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Mirror

By: jusduit



Chapter 1

"Another scotch?" The bar tender swiped his cloth under my empty glass. 

"Sure, why not?" I responded mechanically. My attention was directed not at the drink, or the bartender, but at an attractive woman sitting by herself at a table near the back of the restaurant. I had first spotted her as she was escorted past my location by the hostess. She was shortish, maybe 5'5", and I liked that. She was brunette, and I liked that. Most of all, she was not some lanky, under fed, self-conscious "primper" looking to attract every male eyeball in the place. No, this woman had more confidence than that. She was more comfortable in her person. She walked with her head high, her small but adequate chest proudly puffed out, her step meaningful in its deliberate cadence. Her ass was especially attractive to me in that it was once again not the skinny, diminished hard flat artificially pushed up variety so common on younger women today. This woman's hips were wide with the physical equivalent of the wisdom of age. Her cheeks stood out with pride and ample flesh to be ultimately inviting. They shook slightly with each step she took, precluding the traditional requirement to sway while walking. She was perhaps early 50's, not unlike me, aware of her attractiveness and caring for its continued influence, but not overly so. There was not heavy makeup, no excessive hair treatment, no phony smiles and gratuitous remarks to the hostess. This women was comfortable with herself in every respect but one, and I could not put my finger on it, yet.

"Here you are," The bartender placed the new drink on a fresh napkin and pushed it to me. 

I turned my head and thanked him, catching sight in the mirror behind the bar of another prime example of the kind of woman I like, though quite a bit younger than I would normally target. She was sitting when I looked, and I couldn't tell near as much about her, but she too had my kind of assets, soft shoulder length hair, large eyes, and a lush appearing face and body. Playing games with myself as I often do, I projected myself into a choice of the two. They were both more than acceptable, both were in fact delectable. But if I had to choose, I know me and that I would consider the other side of the equation as well. I decided quickly the older of the two would be more comfortable with an older guy and therefore would pick her first. Silly ass, I called myself, I had NO choice of EITHER of them!

The new and younger of the two was a deeper shade of brunette, bordering redhead, very exotic to me, with a very young face and what appeared to be ample breasts. I noticed then that they were a bit lower behind her table than the woman at the other table, and therefore surmised she was in the low to middle five foot range too. She was intently watching something in the direction of the other woman, though a modest wall of plants and trellis separated the two positions. This younger woman too, was alone, and she looked remarkably similar in many respects to the other woman in my sights. Hmmmm…. My mind was wandering already.

Just what the is going on here, I wondered. Two very eligible women, different generations, both good looking and very sexy, one seemingly a time based mirror image of the other, and both alone. I started to consider what I might do to remedy that problem, for at least one of them.

I glanced back at the woman my age and took a sip of my drink. I am not a big drinker, and usually don't imbibe at all, but this night was a bit special for me. I had closed a large contract that day and was not able to fly home to New York until the next morning so I was giving myself a little celebration. The hotel was right next door to this restaurant and I had decided to take my time, have a drink, and then enjoy a nice dinner, albeit alone, and then check in to the hotel for a good night's rest. I was just nearing the completion of the first phase when I noticed the black man standing at the hostess' station. He was very tall, maybe six feet four inches, broad in shoulders, and quite handsome if I could be any judge. He seemed out of place, there being no other race colors represented in the lounge or the dining area of this good ol' American white restaurant. 

I looked away as the hostess met up with him and figured I would try something out of character and probably stupid. I was going to ask that woman if she would let me buy her dinner. 

"What do I owe you," I asked the bartender reaching into a front pocket for my cash.

"Ten, fifty," He said after looking at my chit.

I dropped thirteen bucks on the counter and rose to take the plunge. I stopped dead in my tracks however, when I turned to face the woman's direction. The black man was leaning way down to lend her some help in kissing him on the cheek. 

I thought maybe my eyes were deceiving me. Forget the race differences, this was my fetish in spades! I loved short women! This was a short woman compared to me! This woman was an ant compared to the big black guy holding her chair now! That lucky son-of-a-bitch, I thought.

I fell back in my stool and my jaw hung down. As if in a daze, I let my head swivel to avoid eye contact with the surprise couple, while continuing to try to sort out what had just happened. "Perfect look, shape and size woman walks by to table alone," I considered." I get up courage to go ask her for dinner, and some huge black stud wanders in and takes over before I get out of the box. What kind luck is THAT!"

And as if that were not enough stimulus to get my brain racking, my gaze fell automatically on the other single female dinner guest sitting beside the flowered panel. To my utter amazement, her jaw was just as gaping as mine, while she looked through the flowers at what I could only surmise was the other woman. What in the world was happening here? Were they connected? 

The black man sat down with the older woman and they began to talk over menu's. I looked back at the younger woman and she simply stared at them, jaw still down, nothing in her hands, and seemingly straining to hear what obviously was far too far away. 

The black man was saying something to the woman when suddenly the woman blushed visibly. She was uncomfortable, but I surmised in a way she wanted to be. This was obvious as one of her two hands that had moved to her mouth in some kind of show of embarrassment or surprise, suddenly moved to one of his hands, and rested on it. She then smiled at him, batted her eyes once or twice, and then looked down at what could only be her chest before looking again at the menu. Somehow, I could tell the menu was the last thing on her mind.

I glanced back at the younger image. I tried to look beyond her similarities with the other woman and finally noticed her apparel. Wearing a turquoise, silky, front buttoning blouse, and who knows what for a bottom,  she stood out like a neon light at the table. Her hair was glistening, and I noticed now in different light that the other lady was as much red as brown too. Were these two related? The possibilities were racing through my mind.

Younger woman was still fixated on the targets at the other table, and ignoring the waiter standing beside her. Finally, she looked quickly up at him, said something abruptly, and motioned him away with the flick of her wrist. He didn't look too happy at the dismissal.

I had an inspiration. This girl, and to me an older man she was still a girl, was overly involved with thoughts of something to do with the other couple. Maybe she would be either receptive, or distracted enough to entertain a polite pass at conversation from me. I wasn't even thinking about trying to get anywhere with this lovely young lady, at least on the surface, but I sure was piqued in wanting to know what this was all about. I decided to give it a try.

Checking to see that my money was still on the bar in payment of my drinks, I ventured to her table. "Pardon me, and I have no right to ask you to do so, but something tells me that, well, you might make interesting conversation for a dinner I would love to buy for both of us."

She looked up at me quickly as I started to speak, about to give me the same dismissal she gave the waiter, when I added, "And I promise to help in anyway I can with your dilemma over the couple at the other table." I nodded without looking in the direction of the other woman and her black dinner companion. I also smiled involuntarily at my secretive but spontaneous promise. It must have been the silly smile that prompted her to reconsider what was to be her quick dismissal of me too.

She looked at me seriously for another minute, and then asked, "Is it that obvious?" 

"I am sorry, but yes. Anyone else in this restaurant might have missed the connection, but you two just happen to be what I would call "Dream Dates" and I couldn't help observing you both. The connection became obvious quickly." What connection, I asked myself? As she leaned back a bit I felt I was loosing her. I have always had this tendency to be immediately frank and open with people, especially those I either trust, or want to trust me. It usually scares people off. I added, "I'm sorry. That is probably more detail than you wanted to hear, but…"

She interrupted me with, "No. No, not at all. I was thinking more "refreshing," than anything else. Unusual. Sit down, Mr. …." She motioned me to a chair beside, rather than across from her at her table.

