"Skin"

by Nathan Dayspring

Ally picked up the envelope from among the daily junk with a raised eyebrow. It was medium size, rectangular and bound for the bin but for its elegant handwriting and slightly swollen shape. Cursory examination offered no clue as to the sender's identity either in the form of an adress or any telltale commercial logo. But there was no mistaking its destination -her address had been inscribed right down to the much disused appartment number- or its sender's intention- the letter had been duly pre-paid.

She set down her half-drunk tea mug and squeezed the envelope softly, trying to guess the content by touch. Hazy memories of teenage days drifted back up to the surface of her mind, when similar mail had once yielded a small crop of freshly cut pubic hair, courtesy of an anonymous schoolmate whose wild dreams had probably failed to materialize.

Casting the reminiscence aside with a wry smile, Ally picked up a kitchen knife and cut the side of the letter open. She slid two ginger fingers inside. Whatever she found felt smooth, almost fresh against her fingertips - nothing like the slightly prickly, brushy sensation she now had to admit she had feared. Sighing inwardly, she tipped the envelopped and eased the content out.

It had been carefully folded so as to fit the size of the envelope. Now spread out under her hands, the package revealed itself as a large strip of oily blackness, shorter than a scarve but just as wide. Set against the immaculate white of the tablecloth, the material glistened under the morning light streaming between the curtained French windows of the living-room. Ally picked up the strip and held it up in front of her. It felt astonishingly light for such a large piece, lighter than silk even, but just as smooth.

Strange, thought Ally as she played idly with the fabric. Rubbing it between her fingertips, she felt it stretch out and mould itself against her skin, both yielding and resilient, and so thin.
She was not so innocent as to never have heard of latex -you could hardly browse for erotica these days without coming across the shiny, alien-looking outfits and trendy clothes designers had wasted no time in jumping the bandwaggon of fashionable provocation. But unsurprisingly her experience of it so far had remained confined to the rather mundane and definitely unarousing realm of weekend housework and oversized cleaning gloves.

She lay the strange gift down in front of her and picked up the envelope again. The skilfull curves of the handwriting smiled to her but failed to offer any enlightening clue. There was delicate care in the way her name had been traced, measured intent that denied itself undue intensity so that her mind now wavered between uneasy puzzlement and sheer curiosity.

It was Saturday morning and the sun was already high in the Summer sky. Another weekend stretched vacantly in front of her. She put the envelope down just above the long glossy strip and gazed at it inquiringly, chin rested in cupped hands while her undrunk tea finished cooling off by her elbow.

*
It was a glorious late afternoon, of the kind that either made you euphoric or utterly miserable, depending on your circumstances. Yellowish light poured down liberally where allowed to between the half-drawn curtains, creating haphazard pools of warmth on the wooden floor Here and there, pinned plastic blueprints caught in the flimsy breeze of an electric fan chittered softly as they brushed against the creamy walls of the small studio.

Ally pulled her knees together and clasped her hands around her bare legs, her feet toeing the border between heat and shadow. Now she only wished for a long cool shower, if only she could muster enough will to call it a day and get her sorry ass off the floor and into the tub. Hopefully, she might even wash away some of the past week, the aborted advert campaign, the in-house bickerings, the cheap workplace romances and endless gossips.

She extended a hand and groped for the package. The soft padding yielded invitingly under her touch as she grasped it between two fingers and thumb and dragged it into her lap. It had been a week now and her sleep had grown ever lighter as the weekend got nearer. It had been all she could do not to tear the larger envelope open and search it content with grasping fingers. Now at last, self-imposed workday had elapsed and Ally felt like a kid on Boxing Day. She traced the outline of the now-familiar handwriting, relishing its gentle waves and precise drafting of her name, pressing the surface here and there for the content to reveal itself. Then with a self-indulgent smile, she took the pair of scissors lying beside her empty coke can and wedged its pointy end under the sealing tape.

The inky fabric slid out with a smooth, rubbery sigh as it brushed against the edges of the envelope. It came down limply against the back of her raised hand where it unfolded like an uncanny multy-stemmed flower, a thin pair of oily black gloves glistening in the dimming light.

Against her face the alien contact was first unsettling. She pressed her hands to her mouth and nose and inhaled the curious, rubbery scent. Tasted it on the tip of her tongue. Buried herself in the dark pools of her palms. With the glossy surface gently fitting itself to her features, the contact grew more familiar, warmer to her tingling flesh, till it felt like a second skin, so strangely intimate. With a life of their own, her gloved hands set to explore the warm expanse of her body. They slid gently down her neck on subtle tracks, tracing the blood pulsing underneath; jumped the unwanted wasteland of her camisole to dip under its wet rim and probe the toned, slippery landscape of her belly; rose tentatively to the base of her breasts, reaching out past the grainy alveolas to the jutting, electric tip of her nipples.

