Mesmerized

"And you're burning up! We should go. Annalise? Is there anything else we have to do?"

"No, no, we're finished here. You can take the artifacts home, or to your office. I would keep them in a safe place, they are quite valuable. But it is perfectly safe now to handle them."

Annalise walked over to us and looked down at me from her impressive height.

"It was really lovely meeting you both. Shawn, I'll be in touch. We've only just begun."

With that she pushed through the drapery at the front of the room and was gone.

A moment after Annalise left, I started to feel better. The room righted itself. I wasn't so dizzy. My hand and wrist still ached. A pins and needles sensation started along my fingers.

"Do you feel ok to get up, Clara? Do you want me to help you?"

I looked at Shawn, my best friend in the world, my roommate, my confidant. The concern in her face made me want to cry. I wanted to stroke her curly hair, bury my face in it and breathe in her scent. I wanted to lay my head on her round breasts and close my eyes. I felt such love welling up in me for my beautiful Shawn, it was overwhelming. So I looked her dead in the eye and I lied.

"I'm totally fine, Shawn. I mean it. I think I just got dizzy because the room was so stuffy, and, you know, all the chanting." I smiled my winningest smile.

Shawn looked at me skeptically.

"If you say so. You still look like crap to me." She winked at me and my heart skipped a beat.

She got up and began packing up the book and the knife. I stood to help her, feeling only a little woozy. Shawn fetched the long roll of oilcloth from her bag and spread it out on the table. She placed the book in the center, and then picked up the knife.

"You know, I really expected to feel ... more." She sighed. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Annalise, but, I don't know. I feel kind of ... rejected."

She turned the knife in the faint light and I felt my mouth water looking at how the shadows moved along the blade. I wanted to touch it, to hold it again, to feel its reassuring weight and warmth in my hand. Shawn placed the knife on top of the other artifacts and rolled them all up inside the cloth.

"I still believe that Annalise is the real thing. And that John Calhoun was, too. Maybe I did something wrong." She sounded forlorn.

I didn't know what to say to make her feel better. Had I ruined her seance because I touched her objects before she could? I didn't believe in this stuff, not any of it, not Annalise or John Calhoun or mediums or seances. But I felt bad for Shawn. I wished I could make it up to her.

* * *

The car ride home was quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I couldn't take my mind off the dagger. I could feel it like a weight in my mind. I knew it was right there, in her bag, in the back seat. It took all of my willpower not to keep looking behind me, to make sure it was still there. I had to distract myself.

"Hey. Shawn. Can I ask you something?"

"Hmmmm?" she replied, as if roused from deep thoughts.

"Did you tell Annalise about Jeremy?" My voice shook as I said his name. Still. After six months.

"No! Oh my god, Clara, I would never! I was so surprised when she said that, about you going through a tough time. But I did not tell her anything, I swear." Shawn looked at me with misty eyes. She had loved Jeremy like a brother, too, I knew.

Jeremy had been my only family, since our parents had died five years ago. He was my best friend, besides Shawn, as well as my brother. Six months ago, riding his bike to work, he got hit by a car. He had a helmet, but it wasn't enough.

For weeks I felt completely out of control. Like nothing I did mattered, that life was just a giant ball of chaos ready to devour humanity without warning. I thought I would die. Literally. I was terrified to even leave the apartment.

Shawn came to me with a piece of paper and a pen. She told me to write down three things I wanted to accomplish that day. Any three things. I wrote: Brush teeth. Brush hair. Sit on couch.

I did them. It took me all day, but I did. The next day, she brought me another piece of paper, I made another list. And another and another. Day by day I reclaimed my life. One list at a time. I was able to leave the apartment. I went back to work. I vowed never to lose control of my life again.

Shawn would say she had created a monster, that I had lost my ability to let loose and have fun. She thought losing control every once in a while and getting a little crazy was healthy.

I was just glad to no longer feel those wild swings of emotion. I laid my head back on the seat and let my mind drift.

I really wanted to hold that knife.

* * * *

I had trouble sleeping that night. I took some Advil the minute I got home, but it didn't help. I drifted in and out of a light doze, in and out of weird dreams. The handkerchief. The book. The knife. A man whose face I couldn't see, whispering my name.

"Claraaaaa ..."

I woke up drenched in sweat. I wore a tank top and panties, but I was burning up. It was 3am. I crept out to the living room. Shawn's bag was on the couch. I had watched her leave it there when she went to bed.

