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Megan (p1 of ?)

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Preface: My stories tend to be longer, slow burns. Kinky stuff is hinted at, but might not come in right away.

Also, this is based on an iconic (for me) piece of pop-culture. Can you guess what it is? It's a TV-show/movie.

You enter a sizable suburban house though a mat of long overgrown vines covering a large double door entry way. Windows long smashed out, and through the empty panes you hear a voice beckon you in...

"Hello...?" you say nervously. I. I. I'm here to look at your um vhs collection. It's Dave, you know, from Craig's list?"

The interior is incredibly dusty and dark. White sheets draped over what you assume is furniture.

You look around for the source of the voice "uh.. um. Are you sure you want..." you start to say, but the voice cuts you off:

"Hey you. You're interested in the tapes right?"

You shift slightly to your left, gazing over the vague outline of a couch. You can barely perceive the figure of the voice's owner, shrouded in darkness.

"Yes! That's me, so I'm in the right place?" You say.

"Yes...this way..." You hear as the voice trails off and the figure fades completely from view.

You hesitate, and caution tells you to turn around - walk out the way you came...but a powerful, sensual curiosity hits you like a wave of musky perfume. Thoughts of a VHS tape carefully pulled out of it's laminate, graphic sheath by a pair of dainty and expert hands... Brown eyes connecting with yours over a tape deck. Another arm reaching over to brush yours slightly, that musky scent filling your mind...

A slight, alarming, rush of warmth can be felt beneath your shorts... You've always been a bit of daydreamer you think emptily. But the fanciful vision fills you with enough warmth, that your natural trepidation subsides, replaced with something like yearning.

It's enough to compel you forward through the dim, dank remains of the house, towards the figure.

"Hey, uh, yeah I'm trying to..come. Could you slow down?" You stutter, as you step over dark shapes covering the floor.

As you draw closer, the limited light begins to fade altogether and very soon it's almost as if you've entered a lightless cave. Until suddenly, you stop, detecting a wall in front of you. You reach your hand forward, landing on the cold metal of a door knob. You turn it, and push forward into a warm brightly lit space.

No one seems to be present in the room with you as you peer in from the doorway. You cast your eyes about, noticing first the high peaked, uninsulated ceilings. Then you step into the room slightly more swiveling your head to the left to see a bed in the middle of the room, with another lofted bed against the far wall. You notice a faded orange floatation ring affixed to the lofted bed - which strikes you as oddly familiar somehow. In fact, the whole room seems familiar, like you've been there before, in a dream or maybe from a movie...?

You look around a bit more, seeing a faded american flag sagging from the angled studs of the ceiling.

You step forward, now fully bathed in the warm glow. You blink, feeling a persistent stupor fade slightly from your mind.

How did you get from the ground floor into what appears to be an attic bedroom?

"Hello...?" You beckon, and from the side of the loft hidden from your view, a figure stands and turns towards you, cardboard box hoisted between their hands.

"I'm really sorry, but I don't think I'm feeling too good, can we do this another time?" you start to say. But as you meet, what is now clearly "her" eyes the curiousity and yearning rolls over your mind once again, and more powerfully than before.

You see, in that split second, darks eyes, a pale face framed by dark hair - it's a woman with a decidedly placid, maybe even bored expression on her face.

She's looking at you, as the words die on your lips "I'm real..." Is all you get out and she her eyes narrow slightly.

"My brother's old tapes" she says. Walking over to a couch in front of you, dropping the box on the cushions.

"Oh." You say, stepping down a few stairs in front of you.

"Do you mind if I look through them?"

"Sure." She says nonchalantely, and starts walking back over to the loft.

Your inconspicuous knowledge of the room continues to bother you as you rifle through the tapes each one labelled identically with a blue and a green arrow diverging from a point between them.
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