The touch was otherly yet hers a thousand times as her clad fingers crawled down to the fringe of her pubis, tousled the thin blonde hair and wedged themselves into the awaiting wetness of her cleft. There they found their familiar bearings, gliding easily over her swollen mound, acquainting the rosy nooks and crannies of blood-filled flesh with the dark, stealthy fabric. The smell was hers as well, more pungent and spicy against the artificial perfume; the taste was hers, where natural and alien chemistries combined to bring out luscious salts against her tongue.

As the afternoon drew to a close, she lay silent on the floor, watching shadows swallow the room and tame the remaining heat of the day, her mind abuzz with a lulling mantra. It was a simple phrase, in the same elegant script, inscribed on a small ivory card that had accompanied her present.

Try us on, it read.
*

Three weeks now and life at the office had become bearable, if failing to improve. Private life was a wilderness, but that too Ally now learnt to handle with a distance as she just went through the motions and waited for the week to end. Not that she would stop caring, only she had other things in mind, as she had teasingly let slip during coffee-break inquisition.

Whatever doubt she might have felt like entertaining had proved litlle match for the prospect of a quiet late evening, when she now simply showered the day off, dimmed the lights and let her gloved hands re-charter her emotional map. She found no despondency in the new ritual, nor the edgy elation that generally betokens a creeping breakdown. What small measure of soul-searching she had disciplined hersef to go through had yieded nothing but unusually deep, shameless contentment.

The third mail had waited for her as a prize would a deserving pupil, and it was with unexpected reverence that she had got on her kness besides the thick bundle and its oh-so preciously careful labelling. Like a Japanese courtesan of old, Ally now knelt on her bed, naked feet tucked sagely under her buttocks, straight-backed, hands folded in her lap, as if giving a silent prayer of thanks for the gift that now lay unfolded before her.

The catsuit was of the lightest fabric, a veil of ink that came alive with a thousand flowing shimmers whenever she turned it in the soft evening light. It sang under her fingers as she tested its resilience, unleashing its heady fragrance with each twist of the wrist until she could only bury her face once again into the immaculate surface and breathe its essence with every pore of her skin.

The embrace, if gradual, was complete. Each part of the body covered under Ally's careful hands became one with the outfit as the fabric adhered to the skin and appropriated it. Flesh resisted first, sending instinctive claustrophobic alarm flashes before relenting and finally giving way to the eerie tide. Inch by inch, it receded under the new, gloriously shining layer until nothing was left but the soft, youthful face in its golden frame. Stretching out, Ally then reached far back for the cordonned zipper and after the slightest of pause, gave a determined tug and cocooned herself.

As naked hands had first questioned a beckoning sample, as gloved fingers had explored bare flesh, so now did skin finally meet skin and operate the transformation. Lying on her back in the white mellowness of her bed, Ally let her body stir freely in its new garment and mark its unchartered boundaries. Toned thighs and calves rubbed gently against each other, arms snaked beside and around her, hands fluttered, feet and toes brushed in delighted unison while belly muscles tightened and relaxed, and tenderly squashed breasts pushed forward by a heaving torso thrusted defiant nipples up against the welcoming yet unyielding barrier.

Skin fought and kissed skin, squeezing what little air was trapped in between into warm wet waves, playing with the rivulets of salty sweat that the flesh was starting to yield liberally. Humidity and heat pooled around behind her knees and on the sole of her feet, around her breasts and into her belly button, in the heart of her crotch.

Feel me, it had said. Feel me, it now cried out inside her mind.

*
Wait for me.

A command. An invitation. Either or both she could not know nor wished to ponder. The last mail had been the most anticipated. Fittingly, it had proved the most challenging.

Ally sat cross-legged on her bed and gazed wonderingly at the opened package and its spread content. The sun had nearly set and bathed the small bedroom with garish red tones that set her catsuit alight with liquid fiery reflexions. Two fingers came up against her half-open lips and remained there for a while, softly brushing the tentative cleft while her mind played again the past weeks.There was no decision as such for her to make. This she had done on the very first day when she brought the prized latex strip to her face and kissed it welcome. But there remained a last step to take, a leap of faith in herself as well as in the future which sent soft shivers down her spine and made her belly flutter.

The straps were of narrow black nylon, with a loop system that would at the same time allow their user to imprison both ankles and wrists and fastened them with the small attached padlock. There had been no key for her to find. She had expected none. She shifted her position and looked down at herself. Her feet and legs did not shake, her belly and breasts were their usual firm under the slight constriction of the fabric. Searching her feelings she still found contentment, pride even at her dashing appearance and all it now stood for, still such a tiny fraction of what she could expect. Realization made her smile and she hung her head in a sudden onrush of coyness. Did one ever stopped being afraid of growing up, she mused wrily.

