Jemima Is Your Oyster

The carriage was crowded as always, but he had managed to become pinned in a corner with his back to the wall and so when the ringtone sounded and he fumbled the phone out of his inner pocket there was nobody else who could have seen the screen. As soon as he started to watch the video message that had been sent to him, he was glad that was hemmed in right where he was with no chance of someone catching a glimpse of the footage for even a moment.

He recognised the sight of his own bedroom before he noticed anything else, but then he took note of the one thing in the room that would have looked out of place anywhere in the small apartment.

There in the middle of the floor at the foot of the bed was an eight foot wide clamshell sitting atop a small pile of rocks and dominating the room.

Before he could really take in the strange sight, the camera panned to the left and stopped at the door to the bedroom as it opened.

He recognised Jemima as she stood in the doorway and the camera zoomed in on her puzzled expression. She looked back over her shoulder and then once again at the giant clamshell as though amazed to see the thing right there before her. She never once looked down the lens of the camera or even paid it a moment of attention.

He smiled at the thought that her skills as an amateur thespian were improving.

Jemima padded into the room, her feet bare apart from the black tights that she wore under a pair of denim shorts cut off so high up that simply walking in front of the camera seemed to be part of the show. She took a sip from the straw sunk in the iced coffee that she was holding and stood a few feet from the giant clamshell, regarding it with an air of almost impish curiosity.

He smiled again at the way she studied the thing, aware of the way that she had of pulling off a layer of feigned innocence which only made her all the more attractive.

Jemima leaned forward and placed a tentative hand on the very edge of the clamshell and then jumped back, dropping the iced coffee, as the top of the shell slowly opened before her. Taking perhaps a little over half a minute to open fully, the clamshell revealed an interior that had been padded with soft, blue materials and lined with matching pillows.

Save for the upholstery, the only other item inside the clamshell was an ornate mirror that lay in its centre.

Jemima leaned forward and nervously grasped the handle of the mirror. When nothing unexpected happened, she straightened her back and examined the thing more closely. The mirror consisted of a frame made of an old, tarnished metal that might have been bronze or more likely something supposed to look like bronze. The detail of the thing was lost under the grime of years of neglect, but the silvered glass set in the metal frame was clear and intact.

Unable to resist the human urge to put such a familiar object to the purpose for which it was intended, Jemima glanced at her reflection in the mirror.

As soon as she held the mirror in front of her face, there was a sudden flash of some kind, which seemed to emanate from the surface of the glass. Jemima reacted as if stunned by the flash and staggered a little before collapsing onto the cushions and padding inside the clamshell, where she lay motionless.

Slowly as it had opened, the lid of the clamshell descended and closed, sealing Jemima inside.

The only sign of life in the bedroom was a subtle pulsing of light that escaped from within the clamshell, rising and falling like the beating of a heart.

He shook his head as the video ended and had to admit that he was impressed. He might have made the clamshell himself and engineered the mechanism that opened and closed the thing, but the mirror and the effects as well as the little display of acting were all Jemima.

Now he just had to wait, willing the train on to his destination to discover what the next act of her little play would consist of.

Jemima counted down the time she needed to remain inside the clamshell before she reached down under the padding and found the switch that opened the lid. By now the camcorder had switched itself off and she quickly made her way over to the tripod on which it stood and removed the memory card. All that she needed was a few minutes of editing on her laptop and the video was complete with special effects and ready to be sent to a certain man's mobile when the time was right. But as she was preparing things a few hours ahead of time, that could wait until later.

The first thing she attended to was checking her materials were all in place and setting the right tone for second part of the nights performance.

She started her play list of otherworldly music chosen for its similarity to the sounds of the ocean and the impressions that it conjured of underwater fantasy and drifted towards her dressing table, which had been cunningly left out of the camcorders range.

Jemima glanced over her assembled cosmetics while she slipped off her top and shorts, making sure that everything was where she had left it. As she rolled off her tights she paused for a second to run a hand over a folded garment of aquamarine colour. The fabric was a soft and smooth Lycra that reminded her of what she had planned and she quickly finished the act of undressing, spurred on by the excitement she felt at the anticipation of what lay ahead.

Making her way to the small bathroom, she showered with cosmetics that filled her senses with sensations of salt and surf. Their pleasant aroma mixed with the sounds of the music to help her shed the character of Jemima and assume that of an entirely different creature. By the time she stepped out of the cubicle and made short work of drying herself off, she was totally devoted to the task of transforming herself in both mind and body.

Jemima sat naked at her dresser and reached for the aquamarine garment, placing it in her lap and busying herself with the task of unfolding it. Once she was done, the garment might have been mistaken for a fairly ordinary hobble skirt, save for the fact that it ended in a pair of broad tailfins of a lighter blue and ribbed with silver.

The garment was a mermaid's tail that had been made to measure and Jemima had already had the pleasure of trying it on before her grand performance. She knew that it fitted perfectly and turned her into a mermaid of quite some note.

