Jules 11 - the Game Is Revealed

Author's Note: This is a chapter in a multi-part story and is not intended to stand alone. This is my first attempt at writing erotica, so feedback is highly encouraged.

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My blouse is mostly dry and my jacket is safely buttoned by the time I make my way back to the office. I ride an emotional high the whole way back, but then the reality of my lunch break starts to set in. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" It seems to be a common refrain.

I try to lose myself in my work, but my mind keeps flashing back to the sandwich shop. To the man's eyes roving over my exposed breast as I plucked buttons from my shirt. The silky feel of the blouse across my nipples won't let me leave the memory behind.

After a couple of hours of trying, and failing, to engross myself in my work, I retreat to the ladies room. I close my eyes and bend over the sink to splash cold water on my face. As I stand back up, I hear a voice to my right. "Something wrong, Little Butterfly?"

"Fuck!" I shout, not expecting anyone else to be in the room. I lower my voice, hoping no one heard me. "J, you scared me. How'd you get in here anyway?"

"I blew the security guard and he let me in." She laughs out loud at the look of horror on my face. "Relax, it's a joke."

"So, how DID you get in here? How do you even know where I work?" I'm starting to get really freaked out.

"I'm very... resourceful. That's all." She smiles knowingly.

"Did you follow me? J, what the hell is going on?"

"You really don't know?" she asks in genuine surprise.

"No! I don't know who you are or what is happening to me." I catch myself shouting again and lower my voice. "All I know is whenever you're around I end up shaking my tits around for God knows who and I seem powerless to say no to you. Now you show up at my work? I need some answers!"

She studies me for a long moment, and then takes a step towards me. "I thought a smart girl like you would have figured it out a long time ago," I try to back away from her approach, but the counter halts my retreat. "But I guess you have been a bit... distracted." That damn smirk is back, but this time it seems much more menacing. She's now inches away from me and reaches up to stroke the side of my face delicately. "You can't resist me, Little Butterfly, because I'm you."

I stare at her, stunned. "What do you mean, you're me?"

"I'm you. I'm the fantasy that you wish you'd see in the mirror. I'm the part of you that's tired of being the good girl. The part that saw what being a good girl got you with Paul. I'm that voice in your head that's trying to break you out of your shell. I'm all your pent up stress and frustration and concealed sexuality. I'm your dirty little secrets. In short, I'm you."

"I must be having a nervous breakdown."

"Perhaps," she offers, unconcerned. "Maybe I'm a figment of your imagination. Maybe you are going crazy and I'm just the symptom. Maybe I'm some mystical manifestation of your repressed desires. How should I know?" She shrugs. "After all, I am only three days old."

"This is crazy, I don't believe a word of it."

"Think back, Jules. Have you ever seen me interact with another person? Have you ever seen me touched by the usual bounds of reality? I don't eat, I don't sleep, I'm there when you want me and gone when you don't."

"You think I wanted all of these things?!? To expose myself to half the town? To blow my ex-boyfriend?"

"Yes, you did. Maybe not on the surface, but deep down you NEEDED them to happen."

"I..." but no words come out.

"I can see you still don't believe me. Perhaps a demonstration is in order. Stand in front of me and face the mirror." Without thinking I do as she asks. "Now I know you're terrified of being exposed in front of your coworkers. I know because I'm inside that pretty little head of yours." My fear starts to well up at her words, but I remain silent.

"So..." she reaches around and unbuttons my blazer. "I'm going to cut one more button from your blouse. I want you to stop me." The scissors from earlier are in her hands and she moves them slowly towards the next button. This button is in line with my breasts. Losing it would make it almost impossible to conceal my situation from my coworkers. "Go ahead, Little Butterfly, just reach your hands up and stop me." My arms remain by my side, unmoving. Panic sets in. I'm terrified of what's happening. I'm terrified that I can't stop it. But mostly I'm terrified that she's right.

"Look at the mirror, and tell me what you see," She whispers in my ear. Her breath feels warm and enticing on the side of my face. Through all of the fear and doubt, a different emotion slowly surfaces. Arousal. I feel my fear, my shame and especially my powerlessness swell inside as my nipples grow stiff and my sex starts to moisten. "What do you see?" she repeats.

"I see you... standing behind me..." I begin in an uncertain stammer. "We're in the bathroom at work."

"Look closer," she hisses. Her voice sends waves of longing through my whole body.

"I see the scissors in your hand... poised at the button of my shirt."

"Look deeper. Don't trust your mind, look only with your eyes."

"I see..." My vision starts to fray and tatter at the edges. Dizziness tries to push in from all sides, but I force it back focusing on the reflection in the mirror. Slowly, J fades from view and I watch helplessly as I cut the button from my own shirt.