The Black Lingerie, Part One

Summary: A girl has a preculiarly vivid dream about a girl dead for fifty years, then discovers it wasn’t just a dream. Her life will never be the same.

Weird.

That would be the one word to sum up Erin Brolin’s thoughts as she realized she stood in the middle of her bedroom…but not really. She recognized the general dimensions and key locations like her closet, the big window that looked out on the backyard, and the door to the upstairs hallway. Unfortunately, that was where all similarities ended. Gone were her writing desk and office chair; gone was her simple wood frame bed with its matching stand and dresser; gone were her posters and other memorabilia that made this her room.

Everything was… old. Well, not exactly old. In fact everything still gleamed like new; they were just dated, antiquey.

Erin wasn’t sure if antiquey was a real word, but it best described how the intricately carved, heavy looking furniture looked to her. Everything reminded her of her grandmother’s place in Kentucky. Even down to the comforting scent of furniture polish that just tickled her sense of smell.

“Where AM I,” she asked out loud, not really expecting an answer from the deserted room.

Which is why she nearly jumped out of her skin when she received one, “You are in your room. Or maybe our room.”

Erin whirled around and found a girl standing just inside the door to her room. She was about twelve or thirteen- Erin’s age. She was pixie cute with a curiously dated hairstyle that seemed really out of place in 2014. Her shockingly blue eyes twinkled when she favored Erin with a warm and disarming smile.

“Jeez, you scared me,” Erin said with a nervous little laugh. Her heart was knocking around her ribcage like a crazed animal.

“Sorry,” the girl said with a sheepish grin, “I didn’t mean to. I thought you were asking me a question, so I answered you. Although, I guess ‘When am I?’ would be a more accurate question. Or ‘This is my room’ a better answer to your original question.”

Blinking stupidly, Erin said, “What?”

The girl gave a self-conscious laugh, said, “I’m a bit out of practice when it comes to conversations, I’m afraid. It’s been, what- fifty years since I’ve spoken to anyone so you’ll have to forgive me.”

“Fifty years,” Erin scoffed, “You are, what, twelve or thirteen?”

“Twelve by one count,” the girl said, raising one hand, then said as she raised the other, “Or sixty-three by another. The distinction can be confusing so just forget I brought it up.”

“Okay,” Erin said, more than willing to leave that peculiar statement alone, “Who are you? What’s up with this room?”

“My name is Natasha Bronsky. You can call me Natty. My friends do,” the girl said, with a half curtsy, “and you are Erin Brolin. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance finally. As for your other question, I don’t understand what you are asking.”

“How do you know my name,” Erin asked, blinking in surprise.

“I’ve watched you grow up since you moved in. For years now I’ve been trying to communicate with you but the few times I managed to get through, you couldn’t understand me for some reason. This is the first time I’ve managed to converse with you. What’s different, do you think?”

“Communicate with me? I don’t understand.”

“You never do, I’m afraid,” she said, sadly, “then you go and forget everything in the morning. Very frustrating. I cry sometimes.”

Feeling like she was two exchanges behind in their conversation, Erin tried again, “What do you mean when you say I don’t remember in the morning?”

“When you wake up.”

“Am I dreaming, then,” Erin asked, curiously finding that hard to believe. This didn’t feel like a dream. Aside from the strange conversation, everything had a weight to it, felt real. She could feel the hardwood floor beneath her feet, the cool air on her skin. Nothing was fuzzy or disjointed like most of her dreams.

“Yes… and no,” Natty said, then gave her a sheepish grin, “Again, the distinction is confusing and would take too long to explain. I don’t know how much time I have so I don’t want to waste any of it.”

“Okay,” Erin said, figuring it would be easier to go along than fight where this dream was going.

“I have to show you something before you go.”

“Go?”

“Yes, go,” the girl agreed, then saw the look of confusion on Erin’s face, “Away from here. Or from this now, if you prefer.”

“If I prefer,” Erin said with an exasperated laugh, “No offense, Natty, but talking to you is giving me a headache.”

“Told you I was out of practice,” she said, with an apologetic shrug, “Anyway, let’s not dilly dally. I have to show you this before you leave me, again.”

With that, she left her post by the door and walked to Erin’s closet. Erin watched her, admired the easy grace with which the girl moved. She could be a dancer or a gymnast.