"Williams. Jason Williams." I offered. "Any you?" I asked.

"Gina, Gina Anderson." She answered, offering her hand to shake. 

I took it and said, "And at the other table is Mrs. Anderson?" I couldn't help blurting out the suspicion.

"Why, yes. How did you… oops. It must be pretty obvious." She was blushing just like her mother had earlier.

"Well, not obvious. I took a chance, but the odds were with me I guess." She was now smiling at me. "I kind of put two and two together and interpreted five." She was warming more. "So, may I be so bold, as to ask, hmmmm, how do I put this, what has you so concerned about what is going on at the other table? Is it the age difference? Or the racial thing?"

This brought an immediate reaction, as if she had managed to forget what was happening over there, while she concentrated on this strange man she had allowed to sit with her. "What? Oh! No. Neither. I'm pissed, and yet I don't know why. Oh…. I don't know."

"May I be so bold as to ask a question or two?" I was trying to use my most sincere and soft tones, for I was actually beginning to feel sincere and soft. She didn't answer so I asked anyway, "Is your mother divorced?"

She nodded affirmatively.

"Is she divorced for some time? Like a year or more?"

"No! Six months." Was all she said, while still looking at the couple through the plants.

"And she is dating then, hmmm… too early for you?"

This brought her gaze back to me, with darts ready to fly. "Of course!" But she added quickly, "No! I mean, well, Daddy is not even in the state anymore, but sheesh! She shouldn't be out around town, where people know us, with some, some, some.."

 "Hunk?" I offered.

She fumed at me, and then caved into her chair. I had hit the nerve on the first attempt. She was mad with her mom for dating early, to a certain extent, but probably not that mad given the derogatory manor in which she mentioned her dad. She was maybe twenty-four, or five, this young lady, and certainly good looking as could be as far as I was concerned, but probably not that lucky yet with her love life. She was jealous, jealous of her mother's immediate success at snagging a perfect dream of a partner, regardless of what the definition of that dream might be. And I suspected that this vivacious young lady had had similar fantasies to her mom. Poor thing. And she is saddled here with an old man, while her mother was about to eat with and do whatever else with this lover from both their dreams. Life was just not fair.

I wanted to help her more than anything else now, and tried to think of how.

"Tough. I can't imagine what I would feel in your shoes." This seemed to strike a fair note with her so I continued. "We all have our lives to live you know, and sometimes that's the only explanation. Let me ask you something." I waited for her to respond or send me away.

She continued her gaze at the other couple and said, "Yes?"

"I am going way out on a limb here, and you don't know me from Adam, but let me make a suggestion." I had no idea what specifically I was going to say, but hell, if she went so far as to listen, I'd sure come up with something!

"What is your plan," She asked without moving her eyes. Obviously, I was making headway with this delectable little lady.

"Hmmm… " She had caught me off guard with such a quick concession. "Let's try something." I still didn't know what to say, trying to buy some time. "Let's see," Analyze the facts… "You think this guy is a hunk. So, obviously, must your mom," She looked at me like I was about to insult them both. I frankly still didn't know where I was going with this. Time to put up or shut up. Is there anyone who doesn't love to be the voyeur? "Let's follow them!"

She looked at me in total surprise, an expression that gradually shifted to recognition, and then a smile. I had simply suggested an extension of what she was already doing. Simple. The only surprising thing was, how simple it was.

"All right. Let's." She smiled broadly, turned her body toward me, and picked up the menu. "Well, they're eating, and you DID offer to buy me dinner…"

I laughed and followed her lead. It was a delightful meal. She told me about how silly this whole thing was, that she had really wanted her mom to go out even before now, six months after the divorce, and yet she was admittedly jealous of her choice of first dates, not only for the hunk he was, but also for her mother's surprising worldliness in choosing someone for the pure sexual enjoyment without regard to social stigma that applied locally. She had never seen this side of her mom before. How dare she hide this when all the time the daughter had been trying to change her stuffy attitude toward life. All along, she realized now, her mother had behaved the way her stuffy father had wanted her to, not the way her mother had truly felt and wanted to behave. It was all an act then, for all those years, probably as much for Gina's benefit as for the success of the marriage, and the true mother was coming out now. It was troublesome that her mother had let so much of her life pass without true happiness, but the transition was suddenly promising to be fun. Mom was a real person after all. And daughter, and her mysterious friend me, were about to have some good ol' fashioned voyeuristic fun too.

Chapter 2

Gina, told me all about her life and that of her mother, Veronica, and her dad Vincent. They were a classic conservative family in that Veronica was supposed to be the slave of the house, while Vincent excelled at his career. Gina lived with this more difficultly as the years went by and she learned more and more about life today vs. when her parents had grown up. It had become apparent even to her that the troubles in the  relationship between her parents went far beyond just the times they grew up in. Vincent was a tyrant, from a home of similar structure, and little if any love, only tyranny could hold a family together. When it finally came, the divorce was ugly and angry. Times were tough and the future sketchy for quite some time, but thanks to the courts, justice was finally served. The court ordered settlement left Gina and her mom comfortable in the low to middle class, and with only modest concerns for the future. They were both capable women and would do fine. Gina was in fact already moved out and on her own.

"I think we better not have desert with them." I said, pointing out their obvious intentions being displayed with another visit from the waiter after their dishes had been cleared. Our own table was already clear, our excitement having pushed us through the meal at lightening speed. Gina had listened to my own tale of a long term marriage gone boring. She perhaps did not understand, but she sympathized. I could see she was trying to reconcile a lot to try to understand, but it really wasn't that important considering her own dilemma that moment. 

"I agree on the desert," She said. "Shouldn't we go outside now? And wait for them in the bushes or something?" Her look was so sincere, her intentions so apparent on her sleeve and her concern for secrecy so obvious I felt like a father to a teenage girl. But I couldn't help but chuckle fondly at her sincerity that moment.

"Sure," I smiled on. "Let's go wait in the bushes." She did a kind of double-take and smiled back at me with a note of skepticism. I paid the check with cash on the table and we carefully worked our way to the entrance the long way around to avoid being seen by her mom. With me at an inch over six feet, and Gina closer to five and a half, she had no problem walking on the blind side of me. We were not noticed.

Once outside, I suggested we wait in my car. It was a cool evening in this small city and there were plenty of lights in the parking lots of the restaurant and the next door Marriott. There were no bushes! We moved to my rental and slid down in the front seat to watch the door to the restaurant over the dash.

Some fifteen minutes later, the couple emerged. If I had looked a little awkward with Gina when we left the restaurant, this couple looked downright ridiculous. The black appeared twice her mom's height, and probably hung like a horse compared to her relatively petite though not insubstantial self. He held her hand, and her hand was thus elevated to about her upper arm level. It was almost comical, and indeed I would have laughed if I'd thought it would not upset Gina.

"Ohhhhh.. myyyyyyy.. Godddddddddddd!!!!" Gina exclaimed. The black hulk and Veronica walked straight next door to the Marriott and went in. "I don't believe it!!!" She was unable to fall off the fence. On one side she would be angry as hell with her mother for a such a lewd and illicit act as a one night stand with a stud she'd never met before, and on the other side she would be hot and horny as her mother to see what the guy had and could do with it. She tried to stay in the middle, but her excitement gave away that she was falling irretrievably to the curious side of that fence.

