Thank You for Letting Me Do This

Jasmine suddenly found herself wondering if the dressing table she was seated at, that her grandmother had used all those years ago, still had any supplies inside it. She thought it was extremely unlikely, but she might as well take a look. To her surprise, the first drawer she checked had several boxes and tubes inside it, all looking to be unopened. She unscrewed the top of a tube of blush and stared at the small foil covering beneath it. It looked brand new. She had told Melanie about the dressing table a few times before. Perhaps she had used it? Jasmine looked back up at the mirror and for a split second she thought she saw something in her reflection. Two large, glowing golden spheres hovering in the half-dark of the attic, right in the general vicinity of her face. But of course she hadn't seen anything. It was a trick of the light, some reflected abnormality picked up by the mirror from some distant corner of the room. A mental image that had momentarily seemed more real because she was in an unusual environment, staring at an unusual thing.

Barely registering it, Jasmine pulled out whatever was in the small drawer to her left and arranged it on the desk before her. She recognized the various containers of foundation, mascara, eyeliner, lipstick—all things that Melanie had explained to her previously. She grabbed a small bottle of product in her hand and turned it over multiple times, inspecting it. Maybe...she could try using some, just to see what it felt like. It wasn't really something she did, normally, but maybe she would anyway. Just to see what she would look like when she was done...and maybe have a little more understanding of her fiancée in the process. So what was she supposed to do first again? Melanie had expressed the importance of cleaning your face first, but Jasmine had already showered earlier, so that was done. Ah yes.

First came the foundation. Jasmine unscrewed the cap of a jar of the stuff and used a round, cotton pad to soak up some of the mixture. Then she carefully brushed and dabbed it over her forehead, cheeks and neck. Jasmine removed her glasses and placed them on the table, then proceeded to brush more over the bridge of her nose and a bit under her eyes. She used a slightly darker color for her own face; in Melanie's own words, foundation was the base that all other makeup was built upon, sort of like the first layer of a house, so it should be even, plain and practical. Then, concealer. Jasmine did not want to create the illusion of perfection, but in the interest of following her fiancée's example, she applied some to the bags beneath her eyes, and then looked back at her own more well-rested looking reflection. The rain began to fall a bit faster outside, more drops hitting the windowpane with light, tinny taps.

Next came highlights and contours. Using her fingers, Jasmine applied small, subtle shades of lighter colors under her eyes, in the hollows of her cheekbones and under her eyebrows. Then she took a brush, and carefully applied darker tones to some of those same areas, as well as adding some beneath her jaw. To finish it off she added a little bit of blush to her cheeks. Melanie described it like painting a self-portrait, adding highlights, shading, and color that didn't need to be entirely realistic. Checking her work in the mirror, Jasmine thought she had done a decent job, even if Melanie would've done better. After that it was time for eye makeup.

She used a fine, thin brush to apply eyeshadow to one eyelid, and then the other, doing her best to blend it with the other makeup to make it look more natural, then added more just beneath her eyebrows. Then she brushed a stick of dark eyeliner softly across her lashes, making them look fuller and thicker with each considerate stroke. As the sky darkened outside her window, the shadows of the room darkened too, nearly becoming an inky black solidified mass, something that the dull glow of the hanging lightbulb was barely warding off as it hung over her preoccupied back. Jasmine eyed the mascara in the drawer anxiously, but thought better of it. Mascara could be messy, and take a while to dry, so she decided simply to move onto the final step: her lips.

Melanie loved applying lipstick, and at times would describe it almost ad nauseam. It was probably the most obvious step of the cosmetic process, something everyone could appreciate, but it was also versatile. Like hair, you could color your lips with pretty much any color as long as you were bold enough. It could very well just highlight the natural color of your lips...but it could also be jet black, an icy pale blue, or some radioactive shade of green if you were bold enough. Jasmine herself didn't feel all that bold, but she did want some noticeable color, so she elected to go with a slightly fuller shade of pink. She picked up the small tube of pink lip paint from the desktop and took a deep breath. Uncapping the top, Jasmine twisted the nob at the bottom and swept the slanted pink edge broadly across her lips, parting them so she could more accurately apply each coat. She painted stroke after stroke across her thin lips, and before long their smooth glossy curves shone in the dim light.

