Housewarming Ch. 02

Eileen didn't wake up according to an alarm clock. She didn't actually have a job or any responsibilities to tend to anymore. Most of her money had been earned through good luck and some excellent work in chemistry. So, now, she could afford to be lazy.

The light of the sun peeked through the curtains and onto her face, slowly causing her eyes to flutter open. She smiled, feeling the joy of a new day in a new place.

"Greetings, my flaming friend," she nodded at the incoming light, sitting up and stretching herself a bit to get the blood flowing. Some groaning and mumbling later and she was out of bed, back into her slippers. Man, that might have been the best she'd ever slept! Talk about recency bias!

Today would be a bit of unpacking, getting the rest of her stuff into the house, and then she would be free to explore on her own! An expedition would be held into the depths of human architecture, and the many secrets she was willing to convince herself existed. Secret rooms, old libraries, hidden things unearthed. And even if it were mundane, she could spend a few days' time simply looking around.

Moving most of her stuff in wasn't hard. Two laundry baskets, extra clothing, some food, et cetera. She doubted that she'd need the toolbox anytime soon, but she grabbed it anyway, leaving it on the table for now. The one thing she found important right now was a camera.

There was a time in which Eileen would have called herself an 'urban explorer', looking through abandoned houses, hospitals and the like out of some morbid curiosity. It was spooky, but she never could stop herself from going there. And for what it's worth, it never went wrong. As much as she'd hoped to see them, there weren't even any ghosts. Now that she was on the more mundane side of things, filming any place she'd moved into was simply a habit that she could share with her friends.

"Okay, there we go," she declared with a smirk, checking all the important details: Lens cap was off, microphone was on, quality was clear.

"Welcome to the first expedition of this fine establishment! Pardon the vernacular, as usual, but I'm quite intrigued by this one. Today I'll be taking a look at the first floor of this beautiful place, and see what sorts of interesting materials will show themselves. Follow me!"

And off she was, scanning the living room before moving back into the main hall. She usually didn't talk too much during her exploration, both to avoid alerting people and because her unusual way of speaking seemed to confuse people. Now, though, filming for friends in a normal house, she could let loose.

"So far, I've found evidence of a living room, a supply closet, the kitchen, and various hallways, which I'll prove to exist in a moment. Most interesting, so far, has been an unusual assortment of mirrors!"

She focused the camera on the gigantic mirror on the wall, capturing the reflection of herself and the room around her.

"Strange, is it not? There's many of these eyes hanging around, some even more peculiar than normal! If we're lucky, we might see some of these on the road."

Documenting the existence of the kitchen, remarking that yes, she does do her dishes, Eileen continued to the dining hall. It was fanciful, one of the few rooms to feature traditional paintings and tapestries alongside the mirrors. Impressionist works that featured empty scenes of nature. Eileen couldn't stop herself from shuddering.

"I doubt I'll find myself here too much. A room dedicated solely to the act of eating? I'll spare you the diatribe, but no."

She made sure to shake the camera in the same way one would shake their head, before moving on. Really, she was happy to find herself in the hallway at the other end, opening the door to reveal a full-body mirror in front of her, exactly her height. Looking to the left and right, she would see more mirrors, though none of them were ever placed higher than the top of her head.

"I believe the previous owner might have been around my height," she posited, picking a random direction and starting to walk, "a narcissist, perhaps? All these reflections at my bust aren't quite comfortable.

"Oh, and don't worry about perverted ghosts, Georgie. There can be no such thing, since spooks don't have natural urges - only supernatural ones."

A quiet giggle, replying as much to her own ideas as the ones a friend of her might have had. Old mansion, suspiciously cheap, incredibly big, all the marks of a potential haunted house. Eileen was a believer in that sort of supernatural thing, but she wouldn't confirm things so easily.

The hallway stretched on for a while, marked by a repetitive orange-and-beige wallpaper. At least it wasn't completely monotonous, arranging its ornaments in various fashions. Eileen figured she'd probably cut this part out of what she'd send to her friends, when her attention was drawn to the ticking of a clock. A grandfather clock, not the sort she had any affinity towards, and a few minutes ahead, but it seemed important somehow. Between the lack of any kind of cabinets, chairs, or any object meant to fill space, perhaps it was significant! Opening it didn't reveal any sort of secret compartment, nor was there anything behind her. How profoundly usual. Oh, well, she didn't particularly like loudly-ticking clocks, but it felt like good practice to keep it going.