"Let's go!" She exclaimed. She started to unlatch the door on her side and step out of the car.

"Wait!" I half whispered. I reached across and pulled the door shut again, unable to mask my sudden realization that my arm was pushed right up against her delicious tits. I looked her in the eye in the little light that we had, and realized she was as moved by the brush aas I was. This was going to get interesting after all.

"We ahhh, wait till they go in, and then…." I was trying to think fast again.

"Then what?!" She demanded. She turned away from the door, toward me, and put a hand on my arm to squeeze it for my attention. Instinctive contact again brought our eyes together. 

"Here's what we do…"


We agreed on all points, and escape routes if they were necessary, and Gina walked into the hotel lobby about ten paces before me. When I entered, Gina was at the front desk, showing her ID, and receiving a key. She walked around the desk and down the hall toward the elevators. I nonchalantly followed her about five paces behind. We met at the elevator and looked to see no one was watching before speaking.

"You were right!" She was beside herself with glee and amazement. "Mom DID make the room reservation! SHE planned all this! I never would have believed!"

I smiled. You can't live through 55 years of experience and not learn something from it. "So they bought your ID then thinking you were with her." I didn't have to ask. The clerk merely checked her ID to verify she was the right last name, her excuse being that her mother had forgotten to give her her key when they arrived. No clerk is going to doubt the lady, are they?


Mirror



You position me in front of the mirror, your hands resting on my shoulders. I can't look at myself, my eyes are fixed on you standing behind me.

Your fingers move to the buttons of my shirt and undo them, slowly revealing pale skin and lace. I feel the heat of your fingertips as they brush against my flesh. The shirt undone you slide it down my arms and let it drop onto the floor, a pile of pale discarded fabric. Moving to my skirt, I feel the waistband tighten as you pull at the button, slide down the zip and push the fabric over my hips.

"Look in the mirror," you command me.

I see a woman reflected, a woman in heels, lace bra and silk knickers. I long to fold my arms across my chest, to hide, but instead I stand tall, thrusting my tits out, rising to your challenge. I feel your fingers on my back beneath the waistband of my knickers, stroking my skin with a soft touch. You pull the silk up between my cheeks, exposing more flesh and forcing the silk to mould to the outline of my pussy lips. Within seconds a dark patch appears on the fabric, revealing my excitement to your gaze. My cheeks flush with the stain of embarrassment as you reach around me and press your finger to the damp silk. A sound of satisfaction emanates from your throat as my hips move forwards pushing my pussy against your hand. I feel you pressing against me from behind, the heat of your chest against my back, the hardness of your cock against my arse. If I just bent forwards, would you take me now?

Your hands move to slip the straps of my bra from my shoulders, fingers sliding under the edge of the cups to rub across my nipples. A gasp escapes my lips as they stiffen in response, pushing against the lace, rubbing with every shallow breath. Cupping my tits, you use your thumbs to peel back the delicate fabric, baring my rouge pink nipples to your gaze. Your hands squeeze my flesh and I moan, wanting more, needing you to touch me everywhere. I'm captivated by the girl in the mirror and her lover, whose touch brings such a rosy flush to her skin.

Warm lips pressed to my shoulder, fingers tracing my spine, pausing only to unhook the bra, before continuing their journey downwards. Slipping under the silken knickers and dipping into the crevice between my buttocks. Feel my response as I tremble, anticipating the next delicious action. Using both hands you push the knickers over the roundness of my arse and down my thighs. You hold me as I step out of them and the shoes. And so I stand before you, reflected in my nakedness, your fingers pressed against my flesh. 

Taking my hand in yours you draw it down and trace the split of my pussy lips with my finger. Probing gently until the tip is moistened by my juices. You bring my finger to my mouth and smear my lower lip with stickiness, my tongue flicking to taste. Pulling me around you capture my lips, hungry to share the taste of me. It's a fervent kiss, a melding of lips and tongues and moans. Your hands cupping my buttocks, mine in your hair, both desperate to get closer, to taste more. 

Drawing back, breathing hard, we both turn to look in the mirror. Two images, one completely naked, one completely clothed, meet our gaze. In one quick move you pull your t-shirt over your head, no slow undressing for you! My fingers, itching to touch you, caress your chest, your stomach, returning to tweak your nipples to hardened nubs. Bending my head I tentatively touch a nipple with the tip of my tongue, before circling it and sucking it into my mouth. Judging by the moan and the way you hold my shoulders I think you like it. Nipping and sucking one, scratching the other with my nails. I stroke my hands across your stomach, pausing to caress the skin around your navel. Reaching your jeans, my questing fingers slip inside the waistband and brush against your hard cock. Kissing and licking my way down your stomach, I drop to my knees, face level with your crotch. You turn my head so that I see us so reflected.

Fingers trembling in urgency, I struggle to unfasten you. Laughingly you move my hands and in seconds your jeans are undone, displaying briefs taught over hard cock. My breath leaves my lips in a long sigh as my fingers reach out to brush against you, following the length of your cock, slipping under the waistband until my nails graze your hot cock flesh. Glancing at the mirror I see you head bent, gaze fixed on me. Impatient with your clothes my hands pull at your jeans and briefs, tugging them down your thighs. And there it is that gorgeous cock of yours, I moan just from looking at it. My fingertips flutter up and down the length and you can feel my warm breath against your skin. Your cock twitches, an invitation to my mouth I think. 

Leaning forwards, one hand on your thigh, I press my lips to the tip of your cock, parting them slowly so that my tongue can flick against your flesh. My other hand moves to encircle the base of your shaft, squeezing and stroking. You taste so good that I can't resist licking the underside of your cock from tip to base, pausing to tease your balls, before one long lick back to the head. Parting my lips I insert your cocktip between them, sucking it in and out slowly. Letting you feel the warmth of my mouth, the pressure of my lips and teasing of my tongue. I can see in the mirror how full my mouth looks, how eager I look. Your fingers wrap in my hair, pulling my head down to force more of your cock into my mouth. Your shaft fills me, stretching my lips wide and my head back. Emitting a long sigh of pleasure as I give in and let you fuck my mouth, my fingers rubbing around the base of your cock, the other hand stroking your balls. I want you to cum in my mouth, to taste your spunk as it runs down my throat, so my hand on your cock moves faster and I suck a little harder. Your fingers tighten in my hair, holding my head still as you withdraw. I am left on my knees, mouth open, so ready to take you.

Taking my hands you raise me and step towards the bed. Sitting on the edge, you take my hips and pull me to stand between your legs. With the mirror behind me I know that if I bent to take your cock into my mouth again, you would see my pussy lips and parted arse cheeks. I move to do just that, but you stop me, positioning me to stand there with legs slightly parted. You lean forwards and capture a nipple between your teeth, teasing me, before sucking it into your mouth and stroking it with your tongue. My fingers are drawn to my other nipple, squeezing and twisting the hardened flesh between finger and thumb. With you tugging on my nipple I feel my pussy start to tingle and a shiver runs down my spine. The hand you had curved around my hip strokes over my belly and down to the top of my thighs. Probing fingers explore further, parting my pussy lips and grazing across my clit, before slipping into my pussy. I hear a satisfied groan, not knowing if it came from you or me. 

