Dylan and his botched date

Dylan counted himself lucky. As badly as his bad habits had ruined his marriage, his wife was letting him back into her life. There were regular phone conversations, and occasional dates. He was working hard at changing, not just for her, but for himself. Soon it would be time to pop the “moving back in” question. Who knows? Maybe tonight, if things go well.

Maybe that’s why she had invited him to dinner at her place, instead of a night out? He didn't’ want to get caught up in questioning things and second-guessing.

He pulled up and noticed right away that the lights seemed to be on in every room in the house. That was unlike Erica. One of her pet peeves was how he was always leaving lights on.

He shrugged it off -- maybe she was looking for something and hadn’t noticed.

He parked his car and headed up the sidewalk toward the front door. But before he could ring the doorbell, the door swung open by itself. Erica wasn’t on the other side of the door. And unlike just about every room he could see from outside, this front hallway was dark.

“Erica?” he called out as he entered. No answer.

As soon as he was inside, the door swung closed as the light beside the door clicked on. He turned around, expecting to see her there… but she wasn’t there. He did see both the doorknob lock and the deadbolt lock turn by themselves.

He swung back around, shouting “Helluh--” and stopping himself. Standing about two arm-lengths away was… an empty outfit of clothes.

A voluptuous outfit, unlike Erica’s petite but shapely figure. It was a gray heather long-sleeved jumpsuit, clinging beautifully to the unseen figure. It leaned against the coat-closet door as if it were expecting him. Not knowing what to say or do next, he silently took in the curvy figure of this seemingly empty outfit. He noticed right away that there was neither sound or movement suggesting the occupant of the outfit was breathing.

“Well, hello there,” a sultry voice said.

“Uhh, hello?” he responded. “Who are you, and where is my wife?”

“You mean that little cutie that was here earlier?” the voice responded. “She took one look at me and bolted to the back of the house. But when her stuff started stepping out of the closets, she screamed and darted off.”

“She left?”

“Mm-hmm,” the voice said. “Shame, too. I was hoping we could get to know each other a little better. I saw her coming and going all the time but never got to, you know, interact.” The voice giggled, causing its voluminous chest to bounce.

“How did you --” Dylan started, as the outfit stepped toward him. “How did you see her coming and going?”

“I was a favorite of one of your neighbors. I remember seeing you, too, when you used to live here. What happened, you guys broke up or something?”

Dylan did a double take. He didn’t feel any need to explain himself to this -- wait a minute, what did she say?

“Did you say you were a favorite of one of my neighbors?” he said.

“Yeah,” the voice responded, as the outfit took a couple more steps toward Dylan. “I was one of her favorite outfits.”

“An outfit? Not an invisible woman?” That sounded crazy, but no crazier than an invisible woman.

The outfit shook with the voice’s laughter. “No, I’m not an invisible woman. See for yourself.”

By that point the jumpsuit was an arms-length away, and right away he noticed that there was no evidence of breathing. The outfit had pulled its sleeves behind its back, thrusting its chest toward Dylan, but he cautiously reached for the collar instead, waving his hand over it and finding that it was, indeed, empty.

He lowered his hand, brushing against the swell of the jumpsuit’s chest as he did so. “Ooh,” the voice said, adding a little wiggle. “Do that again.”

Dylan started moving his hand up towards the outfit’s chest again, then stopped himself. “No, I didn’t come here to play with clothes,” he said. “I was supposed to be meeting my wife for dinner.”

“Hmm. You say no, but your eyes were riveted to my chest from the moment you first saw me until I said I was empty. You sure you don’t want to… play around a little?” The suit emphasized “play around” with a shimmy that sent its chest jiggling anew.

Dylan was momentarily distracted by the jiggle, but caught himself. “No, I have to go find my wife.”

“Hold on, now,” the voice said. “You said you’re not interested. You can’t speak for your clothes. Maybe they would like to stay?”

“Don’t be eep--” Dylan let out a little yelp as his clothes made short work of wrestling themselves off him. Pretty soon he was sitting on the floor, leaning on his hands, wearing only his underwear as his dress shirt, suit, tie, socks, and shoes had reformed to his shape. Dylan watched in dismay as his suit strutted over to the jumpsuit, holding out its sleeve.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” the outfit said, locking a sleeve with the suit. “So where are you taking me, handsome?”

The suit shrugged, then reached into its pocket, pulled out Dylan’s car keys, and jingled them. Dylan gasped. Not only was he being left without the suit he came in with, but the suit also had his keys, money, and ID.

“Sorry fella,” the outfit said, turning toward Dylan. “You had your chance. Maybe that cute little thing you came here to see has something here that you can wear. If all her stuff didn't leave, that is.”

Dylan brightened. Some of his own clothes here, in the basement. Things he didn’t take with him when he left. Maybe they hadn’t joined this rebellion, or whatever was going on.

When he got to the basement door, though, he heard music. He wasn’t sure whether to go down there or not. If Erica and all her clothes had cleared out, who was downstairs?

“Hello?” he called out. “Who’s down there?”

“Dylan?” a voice answered. “Is that you?” It sounded like Erica… but he was told she had fled the house before he got there.

“Who is down there?” Dylan said again.

He heard very light footsteps and then… at the bottom of the stairs was an outfit of Erica’s, but without her in it. What looked like a pajama top in a floral pattern, unbuttoned and wrapped around a tube top, all over light blue jeans that managed to be tight even as they held Erica’s petite shape.

“Hi, honey,” Erica’s outfit said.

Dunnn-dun-dun-dun...