Dial M For MMMPH! (F/F)

[lanadelgagged]

The jewelled clock on the wall tolled nine, its sweet chime announcing the closing time on Harris' Jewels. Within, the store was a testament to the Art Deco splendour of 1940s America. Golden railings cast long, inviting shadows over the marbled floors, while warm lights cascaded from the roofs and majestically highlighted the luxurious pearls and golden watches adorning the crystal cabinets. The walls were brimming with the colourful artistry of Louis Icart's etchings, the jewel-like tones illuminating the interior. Dark stretches of black carpet enveloped the glass displays, making them seem as if they were floating in the shadows. But the eccentricity of the jewellery store was best exemplified by the warmth and kindness of its employees.

Andrea works in the watch department, and every day she polishes the sapphire crystals of the eclectic collection. Her reputation among the older customers was pristine; she greeted them with a cheerful smile and treated them with the utmost respect. As her shift came to an end, Andrea meticulously arranged the showcases, cleaning the glass cabinets and preparing them for storage. Like every night, Andrea helped her colleague move the seemingly endless collection of jewels into the safe. As the cabinets and displays became a mere shell of glass, the lights dimmed, and the employees made their way towards the back entrance. Andrea always took the time to chat with her coworkers, her warm demeanour spreading cheer throughout the large store.

“How was your day, Jeff?” – Andrea inquired, her voice effusive with warmth.

Jeff is the second son of Norman Harris, the store owner. Rumours have it that soon his father will retire, and he will inherit the family business alongside his older sister. The rest of the employees refer to him as Mr Harris, out of respect. Busy with the duties of polishing a set of silver necklaces, he momentarily averted his gaze to meet Andrea’s

“Andrea! Had a bit of a rough start, but I got through it. It’s Monday after all. How was yours?"

“I had a new customer today, an elderly woman who had recently lost her beloved husband. We chatted for quite a while, and I sold her one of those 1910s wristwatches Leon restored.”

“She sounds like a sweet lady, you just gotta love the clientele here. Any plans for the night? – Jeff inquired, focusing his attention back on the polishing cloth.

“Oh, damn it. I had plans to go for a drink with Angelica, but I forgot to tell her I won’t be able to make it tonight. Do you have a telephone in there?”

“Sure thing, just give me a second here.”

Jeff gently placed the necklaces and the polishing cloth on top of the glass counter, crouching to reach for the telephone. Placing it on top, Andrea leaned forwards and unhooked the phone, holding it to her right ear. Her slender fingers glided along the edges of the dial, an ominous tone resounds within the phone’s speaker. Andrea averts her gaze to the ceiling, tapping her red fingernails against the glass. The dial tone kept ringing in her ears, Andrea paused for a second and let out an audible chuckle, bringing her hand over her eyes.

“What’s so funny?” – Jeff inquired, timidly chuckling in response.

“The silliest thing, I accidentally dialled my number again! I don’t know why I keep doing that.”

“Well, it’s only natural. After all, it’s the number you know most by memory!” – Jeff responded with a gleeful grin.

Andrea's innocent laughter echoed through the jewellery store as she and her coworker shared a moment of amusement. Yet, as she was about to end the call, a voice on the other end pierced the air…

“Hello?”

In an instant, Andrea's expression shifted, her heart skipping a beat and her face turning to stone.

“I’m sorry, I must have got the wrong number.”

“What number did you want?” – The voice at the other end of the line was silky smooth, slightly lower in pitch in comparison to Andrea. She spoke calmly, and at a pace not too dissimilar to Andrea’s own.

“Regent Street 9, 6189.” – Andrea’s response was almost mechanical.

“That’s it, this is the number.”

Andrea paused for a second, pondering this. Uncertainty plagued her mind with thoughts. Bringing the phone to her ear once again, she inquired more decisively:

“Are you sure this is Regent Street 9, 6189?”

“Yeah, that’s the number you’ve reached. I’m pretty sure I know my own number. Who are you?” – The voice at the other end of the line seemed slightly annoyed.

“I’m Andrea Wilkins. Who the hell are you?” – Andrea inquired, somewhat frantically.