Lifting your mouth, your eyes meet mine, "You are so wet and I'm going to fuck you."

Your hands guide me so that my back is to you and once again I can see myself in the mirror, eyes wide, skin flushed.

"Sit on me baby," your hands on my hips guiding me down. 

I pause hovering above your cock so I can take it in my hand and guide it. Just press past the lips and let you feel my wetness with your tip, before taking all of you into me in a slow downward movement. I release a moan of satisfaction at how good your cock feels inside me and pause to savour the sensation. My pussy contracts around you and your cock throbs in response. This feels oh so good and I start to rock my hips backwards and forwards. I feel your moan against my shoulder and your hands cupping my tits and pushing them together, squeezing my pale flesh. My hands on my thighs I start to rise, releasing all but your tip, before consuming you again. My hips circling every time I raise myself, ensuring you feel me tightly wrapped around you. With a final squeeze of my hard nipples your hands clamp firmly on my hips, inciting me to fuck you faster, pulling me down onto your deliciously hard cock. 

The mirror reflects all and I see us joined, I see my pussy stretched around your hard shaft, swallowing it only to free it again. My eyes fixed on your cock surging into me. Your hand lingers over my pussy, stroking the parted outer lips, flicking my clit, eliciting a loud moan of frustration when you pause in you ministrations. My fingers quickly replace yours, brushing against your cock as we fuck, rubbing my clit in rapid motion. You know I'm going to cum and you thrust up into me, pulling me tight to you. 

"Look in the mirror, into your face as you cum."

All I see are wide eyes and parted lips, before my eyelashes flutter down and my body stiffens, my pussy contracting and pulsating tightly around you as I emit a long, loud moan, echoed by your own. 

I open my eyes to see the reflection of you holding me, my hands grasping yours. You kiss the side or my neck and urge me to stand, my legs still feeling a little shaky. Stroking my hips and arse, you position me so that I am bending over the bed, resting on my elbows and if I turn my face I can see the mirror. I feel the heat of your body behind me, hands spreading my legs a little further apart. Fingers brushing my soaking wet pussy. Then you, the tip of your cock rubbing against me, probing my folds. Pushing slowly, until every inch of your cock has been consumed and you groan in gratification. Withdrawing completely, you grip my hips, holding me firmly and thrust into me in one move, filling me. Turning my head I can see you, your cock thrusting in and out of me. Oh it feels so good this deep, hard fuck, where every thrust is greeted by a sigh or moan of ecstasy. I feel your fingers rubbing over my clit, deliberate pressure meant to make my body tingle. Seeing your cock fucking me, feeling you deep inside me and your fingers against my clit, I know that I'll have to cum soon, I can't hold it back. My stomach tenses as I feel your pace quicken, fingers clutching at the covers as I feel those first sensations. Body tensing, followed by rippling contractions around your cock. You thrust harder, faster as my pussy squeezes you so tightly. Then you too succumb, thighs straining, cock throbbing as you erupt inside me, flooding my pussy with your spunk. I feel you pulsating as you expel the last drop of cum and wrap your arms around my waist, breath hot and laboured against my skin.



Mirror



I was surprised by my own strength, as I assume one would be, when I picked myself up by the collar of my blouse and pulled myself, limbs flailing, through the narrow passage of the mirror and into the womb of the world behind. I bounced off a sink and collapsed to a chipped tile floor below. The small bathroom, perfectly arranged in a fashion just the opposite of my own, rang with the echoes of my shocked and frightened screams.

I stared up into my own eyes which looked narrow and angry. My hands clasped my ears to escape the shrill sound of my screaming.

"Shut the fuck up!" my reflection shouted down at me. "Jesus fucking Christ, you're loud!"

I looked up at myself - this person who looked like me, but with her cowlick on the wrong side. 

Questions stampeded through my head like so many lemmings racing for an early demise. It was overwhelming. I tried my best to catch one and apply it to my lips. Unsuccessfully. "You're not wearing any pants."

"Well, why the fuck should I? The mirror is just a medicine cabinet, and it's placed so high that we are lucky just to get a chance to view the bottom of our chin, eh? Why waste so much energy creating details like pants when they are never seen."

I began to arrange my legs underneath me in an attempt to stand up. Certainly, some body parts would soon yield bruises. "There's got to be an explanation for this," I muttered to myself. And, I suppose, myself. "Someone must have spiked my orange juice... LSD, or something..."

"Sorry, bitch, you give your friends too much credit - what few of them they are. Our meeting has been arranged by me at great effort and expense. So, get your fucking head together we have to talk." I, uh she, whatever, reached down and pulled me up to my feet. "Come on! Get off your cute little ass!"

"Fat..." I muttered under my breath.

"Stop that right now!" Mirror Me jumped in my face and even though she was exactly my height it felt like she was towering over me. Scowling. 

"Yoww!" I screamed as she reached out and pinched my nipple. Even through the padding of my bra cup her grasp was quite painful. 

"You diminish both of us every time you say something like that," she exclaimed. "We're hardly fat! Nothing like your friend Elle certainly. I can't stand that bitch. Why do you invite her over?"

"Elle? She's ok."

"Fuck that! The bitch must live on a diet of post-menopausal skunks. She uses our bathroom and stinks the place up for fucking days. Do you know how hard it is to get that stench out? Meanwhile you force me to spritz my nose with that saline shit and inhale. I may look content in your mirrored view, but believe me, I'm retching. If she asks to come over again, tell her to fuck off!"

Mirror Me directed me out the bathroom door and into a small bedroom completely unlike any room I had in my own apartment. The room was furnished with a large four poster bed. The walls were covered with shelves stuffed tight with books of all shapes and sizes. Light emanated from above. There was no light fixture per se, simply a featureless glowing expanse of nothingness.

"So, what do I call you? What is your name?" I asked nervously.

"Duh!" Mirror Me looked at me as though I had forgotten a year's worth of remedial coursework. "I am your reflection... I have your name!"

"Oh, Siana, I just was-"

"Except backwards. It's Anais!"

"Oh, of course."

I stared at myself- at Anais and she at me for a moment. "You're so cute," she said, finally, "when you have that lost puppy look."

"So, you, uh, live here?" I asked turning to peruse the stacks of books.

"Ah... small talk..." Anais scoffed. "You'd be pretty fucking surprised if someone else lived here, wouldn't you?"

Wow, I'm rude! 

I pulled a book off the shelf and opened the cover. "I don't recognize any of these books."

"Well, first, it helps to read the book from its beginning." Anais flipped all the pages over so they rested on the left hand cover. I tilted my head back and forth staring at the words. "We read from right to left here." 

Ah! Backwards.

"You wouldn't recognize the books because they have all been custom written for me," Anais explained.

"All of them?" I looked around at the piles. There must have been thousands.

I walked over to a clothing rack that contained the top half of all my outfits.

Anais patiently watched me explore for a moment then held out her arm. "Who wears this shit?" she asked. "I mean, besides you?"

I looked at her with my mouth hanging open. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Well, don't you ever consider wearing something that might be just a little bit fashionable?"

"'Fashionable' costs a lot of money," I explained.

"Treat yourself, bitch! Every once in a while maybe."

