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Little Knots


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It was obviously a hot day. The sun was unforgiving as it beat down on the dirt path, any grass long crushed into oblivion by constant foot traffic, and onto the faded fabrics of awnings, banners, tents, and some of the older participants of this year round historical faire. Guests, who appeared more like irresponsible time travelers walked up and down the sun baked dirt path, exploring the various stalls from vendors, or engaging with the acts and shows of the various participants. Some guests tried harder than others. Then there was the red head walking looking in one of the clothing stalls. She wore a nearly sheer white, gauzy chemise that came down to her knees, which in her mind meant she could wear it as a dress. On top of this, she wore a tight corset of a pastel pink fabric with faint lilac colored flowers embroidered into it. Around her waist was a belt with a cutlass hanging off it, and a replica pistol tucked into the front, its barrel pointed right between her legs. Completing her outfit were a pair of black leather thigh high boots, which had been rolled down to just below her knee. 

Jasmine enjoyed these fairs, and dressing like this. She could see herself in the mirror as the wind pressed her "dress" against her, the faint hint of her red panties showing through the fabric. It was weird what she felt she could get away with here, that she couldn't out there. Still, she felt a little naughty, and kept a skirt in her pack. It was a long walk to her car, and once she was outside of the park, she had to be decent again. The shirtless men had no such concern of course.

The girl picked up some leggings which reminded her of Harlequins outfit from Batman. The cartoon, not the bad movie. After holding them up to the light, and checking the hand written label for the measurements, she decided to buy them, and folded them over her arm. Her backpack was already filled with stuff she had bought, scented hand made soaps, two new corsets, some honey, and a few bags of preserved fruit. What was one more item she figured.

"Aye, it's a pirate lass," the stall keeper said as Jasmine approached, "How fares thee plunderin'?" he asked, his faire accent well practiced but unidentifiable as anything that might of really been spoken.

"Tis been most rewarding," Jasmine replied back, in the same stupid accent. Why not have some fun? she considered. "I shall make off with these fine garments, and perhaps, for your kind words I will leave you some coin!" She handed him the listed price on the leggings, and he smiled pushing her hand away.

"You, lass, are the first boxum pirate lass of the day, tis on the house! Arr!" he said, smiling a weird crooked smile.

"Perhaps a kiss then?" Jasmine replied, leaning over the counter and propping up onto her tippy toes. The stallkeeper grinned and leaned in to kiss her. Once they were done, Jasmine leaned in and whispered, "Want to help me get into these?" He grinned, and took her hand, leading her behind the curtain.

Twenty or so minutes later, Jasmine walked out from behind the curtains, the leggings neatly tucked away into her back, a smile on her face. The wind caught her dress, and pressed the fabric against her once more. The hint of red from her panties was there no more.

A woman, shuffling a tarot deck from across the dirt path smiled as she watched the whole thing unfold. 

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It wasn't long before Jasmine made her way back up the other side of the street. The sun was no directly overhead, and the fortune teller booth had shade, misters, and a comfortable looking couch, so Jasmine slipped in, smiling at the woman with the cards, then said, "Hi? Mind if I sit for a few?"

The older woman smiled, and waved her had towards the couch, "Go ahead little lady, cool off!" Her voice was soft, and firm. If it were a fruit, it would be that perfect orange, so much sweetness contained in a soft pliable, and solid, skin. Her faint laugh lines and crows feet were the only indication that this woman was older than she appeared at first. Jasmine though the woman was attractive, and gave her a flirty smile. She didn't know why, but she had been extra flirty today, ever sense the clothing stall. Thinking of that caused her to blush, and she looked across the road hoping to see the young man. She was disappointed.

"My name is Jasmine," the red headed girl said, sitting down on the couch, and curling her legs beneath her.

"Regina," the fortune teller replied, "Would you like to know a secret?" she said, as she sat down next to Jasmine, and placed a hand on the girls knee.

Jasmine nodded, as she turned to face Regina,  "Sure!" she replied with excitement.

"I know how to find your soul mate," Regina replied, her voice altering just slightly, "It is an old secret, and I sense you are looking for this individual." Her hand ran further up Jasmine's leg.

Jasmine was surprised by the woman's advance, but at the same time, not that surprised. Everyone had been a little, well easy, with her today, and every time she put to much thought into that, she found herself bent over something. She pushed that out of her mind, and curled her legs more, slipping away from Regina's hand. "That is an interesting pick up line."

Regina laughed, and just said, "No silly, I am not talking about me. I have no soul mate, a sacrifice one makes to be an oracle such as I." While Regina spoke, she pulled out a small vial of some kind of ink, "May I?" she asked as she grabbed a quill.

"May you what?" Jasmine asked. It was happening to her again. Her body was trying to tell her she needed to be bent over this couch, right now, with that woman.