Now her feet were safely bound. The dark straps snaked uncompromisingly around her crossed ankles then coursed up her legs and reached out to her right wrist where it rested on her knees. A few more loops and all would be said. Something, however, still held her back and it was a few minutes before she could pin it down and set it right for good. The large black strip felt as light as ever in her gloved hand, a treasured charm that would now perform its ultimate -perhaps its original- service for her tonight. Once again she allowed herself to feel its delicate embrace against her skin, took its rubbery fragrance inside her, tasted it in her mouth like a lover's token. Reassured by its friendly touch, she brought it up to her eyes and carefully blindfolded herself. Having smoothed the strip down one last time, she reached for the straps and got herself ready.

It must have been midnight, even though she had long lost track of time. The witching hour, when reality was at its weakest and transition most palpable. The tiny click and sigh of the door opening and closing down in the quiet of the night echoed through her entire body, causing every muscle to stiffen in anxious alert. The dull throb of her blood grew more urgent where the nylon straps pressed into her flesh and she fought a sudden urge to tug hard at her bonds and thrash about like a trapped animal caught in the glare of a poacher's lamp. Every nerve ending now acted as a merciless eye, letting her feel with almost painful accurracy the progress of a lean presence through the short corridor, the long thighs brushing against each other to the quiet tempo of regal high heels, the firm muscles moving with easy confidence under the inky shimmer of the skin, the indulgent smile hovering over impish lips. Adrenaline buzzed within her and she felt her toes flex tightly and crumple the sheets underneath as shadow gave way to shadow on the doorstep of her bedroom and she was no longer alone.

Ally's throat constricted as she vainly tried to swallow. A faint creaking sound jarred the heavy silence where the mattress accommodated its new visitor, heralding the lightest touch of musky perfume.

'Good girl', the voice said.
*

Slender gloved fingers traced the length of her leg, from ankle to knee, tracing waving patterns on the rubbery surface, eliciting a shiver or a subdued gasp at leisure. They scouted the rounded mounds of her clasped knees, met and teased her captive hands, feeling their pulse sing where the bonds constricted the blood flow, smiling at the way they suddenly tensed up, fingers outstretched before relaxing again as her touch relented or moved away. A swift hand grasped the taut strap that fastened her wrists to her ankles and made it twang like a musician tuning his instrument at the onset of a concert. Warm lips closed in on her half-open mouth and bathed her in a fresh, sugary scent.

'You did us proud', she whispered. Ally's body shook mightily as lips met lips and the inviting tip of a tongue trespassed the yielding barrier of her teeth and brushed against her own, gone with a fond grin before she could capture it and make it hers.

As she writhed under the searching touch, so Ally's stengths seemed to ebb, spirited away with each contact, each tracing of her curves, each probing move and teasing caress. Then the padlock clicked open and she reclined gently, her still bound hands coming up to rest above her head and causing her to arch further. Shiny muscle-toned thighs straddled her legs, imprisoning her joint knees in the mellow warmth of her visitor's crotch. Ally twisted tautly, her bound feet stretching out on the sheets, pushing up her aching breasts. Skin slithered upon skin and bellies merged as the visitor swooped down on her and caught her quivering lower lip between hard, ivory teeth. Ally exhaled a throaty moan. She arched further up and pressed herself against the delicious weight, hands balled into tight fists, thusting out her hips in maddening hunger.

Liquid fire trickled down her chin and started its molten flow along her throat in the wake of the woman's knowing tongue. Ally's breath now came out in ragged gasps, her spine threatening to snap with each passing brush of the lips. A sudden pause left her stranded, ready to choke on a rising moan. Her hips shuddered in frustrated puzzlement. Just as suddenly, two hands grasped her buttocks in iron clutches. She let out a cry of both shock and relief that was immediately drowned in a dizzying surge of pure adrenaline as the woman's face plunged between her tighs and her mouth engulded her pelvis.

Ally's shook helplessly in the visitor's grasp, her world contained and ruled by her sucking lips, her insistent teeth and all-embracing tongue. Her juices rose and flowed in sympathy with the drool liberally coating her forbidding skin while her full-blown clit greeted each devious prompting with sudden bursts of scorching plasma. At long last, with sweat and salt working their sensual alchemy, skin and latex finally melted and Ally completed her surrender.

There would be no talk. The last gift was hers to make, for which no card would be needed.

'Eat me', she breathed.

Nathan Dayspring 2006