on the stockings, then hooking them into the garter belt. I pulled on a very short, tight skirt that, even with objectively critical eyes, outlined my curves very nicely. I then slipped on my black boots, smoothing the supple leather around my calves as I zipped them up, and admired the way the heels lengthened the line of my calves and thighs. Not for the first time I thought how good an investment the gym had been. Not bad, not bad at all. As I turned around in front of the mirror, making sure everything hung correctly, it seemed as if a pair of hands molded to my ass and gripped my cheeks firmly, the finger tips just reaching into the crack, pulling the flesh just slightly apart. The sensation was so realistic that I irrationally looked behind me to make sure no one else was in my room. What the hell? Maybe I was so keyed up to be going out that I was particularly sensitive to every stretch of fabric across my body. I quickly put on a bit of eyeshadow, a light sprinkling of powder, and brushed on some mascara, then carefully put on the dusky pink lip balm. Done, but not overdone. I grabbed my room key, credit card, driver's license and some cash, shoved them all in the hidden pocket of my light black coat, took one last look at myself in the mirror, and headed out. Pandora's Panties He moved the material and I felt his cockhead rubbing against my dripping lips, dragging the moisture around to my clit and back down. "Oh god, dearling. This brings back so many memories of how we used to be together." Soon the head breached my labia and I felt him push in, his delicious girth sliding into me, the fit tight and sinfully perfect. As he moved back and forth inside me, that other disembodied finger slid around my tight little hole, and again breached my forbidden channel. Just then what seemed like yet another finger, or perhaps a tongue, materialized on my clit. It too began to slide around and flick that swollen flesh in time with Jack's shaft and the finger in my anus. The pressure had been mounting in my pussy like a pressure cooker, all these sensations melding together into some irresistible volcanic eruption or a dam bursting and flooding, and I couldn't contain myself any longer. My cunt squirted long streams of fluid just as Jack's cock began to throb and spurt rhythmically. Eventually we both collapsed sideways on the bed, Jack's head propped up on my shoulder. He must have been eyeing what my own eyes were riveted on, the prominent wet spots sinking into the sheet-covered comforter on my bed. "I didn't know you were a squirter, dearling." "I didn't either. This is my first time. What a mess!" "That was amazing. How did you do that?" "Squirt? I have no idea!" "No, no! I felt like your fingers were reaching back and fondling and pulling on my balls. And then you seemed to reach even farther back, pressing on my taint. I know you've done that in the past, but...both your arms were on the bed! Then finally what pushed me over was a finger just breaching my asshole! I just couldn't hold back any longer!" "Wow," I said, exhausted. I tugged on his arm wrapped around me and squirmed a bit into his crotch, "I never knew how talented I was. Jack, I'm dead tired. Why don't you stay here?" "I thought you'd never ask." "But Jack, it wasn't my fingers. It must have been the panties." "The panties? What are you talking about?" "My panties... They're magic," I mumbled, and fell asleep. I don't remember when we finally crawled under the covers. Luckily the wet spots were on the edge of the bed, and we had plenty of room to avoid them. Later that night I got up and, reluctantly, took off the panties to hand-wash them. As I did I felt the material again, thin satin like that of many other panties, but noticed thin black threads woven into to crotch, blending in beautifully with the dark brown-maroon color. I wrung them out gently and hung them up to dry. I had no clue what they were all about, but I loved them. I vaguely wondered where I could get more, so I would always be able to wear a pair. Pandora's Panties "Bitter. Some Jimson weed. Datura. And something else... a bit of... hmmm," she looked at Jack, startled. "No, not mine. But I think I know whose work this might be. The panties are indeed a gris-gris, as you suspected. They're intended to seduce the wearer with sensual pleasure, to draw her into their world of decadence and away from a loved one. The pleasure they give is meant to be unmatched, and thus they will distance the wearer from her husband or boyfriend or lover. No man would be able to compete with these. If my suspicions are correct, and I am pretty sure they are, the panties are cursed with a vengeance spell." I looked at Jack and he, in turn, looked at me. "Why?" I asked. "Jealousy, I suppose," he said. Celine shook her head. "Yes, but more than that. These, I think, bear the vindictiveness of someone spurned who wants to hurt both the wearer and her loved one. And it's a very personal spell. A spell that required intimate knowledge of the rival and her lover." Jack and I were both speechless. "How would she know, Jack?" I asked. He lowered his eyes to his hands, opened palms up, in his lap. "I told her. We shared... intimate stories of our previous lovers. She got off on my telling her about you. And I did, before I came to realize she'd become obsessed with you. When I figured out what was happening, I stopped." "And that was when things started to fall apart?" Celine asked. Jack nodded. "It was almost as if Amy had become a third in our marriage. Livvie was simply obsessed with hearing about her. Claimed I loved Amy and that I no longer needed her. She wanted me to invite Amy to join us, in bed - she thought that would revive our passion for each other. I refused to do it. That's when she started withholding