“I don’t know what– I don’t know how you do this, but you are strong,” I said. Apparently my new friend had decided to show me just how strong, because right then the floating box floated to a position next to the jeans that had been beneath it, and lowered almost to the floor, as if inviting me to step aboard. *Am I gonna be sorry for this?* I thought, but for whatever reason I actually stepped onto the box. It didn’t sag in the least, but held my weight just as solidly as the floor had just moments before. Then, it rose to its previous position a foot above the level of the jeans’ waistband. I yelped, after which the box rose even further, until my head was brushing against the ceiling! Though I tried not to look directly down, since I was standing on a “platform” not much larger than my footprints, I did see when I glanced downward that something was tumbling about in the air just above the jeans. I couldn’t dwell on it at the moment, though, worried as I was that I might fall or be thrown from my floating perch.
“OK,” I said, in a wavering voice. “I shouldn’t have leaned on you, and I don’t know why I thought I had to see how strong you are, but could you please put me back down now?!” The box complied, slowly lowering me back to the level it was at when I stepped aboard. By this time there was something new floating above the jeans — a tube top. A very nicely filled tube top, at that, ending about six inches above the jeans.
I already knew there was no body inside these clothes, but my hands wouldn’t stay away. This time I found myself rubbing the bottom of the tube top, which caused the whole outfit to begin swaying back and forth, obviously enjoying the feeling.
“Sorry for stepping on your box just then,” I started, before it hit me — the box was no longer part of the picture, at least not at the moment. Apparently it had dropped to the floor directly below where I had stepped off it. I stared at the box, wondering if it had actually been part of this… entity from the get-go or was it just a prop, like the clothes. I picked it up and turned it over, not knowing what to expect its underside to look like.
It looked like the underside of a cardboard box. No circuits, no visual hints of a portal of any kind. Nothing out of the ordinary. I even reached towards it, expecting my hand to somehow disappear inside it. Instead, my fingertips thudded solidly against it like it was no more than the slit-off underside of a cardboard box it appeared to be.
I tried to shake the conflicting thoughts from my head and finish what I had started to say.
“Better,” I said, having resumed dragging my fingertips back and forth along the fabric of the tube top, “but I still wouldn’t mind a bit more. And maybe whatever’s gonna happen next can happen somewhere private?”
Apparently it wasn’t ready for me to stop what I was doing at that particular moment. And, to tell the truth, neither was I. I mean, what are you supposed to do when a pair of jeans with a tube top floating above, clothes you know have no one in them, walks up right next to you and just stands there? As I continued rubbing the tube top’s bottom hem, I leaned a bit closer and did something I know I wouldn’t have been able to do if there had been an actual invisible woman wearing these clothes: I looked down inside them.
Not like staring down a blouse as in looking at cleavage. That would have been some trick, looking into an invisible woman’s cleavage… No, I leaned over enough so that if there had been someone inside the clothes, we would have bumped heads. Then, I looked down. I could see the bottom of the bulge where the unseen breasts were pushing the tube top outward, but from the inside. I could see the inside of the jeans’ waistband, the seam where the two leg openings separate (something you’d NEVER see on a visible woman, even if she were wearing transparent clothing), the empty shoes below the jeans’ equally empty leg openings. Very odd. But a good kind of odd…