When she had finally finished, Jasmine put her glasses back on and studied herself thoughtfully in the mirror. It felt...strangely nice to be done, looking at the finished result. Like she had just finished a piece of art, and in a way, she had. Jasmine didn't hate the way she usually looked, but just then, in that moment, she thought she looked beautiful. Her face smooth, her skin practically gleaming in the fading attic light, contrasted by dramatic streaks of shadow. But not just that, she looked...younger, somehow, beyond what she'd thought the makeup was capable of achieving. Like a younger version of herself, still in the prime of her youth in peak, physical condition, like a version of herself that she hadn't seen in a long time. Or...like a version that had never existed.

"You look nice," The face in the mirror said back to her.

"Thank you," She answered back, as if having a real conversation. "This feels good. Maybe I should do this more often."

"I agree," She said. "You're a very beautiful woman, Jasmine, with or without makeup. I know you don't hear that a lot."

It was funny, Jasmine had never really gotten in the habit of talking to herself. But she supposed it wasn't the first new thing she had found herself doing lately. Thunder crackled and echoed softly in the distance as the rain continued to fall.

"Maybe you should work on your hair a little bit," She suggested, her reflected smile spreading across her newly painted lips.

Looking inside the next drawer down from the one she had first opened, Jasmine found a hairbrush, a comb, as well as several small, multi-colored scrunchies. Taking the hairbrush, she began to run it through her long, straight black hair. She grimaced as the brush ran into a few tangles, but soon enough it was gliding through her hair with ease. She made long, gentle strokes with the brush, slowly and gradually from one side of her head to the other, the mirror behind her helping her to see. She didn't remember pulling the mirrors out around herself but she supposed she must have.

"Do you think I could try?" She asked herself.

"Hmm?" Jasmine asked, confused. She wasn't exactly sure why she would say something like that...had she?

Her eyes drifted shut when the fine-toothed, delicate red comb ran through her untangled locks. These new strokes continued just as she had been doing, moving from the side she had ended on back to where she'd started, each stroke gentle, calming and soothing, easing her concerns. Two thin, light-brown arms extended from a segment of mirror almost directly behind her, one running the comb through her thick mass of black hair, the other waiting patiently. Jasmine's eyes slowly opened and then she jumped in her chair when she saw the arms, gasping loudly, her breath becoming erratic almost immediately after.

"Shhhhh, it's okay, everything is fine..." Her reflection spoke in syrupy tones. Jasmine noticed for the first time that she could not feel her own lips moving. "Your hair is so pretty. Your skin is so soft and smooth. You have a very stressful job and you're so compassionate in what you do, and yet you still look so young..."

Shivering though she was, Jasmine found herself steadily relaxing once more as the comb ran through her hair like fingers through a stream. Her eyelashes fluttered.

"Do you like how that feels?"

She nodded. She knew she should be terrified, but somehow she felt like she wasn't in any sort of danger. The arms behind her head placed the comb down on the desk next to her glasses and moved back to her shadowy tresses of hair, the fingers running through their smooth, glossy length.

"How about that?"

"Mmmm..." Jasmine sighed contentedly.

"It's so delicate," The woman in the mirror said, sounding almost in awe. "It feels so nice to run my fingers through." The arms worked in tandem, one hand running its fingers delicately through Jasmine's dark locks, the other gently caressing the side of her face. By the time she opened her eyes again, her beautiful, captivating reflection was crawling out of the mirror and out onto the desk in front of her on her hands, only her upper torso visible.

"O-oh..." Jasmine muttered, somewhat startled but still not as alarmed as she could have been. Resting atop the desk on her elbow and her abdomen, the other Jasmine reached up and brushed a long strand of hair to one side of the speechless woman's face, running her fingers along its length.

"It's okay to relax once in a while," She said, smiling sweetly. "I can help you do that." The reflection leaned forward slowly, closing her eyes and ever so slightly parting her lips. Jasmine let her eyes close peacefully and moved forward to meet her, the strange aspect of herself cradling her face and drawing her into the kiss. Meanwhile the hands behind Jasmine's back continued to do what they were wont to do, lightly caressing and massaging her back. The lightbulb above Jasmine's head buzzed dully, shining brighter and then dimming again.

