I couldn’t tell Eleanor about the dress. I would, I decided, tell her later it didn’t fit.Having re-packed the box, I went, the following morning, straight to the charity shop.“A friend bought this for me, to wear at a party tomorrow evening but, to be honest, I’d prefer something a bit less dramatic.” There was no point in telling the rather county lady serving that it didn’t fit, she’d soon realise it was, in fact, perfect which was no surprise. “I don’t want the money back, but do you have anything else that might do?”The fact I didn’t want a refund seemed to cheer her up and she busied herself going through the racks, eventually seizing upon a rather gorgeous, gunmetal grey silk dress. It had straps that crossed over at the back with a very low waist that would reveal a lot of my back. The front was a plunging V with a small lace trim in deep purple.I tried it on, it fitted me well and I bought it. I had black heels that would look good with it so that was that.As I was paying, the shopkeeper’s assistant was unpacking the red velvet dress. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “I think you must have left this with it by mistake.”She held up the silver locket. I think I gasped. It was the one that Clemency had made disappear and then, miraculously re-appear around my neck that first time I had met her in Denise’s bar. I had absolutely no idea how that could have got there. I took it from her and felt it, hot in my hand. I thanked them, dropped the locket into the bag with the new dress and left the shop. I hesitated. Then I went back in.“Can you tell me who donated the red dress?”“Sorry, dear, people can leave them outside any of our shops and they all go to the warehouse for checking and cleaning. Could have been any one of our shops. We’ve got two hundred odd, nationwide.”Disappointed, I left the Demetevler Escort shop and made my way, late, to work. I didn’t dare open the locket even though it was in my mind all day long. I was still clinging to the theory that Clemency had, somehow, hypnotised me.That night I went to bed early after speaking to Eleanor to confirm the arrangements for the following evening. She asked me if I’d like to come to her place to change and relax before going out and I agreed.Eleanor Torven stood, naked, behind a large sheet of glass set into a wall. I was pressed against the glass looking at her. My arse was pulled back by hands that I could neither see nor feel but they were as real as any other hand. As my face slid down the glass, Eleanor squatted so her face was always directly in front of mine. The palms of my hands were on the glass and so were hers. It was there again, that dildo, touching my cunt lips. Eleanor’s mouth was open as if in a scream although her eyes, those beautiful green eyes were smiling.The voice in my head was Clemency’s. “Push back onto me, Maggie. Show her you want me inside you. Show her the mystery, the different, the fear.” I heard myself say no, no, no but, may the gods forgive me, I did. I felt myself open and that thing was in me. Eleanor’s eyes never left mine as the invisible Clemency fucked me but then, dear God, Eleanor’s tongue came through the glass, as if it was a curtain of water and entered my mouth. I could see it’s tip between her lips, just as I had seen Clemency’s in that dream but it was in my mouth as Clemency fucked me, hard, relentlessly until my orgasm came and, mouth and throat full of that tongue, I screamed in ecstasy but also in fear.The vision of Eleanor faded. It was Otele Gelen Escort as if she dissolved until only her green eyes were there and slowly, they too faded away.“I can’t come tonight, Eleanor.” I had phoned her as soon as I woke up. My dark blue nightdress was, as the others before it, soaked at my crotch. My nipples were still as hard as they had been when Clemency fucked me.“Why not? Are you ill?”“Yes, I think I am. Eleanor I…” I started to cry, my eyes misted over then the tears ran, small, down my cheeks until I started to sob uncontrollably. The crying racked me, my body heaved and I threw the phone down. I curled myself into a ball and held myself.I was calmer an hour later when my doorbell rang. I dragged on a robe and cautiously opened the door.Eleanor stood there. “Let me in?”I stood back, hiding myself from the street behind the door and she came inside. Quietly, calmly, she closed the door and took me in her arms. I cried again then, the same whole body crying that leaves you drained, exhausted. She said nothing, just held me for, it seemed, hours, until there were no tears left. She led me through to my kitchen, sat me on the Windsor chair with a padded cushion that stood in one corner. She said nothing but put the kettle on in the time-honoured English tradition that, whenever something dreadful happens, the first recourse is to make tea. Between the duties of tea-making, she squatted beside me and held me, stroked my face, my arms and softly kissed me.I held the hot mug of tea to my breast as if it were a protection.“Tell me,” I said that I couldn’t. “Yes, yes you can. I won’t judge you, or blame you. Just tell me.”Standing, I put the tea down on the kitchen table I went through to my little home-office Balgat Escort and took the notebook from the desk drawer; the notebook in which I had written everything. Despite my conclusion that Clemency had somehow hypnotised me, I had continued to make the record and, as time went on, I had included the darker, deviant details. I was relieved that I had not had time to record the scene from that last night, the glass screen and Eleanor’s tongue.I drank my tea, wordless as Eleanor read the journal. I could almost recall every word I had written and, somehow, see them reflected in her facial expression. The dread of her discovering my secret mingled with relief that, at last, I could share it with someone.Closing the book, Eleanor sat, silent for a few moments. “The dress in the charity shop.”“I took it back.”“You bought it?”“No! you did. I found it on my doorstep with a card from you.”Her face was unreadable, her voice low. “Maggie, I didn’t buy it for you.”But it had been there. The card! In my bin. I rushed to my kitchen bin, pulled all the rubbish out of it, searching frenziedly for the card but it wasn’t there. I banged my head against the wall in frustration and slumped to sit on the floor. “There, there was a card, from you. When I read it the second time, it was from her.”“Clemency?” I nodded.“What has happened to me?”“I don’t know. But we’ll deal with it together.” She tapped the book. “Is this everything?” I shook my head. “What else?”So, haltingly, ashamed and embarrassed I told her. I told her about the sheet of glass, of Clemency fucking me while Eleanor watched. I told her how her tongue had come through the glass.“I’m mad, aren’t I?”“How do you explain it?”“I thought she’d hypnotised me. She had a mantra.”“Mystery, different, fear.”“Yes! Yes, that’s it, how did you know?”She tapped the notebook. “I don’t know anything about hypnosis, nor about mental illness but you don’t strike me as mad. You’ve written it all down lucidly. This notebook isn’t the ravings of a lunatic, it’s someone trying to get to terms with what is happening to her. I do know you shouldn’t be alone. Come home with me. I’ll look after you.”