I felt my way in the dark to the brown leather couch that backed up against the wall of windows looking out over our quiet, tree-lined street. I heard nothing. No early morning birds, no car alarms, no sirens. Just the beating of my heart, so loud it seemed to fill the room.

I sat down and pulled Shawn's bag onto my lap. I rummaged inside for the lump of oilcloth and pulled it out. I unrolled the cloth carefully and felt for the dagger. Even in the dark my hand went right to it. I could almost make out the etchings on the hilt in the faint yellow glow of the streetlights outside.

I heaved a sigh and slumped back on the couch. I held the knife tightly to my chest, much like Shawn had done earlier. I closed my eyes. The pain in my head and my hand disappeared. The knife felt like molten silver in my grasp. So warm, so heavy, so ... mine.

The pain I had been feeling was replaced by something else. It started in my chest: a swirling, pleasurable vibration like music reverberating in your body at a loud rock show. The vibration expanded to cover my small, pointed breasts and in seconds my nipples were hard through my thin top. God, it felt so good. I hadn't felt that kind of pleasure in so long. I started to breathe faster. The most delicious tingling sensation started between my legs. I moaned softly and shifted my hips. I gripped the knife more tightly to my body, an even greater surge of pleasure vibrated through me. My nipples were painful little nubs and dampness spread in the crotch of my cotton panties. I moaned again, louder this time. The vibration became a deep throbbing, moving through me, in me, so deep inside ...

I started panting, writhing on the couch, my pussy lips engorged to aching, my clit throbbing ... fingers of pressure pushed into my breasts, tweaking my nipples, pressure against my damp opening, pushing inside me, spreading me wide, pushing, pushing, and still I clutched the silver dagger to my chest like a lifeline. I knew I was still clothed, but I felt naked, exposed and vulnerable to the force that had taken over me.

I went mad with desire. The force pushing into me was not enough, I wanted release. I was trapped on the edge of orgasm and I wanted it desperately.

"Oh my god, please please please," I heard myself gasp. I moved my hips wildly. But who was I begging? What was I begging for?

I held the beautiful silver dagger in my right hand and pulled down my panties with my left. With no thought about what I was doing, I plunged the knife, hilt first, into my throbbing wet pussy.

I screamed with pleasure. I was on fire. I jammed the fist of my left hand into my mouth so that I wouldn't wake Shawn. My right hand worked the dagger handle in and out, pushing a little further with each thrust, going as far as I dared to. My hips rose of their own accord in time with the pumping of my hand. The knuckle of my thumb bumped against my clit, sending little jolts of electric pleasure all through me.

There was no way the handle of that dagger could have filled me like it did. I felt stretched almost to a painful degree, and when I came, it was with every muscle clenched, a scream muffled by my left hand, and a gush of wetness that flooded over my right hand. And the knife within it.

* * *

The next morning I woke in my bed, at first feeling languorous and lovely, stretching and yawning. I had a vague memory of a whispered word ... mine, mine mine. Just as I noticed the soreness between my legs and the throbbing in my hand, my gaze lit upon the silver dagger on my bedside table.

Everything came back to me in a rush. Getting up in the middle of the night, searching Shawn's bag for the knife. And ...

"Oh my god! What did I do?" I covered my face with my hands.Please, I thought to myself,please tell me I did not fuck myself in the middle of the night with a fucking silver DAGGER!

I grabbed my phone and jumped out of bed. Where was Shawn? Had she noticed the knife was missing? God, my hand hurt so much! Without thinking, I juggled my phone into my left hand and picked up the dagger with my right. The pain in my hand ceased immediately and an overwhelming sense of peace settled over me. Everything will be fine, I thought vaguely to myself.He will take care of it.

I didn't want to let go of the knife in my hand, so I checked my phone awkwardly with my left hand. Shawn had left me a text. She had gone into work early and would call me later. She wanted to put her artifacts back in the safe. I was sure I had shoved the cloth and the book back in her bag. Maybe she wouldn't notice the dagger was missing. I couldn't give it back to her. I wouldn't. I needed it. It was mine.

"Mine ... mine ... mine ... Claraaaa ..."

That whispered voice again. I could feel it caressing my ear. I would fix this. We would fix this.

I quickly sent Shawn a text. A little white lie.

OMG! I found ur knife on floor under couch. Fell out your bag?