I continued looking around. "Are there any other rooms?"

"Access to more rooms would require for me to have more doors, now wouldn't it?" Anais stated bluntly. "Nope. It's just your grimy bathroom and my small bedroom."

"But, I have other mirrors in my apartment. How do you get to them?"

"Oh, those are totally different us's. Every mirror is a gateway to a different reflective universe... small as they may be. Every mirror is a different Anais."

"What do you eat?" I asked looking for a refrigerator. 

"You eat for both of us, sweetheart. The only food I get is those crappy bits of shit that pop out from between your teeth when you floss. Spit that shit out! Don't swallow it! That's fucking disgusting."

I accidentally let out a minor exasperated laugh.

"What? What's wrong?" Anais asked accusingly.

"I uh... I was just wondering if I come across to people like you do since, you know, we are the same person."

"Ah! You're worried that you are a crass, rude, bitch? That's what you wanted to say, right?"

"Nooo! No, no no..." I said staring at the floor. "Yes."

"Don't worry, sweet nips. You come across as sweet. Sweet sweet, even. Disgustingly saccharine, nasty sweet. And milquetoast. Oh my god, yes! Totally wimpy, mild milquetoast. So, don't worry."

"I... I won't," I said, my hand covering my mouth.

"You see, like all things, the multiverse likes balance. You are right handed. I am left handed. Whereas you are a submissive, boot-wiping, floor mat, I am a type-A, alpha bitch. Balance!"

"Oh! Like matter and antimatter?" I suggested.

"Don't try to think, bitch. You'll give me a fucking headache."

I looked around the small room briefly. "So, why am I here?"

"Don't you remember? I reached through the mirror, grabbed your ass and yanked you through. Quite a trick, huh?"

"Well, what do you want?"

Anais turned from me and paced across the room unbuttoning her blouse as she went. "You've been packing your bags. You're getting ready to go on trip."

"Yes, I am."

"How long?" she asked.

"Three months."

"Where to?"

"England. Ah... I see!" A smile spread across my face. "You're going to miss me. I won't be here looking at you in the mirror."

"No," she said bluntly. "Who are you staying with?"

"This girl I met a while back."

"A girl?"

"A girl."

"Do you like her?"

"This is kind of like the inquisition."

Anais rolled her eyes and threw the blouse across the room to the rack of clothing where it bounced and slid into a heap on the floor. "Just answer the fucking question."

"If you are me, don't you already know the answer?"

"Yes. But you always talk to yourself even when you are not with me. How is this interaction any different?" Anais released the fastener for the bra and randomly flung it to the floor.

"You're just going to get naked, I see," I said.

"It's nothing that you've never seen before. Or don't you look? So, do you like her?"

"Well, yeah! I mean, she's a friend of a friend. She was visiting the States. We hung out for a while. She stayed here for a night. We had fun."

"You didn't sleep with her," Anais said.

"No! It was just one night! She is a only a friend."

"Easy, bitch! That wasn't a question. It was a statement. You didn't sleep with her."

"No," I stated wistfully.

"Ynnej."

"Bless you!"

"No, you fuck! Ynnej. That was her name. On your side she would have been called, umm... Jenny?"

"Yeah," I looked up at Anais as she leaned against the post of her bed. Her left arm was stretched up over her head. She looked very pretty - sexy even. "Yennj?"

"Names don't always translate so well between our worlds."

"I guess not," I said turning back to look through the book shelves. "Wait a second! You met her?" I asked, turning back to Anais.

"Met her? She was at your place for, like, fifteen hours. Do you think she never went to the bathroom? Hell yeah I met her. Damn, bitch! I even fucked her."

"What?!" I pressed the palm of my hand to my forehead.

"Yeah! She was one mean bitch..."

"You didn't like her!?"

"I did! She was quite a fighter, but I ended-"

"You raped her!?"

"No, you fuck! She just likes it rough. I got her down in the end, though. At least that's my story and I'm sticking with it." Anais began to chew on the fingernail that I can never seem to grow out.

"Oh, I get it. Ynnej is mean, because Jenny is so sweet. I'm in opposite world."

"Not opposite, bitch. Balance! There's a difference." Anais spit the fingernail fragment at me.

"Well, Jenny is sweet! And very pretty..."

"Fucking hot!" Anais gazed off into a memory.

I pictured Jenny in my head, as well. "Mmmm... She has the most beautiful soft round lips..."

"Very bite-able." Anais agreed.

"I like the graceful curve of her back when she stretches..."

"Which looks even better when covered in welts, I must say."

"And her eyes..."

"...when they are covered by a heavy blindfold..."

"...Beautiful!" we sighed in unison.

I looked back at Anais who was idly scratching her crotch. She stopped when she caught my look of disdain. "Fuck, bitch! You should trim it up sometimes. Fuck!" Anais pointed at her crotch. "It's like a goddamned marmot. You're going to be in some particularly romantic situation. Maybe Jenny has just leant towards you and placed a kiss upon your lips. Her hands start to slide up your waist and tug at the buttons of your blouse. Instead of channeling an irresistible sex goddess like you should, all you will be able to think about is the fact that you have a marmot between your legs."

I rolled my eyes and gathered a deep breath. 

Meanwhile Anais began prancing around and screaming "Marmot! Marmot! Marmot!" She jumped up on the bed. "Eee! Get that thing away from me! Marmot!"

"Alright already!" I screamed. "You're so vile."

"Me!? I don't choose to carry around a large rodent in my pants."

"You don't wear pants!" I screamed.

"How could I? There wouldn't be enough room for me and your rodent."

"Grrr..." I had to change the subject. "Anyways... Jenny has a room that I will be able to use as a base while I explore England. For three months. And, you know what? I need to get back to packing my toiletries. Is there anything else that you need from me?" I turned back towards the bathroom.

"Yes. There is. Take off your clothes. We are going to have sex."

I turned back around with my mouth open wide. "What!? I don't think so."

"Oh, come on! Basically, you'll be having sex with yourself. It's just like masturbation. And, admit it! You're the queen of masturbation. What was it? Five times this past week?"

"How do you know that?" I huffed back towards the bathroom door.

"You're going to pass this up? Come on, Siana, O Queen of Water Based Lubricants, take off your goddamned clothes!"

"Ha!" I screamed, spinning back around. "Look at your little love nest here. You probably lie around all day in your four poster scratching your crotch," I retorted, while bending my fingers like little quotes in the air above my head to emphasize my use of the term "scratching".

"You are so hot when you get worked up... But, for your information, bitch, each day that you masturbate, I can't. Each day that you don't masturbate, I cunt. Ha ha! Get it?"

I stared at her for a moment. Surely, she was joking. 

"It's one of those multiverse balance things," she explained. "And believe you me! You are having much more fun than me, Miss Fingers! If you did it in front of the fucking mirror, it'd be a different story... Jesus!" Anais looked genuinely sad. She was staring at my feet, arms crossed - even her lips were a little pouty. I had no idea that my private pleasure had any sort of effect somewhere else on someone else.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know," I said as I took a step towards her and placed a comforting hand on her arm.

"Can I try those on?" Anais asked pointing at my shoes.

"Don't you-" I started, but then realized that if she didn't have reflective copies of my pants, there was no way she would have copies of my shoes. I slipped my feet out of them. They were just an old pair of leather flats.