Jasmine luxuriated in the kiss, tasting her own lipstick and having the smell of her own body wash and shampoo fill her nostrils. Was it her own? What did that even mean at the moment? Her duplicate offered her tongue to her but did not push, and soon Jasmine was drawing it deeper into her own mouth with her lips. Meanwhile, the hands on her back moved to her shoulders, then to the straps on her shoulders, which soon sunk steadily down her pale brown arms. The hands caressed the edges of her shoulders and down her arms, then under them, then they returned to her back. Jasmine stared back at her reflection as she withdrew from their kiss, the original half-dazed, with longing anticipation in her eyes. The other Jasmine delicately removed her glasses, placed them on the table, and then drew her back into a deep, intimate embrace shrouded by her lustrous curtains of hair. This time she pushed farther, deeper, her head twisting in step with Jasmine's, wrapping her arms around the young woman's shoulders and breathing in her warm breath deeply.

She slid her tongue into her mouth, sliding flatly over her tongue, probing deeply and lingering there. Jasmine basked in the heat of it, the heavy organ resting over her own, the taste of salt and a little bit of pepper from the dinner she had eaten earlier dancing on her taste buds. She moved her own tongue out from under it and gently twisted it between their lips, her reflection not stopping her, allowing her to switch their positions gently with Jasmine now resting comfortably on top. The hands that were behind her slowly undid the clasp of her lace lavender bra, then delicately brought the article of clothing down over her chest, the padded cups un-adhering to Jasmine's soft, sloping mounds and then falling away. The arms slunk and curled around her waist, their hands and open fingers sliding delicately over her rounded breasts and cupping their modest weight supportively.

Her reflection pulled back from the kiss once more and Jasmine could see that even in this regard, her reflection looked more appealing than what she remembered. Jasmine had always felt like she had had an adequate bust, not that it was something she saw as all that important, or needing improvement, but it was an aspect of herself she was happy with. In her reflection however, they were rounder, perkier, and ever so slightly fuller. It was truly like staring back at a younger, more desirable version of herself. And, in truth, she really, really wanted her.

The arms reaching around Jasmine pushed her breasts up into position, and then the other her moved forward and took her stiffening brown nipple into her mouth. She closed her eyes and sucked on the small, blunt nub generously, tugging on it with her lips and swirling her tongue around it, murmuring softly as she did so. Jasmine moaned and tilted her head back, feeling both her nipples hardening to rocky, calcified peaks. Her reflection did not let up on the pressure, sucking the nub as deep as she could draw it back onto her saliva-streaked tongue, only letting it withdraw for a few relieving moments before sucking it back in. When she finally drew back, Jasmine was twitching and shivering, looking down at herself while she looked up. The other her smiled with lidded, insinuating eyes, then ran her tongue up the front of her held breast, dragging her hot, wet, red tongue slow and heavy over her curvature. She ran over the nipple and kept going, Jasmine wincing and letting out a low moan when the tip disappeared beneath her slick, heated pad.

The other Jasmine drew back yet again, leaning in to kiss her chin, then lower. Jasmine tilted her head back and continued to shiver uncomfortably as her mirror image kissed slowly and delicately down along her throat, then her collarbone, then down the line of her cleavage. She kissed the top of each breast, once, twice, three times; closer, then farther away from the place the original wanted her to be, that Jasmine letting out a few more violent, uncontrollable shuddering twitches. Then, only after gazing deeply into her half-open eyes did the other one close her glossy pink lips around the nipple that was still dry. The sky outside was almost completely dark now as the rain came down heavily, leaving long, irregular wet streaks across the glass. Jasmine could hear the pattering hum as it hit the roof and ran down the sides of her house.