She quickly responded,Phew! Thx, and I felt an immense sense of relief, like I had bought myself some time. She reminded me it was girls' night in, and my turn to pick the movie.

Girls' night. I forgot. I checked my phone. It was only 11am. I had plenty of time. Shawn wouldn't be home until five o'clock. I moved slowly into the living room and perched on the edge of the couch. The dagger handle was heavy in my palm, I rolled it back and forth. My eyes lost focus. I felt completely at ease. Relaxed.

I blinked when I heard Shawn's key in the front door. Why hadn't she mentioned she was on her way home when she sent me the text a few minutes ago? I wondered why she was early.

Shawn came through the door like she always did, long skirt swirling, hair fluffed around her head, bag falling off her shoulder, extraneous, whimsical keychains clanking against the door.

She stopped short, confusion creasing her brow, when she saw me sitting on the couch. I imagined my expression was the same. I quickly shoved the dagger between the couch cushions.

My eye caught the clock on the DVR. It read 5:20pm. But that was impossible. I had just sat down a moment ago, just after 11am. I had not been sitting there for 6 hours.

A cold trickle of fear ran down my back and over my arms. I must have fallen asleep. That was it. I was up late last night. I wasn't feeling well.

"You look like you haven't been out. Did you pick up a movie?" Shawn's cocked hip and raised eyebrow telegraphed her doubt.

"Not yet! I wasn't feeling well, I took a nap. You put a pizza in the oven. I'll be back before it's done."

I raced to my room, threw on some clothes, grabbed my purse and caromed out the door. A Redbox movie from the corner Walgreens was acquired in minutes. I was back in time to shower before the pizza came out of the oven.

The movie I rented was fun, but I was distracted. Though the beautifully chiseled, dancing men did indeed seem magic, my eye kept falling on the curve of Shawn's calf and the swell of her breasts under her tank top. We were both wearing the prerequisite girls' night in uniform — yoga pants and tank tops — and I couldn't help but compare the lushness of Shawn's body to my own boyish figure.

Later, I stood in the doorway to the bathroom and watched Shawn brush her teeth. I had been working all evening to distract myself from the throbbing in my hand, and from thoughts of the dagger, which I had managed to smuggle back into Shawn's room. I thought the imagined whisperings had subsided, but as I watched Shawn, her bright curls pulled back in a loose bun, a fervent voice rose in the back of my mind. It was MY voice, I told myself, MY desires that rose within me as I watched my beautiful friend.

She rinsed her mouth and turned to smile. Then a frown line appeared between her eyebrows.

"Clara, what is with you? You've been weird all night."

I couldn't tell her, so I changed the subject.

"How did you get such amazing curves and I got stuck with this?"

I pushed into the bathroom and stood next to her in front of the mirror. I studied our reflections. I was tall, pale, all sharp angles. She was rose complected, soft, voluptuous. My straight, dark brown hair was a shadow to her bright, strawberry blonde curls.

"Curves? Oh, you mean this?" Shawn grabbed the flesh on each side of her hips and squeezed. "Yeah, awesome. You mean chub."

"It's better than looking like a boy. I wish I had your rack."

"The girls are pretty spectacular." Shawn pursed her lips at her reflection and cupped her breasts, one in each hand. Arousal ignited between my legs, made my stomach muscles clench.

"Maybe I could have cleavage like yours if I just ..." I pressed my small breasts together and bent at the waist. Shawn giggled at my efforts.

"Aw, your boobs are so cute. You know, they say all you need is a handful." She gave me an exaggerated wink and put her hand over my breast. I could feel my nipple harden against her palm.

"I know it's a cliché, but men do stare at them, like, all the time. Even at work. I'm like, hey, dude, I'm up here." Shawn did vogue hands around her face and I burst out laughing.

"And they get heavy sometimes. Here, feel." Shawn took my hand, placed it under her breast. My breath caught in my throat. I bit my lip to keep a soft moan from escaping.

Was she teasing me? Shawn's figure and her outgoing, sensitive nature afforded her many lovers, men and women, she didn't discriminate. But she had never hinted at any feelings for me, beyond that of best friends. Although, neither had I. I had never been attracted to a woman before Shawn. My feelings had grown far beyond just friends. She was the only one who could pull me out of my funk after Jeremy died.

Her breast was soft and full. Her large nipples were outlined by her cotton top. I longed to take one in my mouth, roll my tongue over it.