Erin gasped when she saw the girl’s pale buttocks, her eyes widening in shock. So distracted by the bedroom that was hers but not, then the sudden appearance of the conversationally frustrating girl who claimed to be both twelve and sixty-three, she really hadn’t paid attention to what Natty was wearing. How she had missed such an outfit on first glance was a mystery.

The twelve year old wore impossibly high high heels, glossy and black; matching black thigh high stockings and with garters holding them up; a lacy black thong, the string back disappearing between her buttocks in the back; and a clinging, corset-like top that seemed to match the thong. A simple ribbon choker around her slender neck finished off the ensemble.

As strange as seeing a girl her age in such an outfit was, the fact that everything seemed to fit her perfectly was far more disturbing. She didn’t look like a child playing dress up in her mother’s lingerie. It all looked cut to flatter what little curves she had, even managed to give her a hint of cleavage. Even the shoes, which might make a stripper blush, fit her properly.

“Jesus, what are you wearing,” Erin blurted out.

Natty smiled over her shoulder at Erin, struck a pose that would be appropriate in Playboy but not for a preteen girl, said, “Like it?”

She looked so comfortable in the lingerie, unfazed by how much of her skin was on display. Not her first time wearing something this, Erin thought

“A bit revealing, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, then grinned playfully, “then again, who are you to talk?”

Frowning, Erin looked down at herself and gasped. She wore what she went to bed wearing, which was to say just a pair of pale yellow panties. An arm flew up to cover her small, budding breasts and she looked around frantically for something to wear. She found a robe tossed over a straight back chair and slipped into it, cinching it tightly around her waist. It must belong to the girl because it fit her perfectly.

Natty was watching her, clearing amused, “Little late for that now, wouldn’t you say?”

Heat flushed Erin’s face and she crossed her arms over her bosom protectively.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Natty said, winking, “Not in current company, anyway.”

She turned and opened the door to Erin’s closet, then pushed all of the clothes inside to one side. Standing aside, she let Erin see what she had done. Curious, she approached the closet. It really was her closet, unlike the rest of the room. She recognized all of her outfits. A paradox.

For the first time, she felt like she really was dreaming.

“So what are you showing me? I’m pretty familiar with the contents of my own closet,” Erin said, sarcastically, hoping to regain some face after the wardrobe malfunction from earlier.

“Are you, now,” Natty teased, then stepped into the closet, “Then you know all about this?”

She pressed against the wall in one spot, then in another. Erin frowned, wondering what she thought she was doing. Her fingers pressed one more spot on the wall and the frown turned into a slack jawed gape of surprise. A three foot high by three foot wide section of wall first retreated an inch then rose out of sight, leaving behind a void barely lit by light spilling in from the bedroom.

Dumbfounded, she stared at the hole in her wall. This has been her closet ever since she and her family moved into this house when she was one year old, eleven years ago, a space she was in and out of several times a day every day, and she would never have suspected such a place could exist.

“Did you see how I did that,” Natty asked, pulling the panel back in place.

Whomever installed this hidey-hole, they were incredibly skilled. No seams or hardware were visible when the panel was in place. Their workmanship was flawless, the illusion complete. Erin couldn’t see any indication that the wall was anything other than just that… a wall.

“That is so cool.”

“What an odd phrase,” the girl said, regarding Erin, “Does it mean you like it?”

“Um, yeah…”

“Good,” she said, smiling, “I used to love this space. Then again, what little girl wouldn’t love it.”

Erin had to agree with her. She couldn’t imagine one, either.

“Can you open it,” Natty asked, stepping out of the closet to give her access. Remembering where the girl had pressed, Erin pressed the same places. She felt a slight give at each spot then a soft shudder when she hit the last one. The panel slid out of sight with a slithering sound.

“Now don’t forget those pressure points when you go.” Natty said, smiling at Erin’s excitement, “I know that is… cool, but what I want to show you is this.”

She squeezed in next to Erin and reached into the gloomy void. Her hands came out holding an ornately carved box, glossy black and so pretty. It was two feet long and a foot and half wide and probably a foot deep, looked heavy judging by the way Natty was straining a little to hold it.

“It is beautiful,” Erin said.

“I think so too,” Natty agreed, grinning,”but wait to you see what is inside.”

“Why? What is it?”

