I’m lying on my back in the darkness. Although I can’t see anyone, I feel the presence of a woman behind me, observing my condition. I hear footsteps approaching, the sound of heels echoing on a hard floor. I lift my head and see a flickering shape in the distance, coming closer. I can’t tell what it is at first, but begin to recognize the shape as two shapes, moving together — Mira’s legs, sheathed in thigh-high white stockings that somehow shimmer with moving light. I feel my cock growing hard, and she’s suddenly standing above me, legs locked straight with her heels planted beside my waist. I stare up at her strangely glowing nylons, and feel my cock growing so hard that it’s filled with an almost unbearable pressure. I think it’s just the beauty of Mira’s perfectly sculpted legs getting to me, but I begin to distinguish individual images playing upon them, and it becomes apparent that dozens of movies exist upon or within the white of her stockings. I recognize scenes from when we met and danced together, the very first time I ate her pussy in a rocking chair, the sex with Lucinda and others. I see myself hypnotizing Mira, and hypnotizing other women, fucking Rosita and Coral yet always coming back to taste Mira's physical wonders again. Even our sex from earlier in the night is there, as though every moment of my recent sexual history has been visually stored within the fabric of Mira’ stockings, forever playing there.

“How are you able to do that?” I ask, fascinated by the dizzying display.

“It isn’t her,” the unknown and unseen woman answers from somewhere nearby. “It’s me, inside of you."

"Who are you?" I ask, the woman's voice familiar and haunting.

"Just watch,” is all she says.

I think she means watch the movies playing on the twin screens of Mira’s shapely legs, but Mira begins to twist at the waist, hips slowly gyrating, hands cupping her firm breasts. It's a supremely seductive sensual dance above me, Mira moving as only she can move. She bends at the waist and takes hold of my hard cock with her hands, and still swaying, repeats what the unseen woman said: “Just watch.”

“Do it!” I hear the unseen woman urge. “Unlock him; give him a glimpse!”

Mira begins to twist the flesh of my dick, one way at the top, in the reverse direction at the base. It feels incredible, the most intense hand-job ever, but my eyes widen with curiosity when I see a seam beginning to appear right at the middle of my penis. It’s like she’s twisted it into two independent halves, and the top half suddenly disengages from the base, still a part of my dick, but with a new independent movement.

She pumps the top part of my cock vigorously with her hand, and I hear a hissing sound, like steam escaping. Something flutters out from my cock, something dark and alive, and I hear it flying around the room.

“It lives!” the unknown woman asserts, and I have the sense that whatever it is has landed upon her shoulder like a favored pet.

“What just happened?” I ask Mira.

She smiles down at me, confident, calm. “You can’t fight it,” she says. “You wouldn’t even want to, because we have this!”

With that, she twists the top part of my cock hard to the left, the bottom part to the right. A new alignment is achieved and suddenly the top of my dick rockets further erect, impossibly erect, as though it was always held back from achieving its full length. The sensations within my cock multiply with the expansion, and I’m looking up in amazement, the gleaming head of my dick towering at least two feet from the rest of my body. I groan as Mira strokes the entirety of my new length, squeezing me between her hands and forearms.

“Look at what you can do!” Mira says, and I know then that my penis has always had this capability. Every penis has the potential to grow like this, every vagina the possibility of growing deeper to accept it.

“Now we can really make love,” Mira breathes, bending her glowing movie-screen legs and slipping the head of my impossibly long dick inside of her. With scenes of our past playing to either side of our physical contact, it’s like my dick is inserting itself into carnal history. I feel myself going in, and going in more, and more and more, inch after inch after inch, until Mira has absorbed every bit of my titanic meat. “I can feel you… touching me here!” she exclaims, placing her hands over her heart. She gasps and the images playing upon her white stockings speed up, flickering so fast that I can’t look away from them. I feel my psyche pulled in, gripped like my cock is gripped inside. I see familiar people I don’t even know stroking Mira’s legs, stroking my cock and my mind, stroking me even as I’m inside of Mira’s beating heart…

It all comes together and I see behind the veil.

I awakened from the dream gasping, and felt Mira — the real Mira — holding my throbbing cock in her warm hands.

“You were dreaming,” she said, nuzzling her cheek against the side of my neck. “Your heart is beating a million miles an hour! What were you dreaming?”

“I was dreaming about you,” I whispered, breathless.

“I already know that,” she teased, giving my hardness a firm squeeze. “What else?”

We lay there in the dark hotel room, me with my mind racing and my cock inflated by the crazy dream. Mira held me tight, the scent of our earlier sex everywhere. Images from the dream flashed behind my eyes and I tried to recall what I had seen at the end — some hidden thing glimpsed, some illusion unveiled…

Gone. Not everything, though, and I tried to convey what I could recall.

“I was lying on the floor, with you standing over top of me,” I began to describe. “There was some mysterious woman nearby, watching, somehow a part of things even though I never saw her. You had white stockings on, like now, but your legs glowed like they were movie screens. You were helping me to discover things… that I didn’t know I could do.”

“Was I dancing for you?” she asked.

“It started as a dance, yes. But it became so much more.”