sex." I looked at Jack, puzzled and horrified. "But Livvie wouldn't stop at that. Livvie was always extremely sexual," Celine said, softly. I looked at Celine and wondered how she would know that about Jack's wife. "She brought another woman into our bed, and fucked her. She must have always planned for me to catch the two of them at it. That's why she was trying to talk me into staying. She was trying to use Mel as a substitute for you. She was convinced I loved you, and was trying to win me over from you, with Mel. But it all fell apart when I wasn't taken with Mel, and didn't want to stay." "So...," I said, staring at the panties, then at Celine. "They were meant to lead me to neglect Jack?" "Soon Jack would have been no match for these. They would have taken you over. You would have never given Jack the time of day. No man could have competed with them. Or woman," she added. All three of us fell silent, staring at the panties. "So, what now? Burn them?" I asked after a minute or so, looking from Celine to Jack and back again. Inside, I cringed. I didn't want to destroy them. The two of them were staring intently at each other. "The curse won't die that way. It has touched you already. It can only be transferred, it cannot be neutralized or annulled," Celine said. "But it can be transferred? How?" "With the panties. Whoever owns the panties will inherit the curse. As long as the curse moves to someone else, it will no longer affect you." "But I can't give these to anyone! For one, who gives a pair of used panties as a gift? And who would knowingly take them?" "Well, they would not come from you. You still have the card?" I remembered I had kept the card in my bag, wanting to check it against Jack's handwriting. I dug it out now. "Here it is," I said, handing it to Jack. He opened it and read the handwriting: "From an admirer, with much love!" Looking up at me, he said, "See? This was all the inducement you needed to put them on. No, dearling, don't be embarrassed," he said, watching me blush. "This must be a pretty strong spell. I'm sure they lured you in." I squirmed. "The spell is resilient, yes?" I asked Celine, wanting to change the subject. "I mean, I washed the panties already, and the spell stayed." "Oh no, water would not be enough to get rid of it. It might even make it stronger," Celine said. "Listen, these days, only an unethical Voodoo priest or priestess would agree to cast a spell like this. They would have had to know what they were doing. And only they would be able to undo it." "But you know who did it? Whose handiwork this is?" I asked. "Yes and no. I have my suspicions. There are about twenty of us practicing in the States, a few more in Canada. Of course some in Haiti. Any one of us could have done it, but only some actually would do it. Most of us are very committed to use Voodoo only for the good. But some of us... Still, I wouldn't be able to guess exactly who did it. Not just by feeling or looking at the panties." "But Livvie would know," I said. "She would never tell me," Jack said. "And certainly wouldn't tell you." "Can't you think of a way to trick her?" Jack sat for a while in silence. "Livvie knows who could take the spell off. So if we send her back the panties..." Celine shook her head again. "As I said earlier, or meant to, the curse has to be transferred away from you to someone else. It cannot be destroyed, and it cannot be ignored. The only way the curse will move away from you is when the panties are worn by someone else." Jack nodded again, looking thoughtful. "I know what to do. Thank you, Celine." He took out his checkbook, wrote out a check, and handed it to Celine. When she looked at it, her eyes widened. "Jack, I can't take this! This is what I charge when I give a whole-day workshop! I barely gave you a half-hour consultation." "Celine, please... put it to good use. I know there are plenty of good things you can do with it. But only you could have helped us, and you didn't have to do it." She looked at Jack a little longer, then took the check and slid it under one of the candles on the table behind her. "Thank you, Jack. I know just what to do with this. And tell my sister I love her. Despite everything," she said. Jack nodded as he re-wrapped the box with the panties. Placing his hand on my back, he gently pushed me in the direction of the doorway back into the shop. "I can't thank you enough, Celine. Take care of yourself." He hugged and kissed her on both cheeks, then watched as Celine and I shook hands. "You take good care of him, Amy. He's one of a kind," she whispered to me. And with that, we left Heaven's Breath and headed back in the direction of Marigny and Frenchmen St. It took me about ten seconds to review what had happened in my mind, and more than thirty to try to frame the question. In the end, I just blurted it out, no finesse at all. "Sisters?!? Livvie and Celine are sisters?" "Sorority sisters, dearling. They went to college together, back in New York. That's where I originally met Celine, hung out with her. Friends only," he added, preempting my question. "I ran into Celine again a few years later, at a party. I was on the rebound from you. She introduced me to Livvie, her sorority sister. They'd been really close. Got into some crazy stuff together." "So Livvie is also into Voodoo?" "Not really, at least not that I know. But she was around when Celine got interested in it. Eventually Celine traveled to Haiti and got initiated properly as a priestess. Livvie was always fascinated with the culture and the mystery surrounding Voodoo. It appealed to her, but not in a spiritual sense, like Celine. She was more attracted to it by the... pyrotechnics, if you will." "So, it sounds like you have a plan." "I do," he said slowly. "Are you sure you want to