Breathing in the staggered silence, Eileen turned and kept walking. With the prominence of mirrors, her reflection in the glass plating of the clock hadn't been something she thought to look at, even as it lingered a second longer than her. She was fairly sure that she saw a corner there, potentially an end to this weird hallway.

Finally turning a corner, she was greeted by a door.

"Oh, thank you! I was wondering if there'd be anything interesting on this darn level," she remarked, swinging it open and stepping through. Almost like it took revenge, the door swung right back and hit her behind. She stumbled and fell, thankfully not dropping the camera, bringing her face-to-floor with this new room.

Even in the little light peeking through the curtains of this room, she could see her reflection. The place was spotless! Stumbling back to her feet and flicking on the lights, she was met with a pair of beautiful chandeliers and a ballroom of all things! Brightly lit, featuring a modern sound system subtly hanging on the walls, but more interestingly, a gramophone in the middle of the room, sat on a table! It even had a vinyl record still sitting on it, begging to be played.

"Look what we have here, some tunes from the clay-tablet years," she joked, putting the camera down on the table while she fiddled with the old piece of technology. With some effort, she got the disc spinning, and the needle touched the starting point. After a few moments of crackling noise, she stepped away to listen.

A near-stereotypical ballroom song swelled to life, filling the room with an immersive, beautiful cascade of tones. Almost immediately, Eileen could see herself amongst the people who'd dance here. Looking down at her reflection, she imagined herself wearing one of those low-cut black dresses, covered in chaotic green highlights that only got true meaning when she started moving. Tapping her feet, she could almost hear the click of heels, high but not impractical, and she started moving.

The camera shifted to face her.

Of course, doing a ballroom dance without a partner was tough, but Eileen didn't exactly know any ballroom dance anyways. Instead, she simply moved along to the sound, not thinking but instead feeling her way through each of the instruments she could hear. A weaving sort of movement, like she was walking through or alongside the synesthetic threads, taking their hands and following their lead. Each step she took brought her closer to the feeling, a sort of 'zone', euphoric effortless action. Her surroundings faded from her thoughts, only perceiving that which she had to follow along with.

Slowly, the instrumental started to transition in tone. From the partnered but distant ballroom, to something more romantic. The sort she imagined embracing a sweetheart to, swaying from side to side before going in for a kiss. Accordingly, her movements slowed down, focused on the movement of her hips, of her arms gliding through the air like a gentle caress. She'd worked up a sweat by now, and this tone was only making her feel warmer. If she hadn't known better, it felt like she was being flirted with, like someone's hand was holding her back, occasionally sneaking down a bit.

The transition continued, from romantic to sensual. Once more, Eileen did not think, and only acted. Her hands trailed up her body, only vaguely noting the touch of skin on skin as she pulled off her shirt and discarded it. Her arms crossed above her head, fingers steepling and splitting until only the fingertips touched. Her body stretched and tensed, before she twirled and lowered herself again, hands staying crossed as they brushed over her breasts, down her stomach, and onto the string keeping her pants around her waist. In a movement mimicking a curtsy, she pulled the string loose and further, hands parting as she almost fully exposed herself, eyes still closed as if not recognizing that the music had long passed the traditional idea of 'dance'. And it was still so warm...

A sigh passed Eileen's lips. With each movement, she could feel the graceful fingers of many imaginary hands pass over her form, caressing her, playing with her hair, pressing into her thighs. She could not open her eyes now, couldn't afford to not see this bliss. It was often mind over body but she had bodies in mind, creating a pleasure that neither could find. A drifting sound like an earworm had touched her soul, bringing her dance partners galore to lead her and be led by her. She took hand after hand, swaying around while hand after hand took her, though never too far. Each little touch instead corrected her posture, or guided her movement, all in service of a perfect dance, one that brought her bliss and euphoria. It was-

The music stopped.

Eileen blinked like a deer in headlights, waking up from whatever zone she had been in. The silence was near-perfect, only broken by the spinning of the record.

