Pandora's Panties

"Bitter. Some Jimson weed. Datura. And something else... a bit of... hmmm," she looked at Jack, startled. "No, not mine. But I think I know whose work this might be. The panties are indeed a gris-gris, as you suspected. They're intended to seduce the wearer with sensual pleasure, to draw her into their world of decadence and away from a loved one. The pleasure they give is meant to be unmatched, and thus they will distance the wearer from her husband or boyfriend or lover. No man would be able to compete with these. If my suspicions are correct, and I am pretty sure they are, the panties are cursed with a vengeance spell."

I looked at Jack and he, in turn, looked at me. "Why?" I asked.

"Jealousy, I suppose," he said.

Celine shook her head. "Yes, but more than that. These, I think, bear the vindictiveness of someone spurned who wants to hurt both the wearer and her loved one. And it's a very personal spell. A spell that required intimate knowledge of the rival and her lover."

Jack and I were both speechless.

"How would she know, Jack?" I asked.

He lowered his eyes to his hands, opened palms up, in his lap. "I told her. We shared... intimate stories of our previous lovers. She got off on my telling her about you. And I did, before I came to realize she'd become obsessed with you. When I figured out what was happening, I stopped."

"And that was when things started to fall apart?" Celine asked.

Jack nodded. "It was almost as if Amy had become a third in our marriage. Livvie was simply obsessed with hearing about her. Claimed I loved Amy and that I no longer needed her. She wanted me to invite Amy to join us, in bed - she thought that would revive our passion for each other. I refused to do it. That's when she started withholding sex."

I looked at Jack, puzzled and horrified.

"But Livvie wouldn't stop at that. Livvie was always extremely sexual," Celine said, softly.

I looked at Celine and wondered how she would know that about Jack's wife.

"She brought another woman into our bed, and fucked her. She must have always planned for me to catch the two of them at it. That's why she was trying to talk me into staying. She was trying to use Mel as a substitute for you. She was convinced I loved you, and was trying to win me over from you, with Mel. But it all fell apart when I wasn't taken with Mel, and didn't want to stay."

"So...," I said, staring at the panties, then at Celine. "They were meant to lead me to neglect Jack?"

"Soon Jack would have been no match for these. They would have taken you over. You would have never given Jack the time of day. No man could have competed with them. Or woman," she added.

All three of us fell silent, staring at the panties.

"So, what now? Burn them?" I asked after a minute or so, looking from Celine to Jack and back again. Inside, I cringed. I didn't want to destroy them.

The two of them were staring intently at each other.

"The curse won't die that way. It has touched you already. It can only be transferred, it cannot be neutralized or annulled," Celine said.

"But it can be transferred? How?"

"With the panties. Whoever owns the panties will inherit the curse. As long as the curse moves to someone else, it will no longer affect you."

"But I can't give these to anyone! For one, who gives a pair of used panties as a gift? And who would knowingly take them?"

"Well, they would not come from you. You still have the card?"

I remembered I had kept the card in my bag, wanting to check it against Jack's handwriting. I dug it out now.

"Here it is," I said, handing it to Jack.

He opened it and read the handwriting: "From an admirer, with much love!" Looking up at me, he said, "See? This was all the inducement you needed to put them on. No, dearling, don't be embarrassed," he said, watching me blush. "This must be a pretty strong spell. I'm sure they lured you in."

I squirmed. "The spell is resilient, yes?" I asked Celine, wanting to change the subject. "I mean, I washed the panties already, and the spell stayed."

"Oh no, water would not be enough to get rid of it. It might even make it stronger," Celine said. "Listen, these days, only an unethical Voodoo priest or priestess would agree to cast a spell like this. They would have had to know what they were doing. And only they would be able to undo it."

"But you know who did it? Whose handiwork this is?" I asked.

"Yes and no. I have my suspicions. There are about twenty of us practicing in the States, a few more in Canada. Of course some in Haiti. Any one of us could have done it, but only some actually would do it. Most of us are very committed to use Voodoo only for the good. But some of us... Still, I wouldn't be able to guess exactly who did it. Not just by feeling or looking at the panties."

"But Livvie would know," I said.

"She would never tell me," Jack said. "And certainly wouldn't tell you."

