A girl called Nancy was walking through a forest dense with lean green trees. Footsore after an hour or so of trudging in insensible shoes, she stopped for a rest. In a little nook next to some nettles nearly as high as her chest she took out a sandwich from her small black shiny bag. In it was some smoked cheese with a little pickle. As it went in her full, sensual mouth she felt full of satisfaction. She dropped a few crumbs which were soon scooped up by a prismatically feathered bird with a body like a thimble and a beak like a needle. ‘Such colourful wildlife!’ she thought before getting back to her feet and following a brambly path that led in a westerly direction.
She trudged on, noting the thick trunks of ancient trees and their gnarly, wrinkled bark. From one a conker almost knocked her on the nose then a red squirrel ferreted after it with its candyfloss tail.
After twenty minutes she came upon a relatively treeless section of the forest. Brambles proliferated and the huge purple-black berries she could see were too tempting to resist. She plucked one with her pink finger and thumb and planted it on her tongue – wonderful! Full of juice as rich as some Australian wine she had once tasted with her grandmother when she was nine…
She helped herself to a handful, then another and her stomach felt swamped with sweet sticky liquid. Effortfully culling her self-indulgence, she picked one more then picked up her walking again.
It was two in the afternoon in high summer. The humidity among all these sap-seeping trees was high too and soon Nancy’s cheeks began to glow as if they had been dusted by an invisible blusher blush. Her thin silk dress clung to her hips and moved less frictionlessly over her thighs. Her feet felt hot inside her really (heely?) unsuitable shoes. All at once she felt uncomfortably oppressed by all the tall trees around her and began to feel slightly stressed. A tree-frog glided overhead, its bat-like membranous wings looked evilly leathery.
She started to walk faster and wished she could see fields, meadows, even the sea…
But the forest was larger than the heart of a whale and its arboreal foliage was in no danger of petering out. Nancy did feel danger though; she wanted to get back home to her safe warm bed with her threadbare teddy-bear.
She walked for another good half hour and yet still the trees were as thick as planks. Frustration grew inside her quicker than a mushroom. She sat down on the ground with a flounce of her flimsy dress and tried to stanch the mini-avalanche of tears rolling down her rosy cheeks. A brief period of weeping was put on hold when – lo and behold! – another girl virtually identical to herself appeared. Nancy did a double-take as if to shake herself out of a dream. Fancy, another Nancy right in front of her eyes!
She rushed to greet her and shake her identically-sized hand. She smiled at her – it was like looking in a mirror. She said, ‘Hello’ and the reply that she heard was uncannily similar to her own girlish voice.
After a short time getting acquainted, the other girl – Nancy the doppelganger – took her by the hand and led her surefootedly through the forest. Soon, after passing a mirrory lake as calm as a meditator’s mind, they arrived as a rather outwardly looking tumbledown shack. A quick twist of the door handle and inside was rather different. As neat as a pin and covered in pink carpets and wallpaper, the little cottage was a sweet, safe, feminine haven from the tall threatening trees.
In a trice her double or Nancy no. 2 made her a nice cup of tea and gave her a cup cake covered in pink icing. They sat chatting and chewing for a time at the same time listening to some beautiful murmurous music leaking out of twin pink speakers. Once the music stuck in a sort of staccato stutter so Nancy no. 2 took out the disc, polished it with the hem of her dress and slipped it back it. It played like a dream.
When they had finished their dainty meal Nancy no. 2 stood up and said: ‘Now Nancy, how about some dressing up? I can turn you into the prettiest girl in the world. In my hands you will be queen of the forest!’ Nancy naturally looked delighted and in no time at all she was led into a pink fluffy bedroom-cum-boudoir with a wardrobe overflowing with floaty delicate dresses. Diaphanous silks and fabulous satins hung there ready to be caressed and sensuously slide over her soft pinkish skin. A row of shoes in various shades from faintest rose to ladybird-red yearned to be tried on and encase her dainty feet. A drawer a quarter open sparkled with diamond necklaces; earrings to hang from lobes like mini-globes and more rings than the planet Saturn…
Before she knew it Nancy had been relieved of her damp, dirty clothes and now her naked form was being caressed by the softest silk knickers, sheer stockings that fitted like a second skin and a bra that fitted like a dream… Nancy no.2 sprayed a fragrant mist of perfume over her which had the most delectable fragile hint of rose petals then began painstakingly painting her fingernails a tint redolent of radishes. Two necklaces, anything but recklessly, were looped around her swanlike neck and three rings were snugly pushed onto her slender fingers. Her feet were slipped into cerise peep-toe mules with heels as thin as rose stems and then she was allowed to step into a heavenly silk dress to make her feel like a goddess/woman/model of femininity. She looked at herself in a mirror and did another double-take: the woman looking back at her looked almost too sumptuous to be true. She felt a tremor of excitement ripple from her semi-visible nipples to her luxuriously sheathed thighs. She looked so ravishing that she could almost fancy herself. Fancy Nancy!
Turning round, teetering glamorously in her high-heels, she realised that she had no need to be narcissistic as her twin ‘sister’ (who was also dressed as prettily) was right next to her. She smiled at her – they both smiled at each other and a frisson of frilly, frothy femininity pulsed deep inside them as they embraced. A brace of pretty women embracing…
Breathless, they simply had to lie down on the fuchsia-sheeted double bed nearby. Soon they were gazing into each other’s bluebell-blue eyes. As evening progressed their pleasure doubled, bloomed liked a strange fruit, then blew them away…
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Photo by: Red lighthouse – Sonja Losberg as art print or hand painted oil. http://www.myartprints.co.uk282 × 218Search by image … Kanevskaya Maria