"Now, I love these!" she exclaimed as she slid her feet into them. She jumped up and down in them, then began prancing around the room again. She stood on the ball of her left foot and spun herself around in a circle screaming "Wheee!" until she lost her balance and fell into my arms.

I held her naked body against mine for a second staring into her large blue eyes. She felt so nice pressed against me. I saw details of my face in hers that I had never seen before. Slowly, she straightened up, leaned forward, and our lips met.

I am not the most kissed woman in the world. I've had enough, though, to be able to categorize the quality of a particular kiss quickly and easily. And so, it is with some confidence that I may suggest that this kiss was heads and shoulders above anything I had experienced before. The moment our lips touched a feeling of electricity began to spin through my body. Our lips fit together perfectly. I was surprised at the feelings that this kiss sparked within me. I was surprised at how soft and full my lips felt.

As the feeling grew, we both simultaneously advanced our tongues to taste, feel, and explore. I felt hands begin to unbutton my blouse. MY hands were unbuttoning. MY my-hands were unbuttoning my blouse, not her my-hands. I wanted her. I wanted me. It was weird, but so, so wonderful.

As I popped the fastener on my bra and it fell away, Anais was pulling down on the hem of my jeans. "There's a zipper that you have to undo," I whispered between kisses.

Soon, Anais moved around behind me kissing my neck as she went. I leaned against one of the bed posts as she pealed my jeans down. My panties quickly followed. I felt Anais's breath in the small of my back. A line of kisses tickled their way up my spine. Her fingers slid down the length of my right arm. They slid over the back of my hand and intertwined with my own fingers in a loving caress. 

Then she let my hand go and grasped my wrist. Her touch turned from warm and soft to cold, unyielding and heavy. Confused, I looked down to find my wrist encircled by a heavy cuff. A sturdy chain was attached to a d-ring embedded on the cuff and the chain rose off towards the ceiling. 

Before I could react, I heard a click and realized that my left wrist was now held captive as well. 

I looked up to see where the chains were connected. They simply rose past the top of the bed posts and faded into the mysterious glowing void above us. The chains began to tug my arms upwards. 

I looked at Anais. "What's going on?"

"I know your deepest and darkest secrets, lover-bitch Siana," she smiled. "And, I'm going to give you a vivid taste."

"No!" I screamed, shuffling around on my feet, twisting in my chains. "Please! No!"

I know my deepest, darkest secrets too, and frankly, they instill at least as many parts fear as they do fascination. "Please, stop, Anais!"

My arms were pulled up until I was being lifted off of my heels. 

Anais shook her left arm a few times until a multiply tailed leather flogger appeared to grow from the palm of her hand. A strap formed around her wrist and a handle settled firmly between her gripping fingers.

"Oh, god, please!" I begged. "Don't! I'm not ready for this!"

Anais held the flogger up to her lips. "Shhh! If you can't trust me, then who will you ever trust."

She raised the flogger and brought the straps down on the upper left side of my back. She followed up with a series of perfectly placed strikes. I danced on my toes trying to get away from the pain, grunting and whimpering.

Anais stopped for a moment, wrapped her right arm around my torso and pulled my back tightly against her breasts. They felt particular cool against the areas on my back which she had assaulted. 

"You don't have to prove to me how tough you are, pussy willow. Scream..." she whispered into my ear. "Loudly..."

She pushed me away and continued her attack - this time on the upper right side of my back. I complied with her wishes and let my voice go wild, loud, and ragged. Tears were pouring down my face. I felt like I was going to throw up. Still, at the same time the fire that Anais ignited on my back fed a smoldering heat down below.

"Siana!" Anais sang. "Who is the fairest of them all?" She struck me even harder with the flogger, laughing at her little joke.

She paused for a moment. "Well? Answer me!" she screamed.

"Ow, ow! You are!" I cried. I had thought she was being rhetorical.

"Good answer," she replied. "But, wrong!" Another volley of strikes rained down upon me causing me to lose my footing briefly. 

"Who?" she asked again.

"I don't know!" I cried. "I don't know!" 

I cowered as best as I could, waiting for another round of lashings. Instead she stepped around in front of me and kissed me gently on the lips. "You and I are the same, Silly! The answer is 'We are'."

I whimpered.

"So, who is the fairest of them all?" she asked again.

"We are," I gasped.

"Correct!" Anais screamed and she started flogging me again.

"I answered!" I screamed. "Stop hitting me!"

Anais stopped. She caught a tear running down my cheek with her thumb and sucked it into her mouth. "I'm not flogging you based on wrong and right answers, Siana. I'm flogging you because you want me to."

"No!" I cried.

"You don't want me to flog you anymore?" she asked.

I tried to answer but I was suddenly gripped by a pathetic series of uncontrollable gasps and blubbering sounds. So, I shook my head.

"You can't lie to me, Siana." Blows began to rain down again. "Lying to me is the same as lying to yourself. Why do you lie to yourself, Siana?"

"I'm not," I whimpered.

Anais stepped around in front of me again, sighing. "Siana, Siana, Siana..." She stared at me with a distinctly accusatory look. Eventually, I turned my eyes to the floor simply to avoid her gaze.

"I've got an idea," Anais said as she raised a handkerchief to my nose and dabbed drool off my chin. "I'll make you a little more comfortable." She twisted my hair into a ponytail and pulled it over my shoulder so that it draped in front of me. Some strands were already wet with sweat.

"I know how much you like chains."

Oh, no! I whimpered and let my frame sink until I was supported by my wrist cuffs.

"I'll get you some chains to wear. Really, really heavy ones."

Anais raised her hands to my neck. I felt something cold and solid clamp firmly against my skin. I heard a resounding click. A collar had been locked around my neck. She touched her hand to the side of my neck and as she raised her hand away a series of thick, heavy gauge links materialized at the base of her palm as though she were extracting the chain from within her being. She reached up and affixed this chain to my cuffed wrist. Then, she repeated the process on my other side.

Next Anais wrapped her arms around my waist. As she brought her hands forward from my back to my abdomen, I felt a similarly stout chain settle loosely on the flare of my hips.




Mirror



She waved her hands up and down my torso and three chains descended from my collar, framing my breasts, before joining together at my waist chain. She grabbed my right thigh firmly and slid her hands down the length of my leg until she held my ankle in her hand. I heard the tinkle of chain follow her movements and cool links began to tickle my flesh along my leg's length.

She pulled my foot to the side until I could barely touch the floor with my toes and secured it there somehow.

I began to shake and cry as she repeated the process with my left leg. When she was done I could barely breathe, I was so stretched out. 

Besides the cuffs at my ankles and wrists, the chain did very little to restrain me. On the other hand, I was well aware of its weight. If I were to have had to bear the chain, I would've tired quickly. I could feel its presence along my frame from tip to tip.

Anais placed two fingers from each hand on the chain at my waist and traced down over my pubic bone along each side of my sex. As she did, two thinner chains sprouted out of her fingers. She continued with her fingers to a point in the air, about mid thigh and formed her hands into fists. When she opened them, two heavy metal balls hung at the end of the each chain.

Anais stepped around behind me and I heard the sound of the flogger whistling through the air again. Each stroke evoked a flash of heat on my back followed shortly by the cold, shifting chains settling back against my body. The dangling balls clicked and grazed my inner thighs. Their chains alternately pressing against my crotch as they swung about.

