A Story of Jane Ch. 05

Herman was looking at me with a little of the wild look he'd had the night before. Was he buying any of this?

"You DO know it's me!" she accused. "I gave you a blowjob just like this one on our first date! Only, of course, I didn't stop that time. And on our honeymoon, remember doing it in that little lake by the cabin in Wisconsin? Remember how the water was glowing while we were getting close to coming? How you said later that it must have been some sort of algae or something? It was me! I did that using a spell to make us cum harder. And we did, didn't we? You'll never forget how intense that was, will you?"

Slowly, the wild look was replaced by one of hope, then sadness, then curiosity, then hope again. "Jane?" he asked in a little-boy voice. "It's really you?"

"Yes!" She made my arms move a little toward him, as if she wanted to hold him, but drew them back again, wanting him to make the first move. And, of course, he did. He smothered me in a hug. And I could feel his tears on my neck, and my heart sank. He loved her. He really loved her.

We held each other for a very long time, and when he finally held me at arms length by the shoulders again, looking at me, his first question threw me right back into a quandary.

"Molly. What happened to Molly?"

It obviously wasn't the first thing Jane had expected, either. "Uh ... she ... she just sort of vanished."

Say what?

"Vanished?" his eyes took on a sort of quizzical, panicked look. "Jane, what happened to her? She can't be ... dead, can she? I mean, your sisters didn't ... didn't kill her!" He made it sound like a demand.

"No, no, of course not." Was she making this up as she went along? "Jo and Jan and Jean and Jill, they sat down with her after you left this morning, and explained it to her. She must really like you a lot, because she volunteered to let me return in her body, and now her soul is sort of in limbo, like mine was. We're going to try to find something ... er ... somebody for her to transfer to, you know?"

The bitch!

He looked at me suspiciously. "Jane," he said levelly, "I know that sometimes you haven't been entirely truthful in our relationship ...."

"What do you mean?" she interrupted.

He shook his head, refusing to be swayed. "Nothing else matters to me right now," he said sternly. "I love you. I've always loved you; more than anything; more than life itself. No one means more to me than you." My heart was in the dumps again. I wanted to tell him not to believe the lying bitch.

"But this girl, Molly," he continued. "Jane, she's a good person. I was in pain, and she helped me. You have to find her. You have to help her the way she helped me. I've never really asked you for anything in my whole life, Jane, but I'm begging you for this. Promise me you won't leave her in some kind of limbo."

"Of course, I won't," Jane said through my smiling lips. "I'll find her, I promise. In fact, I think I know where she is right now. Please trust me." She was coaxing him in a sexy voice I didn't know I was capable of producing. "For now, please just hold me. Please?"

She lay my body back on the bed and held out my arms to him. He seemed to hesitate, then lay down beside me and let her arms draw his head onto my soft breast. I had never been able to act this sure and self-confident in my life. Now I realized that it was simply a matter of who was in charge.

As soon as his cheek was against my chest, she began humming a little melody I had never heard before. He started to say something, but she pressed a fingertip to his lips to stop him, never pausing the haunting tune. After a little while, words were being sung from my lips; strange, foreign words, to accompany the melody. And in less than two minutes, he was asleep.

She continued to sing as she gently pushed him over onto his back and studied him carefully to make sure he was really out, then she kissed him tenderly on the lips and got out of bed. In the bathroom, she used a washcloth to clean my body, and then spent several long moments studying my reflection in the mirror above the sink. My hair, having just been washed before Herman arrived, was still a little wet, and a mass of tangled curls. But she seemed to like the wild look, and spent less than a minute with a brush, leaving it in a state I would have never settled for.

In the closet, she found a wrap-around skirt, which she put on without underwear, then scowled at my choice of shoes, finally settling for the highest heels I own (which obviously were too short for her liking). She picked a very thin silk white blouse, one that is definitely meant to be worn with a bra underneath and with a jacket or sweater over it. She tucked it into the skirt, then walked to the full-length mirror.