She opened her mouth to answer but no words came out. Instead, a grating, electronic oscillation spilled out. Her mouth snapped shut and she put a hand to her mouth but the sound didn’t stop. A frantic look came over her face and she grasped Erin’s shoulders. She tried to tell her something but Erin couldn’t make it out over the sound.

Leaning close, Erin yelled, “What is that?”

“You are going!”

“Going,” Erin asked, looking around for the source of the cacophony. She didn’t see anything that could make such a racket. The more she heard it, the more familiar it sounded, but she couldn’t place where she had heard it before.

“Yes. GOING,” she screamed.

Then the room began to vibrate, the walls and furniture shimmering like a mirage. Everything looked pixelated, distorted. Erin spun in a circle, staring wide eyed as the world seemed to dissolve. She screamed when the solid looking dresser seemed to melt, then fold in on itself again and again until it just ceased to exist. The floor below her grew soft and she looked down to see it puddling up like the dresser had. The very ground was dissolving under her.

Panic gripped her. She wanted to run but couldn’t make her legs work. The one note bleating reverberated in the air, seemed to hammer at her senses. Disoriented, she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, clamping her hands to her ears.

Desperate fingers dug into her shoulder and she was swung around to face a distraught Natty. She looked as freaked out as Erin felt. Her blues eyes were impossibly wide with fear, her face blanched of color. The girl yelled something but Erin couldn’t hear her. Still, she got her message across; Erin read it on her lips: Don’t forget about the box

Then she just winked out of existence.

Choking on a panicked cry that lodged in her throat, Erin opened her eyes in blue tinted darkness. Her pulse galloped in her ears and breast alike, racing like a thoroughbred on methamphetamines. For what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, she couldn’t breath. She swallowed hard once, then twice to clear the knot in her throat and managed to draw a ragged breath.

The same electronic tone from the dissolving world of her dream was still sounding but not nearly as loudly. Finally, she recognized it-her alarm clock. It’s buzzer had found its way into her dream.

“My dream,” she said, meaning it to be a statement but it sounded like a question to her ears.

Of course it was a dream, she thought, then although it shamed her to no end, right?

Shaking her head to clear that nonsense out of it, she rolled onto her side and silenced the alarm clock’s one note serenade. She sat on the edge of the bed and snapped on the bedside lamp. Once she could open her eyes in the sudden glare, she saw her bedroom was back to normal.

Again, she was ashamed at how relieved she felt seeing all her familiar things. Most of the tension flooded out of her body and her heart rate returned to something approximating normal.

The dream had really worked a number on her. It had seemed so real, far too detailed. Most dreams she had were fuzzy, disjointed when remembered at all. What few details stood out usually faded as soon as she woke up. Not this one. If a regular dream was a VHS tape recorded over too many times, this one was a Blu-ray with Dolby surround sound at 1080P resolution. She could still see the girl in the lingerie, the dissolving room, the gaping hole in the back of her closet.

“Jeez,” she groaned under her breath, “Get a grip, Erin. It was just a stupid dream.”

Feeling like a foolish little girl-the worst feeling for a fine young lady on the cusp of adulthood, she laughed at her jumpiness.

Shrugging it off, she hopped out of bed and stretched the sleep from her young body. She caught a glimpse of herself in the antique mirror that stood in a corner. It had been in the room when they moved in and her parents had let her keep it. Turning more fully toward it, she took a moment to take stock of her twelve year old body. It was something she did a lot more often these days, ever since puberty hit her a year ago. Her body seemed to change almost daily.

She let her eyes roam up the reflection; long coltish legs gave way to hips just beginning to flare and lose their boyish straight lines; flat belly to small, up-swept breasts that were just a handful; a pert backside. She was slender, pale from the winter. Her hair was golden and fell to her mid back. Like her mother, she had fine facial features and a warm smile that sparkled in her gray eyes.

She was a very cute girl.

Smiling, she found her robe and shrugged into it. On padded feet, she left her room and went to the bathroom. She started the shower to let the cold water run out of the pipes, then disrobed and stepped in. The hot water was delicious, washed the rest of the tension from the dream out of her. Inhaling the scent of jasmine, she worked a palmful of bodywash into a lather and soaped up her lithe body.