“I’m Andrea Wilkins…”

Andrea’s face was doused in fear, as she clutched the telephone firmly a cold sweat broke within her pale forehead. Silence filled the room before she uttered a response.

“Is this some kind of a twisted joke? This is not funny, leave my house immediately before I call the authorities.” – Andrea erupted with rage under the scrutiny of her coworker, who took notice of the conversation.

“Why would I leave, this is my house.” – the mysterious voice’s reply matched Andrea’s authoritative demeanour.

“You… You sound just like me. But how could this be? – Andrea replied, musing a thought.
“Yeah, you do sound just like me…”

Andrea paused and an eerie silence filled the room. She gestured for Jeff not to inquire, sensing that something was amiss.

“What was mom’s first job, and who was her boyfriend back then?” – Andrea inquired more authoritatively this time, raising her voice.

“Mom used to work at that old antique store with grandpa. She always complained about the dusty smell, that’s what she always tells us. Her boyfriend was called… Paul Parker? Paul Perkins? Something like that.”

“But… this is impossible. How… how could it be?” – Andrea mumbled to herself as nerves began to dominate her entire body. “This isn’t happening.” – she said to herself as she violently hung up the phone with her trembling hand.

“What was that all about Andrea? You seem shaken.” – Jeff inquired, noticing the visible distress of her coworker.

“Nothing, nothing… It’s all right…”

Her characteristic tone of voice had turned frantic, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. After a moment's pause to collect herself, Andrea rushed to grab her belongings and drew her bag, her mind reeling as she struggled to make sense of the bizarre occurrence. With bated breath and a pounding heart, Andrea dashed through the back entrance of the store, not bothering to say goodbye to her coworkers. The chilly night air enveloped her, and the ominous click of her heels on the pavement rang out in crescendo as she raced across the bustling street to a payphone. Elbowing and jostling, determined to wipe out the gruelling doubts, she fumbled for as much change as she could grab. The machine swallowed the small coins greedily and the young lady began dialling her own number. Andrea slammed the small door shut behind her in the confined glass cubicle.

“Please don’t answer, please…” – she whispered to herself.

Just like before, the dial tone rang for a short while, until finally, the mysterious voice emerged from the other end of the line…

“Hello?”

Disheartened, Andrea held the phone to her lips.

“Oh come on…”

“It’s you again isn’t it Andrea?” – the mysterious voice inquired quizzically
.
“Yes, it’s me. Listen, I don’t know what the hell is going on here or if this is a sick joke to you… Just tell me who you are.”

“I’m Andrea Fitzgerald Wilkins. How about you tell me who you are? Psycho…”

“But I am Andrea Fitzgerald Wilkins…”

An ominous silence ensued, the crackling static of the telephone still rung in Andrea’s ears just as the mysterious voice replied:

“So, we both are Andrea Wilkins… Interesting isn’t it?”

“No, this isn’t funny…”

“Our voices, they sound so similar. Our tone, it’s nearly indistinguishable.”

“Yeah… but… this just can’t be. If you are Andrea, and I’m Andrea… then who the hell is Andrea…”

“Guess we’ll have to find out. Oh, and by the way, you should probably take a taxi home today. The underground is going to be closed due to an accident.”

“What the hell do you know abo–“

The voice at the other end of the line hung up the phone abruptly, leaving Andrea alone with her thoughts. The young lady looked at her watch and rushed to the closest metro station, disregarding the mysterious voice’s advice. She busted the door open and left the receiver hanging, such was her rush that she nearly tripped down the stairs leading to the underground. Her heels clicked, echoing ominously across the confined spaces of the metro station. As the young lady drew closer to the platform, she found a huge crowd of people gathering around dubiously, their faces etched with confusion and uncertainty. People from all walks of life looked at each other, a murmur erupted across the busy platform. Andrea approached a tall, middle-aged man yielding a suitcase. The man was draped in a tweed suit, his head covered by a bowler hat, and he was holding a newspaper against the side of his torso.

“Excuse me, sir, do you happen to know the cause of such a hassle?” – Andrea inquired in utmost politeness.