Now, I really should say a few words about life as a "well endowed" woman. It's really a pain. I've often considered breast reduction surgery, but always dismissed it because it's not covered by my medical insurance. You've probably read stories that refer to breasts that "defy gravity." Well, let me tell you, NOTHING defies gravity, and my boobs are no exception. I work hard in the gym, and I keep them as firm as I can, but a little bit of sag is inevitable. I've mentioned previously that they tend to bounce when I walk, and no large-breasted girl with even a modicum of modesty would ever consider wearing a thin silk blouse out in public without a bra or jacket. Jane obviously fell into the no-modesty category.

She'd left the top two buttons of the blouse unbuttoned, showing the tops and inner sides of my breasts. I tried with all my might to will her to button one of them, only to find her reaching for the third button and uncovering me even more. Then she jerked the bottom of the blouse out of the skirt, unbuttoned the bottom two, and tied the two ends together just above my navel. I looked like a tramp. Worse, I looked like a prostitute out to make a sale. She bent over and looked up at her reflection, smiling at the idea of others being able to see all the way between my boobs.

She turned and spent another long minute studying Herman's sleeping form. "Take a good look," she said softly. "This is probably the last time you'll ever see him." And it took a moment before I realized she was talking to ME. Then she was walking down the hall and into the kitchen.

She found my purse and rifled through it until she located my keys. Inexplicably, she opened the pantry door, then slammed it and looked around. It took me awhile to realize that she had absolutely no knowledge of this house, and she muttered a satisfied exclamation as she finally found the door leading out to the garage. Taking only my purse and the old leather book, she went through several little trial-and-error attempts, but finally got the garage door up, the car started, and soon she was driving away toward the edge of town. She pulled over at the first gas station she saw, and flounced inside.

I couldn't believe she was going to show me to people while I was dressed like this! My nipples are very sensitive, and the cool March air made them stand out almost painfully. Even worse, as my breasts bounced and slid against the inside of the smooth silk, my engorged nipples sent little shivers of excitement down my spine. Had it been just me inside my body, I would have been blushing crimson to even THINK about someone seeing me in this state. But I could tell that there was no blush on my cheeks at all. She was really enjoying this!

"Hi, Molly!" shouted Gil Smith, a regular at the library. But as soon as he got a really good look at me, his jaw fell and he openly leered me.

Jane never missed a beat. "Hi!" she cooed sexily. "Say listen, you know how ditzy I can be sometimes! I've forgotten ... What's the best way to get to Chicago?" She waited, smiling for a few seconds as he ogled my ample cleavage, then waved my hand in front of his face. "Yoo-hoo. Chicago?"

He blinked. "Chicago?" His eyes never left my breasts. He pointed. "The interstate. Two hours, tops."

"Thanks!" and she spun on my heel and walked back to the car. In ten minutes, she was on the freeway.

She poked a couple buttons on the car radio, frowning at my choice of classical music, and finally changed the station manually to ... oh my God! Country western! To my utter horror, she began singing along with some guy who had hung his heart on a clothesline to dry the tears. Then, just as she started listening to a song called "Laundromat Love," and I began thinking that perhaps having my soul cast into limbo might be preferable to listening to any more of this, she turned into the shopping mall that's just east of town. I had been here the week before, picking up a book I'd ordered from the bookstore. She parked, grabbed my purse, and headed inside.

In the candle shop, she picked out the inevitable black candle and iron holder and took it up to the counter. Then, thinking twice, she went back and got two more of each, and paid for it all with my credit card, scribbling my signature on the receipt. The clerk never even checked the signature against the one on the card. He was too busy drinking in my cleavage with his pig eyes.

In the mall's most expensive department store, she went first to the Boy Scout section and bought a compass, then found the home decorating section and purchased a mirror, which was 18 inches square in a thin frame. She flirted with the male sales clerk until he agreed to tie the mirror in heavy cord, so she could carry it like a narrow suitcase.