When her hand found the cleft of her girlhood, she squirmed. Ever since she was five and discovered it felt nice to rub down there, she has done so in the bath or shower. Lately, it has felt even better. Then a two weeks ago, something crazy had happened.

She had been washing down there when a curious heat had spread through her body and she had become very sensitive. It had felt really good and she didn’t want to stop, hadn’t stopped like she usually did. Her breathing had quickened and her hips had bucked. She was a little surprised at her bodies reaction to her touch, unsure what to make of it but she didn’t stop rubbing her now very tender bud. Then the explosion…

That was how it felt, like an explosion that sent pleasant shock waves crashing through her body. It spooked her a little but had felt too good not to try again.

And again.

And now… She sighed as her fingers found and teased her clit, closing her eyes to enjoy the feeling. Lazy circles became more vigorous rubbing as her arousal grew. Her little pink nipples grew dark with blood, standing at attention to be teased by the shower head. It made her moan and shiver deliciously. Her hips gyrated with a mind of their own, grinding her pussy against her hand. She put her free hand against the shower wall to steady herself, leaning heavily on it.

When her soft sighs turned to little animal sounds of enjoyment, she bit her lower lip to stifle them. She doubted her voice carried over the shower and through the bathroom door but she wasn’t taking any chances. This was one activity she didn’t want to talk to her mother about. What an awkward conversation that would be.

Feeling that first tingle of tension building in her body, she grew more excited. That tension would build and build until…the explosion. Her fingers became a blur as she pushed toward that big release and she lost complete control of her body. Then it hit her and she clenched up. Every muscle tightened, then shook themselves loose and her with them. A small cry of ecstasy escaped her lips, but she didn’t care if her mother heard. The sensations washing through her were delicious, her young sex still quivering. She sighed, basking in the warm shower and the feel of her body.

Her shower was running long, so she finished in a hurry before she drew her mother’s attention. She dried off, humming to herself as she did. Back in her robe, she snagged her dirty underwear and tossed them in the hamper on her way out the door.

Back in her room, she went to her dresser and fished out clean panties, white knee socks and a training bra. These were tossed on the bed as she went to her closet for her school uniform. Standing in front of her closet door, she hesitated as the dream came crashing back to her, her hand on the cool brass door knob.

“It was just a dream, Erin,” she scolded herself, twisting the hand and pulling the door open. Inside, everything was familiar and welcoming, all of her clothes and shoes as they should be.

Still, she hesitated.

“Fine,” she said, “just to settle this once and for all.”

She pushed her clothes as far as she could to one side, baring the smooth white wall at the back of the closet. No visible seams or hardware. Then again, that didn’t prove anything because there hadn’t been either in her dream, either. Feeling rather foolish, but determined to put this matter to rest, she stepped into the closet and pressed the three pressure points from memory.

Expecting nothing to happen, to feel even more like a childish little girl-the worst for a girl on the cusp of adulthood- and to get on with her pleasant if boring life, she was startled when the wall slide backwards about an inch, then up to reveal the void. She stepped back in surprise, snagging her foot on a shoe and sitting down heavily on her backside. From this new perspective, she couldn’t see into the space but the fact that it was there at all was enough to suggest the rest of the dream was real.

“Holy shit,” she exclaimed, then clamped a hand over her mouth. She glanced at the door to her room, praying her mother was out of earshot. Last thing she needed was a lecture on the proper way a young lady should talk.

She scramble to her feet and back into the closet. Her pulse quickened as she reached into the void and felt the edge of the box. She pulled her hand back, squinting to make out anything in the gloomy space. Just barely able to make out the dimensions of the ornate box and nothing else, she hesitated. Gathering her nerve, she reached in and took hold of it. Dragging it out of its hiding place, she found it was indeed heavy, as she had thought in her dream.

With a little effort, she managed to muscle it out of the closet and onto her bed. Sitting there on her unmade bed, it gleamed, its black paint job sparkling.

For a long moment, she just stared at it, wondering if she was still dreaming.

“Erin,” her mother’s voice came through the door, “Are you ready? We need to get going.”

Snapping out of her revary, she called, “Just a minute, Mom.”

“Shit,” she said under her breath, throwing off the robe. She hurried to get dressed, rushing like a mad girl. Dressed, she heaved the heavy box up and huffed it back to its hiding place. The panel slid firmly into place and she snagged her backpack before closing the closet door.

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