"What... what did I-"

She yawned, before looking down and realizing that she was currently only wearing a pair of concerningly-damp panties. Her legs were shaking a little, and that warmth hadn't actually left her; it had just become a lot sweatier. Still, more concerned with being decent than with figuring out what had just happened, she glanced to her left, her right. Just in case, she checked if she'd hung them on the chandeliers somehow.

Oh, dammit. Where did she leave her clothes?

"S-sorry about this, guys! I'll cut this out!" Blushing, having remembered there was a camera filming her this whole time, she quickly picked it up and pointed it away from her and her reflection. She wasn't going to give up on filming quite yet, being curious about what happened, but...

She opened the door that she knew she'd entered through, instead finding a supply closet. The camera was pointed away immediately - of course there was a full-body mirror in there. Why-

A draft passed through the room, warm, humid air suddenly tickling her body. She bit her lip, closing the door and looking for another way out.

The large twin doors weren't too hard to find. Swinging them open, she found herself in another room that she'd be tempted to call a 'guest lobby' of some kind. She didn't even bother trying to avoid the mirrors that covered this place, each of which somehow perfectly reflected her body.

Heavy breathing. She couldn't tell if it was her earlier arousal or a growing sense of dread. Several tables without sheets. Nothing to cover herself with. She couldn't bring herself to run, but she was quick to leave, having decided that she wasn't stopping until she found a way back to the lobby.

Heavy breathing. She couldn't tell if it was her own, or if the draft was so loud. A door slammed behind her, narrowly missing her ass. She barely noticed her panties catching on something and ripping, left behind as she kept power-walking, camera stubbornly gripped in her hands. Everything she'd imagined felt so real, and it made her regret comparing each mirror to eyes, now having half a mind to smash them. If only.

A door or two later and she was running through a hallway. It had a boring beige-and-orange wallpaper and was mostly empty save for mirrors on mirrors. She passed by another grandfather clock, a few minutes behind.

Eileen had been listening, the only reason the clock even caught her attention. There'd been no sound of footsteps, no reason to believe someone was running after her. Things almost seemed... safe. She looked at the clock, moving unlike the one she'd passed before. Her eyes, wide and formless, took in the reflection on its glass plating.

It was her, but different. A pleasant smile and a blush colored her face, and she was actually dressed. A black, low-cut dress with green highlights that she knew looked better in motion. Her eyes couldn't help but wander towards the accentuated curves, the somewhat excessive amount of cleavage, the... hands.

She swatted at her shoulder, as if the hands in her reflection were on her body as well. She looked back, to another mirror. Wearing a butler's outfit, holding a tray with something on it. Another, and it was a desperately stereotypical maid dress. More mirrors - ribbons, chains, swimsuits, harnesses, one that entirely lacked sex characteristics and resembled a mannequin. All of them looked and smiled at her, blushing as their bodies were pleasured by hands that didn't exist anywhere but her mind's eye.

Fuck it- no, don't. To hell with it. With a frustrated scream she threw her fist through the grandfather clock, hearing glass shatter and ticking stop. She closed her eyes, hissing at the pain of glass cutting through skin, and...

No, actually. Her hand didn't hurt at all. Opening her eyes again, she found not a scratch on them, or on the clock. It was ticking, perfectly on time. Only two hours had passed. The hallway was orange and beige again, and a glance to her left provided what she was hoping for: a door to the kitchen.

Well, there was no way to discard what had happened. Looking down, she found herself just as nude as before, sweaty, red-faced, legs still shaking a bit. She couldn't tell which emotion was causing all this, and she couldn't be bothered to figure it out. She switched off the video camera and walked out into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of milk and chugging it down.

"Those sleeping garments were expensive," she complained out loud, "I better see them in my closet when I go up there again, whoever you are."

Not that she was much in the mood to go upstairs yet. She was tired already, she wasn't going to climb all those damn stairs. Plus, loathe as she was to admit it in these circumstances, it felt kind of nice to be undressed like this. Freeing, in a way.

So, she instead just shrugged her shoulders, happy to let her hands wander between her thighs as she headed back to the living room. She needed a good break, and there were some TV-channels to help her on that one.

Out of earshot, but not out of mind, a gramophone played sensual music. It was happy to go on forever, but not this time.