"Can't you think of a way to trick her?"

Jack sat for a while in silence. "Livvie knows who could take the spell off. So if we send her back the panties..."

Celine shook her head again. "As I said earlier, or meant to, the curse has to be transferred away from you to someone else. It cannot be destroyed, and it cannot be ignored. The only way the curse will move away from you is when the panties are worn by someone else."

Jack nodded again, looking thoughtful. "I know what to do. Thank you, Celine."

He took out his checkbook, wrote out a check, and handed it to Celine. When she looked at it, her eyes widened.

"Jack, I can't take this! This is what I charge when I give a whole-day workshop! I barely gave you a half-hour consultation."

"Celine, please... put it to good use. I know there are plenty of good things you can do with it. But only you could have helped us, and you didn't have to do it."

She looked at Jack a little longer, then took the check and slid it under one of the candles on the table behind her.

"Thank you, Jack. I know just what to do with this. And tell my sister I love her. Despite everything," she said.

Jack nodded as he re-wrapped the box with the panties. Placing his hand on my back, he gently pushed me in the direction of the doorway back into the shop.

"I can't thank you enough, Celine. Take care of yourself." He hugged and kissed her on both cheeks, then watched as Celine and I shook hands.

"You take good care of him, Amy. He's one of a kind," she whispered to me.

And with that, we left Heaven's Breath and headed back in the direction of Marigny and Frenchmen St.

It took me about ten seconds to review what had happened in my mind, and more than thirty to try to frame the question. In the end, I just blurted it out, no finesse at all.

"Sisters?!? Livvie and Celine are sisters?"

"Sorority sisters, dearling. They went to college together, back in New York. That's where I originally met Celine, hung out with her. Friends only," he added, preempting my question. "I ran into Celine again a few years later, at a party. I was on the rebound from you. She introduced me to Livvie, her sorority sister. They'd been really close. Got into some crazy stuff together."

"So Livvie is also into Voodoo?"

"Not really, at least not that I know. But she was around when Celine got interested in it. Eventually Celine traveled to Haiti and got initiated properly as a priestess. Livvie was always fascinated with the culture and the mystery surrounding Voodoo. It appealed to her, but not in a spiritual sense, like Celine. She was more attracted to it by the... pyrotechnics, if you will."

"So, it sounds like you have a plan."

"I do," he said slowly. "Are you sure you want to know it? Actually, it's pretty simple, but it would be easier if you helped me with it."

"Shoot, Jack."

"So... we want to give the panties to someone who will wear them, and we want to get them back to Livvie. Even if she doesn't know how to get rid of the spell herself, which I think is likely, she knows who could. So it's safest for everyone if the panties get back to her, and if she has a vested interest in getting rid of the spell."

I thought I could start seeing an inkling of his plan. "But she would never wear them. Especially knowing they were the ones she'd given me."

"No, she would not. But Mel likely would," he said. "Mel is as likely to get seduced by them as you were, and that would affect Livvie eventually. When she finds out, she'll want to get rid of the curse."

I nodded. To get rid of the curse, I'd have to get rid of the panties. I thought of the incredible orgasms I'd experienced wearing the panties and was saddened not to experience them again. But I had no reason to doubt Celine's warning that the panties were cursed with a vengeance spell, and that my dependence on them would get worse. And, after all, Jack was pretty damn good in his own right.

"You liked wearing the panties, didn't you, Amy? They felt good?"

I shrugged. "They felt great. But... they're panties. I don't want to have sex with panties for the rest of my life. Not that there's anything wrong with panties," I winked, "but I much prefer real flesh and blood men."

Jack squeezed my hand, and cleared his throat.

"Amy... do you think, perhaps, you might want to have another try at being together? I know they say you can never go back. But I'd really like to try."

I halted. "Are you serious?"

He stopped as well, and gave me a bear hug. "Never more serious, dearling. Dead serious!"

"Well, then. What's the rest of your plan for getting rid of the panties?"

"We clean the panties, re-wrap them, and deliver them to Mel, anonymously. I'm afraid you'll have to do it, Amy. She might recognize me. She's never met you, though, you should be safe."

"When are we going to do this?"

"How long did it take them to dry? Overnight?"