Jemima bunched the tail up and slipped her legs into it as she might have a pair of tights, pulling the Lycra up and over her calves, knees and then her thighs. Finally she arrived at her waist and smoothed the top of the tail around her middle before attending to the rest of her legs, spreading the fabric out as best she could to give the impression of an even skin.

Satisfied with the results, she made a few practice movements with the tail. Her feet were held inside a light mono-fin at the bottom of the tail which extended into the fins and allowed her to flip and flick her new extremities and she commenced to do just that. The fin actually allowed her to stand in the tail, but she was not about to make that part of the performance when she could demand to be carried!

Satisfied that she was a convincing mermaid below the waist, Jemima turned her attention to the other half of her body. She swung her tail under the dresser and went to work on her corn blonde hair, which she left damp and gathered up into a tight arrangement of pinned down curls. She had come to the conclusion that a mermaid would favour a hairstyle that would not snag or tangle in the deep and keep her eyes clear; even mythical creatures had to value practicality. For the sake of ornament, Jemima added a hair-clip with a spiral shell mounted upon it just behind her right ear. It was a nice little touch, but if she got this right the last thing he would be fixated on would be her choice of hair accessory.

Her next task was to take a jar of talc and rub an even coating over the entirety of her skin that was not covered by the tail. Jemima worked upwards from her waist, over her stomach and up to her breasts. Next came both arms, her back and then her neck; her face she worked upon with cosmetics to achieve a similar effect. Once she had finished, Jemima's skin had become more akin to the tone she imagined lived in the ocean depths and rarely saw the light of day.

Jemima painted her nails, shaded her eyes and coloured her lips in a shade similar to the tone of her tailfin and then reached into a draw to retrieve a pair of small plastic objects and a roll of double sided tape. She expertly taped one of the plastic shapes over each of her nipples, which they covered perfectly. Once they were attached in this way, it was clear that these nipple caps were shaped like small shells and coloured in the same way as her makeup. Vastly too small to ever cover her breasts, these shells were a little joke at the expense of the traditional idea that mermaids wore bras made of seashells. These one would allow her breasts to remain free and the tape would stimulate her nipples when anything made contact with the caps. Far more useful to this mermaid than something that tried to protect her dignity.

Jemima surveyed herself in the mirror, stretched and ran her hands over the length of her body.

She was satisfied that she had turned herself into an irresistible siren.

Jemima quickly sent the video that she had recorded earlier to the intended recipient and then dropped her phone on the dresser.

With that she stood up from the stool in front of the dresser and hopped to the clamshell once more. She opened the lid and curled herself up inside to wait for the cue that she was to emerge and begin her true performance.

He wasted no time in closing the door behind him and making his way up the spiral staircase on his way to the bedroom. When he opened the door he was greeted with the sounds of the music that Jemima had been playing still filling the air, but the only thing that held his attention was the clamshell itself.

He had shed most of his unnecessary clothing on the way up, but still wore his shirt and trousers on account of the fact that no amount of sexual excitement could overcome his native tendency towards shyness. He was still removing his tie when he arrived in front of the clamshell and paused to take a deep breath before placing a hand on the lid to open it.

Once more the lid opened slowly and silently, but this time it revealed a treasure hidden inside, nestled in amongst the padding and the cushions.

Jemima had actually managed to fall into a fairly deep sleep inside the shell as she waited for her cue and so when the lid fully opened he was presented with the sight of a mermaid in slumber, curled into a foetal position with her tail hugged close to her body and her naked chest rising and falling with every breath. Though her sleep was unintentional, he had no way of knowing and he was rooted to the spot for a time and able to do nothing but stare at the beauty of her shape and form.

After some hesitation, he stretched out a hand and brushed her cheek as lightly as he dared.

It was enough to stir Jemima and she awoke slowly, for a moment forgetting what was going on. But as soon as she saw the look on his face she was reminded of just what he was looking at and the preparation that she had made simply seemed to flow into her mind and fill in all of the gaps. In those few seconds that she took to collect herself, Jemima was no longer a woman in a mermaid costume; she was instead the mermaid that she had created in her own mind. The character lived and breathed in her and there was no need whatsoever to pause to think what the fantastical creature she had turned herself into would have done right there and then.

She looked up at him with lazy eyes as he withdrew his hand and then slowly uncurled her body so that she stretched out onto her belly. Arms stretched above her head, she allowed her tail to stretch out at the other end of her body and over the edge of the shell. Next she arched herself, pulling her torso up on her hands and her tail back upwards so that the tips of her tailfins brushed the back of her head. From there she released her muscles and allowed her body to relax, sliding around so that she ended on her side once more, but this time she propped her head up on her right hand and moved so that her tail beat in what would seem an unconscious motion.

Jemima studied him as though this were the first time she had laid eyes upon him, all the time she ran her left hand along her thigh, hidden as it was by the tail, and over her stomach to her breasts. She gave all the indication that she could, hinting that she was both deeply curious and at the same time contemplating the possibilities of his body.