I couldn't stop myself. I brushed my thumb over her nipple, softly. I heard her intake of breath and looked her in the eye. There was a seductive twinkle there, I was sure, and a teasing curve to her smile.

I might have made a sarcastic remark, ignored my desires in order to stay in control of my emotions. But there was that whispering in my head, an insistent tug deep inside my body, corralling every cell to do what I had long wanted to. There was a deep urge to take what was mine. Mine. Mine ...

I kissed her suddenly. I let her tantalizing aroma of lavender and spices tickle my nose. I explored her breasts with both hands, softly circling her nipples with the pads of my thumbs. I felt her smile against my lips. Her tongue flicked at mine. It wasn't until I closed the bathroom door with my foot and pushed her up against it that she began to protest.

"Clara," she whispered. "Maybe we shouldn't ..." She put her hands on my shoulders, as if to push me away. I answered by grabbing her arms and pinning them above her head, both her wrists in one of my hands. I was taller. I was stronger than she was. I was stronger than I was.

Shawn gasped. That little sound drove me to a frenzy. I was powerful. I was alive. I kissed her fiercely. I wanted to claim her. I wanted to own every part of her. With my free hand I pulled up her cami, exposed her heavy breasts and pale pink nipples. I was on them immediately, sucking as much of her areola and breast into my mouth as I could. I flicked her nipple with my tongue, rolled it, bit it with the tips of my teeth. Shawn was helpless in my grasp. Her weak cries of protest turned to noises of desire that only urged me on.

"Clara, wait. Oh, god, that feels good."Claraaa ... take what is ours, teach the little tease ...

I slapped lightly at her breasts. I was so taken with how they moved under my hands. Every time a slap caught one of her nipples her body tightened, and she let out a gasping moan of pleasure.

"Clara ..."Claraaa ... Shawn tried to squirm away but I was too strong.

I grabbed the front of her yoga pants and pulled down until they were halfway down her thighs. Shawn had to wiggle her hips a little to help get them over her round ass. She wanted this, I know she did.

The little tease ...

When my fingers touched the warm dampness between Shawn's pale thighs a fierce lust rose up in me. A hiss like the buzzing of angry bees stopped up my ears, made me dizzy, confused. This was not my soft, gentle friend, it was warm flesh that I wanted to claim, to conquer, to penetrate.

The sight of the red marks my hand had made on the pale skin of her breasts maddened me further. My fingers slipped easily inside her, she was so wet. An overwhelming lust drove my hand, worked my fingers into her delicate flesh. I loved every cry of ecstasy, I felt such tremendous power over Shawn, that I could arouse her like this, make her gasp and moan and cry out. Her passion electrified me. Every nerve in my body sizzled.

"I own you," I murmured in her ear, my voice low and coarse. "Your hot wet cunt is mine". I felt on the edge of orgasm, my pussy ached with desire, wetness spread between my legs. My circling fingers found her hard little clit. I wanted to make her cum.

Shawn mewed and moaned, seemingly caught between ecstasy and a desire to get away. I tightened my grip on her wrists.

"Clara!" She cried. "Let me go so I can touch you, too!"

I chuckled in her ear, a deep laugh that was not my own.

A darkness swirled up around the edges of my vision. I was falling away, I was seeing Shawn from a distance, her wide green eyes glazed over in arousal, her rosebud mouth open in surprise. My face was inches from her but so far away. I was numb. I pushed my fingers roughly into her, heard her groan reluctantly. Mindlessly, I kept thrusting into Shawn's soft flesh, and I could hear my harsh panting breaths.

When she came, muscles clenched around my fingers, she did it breathlessly, silently, and I saw a tear trickle from the corner of her eye. Still I felt nothing. Except from somewhere strange inside me ... a dark satisfaction.

Shawn gasped again, and a rushing sensation overcame me, like I was speeding toward her from the deep recesses of a dark tunnel. Suddenly, I was there, with Shawn, present, my sticky fingers trailing between her legs.

"Oh god, Shawn," I sobbed. This was not how I wanted her. I hung my head over the bathroom sink, waves of nausea washing over me. I felt terrified.

"Wow. That was ... intense. God, Clara." Shawn panted, she sounded confused, maybe ... hurt, even. She tried to rub my back, but when I didn't look at her, she left.

Once she was gone I raised my head, looked into the mirror above the sink, and watched my eyes slowly change from dark brown back to my own blue-gray.