“I believe there has been some sort of accident on the line. We are waiting for an update from the rail services, but it’s looking grim at the moment.” – the man spoke softly, with a well-defined British accent.

Andrea could not believe her eyes. The underground line she takes every night was closed, just as the mysterious voice had anticipated. At this point, the young lady feared she might be succumbing to sheer lunacy on account of the bizarre sequence of events that unfolded. Without wasting a minute, Andrea left the premises of the metro station, emerging from the deep underground tube and back onto the streets. She turned her head to both sides of the road and approached the edge of the pavement. The young lady eyed an oncoming taxi, raising her arm to stop it.

“Regent Street Number 9, please.” – she said while turning her attention to her purse.

The cab's dim lights caught the gleam of the small knife Andrea kept for protection. She slid it out of her purse and secured it in her pocket, within reach. The driver attempted to make small talk, but Andrea's distant expression revealed her inner turmoil. The taxi glided through vibrant cityscapes, a tapestry of neon lights reflecting on the glass until they surrendered to hushed, dim-lit neighbourhoods. As she disembarked in front of her home, Andrea felt a surge of adrenaline. The familiar facade of her house was now cloaked in mystery.

As she approached her front door, she fumbled for her keys, her heightened senses acutely aware of any hint of intrusion. Peering through the windows, she studied the shadows within, her grip tightening on the pocket knife at her side. The door clicked open, and the darkness of her home loomed before her. Silently removing her high heels, she moved with caution, her every footstep a potential warning. The moonlight cast eerie shadows across her furniture, rendering her once-familiar living space unfamiliar and ominous. Andrea listened intently for any hint of danger, her breath ragged with anticipation. Before stepping inside her living room, Andrea circled the entrance to enter the kitchen, where she drew a larger kitchen knife and continued her path to the larger living room. The young woman listened closely to any noise, any creak, any subtle sound that may reveal the presence of an intruder, but all she could hear was her breath increasingly heavier by the second. The kitchen knife she now held tightly in her hand was a sign of the danger that lurked in the dark corners of her home. She searched for any signs of an intruder but found nothing out of place, save for the curious absence of her mysterious caller.

With every passing moment, the weight of the silence grew heavier. The light switch flicked on, casting a golden glow across the room, but only adding to the unease. With no sign of an intruder, Andrea's mind raced with possibilities, fear seeping into every pore of her being. A thorough search of the house revealed no signs of a break-in or foul play. Had she been the victim of a cruel prank, or had something even more sinister occurred? As she contemplated the strange call, she considered contacting the authorities. But with little to no evidence to support her claims, she remained alone, haunted by the mysterious events of the night. The warmth of a long, hot bath served only to take the edge off the terror that continued to grip her, leaving her to face the uncertainty of what lurked in the shadows…





The next morning, Andrea went about her shift as if nothing had happened. The events that unfolded the night before did not seem to hinder her usual workload in any form. Tuesdays are usually a slow day, with very limited clientele that rarely purchases anything. Even in spite of this, Andrea had managed to sell a German automatic watch to a middle-aged businessman, who seemed pleased with the young lady’s advice. Usually, Andrea joins the rest of her coworkers at midday in the small office, treating herself to a bagel, and engaging in nonchalant conversation. Her colleagues were surprised to find Andrea sitting at Jeff’s post while the rest enjoyed the break, the young woman could be seen in front of the phone writing some notes down.

Andrea eyed the telephone almost defiantly, perhaps musing a thought. Just as she had done yesterday, she unhooked the device and started dialling her number.

“Six, one, eight, nine.” – Andrea mumbled to herself, holding the phone to her lips.

The dial tone rung ominously for a few seconds, suddenly a static crackled on the other end of the line and the mysterious voice responded:

“Hello?”

“How did you know the metro was going to breakdown yesterday?” – Andrea inquired

“Oh, it’s you again.”

“I don’t have time for games, just tell me straight.”

“Well, if you are so determined to know… You and I are very similar you see, nearly identical. But not entirely”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Let’s see… I know things that you don’t, and vice versa. I’m just good at predicting things so to speak…”

“Predicting things?”