Her other self sucked gently, breathing evenly as she washed Jasmine's nub in the sticky warmth of her mouth and flicked it airily with the tip of her tongue. Her other hand remained at her other breast, holding that stiff peak delicately, nudging it up with her thumb before letting it return to its place of rest, then gently holding it down. The hands that had been holding her breasts in place had retreated, now massaging her back and shoulders with carefully applied pressure. Jasmine moaned loudly, then sighed, then began to slide back against the small wooden chair she rested in, her shivery anxiousness receding with the onset of more soothing pleasure. In this relaxed state, Jasmine did not see or register the ripples that moved slowly throughout the surface of the mirrors positioned all around her, or notice that they had seemingly moved closer since she had last looked.

The unseen mirrors seemed to throb like heartbeats, then something bulged against their surfaces from the inside. The way the mirrors held fast was far too flexible for something ostensibly made of glass. More hands and connected arms emerged from shimmery, undulating surfaces, to rub at her shoulders and back, to run themselves soothingly over Jasmine's waist, hips and thighs, and to clutch and squeeze her the bottom of her breasts softly. Then the arms that had already been there emerged further from their own mirror, revealing another version of Jasmine, another which looked just like her, or perhaps not quite. She moved forward and leaned her long, pale face against the back of her head and kissed it softly, while her partner sucked Jasmine's nipple into her mouth a little more forcefully. She slung her arms over Jasmine's shoulders and down her sitting body, causing the other arms to temporarily retreat. She affectionately rubbed her head against the back of Jasmine's own.

"Your hair is gorgeous," She whispered in her ear and slid her long, tan arms down over her torso, her hands settling over Jasmine's navy blue boxer shorts. The thin, spindly digits of her hand slipped under her waistband and over her lightly furred mons, curling underneath it. Jasmine let out a shuddering breath as the long, dexterous fingers began rubbing at her soft, receptive lips. The other hand moved back up her body, towards her face. The Jasmine-alike planted kisses all over the back of her head and hair in the meantime, until her hand ran over her cheek and the side of her face. She slipped her thumb into the corner of Jasmine's mouth, and the increasingly aroused woman moaned around it even as it pushed itself over her tongue.

The other Jasmine, the one who had first spoken, drew back from the surrounded woman's breast and returned to the one she had first attended to, pausing before the spit-shined nub and glancing up to her recipient once more. She opened her mouth and let a wave of hot breath settle over the front of her breast, then blew cooler, more precise air over the prickling bumps of her areola and the stiff, wet bud in the middle of it. Jasmine shuddered and let out a muffled moan, but didn't have much time to relax before the other her drew her nipple back into her mouth. She sucked it slow and gentle this time, doubling the intensity of the sensations Jasmine had felt before. The shaking, overwhelmed woman murmured softly around the thumb in her mouth, which was moving slowly back and forth over her tongue, layering itself in her saliva and occasionally pressing down on the soft organ. She could hear her reflection's teasing, provoking voice and her soft, airy giggles as she kissed her head, panning back and forth from one ear to the other.

The version of herself she could see finally let Jasmine's thoroughly glazed nipple free from her lips, running her tongue delicately around her wet areola, sending small, tingling waves of sensation throughout her breast. The fingers running slowly back and forth over her labia grew more and more wet with every passing stroke, and now Jasmine's hips began to move, shifting restlessly in her chair.

A breathy gasp escaped Jasmine's lips following the small, plump thumb of her unseen lover, who slid the hand it was attached to down her body to be closer to its partner. One hand rubbed and caressed her mons, twirling one finger airily through a thin, fine wisp of dark brown pubic hair, while the other fingered the outside of her labia. The reflection nuzzled her face and nose against the back of Jasmine's neck and shoulder, reveling in the warmth of her skin. The lightbulb above Jasmine's head flickered and went out. At this point the rain had started to die down and the fog had faded away, leaving strong, full moonlight to filter into the dark, dusty room. It bathed the pale bodies in motion in an ethereal, icy glow, the remnants of some distant thunderstorm almost entirely inaudible.

As she watched, her reflection moved its head across her chest, its face now mostly in shadow, and began to lap patiently at her other breast, starting almost painfully slow and delicate. It dragged its broad pink implement across the front of her breast and over her sensitive nipple, bathing both in coat after coat of sticky warm saliva, going a little bit quicker and a little bit firmer with every lick. In contrast to this it took her other nipple between her fingers and squeezed it indelicately, twisting it back and forth.