My screams became littered with moans.

Anais gently placed a hand on one side of my head. On the other side her cheek touched mine covering the cool streams of tearfall. "Now, Siana, do you want me to whip you some more?"

I started to whimper and shake my head again, but when I did, I felt the warmth of her cheek against mine. Her lips were so close to my ear. My crotch chains rocked like bellows and the smoldering within me suddenly flared causing a ripple of contractions through my muscles.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Yes what?" she asked.

I sucked in a few gulps of air attempting to get the courage to speak. "Whip me," I cried, "some more."

Her lips pressed softly on my neck just below my ear for a fleeting moment before she stepped away. As she did a flood of tears began to pour from my eyes accompanied by a full-voiced cry of despair. Years worth of bunched up emotion began to flood from my body sweeping me along with it. I heard the sound of the lash slapping flesh and chain links rattling for several strokes before I even felt the fires that its bite ignited. And I screamed as loudly as I could.

After this point, I was no longer a reliable witness to the events that were unfolding in that small reflective universe. All I know is that the flogging seemed to last forever. Sometimes Anais used the flogger as gently as a brush. Other times the whipping was fast and furious. 

Throughout the time, Anais encouraged me to scream and cry. She peppered me with questions that I do not recall. Nor do I recall if I answered the questions with answers relevant to inquiry, or even if I was capable of answering at all. 

My vision was a fuzzy, gray canvas upon which swirls of color exploded and faded with each stroke. Vaguely, I sensed a renewed ferocity in the lashes. I could no longer react, or scream, or think as I hung by my wrists. Anais was swinging so hard, that she was grunting. Indeed she let forth a desperate cry between each stroke as if to give life to my own missing voice.

Finally, she let forth a piercing feral cry and the flogger popped like a whip. Unlike all the previous strokes which were like slaps, this final stroke was a laceration that struck like a genus of daggers across my left shoulder blade. I heard the chains rattle and stared at the floor far, far away. A few red droplets of blood splattered, making perfect little starbursts on the hard gray surface.

Surely, I was half dead - hanging limply in the silence - murdered by my own reflection. Who investigates inter-universal crime? Would this be considered a suicide?

A wailing cry slowly filtered into my head. I tried to move my mouth to see if the cry was mine. I do not think that it was. A roar intruded our small universe. A train perhaps. I opened my eyes to see cold metal links of chain falling all around me and tumbling across the floor. The cuffs holding my wrists fell away and I began to collapse, but Anais caught my body and lowered me gently and naked onto the soft blankets of the bed.

When I could, I curled into a ball and Anais wrapped herself around me, holding me when I felt like I might fall off her reality, stroking my hair, and shushing me to lie still and recover.

I faded in and out. Sometimes I was shaking uncontrollably. Sometimes I was lying beside both myself and Anais. 

I felt a coolness on my back. Anais was dabbing my skin with lotion. It felt nice until she touched the one last spot on my left side and my own ragged scream informed me that my voice had returned from wherever it had gone to hide.

"Shhh," Anais comforted. "The salve will numb it in a moment."

My head was cradled in her lap. I wrapped my arms around her waist and held on as tightly as I could.

Later when I had some strength, I raised my head slightly and pulled Anais even more closely. I ran my hand up her back. It felt textured and hot. I looked into her eyes and saw that they were red and swollen from tears of her own. Indeed, her back was red and swollen as well. It was covered in raised welts and a vicious cut was ripped into the flesh of her right shoulder blade.

"Oh my god, Anais, you're bleeding!"

She nodded her head and coughed up a ragged chuckle. "Sympathy welts... I am your reflection after all..."

I reached for the tube of salve, but Anais snatched it before me. "No!"

She heaved the tube up towards the ceiling and I watched in fade into the haze.

"We need to put something on your back," I complained.

Anais pointed to a space on the bed, and, when I looked, a new tube of salve dropped from above.

I smirked at her, but picked up the tube and began applying it to her back just as she had mine. Soon, I found that attending to her wounds made me forget my own. 

After I had applied the salves and they had absorbed into her skin, Anais rolled over and looked up at me smiling. She was so pretty and soft lying there beneath me, not the hard, whip-wielding bitch that she wanted me to think that she was. 

I leant over and kissed her lips. She pulled me closer and returned my advance. She tickled my sides with the lightest touch of her fingers. We rolled onto our sides and looked at each other for a moment with smiles on our faces. Then Anais placed her hand on my abdomen and slowly slid it down until her fingers began to thread through the thatch of my sex.

"Marmot!" she croaked in a froggish voice and we both started laughing while tears ran from our eyes.

Once settled, though, we kissed again and the bed became flooded with a tide of arousal and we swam together - tucking and twirling, twisting and thrusting. Our hands sculled the arousal into small pools from which we drank with our tongues and lips. Belly to belly we porpoised atop the surface of the bed. We pressed one another for fingerholds and textured places and breathed when we could above the lapping waves of love.

We surfaced, legs kicking, holding one another closely. In a syncopated dance we raised an arm to the sky in a graceful curve. Our backs arched and we sang a note, then another, and another, sustained, then another and slowly sank below the surface - a descending spin until we settled, exhausted.

A coil of chains snaked their way onto the bed and gathered my limbs, neck, and waist. The links shortened me into a soft round drop. Anais wrapped her body around my back and pulled me close - a soft, warm fortress against the elements. Her breathing behind my ear became slow and deep. I was safe, secure, loved.

---

I awoke from a peaceful sleep, alone. I expected that I would open my eyes to find myself in my own room and that my story had all been a dream. But, alas, I found myself still in Anais's room with it's stacks of books and featureless ceiling.

The chains had fled me, mostly. I wore a single matted steel plate that covered my sex like a thong panty. The belt was tight and the fit was seamless. The single aberration upon the smooth surface was sturdy D-ring deep between my thighs. And, from there ran a chain across the sheets and over the edge of the bed.

I pressed my palm hard against the plate to sooth a buzz that lingered from the night before, but the surface was impenetrable and my sex lay well locked away.

I crawled to the edge of the bed and saw that the other end of my chain, my chastity leash, was connected to a staple embedded in the floor.

"Anais?"

I stepped out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom.

As luck would have it Anais also entered the bathroom at the exact same time, yet she was on the other side of my mirror. She was on the side on which I was supposed to be. And I had no choice but to mimic her movements as we brushed out our hair and checked our lipstick.

When Anais spoke, I formed the same words and they fell from my lips, but they were not mine. Neither did my face belie the sense I had of blood draining from it.

"Hey Fuckypoo! Good night's rest? You snore, bitch!" Ah... vile Anais.

"I was thinking about this girl in England, Jenny, as you slept," Anais continued. "I looked into the future. Extrapolated, if you will. You two would fall in love, deeply, no doubt - a disgustingly sweet love. You would be together. But after a few years you would both realize that something was missing. You would both wait for the other to be the bitch for once. Perhaps, you would alternate, desperately trying to fill the bitch roll that you both need so badly. But, it's a role that neither of you want. You will become sad. You'll cling to one another out of duty, or fear of the alternative. You'll fucking die with only half lived lives. And that's just a big ball of fucking suck!"