“Yeah! For example, your boss is going to give you a very generous check today. Make sure to cash it on your way home!”

“A what?–“

The call ended with an audible crackle and a low hum, interrupting Andrea. The young lady knew something very strange was going on, but she would not tell anyone. After all, who could believe such an unearthly situation? Andrea glanced at her coworkers exiting the small office and returned to her post without uttering a single word.

Right after lunchtime, Mr Norman Harris showed up, dressed in an elegant suit that defined the corpulent features of his torso. The ragged edges of his face full of stubble scanned the opulent interior of his store, scrutinising the clean glimmer of the marble and the diaphanous cabinets. It is not unusual for the owner to make such an appearance unannounced, the kindness and candour he shows to his employees means they regard him with the utmost respect. One could tell at a glance that the man took great pride in the small emporium he had built. Mr Harris’ son greeted him with a firm handshake that fused into a comforting hug, every time they spoke to each other they inadvertently raised their voices in effusivity. Andrea followed her coworkers as they gathered around their boss, he began to address them in an almost triumphant tone:

“Folks, it is my pleasure to see the business blooming in such responsible hands. You have been working very hard in here and it’s showing in our profits.”

His words were followed by a cheerful applause that filled the store.

“So, as a token of my gratitude, I’m handing every one of you a check. Buy yourselves something nice, you’ve deserved it.”

Her coworkers’ faces lit up with joy as the boss began personally handing the checks. One by one he shook hands with the entire staff and dedicated some words of encouragement. When it was Andrea’s turn, he shook her hand firmly and looked her in the eyes. As he reached for the pocket of his suit, he spoke to her in a calm tone of voice.

“Now, I know you are the youngest worker here. But a bird with a word came to me; it seems like you have quite the talent with our oldest customers isn’t that so?”

“So it seems Mr Harris, I just try doing my best to help them.”

“Well, keep up the great work. You are making a name for yourself, Andrea.”

Mr Harris extended his arm and handed the young lady a check, just as the mysterious voice had anticipated… Doubts plagued her mind during the rest of the workday, at the end of her shift, Andrea found an ATM and cashed the check. That night Andrea made her way home so hastily indeed that she forgot to remove the cash from her purse. Still menaced by the darkness of her own house, Andrea yielded a large knife whilst entering the front door. But much like the night before, everything was exactly the way she had left it. Perhaps more puzzling was the fact that this double of hers seemed to harbour the power of prediction, and she served as a bearer of good news. She spoke with the same voice as her, the same tone, and even cracked the same bland jokes.

Andrea started counting the cash note by note, while she pondered the unlikely succession of events that transpired since that mysterious call. It became apparent that this could not be the work of any jokester or any of her friends for that matter. Nobody she knew could imitate her voice that closely, and even if they could, there were no signs that her house was broken into. Perhaps more notable was the fact that her double had managed to answer a very personal question regarding her own family; with no brothers or sisters to account for, it was unlikely that somebody from outside or within the family would know.
It was her, and only her…





An overcast sky loomed over the entire city the following day, the silhouettes of the skyscrapers leant against a blanket of grey velvet in the distance. It was an unusually cold Wednesday morning as Andrea entered the store and helped Mr Harris with the jewellery boxes. By ten in the morning, the store was gleaming with the golden glow of the roof lights, in a majestic display of dazzling opulence awaiting customers to arrive. Andrea was focused on the arduous task of rewinding the watches, making sure they kept time accurately throughout the day.
The hours went by, at times the store was bustling with high-class whores and businessmen, the affluent ladies and the profane gentlemen. They all had something in common: their money.

Andrea made three sales in the course of an hour, with her impeccable manners and public relations playing a significant role in those purchases. It was around lunchtime when the store became quiet, and Andrea had time for a break. She entered the small office, her coworkers had gone for lunch in the Diner across the street, leaving the young lady alone with her coffee. She eyed the telephone on the wall carefully, as steam billowed from the edges of the coffee mug.

Andrea approached the telephone and began dialling her number. Like a faithful companion, the voice at the other end of the line emerges diligently. Although this time, she spoke first:

“How does it feel being rich?” – she speaks playfully, with an unusually jovial tone.