know it? Actually, it's pretty simple, but it would be easier if you helped me with it." "Shoot, Jack." "So... we want to give the panties to someone who will wear them, and we want to get them back to Livvie. Even if she doesn't know how to get rid of the spell herself, which I think is likely, she knows who could. So it's safest for everyone if the panties get back to her, and if she has a vested interest in getting rid of the spell." I thought I could start seeing an inkling of his plan. "But she would never wear them. Especially knowing they were the ones she'd given me." "No, she would not. But Mel likely would," he said. "Mel is as likely to get seduced by them as you were, and that would affect Livvie eventually. When she finds out, she'll want to get rid of the curse." I nodded. To get rid of the curse, I'd have to get rid of the panties. I thought of the incredible orgasms I'd experienced wearing the panties and was saddened not to experience them again. But I had no reason to doubt Celine's warning that the panties were cursed with a vengeance spell, and that my dependence on them would get worse. And, after all, Jack was pretty damn good in his own right. "You liked wearing the panties, didn't you, Amy? They felt good?" I shrugged. "They felt great. But... they're panties. I don't want to have sex with panties for the rest of my life. Not that there's anything wrong with panties," I winked, "but I much prefer real flesh and blood men." Jack squeezed my hand, and cleared his throat. "Amy... do you think, perhaps, you might want to have another try at being together? I know they say you can never go back. But I'd really like to try." I halted. "Are you serious?" He stopped as well, and gave me a bear hug. "Never more serious, dearling. Dead serious!" "Well, then. What's the rest of your plan for getting rid of the panties?" "We clean the panties, re-wrap them, and deliver them to Mel, anonymously. I'm afraid you'll have to do it, Amy. She might recognize me. She's never met you, though, you should be safe." "When are we going to do this?" "How long did it take them to dry? Overnight?" "Yeah. A few hours." "Perfect. Then let's get them ready tonight. You can drop them off tomorrow late afternoon, early evening. She's usually over at my house by about then. She gets there before Livvie." "OK." I felt a little wistful. I was thinking how nice it would be to use the panties one more time before giving them away. I didn't want to admit how much they'd burrowed under my skin. But it would be just as well go cold turkey now, rather than postpone the inevitable and make it even harder. Celine had said the more the panties were worn, the more their effect would take hold. Jack squeezed my hand gently, bringing me out of my reverie. "Hey, which club are we going to? I'm starving!" Pandora's Panties Livvie swiped her own hand across her face. As Mel's spasms slowly subsided, I heard a deep, raw scream as Livvie tore the panties asunder, with no attention to being gentle, while screaming at Mel, incoherent, aching peals of frustration. The ripped maroon fabric seemed to roll up and shrivel. "Those were not for you! They were meant for Amy, to get back at Jack!" "Liv, what is wrong with you? They felt great! Are you OK?" Liv's shoulders were heaving, and Mel rose to comfort her, when all of a sudden my attention was drawn to the large pair of hands that reached around my breasts and embraced me from behind. The hands then slid down and, pulling aside my top, reached into my skirt. Finding no panties to interfere with their progress, the fingers found my clit and began their seducing, whirling dance with it. Even if his hands hadn't given him away, the quick look over my shoulder and the shape of the cheek and chin rubbing against my own would have identified Jack. "I worried about you being gone so long. I came to see if you landed in trouble and needed rescuing. And you do. But of a different sort than I imagined." He pulled one of his hands away and I immediately heard his jeans' zipper being opened and felt the jeans themselves being shoved impatiently downwards on his thighs, after which, moving my skirt out of the way, he plunged his rock-hard shaft into my slimy wet cunt. Our bodies found their natural rhythm, me leaning for balance onto the wall in front of me, not caring at all whether the light from inside or the noise would we were making would give us away. And when my climax spiraled inexorably up from my cunt into my stomach and chest, I screamed Jack's name as he, in turn screamed mine and pulsed long spurts of cum into me. We went completely silent and still, afraid of being discovered, but the glass must have been thick enough, and Livvie and Mel caught up in their own throes of passion, that nothing happened. From the looks of it, they'd become lost in each other again, Mel liberally laying kisses on Liv's face and neck, her hands roaming all over Livvie's body. They didn't turn around. We could hear the neighbors' dogs barking, and the laughter and screams of kids tripping over each other from house to house, but other than those sounds coming from the street, nothing. We were in a bubble, just Jack and I, and through the French doors, Livvie and Mel and the torn maroon strips of fabric, looking inconsequential on the bed. "How'd you know I was back here?" "You weren't in front, and you hadn't come back. If you'd gone inside, it would have been through a back door, so I came back here to investigate. And found you." I leaned into him, relaxing for the first time that day. "It's done, Amy," Jack finally spoke softly in my ear. "It's time." "Time for what?" I whispered back. "For second chances..." _____________ I really hope you enjoyed my story. If you did, please remember to vote and leave a comment.