The last stop was a pet store, and she walked around, seemingly muttering to herself, but she was really whispering to me. "What do you fancy being for the rest of your life?" she said softly, smiling at several snakes in a large glass enclosure. She took a long look at a white parrot on a perch in one corner. "Molly want a cracker?" she asked gaily. And finally, she stopped her aimless stroll in front a large enclosed cage of kittens, which was the center of attraction for almost every customer in the shop. They were about five weeks old, incredibly cute, and I knew which one she would choose before she finally spoke in my voice.

"The black one," she told the sales clerk (another man!). He almost tripped and wiped out the entire feline population trying to please her, and Jane waited patiently while he filled out the "adoption" papers, stole a peek at my cleavage, filled out the $100 credit card charge for the kitten (another peek), plus the $50 pet carrier (peek),the $20 litter box (peek), food (peek), litter (etc.), bowls (etc.). Then, he enthusiastically agreed to escort her out to the car, carrying the whole lot in one of those wheeled dolly gizmos. With the kitten sitting in the passenger seat in its carrier, and to the strains of "Cowboy Kisses in Kansas City," she again headed east along the freeway.

Twenty minutes later, she had to use the credit card again for gas, and not long after that, she pulled off the interstate once again into the parking lot of a motel. She consulted the Boy Scout compass, and drove all around the building before shaking her head and driving to another motel across the street. Again she drove around the entire building before dismissing this place as well, and she drove further east along the highway before pulling off once more at the next exit that indicated lodging available.

This time, at the rear of the motel, she seemed to see something that pleased her. She got out of the car and consulted the compass, then looked up at the second story of the building. It was one of those cheap motels that have walkways on the outside of the structure, and rooms that have large picture windows looking out over the parking lot. I imagine this is so people can keep an eye on their cars, but it also means that anyone walking along the exterior "hallway" to their room can look into yours, unless you keep your curtains pulled shut.

She drove around to the office and let the male clerk drool at my tits for awhile, then said she wanted room 261, or one very near it. The guy tore his eyes away from me long enough to consult a chart, and informed her that room 263 was open. Good enough, she said, and my credit card (which I had worked really hard to finally pay off) had yet another charge rung up against it.

It took her four trips, lugging stuff up the outside stairway to the room, before she finally had everything inside. She set the kitten free, filled the litter box (which it immediately used), and the food and water bowls, and left the little fur-ball to its own devices. Then she pulled the cheap, round wooden table in front of the picture window beside the door, positioned her chair so she could look out the window, and sat down with the leather book open in front of her. The square, framed mirror, she propped in another chair, so she could see her reflection whenever she wanted. And then slowly, silently, carefully, painstakingly, she began to read.

For five hours she read.

I was quickly very bored. I tried desperately to make sense of the Latin handwritten script, but there were no "Tempest Fugit's" or "Carpe Diem's" or any of the other scant Latin words I'd heard before. The kitten tried several times to get her attention, but she ignored it totally, and it found a corner and went to sleep. I tried desperately to think of some way out of the predicament, but though I tried and tried, I couldn't make a sound or even make my eyes move in the direction I wanted to look. There was nothing for me to see except the script she was seeing.

Finally, after more than an hour, I slowly came to realize that the she was moving my lips as she read, and that the words she was forming were in English. She was translating as she went, and silently forming the English words. Reading lips is harder to do than I had ever imagined, and trying to read my own lips when I was not controlling them myself, was exceedingly difficult. Slowly, however, I put together enough phrases to realize that the spell she had to cast had a lot to do with love; love between a man and a woman. But before I could really get the gist of it, she flipped back a dozen pages and started re-reading an earlier part, then flipped forward again to compare various things she had previously translated. She took no notes.

I came to realize two things about her. First, she was much more intelligent than I had previously thought. The bouncy bimbo routine was all an act. This broad had brains. And secondly, she was obviously worried about something. I could tell this by the way she wrinkled my brow, pulled my mouth into a frown, shook my head. From time to time, my eyes lost their focus on the page in front of me, and I could only imagine that she had stopped her reading and was lost in thoughts of her own.