“Very funny. I still don’t know whether you’re actually a psychic or just a product of my delusion.” – said Andrea, unamused

“You, I mean, we fit the delusional type if you think about it.”

“And we, I mean, you are a great prankster. A creep, but a prankster nonetheless…”

“Whatever you say, Miss. Oh, by the way, I hope you brought an umbrella today.”

“I did not. Why though?”

“It will rain quite heavily once your shift has ended. If I were you I’d wait under the canopy of the parking lot until it clears, like you always do.”

“The heck? How do you–“

The conversation was abruptly cut by the piercing sound of the dial tone, Andrea flinched her eyes as she shoved the telephone back onto the hook with a swift motion. Once again the call had ended with an ominous statement from that ominous voice, and once again the hours of the day ticked by unremarkably. Downtown lay dazed and dominated by a biblical body of rain, hovering over the skyscrapers with the menace of an impending downpour. Outside the eccentric shop, the sun turned into an infinite haze of lavender in the shifting clouds. Obscured by the darkness of the night, Andrea and her coworkers embarked on the arduous task of storing the precious valuables for the night. The first specs of rain began falling, pattering on the roof and falling on the edges of the magnanimous store. Andrea cast timid glances outside the window, the darkness of the night draped in a curtain of raindrops.

Jeff and Andrea exchanged brief words before she drew her purse from the back office and made her way outside. Draped in a grey trenchcoat, Andrea set a firm foot on the damp tarmac, clutching the lapels of her overcoat in an attempt to shelter herself from the cold. A frigid breeze graced the edges of her face sending shivers down her spine. The pitter-patter of the rain falling strenuously on the pavement cut across the ominous of the young lady’s heels, clicking against damp soil. Andrea looked around as she made her way to the parking lot, hoping the weather will clear. Her surroundings were unusually clear, with the warm light of the lampposts casting long shadows on the scarce vehicles that remained. In the background, the vertiginous carousel of traffic, vibrant with the colours of red and yellow lights dashing through the stretches of road. Andrea sheltered under the glass canopy of the parking lot, casting gazes at her watch as she impatiently waited for the weather to clear. Steam billowed from her nose and mouth every time she drew a breath of the cold night, and as minutes went by her coat started to wet. She again mused, finding herself in a situation that the voice had anticipated. But her mind was elsewhere, craving the comfort of her home.
Perhaps out of boredom, the young lady eyed the car in front of her wearily. Her only unremarkable source of entertainment was attempting to make out the license plate behind a misty curtain of rain.

Suddenly, the yellow lights of the vehicle blink twice in quick succession, at the vertiginous pace it takes Andrea to bat an eye. Out of the cold, a gloved hand summons from the shadows of the night, clutching and gripping the young woman’s face with the strength of a titan. Andrea thrusts frantically, startled by the unwelcoming embrace of the nearly-invisible hand. Its movements were swift and calculating, the mysterious gloved hand blends with the darkness of the night as it holds a damp cloth to the woman’s nose and mouth. No sooner had she begun struggling than she felt a second hand pressed against her stomach. Exasperated, Andrea hyperventilates, her breath grows heavier and her heart beats like the beat of a drum. Her movements become erratic; while she inhales the damp cloth, her nose fills with an unpleasant blend of chemicals and bleach. Andrea cocks her head to one side as manically as her forces allowed, in a frantic yet futile struggle.

Whoever, or whatever was exerting such a force on the young lady started bringing her closer to the car. Andrea pulled back, trying everything she could. She flailed her legs in the air violently, causing her heels to fall ungracefully from her feet. Her forces, however, had been drastically reduced, and every breath dragged her further from consciousness. Barely able to stand up, Andrea gives up the fight, her body becomes limper by the second as she stammers and voices her distress against the gloved hand. Her lips remained clamped shut, Andrea looked around as the rain fell on her limp body and her clothes dampened. Casting helpless glances at her surroundings, the young lady hears the sound of the trunk opening up ominously. Her worst fears materialized as she was shoved inside the trunk of the car without a care in the world. She cast a desperate glance at her captor, and the last thing she saw was herself…