The twist in her performance was the supposition that the mermaid had never seen a man before and was thus ignorant of the fact that he could read her physical signals at all. Jemima was trying to appear both aroused and unsure as to what she was supposed to do in order to get what she wanted from him, and as far as he was concerned the performance was spot on.

All at once he seemed to come alive, shaken from the state of being satisfied simply to stand and stare at the mermaid in the clamshell. He stepped forwards and scooped her out of the shell, his senses filling with the smell of the salt cosmetics that she wore and feeling a new surge of excitement as his hand caressed the curve of her buttock through the fabric of the tail.

As he carried her to the bed, she pressed her breasts to his chest and took in a deep breath, allowing the sensation of the caps covering her nipples to run through her body. Jemima had agreed to play a mermaid for him so that she could bring another of his fantasies to life: to discover and bed his own mermaid. But not just any mermaid, for some reason he had wanted to turn her into a mermaid and her alone. Not a chance encounter with a trollop of the sea for this man, oh no!

At first she had been amused and then flattered that he wanted to see her with a tail and fins rather than some of the Hollywood types that had played mermaids in the past. But then she had begun to consider the restrictions of a tail and wonder if there was any fun to really be had as a creature that flopped about out of its native element. She had almost considered sinking the idea at one point, but she was loathe to disappoint him and determined not to be the first to veto a destination on their mutual voyage of sexual discovery.

So she had ordered the tail and come up with the scenario while he made the props.

It was only when Jemima had tried the tail on for the first time in private and experimented that she had received a revelation. Dressed in the tail and committed to giving it her all, she had found that far from being restricted by the garment, she was instead strangely liberated by the experience in a way that reminded her of the costumes that they had used in the past.

Forced by the hobbling of her legs to think in terms of what was possible rather than what was not, Jemima spent hours exploring just what a mermaid could do with her body. Before too long she found that her movements had a grace and fluidity that was totally alien to the normal human body and she began to see her motion as something akin to the flow of water when wearing the tail.

The clincher had come when she had gone a step further and introduced a familiar vibrator into the equation and been totally unprepared for the effects that her legs being held together by the tail had upon her climax. Pinned down in such an unusual manner, the orgasm had caught her by surprise and she was enthralled by every moment that it lasted. Even when it had passed she found that she was filled with aftershocks the moment that she tried to move and so she was only able to lay there, sealed in the tail and her own pleasure until the thing had subsided.

Back in the here and now, he laid her upon the bed, her head placed on the pillows.

Jemima watched as he undressed, her hands upon her stomach and the border of her tail, as though she were fighting her own desire for him.

Moments later he knelt over her and gently lowered himself across her tail so that their intimate parts met through the fabric. She laced her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a brief kiss before encouraging his hands to explore her body and caress the shape of her tail.

It was at this point that the age old question about mermaids and human men began to make itself known in a small corner of his mind. But Jemima had thought ahead as she always did and was more than prepared for the question of access.

Gently she pushed him away while making sure he read in her face that she was still more than willing, and turned herself over beneath him.

He exhaled heavily at the sight of her curves in motion and at the feel of the tail as it brushed against his member.

And then he saw the discreet hole that had been sewn into the back of the tail so expertly that it was almost invisible to the eye.

But the real trick was one that Jemima had learned as she experimented with the tail, that if she flexed her muscles in just the right way...

Before his eyes the hole in the tail opened as though in answer to Jemima's desire for him as she raised her buttocks and looked back over her shoulder at him, not pleading, but asking.

He answered by slowly entering the hole and then quickening his motions as he felt the familiar warmth of her body meet his own.

Jemima bit her lip at the sensation as he entered her and his hands reached around to grip her stomach. The feeling from the toy had done nothing to prepare her for this, it was another world of colour and sensation, but she was still pinned in the same position and unable to escape the feeling even had she wanted to do so.

At first he remained where he had begun, as if mounting her from behind and afraid that letting go might mean she would vanish forever. But then he began to loose the feeling of desperation and together they rose into a position where he knelt behind her, the fins of her tail beneath him and his arms pulling her back against his chest. Fingers that were not her own played with the edge of the tail and rubbed against the shells on her nipples sending more sensations through her body, sensations that she was captive to in her mermaid form.

Somehow Jemima found herself on what would have been all fours on a normal day, her hands clinging to the head of the bed as he pulled her onto himself and made her back arch in answer to his motions. She cried out as she climaxed and her fins beat against his buttocks as the full force of the orgasm and his, which followed only seconds afterwards, racked her body from her head to the tip of her tail.

Jemima was lost in the sensation for what seemed like ages after it was over. Swept along in the release of the orgasm, part of her was convinced that the experience had somehow melted her legs together like the wax of a candle and moulded them in the shape of the tail. She would have believed that it had been sealed in place and that she was destined to live as a mermaid for the rest of her life.

Jemima slept in the tail that night, curled in his arms and beating her tail, lost in dreams of being a mermaid and being kept as an exquisite and sensual pet.

Had that been the truth of the matter, she thought, she would not have been disappointed in the slightest.