Regina interrupted Jasmine's strange train of though, "Draw an augur on you. You see, it will tie you and your soul mate together so that with each passing minute, you wont be able to help but draw closer." Regina had leaned towards Jasmine, and almost whispered the last few words. Jasmine just nodded. She had forgotten how to say no, and it was not the first time today. Regina started to loosen the corset, soon freeing the wrinkled and sweaty cloth that had been pressed between rigid boning and skin. Jasmine did nothing to stop it, just looked on, and continued looking as Regina pulled up the dress, to reveal Jasmine's belly, and her vagina which lacked any coverings right now. Regina did not seem concerned with it at all, and just dipped the quill in the ink, and began to draw a design. "When I complete this, it will fade into your skin, and become a part of you. You will be tied to your soul mate, and you will grow closer to them in time."

Jasmine could only just stare as the woman drew on her, occasionally a member of the crowd came in, and saw what was going on, and just turned around like they had walked into a dead in. Jasmine might of noted that as odd if she were not wishing that Regina would just jam some fingers into her vagina. Instead Regina just said, "Finished," and helped Jasmine get dressed once more.

The rest was all black for Jasmine. Her next moment of remembered awareness she was sitting on her couch at home, in her short PJ shorts, and a white camisole top, watching an episode of My Little Pony.

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Jasmine looked at herself in the mirror. It was Monday, the fun of the weekend and faire had come to an end, and now it was back to the ground. The cream white dress with light grey floral patterns, as not the most exciting mix of colors, but it was pretty, and its form fitting waist and bodice conformed to her natural shape, bringing it out, and teasing the eye down to where the skirt flared out. A light sweater concluded the look. Her hair was hanging loose, as it normally started. At some point during the day, she'd pull it into a mess pony tail. It was about all she could do with her curly mass of hair. She put her dainty glasses on, and smiled. Normally she'd wear contacts, but the last few weeks, she had gone back to wearing glasses. Her prescription had changed, and it was cheaper to get new lenses than it was to get new contacts. Satisfied, she grabbed her purse, a wide brimmed sun hat, and left her small apartment, looking it behind her. Some nice heels hung from her purse, while she wore tennis shoes as she walked down to the bus stop.

It had been almost a year since she had had her accident. Her car had been crushed by the train. She didn't know how she had escaped with the injuries she did. She had been stopped at the gates when a drunk in a large SUV rear ended her, and pushed her into the side of the train. She remembered the car rolling, and flipping. The sound of metal tearing metal, the rupturing bursts as the engine kept trying to work, and instead was just belching uncontrolled small explosions of fuel, starving the engine of oxygen, which in a twist, helped save Jasmine as it prevented the ruptured oil pan, the spraying fuel lines, from catching the rest of the car on fire. Finally, the terror stopped, and she crawled out of her car. A few scratches, a concussion, and some traumatic memories were all that marked her. By now, the scratches and concussion had healed, but she hated driving now, and deliberately only drove if a bus or a lyft would cost to much to get there or wouldn't go there.

Which is how this 23 year old, first year 11th grade history teacher found herself on a public bus heading to the school she taught at. There were times where she would try and drive to work, it was actually cheaper in cost and time to do so, but she struggled to turn the key, and made the choice each time to not start her day off as a little ball of stress, which the kids would identify and just add more stress to.

Today was the first day Jasmine dreaded heading into work. Today was her students first major test, and she was worried that if they did poorly, it would reflect on her, but at the same time if it went well, she may of made it to easy. In short, in her mind, there was no way for her to win today, and it was a matter of what flavor of stress did she want. The long bus ride, listening to the hipster alt music she liked, didn't help her much, just let her recycle all the little stresses she felt everyday, and reminded her that things were going just to well right now, that shoe was going to drop soon.

She also probably needed to get a doctor appointment to get some tests after yesterday. She had no idea what came over her, or how everyone she wanted to do something with was ready, willing, and obliging. Maybe she had smoked something and that is what she was remembering was not really happened. It felt pretty real though.

(To be continued when I get home. Out of lunch break to write in.)

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On 7/16/2018 at 10:00 PM, GhostGirl said:

Her not moment of remembered awareness she was sitting on her couch at home, in her short PJ shorts, and a white camisole top, watching an episode of My Little Pony.

This looks really good so far and I want to read more. The above line, which was the last line in the previous chapter, just seems very confusing to me. 

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11 hours ago, dmavn said:

This looks really good so far and I want to read more. The above line, which was the last line in the previous chapter, just seems very confusing to me. 

Should be next... I just type slower than I think and things get jumbled and autocorrect tries its hardest to translate me.

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Very good start. I was actually very surprised and impressed. You had a character who was involved in a horrible accident and she didn’t become incontinent as a result. My only problem with this is that the chapters are so short and I want to keep reading.  I really wish I still had a like to give it. Hopefully with the next chapter I can give it a like. 

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