Andrea woke up to the darkness of the night, or so she thought. Stirred from her slumber, her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness that enveloped her. Slowly, her senses returned, and with them, a flood of haunting images that would stay with her forever. Her eyes opened slowly, trying to pierce the inky darkness, and the first thing she felt was a frigid shiver travelling from her spine down to the tips of her toes. Slowly coming to her senses, Andrea felt an unpleasant strain on her neck, which she could not move. A cord, tethered to the ceiling, had been enveloped around the tender flesh of her neck prompting her to remain still in the stillness of the silence. As she tried to move her legs and feet, the movements were repelled by a resistive force that held them in place. Her thighs were cinched together with something that felt like some kind of rope. Unable to move her legs and with numbing arms, Andrea’s mind was foggy, but she slowly pieced together the fragments of her memory, struggling to make sense of her current predicament.

Her pleas for help proved futile as well, her tongue felt like an arid desert and the corners of her mouth were filled with a piece of fabric. For all Andrea knew, she could not voice her distress in any discernible manner; immediately stifled by a gag that left her parched and unable to articulate her distress. The muffled sounds echoing inside the room suggest it was small in dimension, like a cubicle. Her timid struggles became torturous, with even the most subtle of motions causing great pain in her aching body. Andrea could not even feel her hands, a spine-tingling current travelled her arms.

As she writhed in agony, the sound of a door opening shattered the silence, flooding the room with light. A figure appeared in the doorway, their silhouette casting a haunting shadow on the walls. Andrea realized with horror that the figure was none other than herself - or rather, a mirror image of herself. Clad in the same clothes she wore to work, the impostor approached her with a devious grin. Every muscle in Andrea's body tensed with fear, her eyes searching for any escape from the confines of her captivity. Even the subtleties of her movements as she inched closer to her and crossed her arms; their gazes meet for the first time, and Andrea’s eyes open wide in fear, petrified and helpless her struggles cease to perfect stillness. The Andrea, who wasn’t Andrea, pressed the palm of her hands against her captive’s cheeks and traced the edges of her face. Andrea’s eyes like plates look for a hiding place in the confines of her helplessness. The Andrea –who wasn’t Andrea– observes her prey like a viper, and for a moment it seemed like her captive was about to burst into tears inconsolably.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.” – The Andrea, who wasn’t Andrea, says with a calm demeanour. Her soft-spoken words are far from comforting.
“Mmmghhpphh, MMMMMPPHHHHH!” – Andrea wriggles and struggles, voicing futile complaints against her gag.

“It’s time for me to inherit your perfect life, to enjoy every single day on your skin. You walked into the trap yourself, and you know the best part? Nobody is even going to notice that you’re here. Nobody is gonna ask questions because now, I am about to become you…”

[TripleZero]

Damn, this is such a hot scenario, being tied up and imprisoned by your doppelganger, nobody knows anything is amiss, I love it. Would love to read a part 2

[Fandango]

Great story. I love the way that you build tension and I'm envious of your command of language. Whenever I see words that I rarely hear like "corpulent", "diaphanous", or "vertiginous" on this board I like to throw them into the search function and see how often they're used. Not often. You really are skilled at the craft of story telling and this an exemplary one.

[Gaggedcowgirl]

Ugh! Cliffhangers!

This story is so suspenseful! Could this other Andrea be from the future?

And if so, how far? She seems to know how her whole day is going to be!

Could she be trying to stop her past self from something? Or is she more sinister than that!

Great story! Can’t wait for the next part!

[TG03]

Wow, this is an amazing premise for a story. Can't wait to see where this goes. I thought maybe it was Andrea from the future, but now I don't know.

[Mr Underheel]

What an example of great writing! The use of language, sentence structure, vocabulary… so good! And the plot is wonderful! Love it! Congratulations!

[Glovedgirllover]

Very nice story! Thank you!!!

[PanelGaggedPrincess]

Wow, that was quite a read! I wonder how Andrea is going to get out of this and I liked the mystery behind it.

[mrjones2009]

Great scenario and set up. Also superbly written.

I don't know if there are any future parts planned but if not then this is a wonderful little tale.