"Yeah. A few hours."

"Perfect. Then let's get them ready tonight. You can drop them off tomorrow late afternoon, early evening. She's usually over at my house by about then. She gets there before Livvie."

"OK."

I felt a little wistful. I was thinking how nice it would be to use the panties one more time before giving them away. I didn't want to admit how much they'd burrowed under my skin. But it would be just as well go cold turkey now, rather than postpone the inevitable and make it even harder. Celine had said the more the panties were worn, the more their effect would take hold.

Jack squeezed my hand gently, bringing me out of my reverie. "Hey, which club are we going to? I'm starving!"

Our colleagues had broken off our meeting about 5 pm, giving the New Orleans residents with kids enough time to get back to their families for Halloween. Some of them had plans to take their kids trick or treating, while another was hosting a kids' party at her house.

Jack and I returned to my room. I had not only washed but gently ironed the panties, making sure to fold them as enticingly as I could. I had been so taken with the deep green tissue paper in which they'd been wrapped that I had preserved it intact. I re-wrapped them and placed the card Jack had dictated to me on top. I'd used my most elegant, careful writing: "To my seductive lover, Melinda. May these bring you as much pleasure as you bring me."

The cab had dropped us off at the corner of Jack's street. Jack stopped at a small coffee shop to wait for me, while I walked on. I took advantage of the cover of the deepening dusk to unobtrusively leave the box on the doorstep of Jack and Livvie's house. Although not opulent, it was one of the beautiful,"gingerbread"-style houses in the Garden District, on a street lined with old chestnut trees. After dropping off the box as planned, I told myself I just wanted a quick look around. Jack would be happy nursing his coffee. I walked back behind the house on a path lined with rose bushes that had been severely cut back for the winter. The smallish lawn was immaculately trimmed, with beds of flowers going right up to two matching sets of French doors. The house was dark, and on a whim I decided to hide in the bushes flanking the doors.

Perhaps five or ten minutes later I heard vague noises coming from the front of the house. Soon after, the lights turned on behind the French doors nearest to me and I saw a slender woman, in her late twenties or early thirties, stride into the room, placing the familiar box on the king-sized bed. This must be Melinda. She was on the tall side, with long, glossy and nearly black hair that fell in soft waves around her shoulders. She dumped her shoulder bag carelessly on the floor by a vanity, and stretched herself on the bed, arms out. She lay that way no longer than a minute or so, when suddenly she sat up and reached for the box.

She read the card and smirked, then set the card on one of the nightstands, and took out the panties. Even from where I was hidden, I could sense the delight with which she handled the panties, turning them front and back, admiring the workmanship and the fabric. I knew so well how soft and sensuous that fabric must have felt between her fingers. She stripped off her clothes, throwing her shirt and skirt on the floor. Leaving on her black bra, her stockings and her garter belt, but shimmying out of her own panties and sliding on mine - now hers. As she did so, I noted she did not shave her pussy, dark curls becoming clearly visible and then hidden again as she exchanged one set of panties for the other. Her smooth skin was bathed in the warm golden glow of the room lights, a soft complimentary tone.

She bunched up a couple of the pillows against the backrest, and lay herself on them, reclining at a comfortable angle. But she did not look comfortable - she moved her legs to and fro restlessly. Leaning back against the pillows, she half closed her eyes and placed one hand on her breast, kneading and squeezing the flesh of one, then the other. At length, she pulled one of her breasts out of the cup of the bra, revealing her nipple, teasing and pulling at it, rolling the deep purple-pink flesh between her long fingers. She fiddled with it a bit more, stroking the skin surrounding it and cupping the underside of her breast in her hand, then repeated the motions, pinching her other nipple. As she did so, her face betrayed some discomfort, her forehead rippling and causing two creases to form just above her nose. Again she fondled the underside of her breasts and rubbed the flesh around her nipples, arching her back upwards.