From time to time, people would walk past the window in front of me, but she paid them no heed. One guy in a blue checked shirt, walked back and forth several times and looked in at me (I could see him in my peripheral vision), but she obviously didn't care. The kitten again tried to get her attention, but she kept pushing it away with her foot, and it eventually gave up and started playing with the fringes of the bed spread.

I got hungry. I hadn't eaten anything since my breakfast with Herman, and I knew she must feel the hunger as well, since we seemed to share all physical feelings. She ignored it for almost another hour, but finally she got up, stretched, and walked next door to a deli, where she got a salad and roll to go. Back in the room, she ate about half of it, very carefully, so as not to spill anything on the book.

The sun was going down, and she kept consulting the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. She seemed to rush her reading now, and her flipping backwards and forwards became more frantic. And then suddenly, she closed the book and stretched again. And finally, she turned and faced the mirror.

"Okay, Molly," she said, staring into the eyes in the mirror. "No more act. No more games. Something's going to happen in ..." (She checked the clock again. It indicated twenty minutes after eight.) "thirty two minutes. What Jo said was correct. Two separate souls cannot occupy the same body after the full moon of the equinox. One of us has got to go, and as you may have guessed, I have no intention of leaving. I could cast you into oblivion, or transfer your essence into the cat. If I did that, I'd give you to Jean - she'd love you, of course. She loves you now, I could tell from the way she talked about you. But then, Jean loves everybody."

She continued staring into the mirror, but stopped talking. After a full two minutes, I suddenly realized that the girl in the mirror was blinking at MY command; blinking when I felt like blinking. Experimentally, I reached up and felt my cheek. She'd given me my body back! But then, suddenly, my ability to move was gone again. Was she playing with me?

"I can give you control if I want to," she said to the girl in the mirror. "I find myself in the position of asking for your help. To transfer to the body of the cat, you have to go willingly. I really don't want to kill you or condemn you to the unknown. I sort of promised Herman I'd help you. But that's as far as I'm willing to go."

And then, after another moment, I somehow knew she had given me control again. I just sat there for a long minute, thinking. "Go to hell," I said quietly. I'd started to cry. "The truth of the matter is that I love your husband. The fact that somebody cast some sort of weird spell to MAKE me love him doesn't matter at all to me. Life without him doesn't hold much appeal, especially as a cat."

My control left me again. I could tell because the tears stopped as she took charge. She thought for a moment, then changed tactics. "Listen, Molly. I know you think I'm a terrible person. But please listen to reason. He loves me more than you. You know that from the way we acted together. What's more, I can love him better. Maybe not more than you feel you love him, but better. Physically, I mean. You know that's true, don't you?" Well, she had me there. "And I DO love him, Molly. I really do. I can't let you just ... vanish, and then tell him a lie. Please help me!"

The bitch was smooth, I had to give her that. Do it for Herman. She didn't even know me, but somehow she knew THAT would convince me. As I struggled with what she had told me, I realized the tears were back, indicating that she had given me control again. I couldn't believe I was falling for her arguments. I just KNEW she was going to double-cross me somehow. Oh, what the heck! Maybe oblivion was dark, and I HATED the dark! Being a cat would be better than being in the dark.

"What do you want me to do?" I whispered through the tears.

Quickly, she took control of me again and opened the book to a certain page. She pointed. "Here," she said. "These four words. You'll have to read them. Just sound them out. They're written in English script, so you shouldn't have any trouble."

She gave me control again, and I whispered the words between little sobs.

"Great!" she said, seizing my body's will again and leaping to her feet. "Just say it again, just like that, when I tell you. Then I'll read the completion to the spell, and it will be done!"

Quickly, she corralled the kitten and put it back in its carrier. Next, she place the three candles in their holders and arranged them above and on either side of the leather volume. And finally (Oh, WHY did I know this was going to happen?), she started removing my clothes. Naked, she sat back down in the chair and looked out the picture window. Ah, the moon was rising in the east - that's why she bought the compass and chose this room! She had a perfect view of the full moon! She checked the digital alarm clock again. The glowing red numbers proclaimed eight-fifty. Two minutes to go.