“I love to dance for you,” she whispered. “I dream about it, about dressing for you, and stripping for you, and watching you throb for me. You don’t know what it felt like for me, at your bachelor party. It was intoxicating, performing like that with nothing held back, mixing my dance training with seduction and sex. I can move and flow and embody the most challenging choreography, and I used to think that that was enough. It was enough. But that night, seducing you in front of your friends… I felt like a goddess. I felt like my body could do anything and everything.”

There in the near-darkness, pressed together, Mira told me of the weeks after the bachelor party. She resolved to stay away from me, having had her fun, and her revenge. She had determined that the bachelor party ambush would be the final taste of me, the send-off that gave her needy pussy just one more dip into my pecker’s pool. She returned home and tried dating, which, as she had already told me, didn’t really work. Frustrated, horny, she found herself replaying the film of the bachelor party over and over, masturbating to it and fantasizing about how she might dance for me the next time. If there was a next time.

She drove up to the city in early August, just for a weekend, just to see where I lived and perhaps get a glimpse of my wife. Only she stayed, sitting inside her car in the dark, night after night, staring at my house. She didn’t want to barge in and tear the fabric of my life apart, and she could never fully accept that she was stalking me. Still, she went so far as to look for a hidden key on my front and back porches, fully intending to slink inside sometime when I was at home, and Coral was away. The pressure kept growing inside, and she followed me, followed my movements everywhere, masturbating and plotting.

She applied for a leave of absence from the dance company, and began to follow Coral, too, studying the woman that I slept with every night. She didn’t have a plan, exactly, and fumed at my “Little Miss Bigtits” from afar. She began to film herself in her hotel room, dressed in various seductive outfits, masturbating to fantasies of how she would intercept me, and eventually steal me away from my wife. The idea eventually surfaced that she would seduce Bill Littlefield, and use him to get inside my world. The thought of treating someone that way was abhorrent, and she kept trying to fight the urges. She had his number, and his email. And then the phone call from Coral, the miracle call out of the blue, my wife almost begging Mira to model for her. Just like that, she was in.

I listened to Mira’s story with a strange kind of retro-fear gripping my heart. She had been hovering right at the periphery of my life for much of the summer, and could so easily have stepped closer, ruining everything. I didn’t know whether to be terrified of Mira’s obsession and all that might have happened, or to thank her for managing to remain at a safe distance for so long.

“And now?” I asked, not sure if I should. “Where are we now?”

“I’m not going away, Michael. I… can’t. And even if you pretend otherwise sometimes, I know you don’t want me to. Even your dreams are telling you that.”

“But what will you do? I thought you’d quit the dance company outright, but you can go back?”

“They don’t want to lose me. I have some time to make up my mind.”

“How much time?”

She didn’t answer directly. “I’ve always been a performer by nature. Dance used to give my life meaning. But now I want something more. Something… different.”

She spoke again of the way she had felt when dancing at my bachelor party. The experience had gotten to her in ways she hadn’t expected, stirring something she wasn’t sure she understood.

“The way you were looking at me, the way everybody was looking at me, all there in the palm of my hands, mesmerized by my body… That’s the word for it — mesmerized. I felt so powerful, so desired, so… worshipped. And so unspeakably hot, like I could make people do anything, I was so hot.”

The word “mesmerized” seemed to hang in the air, fluttering, perhaps, like the dark something that had haunted my most recent dream.

“Have you ever thought of that?” Mira whispered.

“Thought of… how unspeakably hot you are?”

“No. I know you know how hot I am. Have you ever thought of using your technique to make someone feel a certain way?”

My heart skipped a beat. “You know I have — we tried to save your marriage like that. It didn’t work.”

She nuzzled closer, her mouth next to my ear. “Remember when we first met?” she whispered.

“I remember, vividly.”

“We danced together, and I think I never really recovered.”

“But I dance horribly,” I said automatically, my heartbeat rising. Where was she going?

“With your feet, yes. You were awful. But you have other ways to lead, and you can follow, too, by letting me guide you a little. You remember that, how I helped you to move better?”

Leading. Following. She almost sounded like me.

“Sometimes a woman can help a man to do more than he imagines possible. She can unlock gifts he never even knew he had.”

For some reason a shiver went all the way down my spine, causing my legs to twitch. Her words sounded like the image from my dream, where she somehow freed my cock to grow as it had never grown before. It also sounded like the last year and a half of my life, because I never would have acquired and perfected the immersion technique without lusting for Mira as I had.

“Your voice, for example,” she continued. “I think you don’t know its power.”

I said nothing, knowing that all this time, it was she who’d underestimated what my voice could do, and had done. Had something changed?

“I’ve always melted into your voice,” Mira continued. “Almost from the first minute. Why do you think I called you all those times, and almost begged for phone sex? Your voice resonates… so deeply. All those months without you, all those tortuous weeks… I kept needing, and wanting. I wanted you, your voice and your cock, living inside of me. I had to… follow…”

Her entire body shivered against me. I shivered back, hearing my hypnotic instructions being unconsciously repeated.

“You weren’t able to make me love Taylor,” she went on. “A little fire got lit, but it fizzled out. That was an impossible task, though; it really says nothing about what you can do, or could do. You have a gift, Michael. A power, even. You could