As she did so, she dug her heels into the mattress and her knees parted enough to give me an unimpeded view of her maroon satin-covered pussy, unruly curls escaping on either side of the panties' crotch. The fingers of one of her hands traveled down over the slight curve of her stomach and down between her upper thighs, trailing her nails over the naked flesh exposed between the panties and the top bands of her stockings. Soon she raked her nails over the narrow crotch of the panties, then began to make small circles with her nails above where her clit would be. I could just make out that the panties became somewhat transparent. Eventually she let her fingers slide underneath the material and I could see them under the satin, circling, circling faster in tighter and tighter circles. When she withdrew her fingers I could see them glint in the light with the juice of her cunt, which she smeared on her right breast first, then the left.

Thinking about the panties and their effects on me, I propped myself against the trunk of a tree facing the French doors, partially obscured by a low bush. I had worn black clothes and had even sheathed my hands in black lace gloves, appropriately enough for Halloween, so I worried only about hiding my face in the shadows. My own pussy was seeping its thick fluids, in sympathy with Mel's, and I snaked one of my hands down between my legs.

I could see a sheen of sweat on Mel's forehead now. With one hand back inside the panties, fingers curled on what I assumed must be her clit, Mel rummaged in the drawer of the nightstand. She seemed agitated, even frantic, and finally pulled out several small objects I could not see clearly. With her free hand she reached for one of the small objects next to her and, squeezing it between her fingers, she clamped it on one side of her labia majora. It was a wooden clothespin. Then she followed it

with another two in quick succession, pulling on her flesh so that the clothespins looked like they outlined one side of the panties' crotch.

She pressed the crotch of the panties with her knuckles between her pussy lips, rubbing the material back and forth, then she put another matching three clothespins on the other side. Each clothespin she added caused her frown to deepen, but at the same time her back arched. When she was done, her cunt lips were held open by the clothespins, only the valley between them barely covered by the maroon material of the panties. With the fingers of her other hand, she flicked and snapped the clothespins against each other. I could imagine the soft clicking sound of the wooden pins as they bumped against each other, and my fingers rubbed more urgently between my legs without any more thought to being seen.

I was torn between watching Mel's hands and the panties, and watching her facial expressions oscillate between delight, surprise, ecstasy, and near-pain. Her hands were never far from touching the panties, but it looked like the panties were affecting her whole body - breasts jiggling, neck arching, her facial contortions, her hips and pubic mound moving with what seemed like uncontrolled jerks, all to the rhythm of the panties transmitted to her fingers and the rest her body.

With the fingers of both hands she rubbed the material of the panties up and down along the sopping wet cleft, pushing the panties deeper into her cunt and sliding the fabric up and down against the glistening flesh. As she handled the material, her hips moved rhythmically with her fingers, up off the bed. I had a completely unimpeded view of her cunt, which flowed liberally.

Her face was almost desperate in its contortions now as she pressed into her mound and ground her fingers and the crotch of the panties deeper and deeper into her cleft, until both her first and second knuckles were hidden and the black curls of her pussy hair spilled, matted and gleaming, clear sticky juice stretching like spit between her fingers. She withdrew them and brought them to her lips, licking them clean, her eyes closed.

Just then an older woman with ash-blonde hair stepped into the room, took in the sight of the near-naked Mel, and in one step lunged onto the bed. I supposed this must be Livvie, though I had not seen her before.

Her shout was loud enough that I could hear it clearly through the glass doors. "Where did you get those?"

Mel's voice was clear. "I thought you gave them to me! Didn't you write the card? Oh my God, Liv, they feel amazing!"

With a back swipe of her hand, Livvie snapped off the clothespins from one side then the other of Mel's cunt lips. I both heard Mel's wail emanating from the room as well as saw her face contorted in pain. Livvie's head went straight between Mel's knees. I imagined she'd fastened her mouth there, imagined her sucking on Mel and the crotch of the panties, though of course I couldn't see.

Then, pulling her head back and still moving swiftly, Livvie plunged all the fingers of her right head into Mel's cunt and began pushing and pulling them out in a punishingly fast rhythm.

"You want amazing? Here's amazing! I'm better than those fucking panties!"

Mel's pelvis rose higher and higher off the bed, her heels digging deep into the bed, toes curled tightly. She was swaying, having lost control of her movements, until I saw Livvie's head sharply snap back as a stream of fluid shot out of Mel's cunt and bathed everything close by. Her pelvis spasming and thigh muscles clenched and twitching, Mel's whole face was scrunched into a rictus of something between pain and pleasure.