Anais and I checked our eyelashes for length and appeal. Behind them my eyes were cool and calm, not dilated with fear like they should have been.

"So, I decided that since I have the one ingredient that you lack, not to mention, some practice with a flogger, I will go on your three month trip to England. I will bring back the love of your life."

We were admiring the sparkle and movement of some dangly earrings that Anais had chosen.

"You'll have to wait for me to return, Siana. Rest. Read some books. They were all custom written for you, after all. Do whatever you do when you're not doing anything... Er... Except, you may have noticed that you are wearing a chastity belt. So, you can't do that!" We smiled a sassy smile at one another. "There is no key. Sorry! I figure that the more frustrated that you are, the more satisfied that I will be. Balance!"

I don't know anything about her universe. What could she possibly know of mine? I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to stop her, even if just to warn her. But, she was in control. "They say that to love someone you must first love yourself. So, after last night, it sounds like I'm all set to seduce Jenny, eh?"

We adjusted our blouse a bit and flinched from the pain in our shoulder blade. "Ooo! That still hurts like a fucking bitch, doesn't it?" Anais said. "I left more salve for you in the steamer trunk."

I didn't remember seeing a steamer trunk in Anais's room...

"Apply some whenever it becomes too sore... One more thing..."

We turned around and picked up a hammer that I had not noticed before. "I need to do this to keep you safe. I'll get a new one when Jenny and I come back home. A better one. One that doesn't leak so badly."

We winked at each other and smiled a pretty smile. A fucking smile. I didn't want to be smiling!

"Safe travels! Don't die!"

No! Anais, wait! The screams in my head did not crack the surface of Anais's smile.

We lifted the hammer high over our heads and swung it at the mirror.

I jumped back in order the avoid the shards of glass as the mirror shattered into a million pieces. All the shards however seemed to fall onto Anais's side.

The chain attached to my chastity belt suddenly pulled sharply and I tumbled backwards through the bathroom door and into a heap on the floor of the bedroom. The bathroom door slammed shut and faded into the wall. A new bookshelf covered in randomly placed colorful books filled in the spot.

I jumped to my feet, ran to where the bathroom door had been, and began tearing books off the shelves trying to see if I could still get back into the bathroom. I only found a hard, grey cement wall.

With an angry scream, I pulled an entire row of books from the shelf and flung them out across of the room. As they tumbled and slid across the floor, I discovered that Anais's universe had changed. The room was smaller. The rack of clothes were gone. Even the shirt that Anais had been wearing in the mirror had been ripped from my body. I placed my trembling hand over my beating heart - my naked breast. The bed was gone. All that remained were the books and a large steamer trunk into which my chastity leash led. There were no doors. There were no mirrors.

I ran from wall to wall pulling more books from the shelves, throwing them about in frustration, until I tripped over some and landed sprawled across a pile of hardbacks and bent pages and chain. I lay, out of breath, whimpering in denial.

A piece of paper was taped to the open lid of the trunk - a note. I stumbled to my feet and clambered over piles of books.

"Dear Siana," it said. "Grab some books to read and close yourself in the trunk. I know you are angry at me right now, but I really love you with all my heart. So, trust me! Get in the fucking trunk. If you can't trust me, who will you trust, right? I love you!"

The note was signed simply, "Me".

And there was a post script: "Get in the fucking trunk, Siana! Do it! Now!"

I ripped the message off the lid and wadded it up into a ball. "Fuck!" I screamed. "I hate you!"

I threw the wadded note as hard as I could. It bounced off one of the bookshelves and shot up towards the ceiling, where it disappeared into the void.

A sense of horror crept over me as I realized that the ceiling void seemed lower than it had been before. Wispy tendrils of nothingness slowly streamed briefly from the featureless surface. Holy shit! The room was being eaten by this nothingness!

A strange guttural roar echoed through the space shaking the very foundations of the universe. I grabbed a couple of armloads of books and heaved them into the trunk. I jumped over the edge and landed on soft padding. I yanked my chastity leash inside with me.

The lighting in the room had started to flicker and a swirling wind arose causing book pages to flap and swirl. I took one last look around and with a whimper pulled the heavy lid down over me. The rim seated itself firmly within the tight groove to form a perfect seal and locks ratcheted closed sealing me inside.

I crouched, trembling in the trunk as the sides shook and creaked, strafed by blowing debris. 

Oh, please, Anais, please come back for me!



Mirror



The big man paced naked around the locker room, from mirror to locker and back, shaving, trimming, moisturizing. He was 35 and hard as a rock, tall, big-boned, and hairy. Jet black hair. His deep chest was wild with it, but it disappeared as it moved down toward his crotch, leaving his belly smooth. He had a small but thick bush of hair in his crotch. His dick, belied by his big hands, was hung thick and low, and his balls hung down even further. The dick arced out from his body before pointing downward. When he walked, it flapped from side to side, like a tail. His butt was round and taught, and his legs carried sculpted thighs and calves. He never once covered himself with a towel in the locker room, nor was he at all self-conscious.

Eric had had his eye on him for weeks in the gym, watching him lift weights and pull cables. He didn't speak to anybody; he just went about his business. He was handsome enough, Eric thought, with his curly, close-cut hair and heavy beard. He didn't have the smooth grace and toothy smile of a model, though, and he wasn't the bodybuilder type either. Just a guy who liked to keep in real good shape. 

Eric had selected a locker near the big man's that day, and he timed his workout to coincide with his. When he approached his locker to dress, Eric was sitting naked on the bench in front of the bank of lockers. As usual, he had been furtively eyeing him, especially the dick. He tried to be discreet, and the man didn't seem to notice his barely-concealed interest. Eric was not usually hesitant about speaking to strangers, but this man didn't seem interested in him an opening. Finally, Eric said, "Have a good workout?"

The man just looked at him blankly and said, "Yeah." Nothing else. He stood half-turned between his locker and Eric. He stretched up and leaned back a little to retrieve his shirt from inside. Eric could not help but stare at the big dick, hanging there only about a yard from him, swinging slightly. Time seemed suspended as the man held his stretched pose. Finally, Eric looked up only to see the man staring at him.

"You queer or something?" He looked annoyed.

"What? No, I . . . no, I was just . . . well . . ."

"You been staring at me and my dick a whole lot You been doin' it for weeks now."

"I mean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to invade your privacy." He turned away and moved off a little.

"I bet you're a fuckin' cocksucker," he said, raising his voice a little. He went too far there. Eric was a "fuckin' cocksucker" all right, but he wasn't about to be called one. He stood up to face the man. 

"Look, you're a big guy, you run around the locker room showin' off your muscles without so much as a towel on, you stand naked in front of the mirror, and you got a big dick you like to show off. 'Course I'd look at it. 'Cause you want me to, like you want every guy in the gym to look at it. Fuckin' exhibitionist!"

There was no one else in the locker room, so the man straddled the bench standing up and pointed for Eric to sit down in front of him. The man moved very close to him, so that his dick was only a few inches from Eric's face. "Take it in your mouth," he said quietly.

"You crazy? Anybody's liable to come in here any moment."

"Take it!"

Eric opened his mouth and started to lean forward toward the dick, but just then, they heard a bang, s two guys slammed open the door to the locker room. The noise was just enough warning for them to turn away from each other and commence dressing. The two new guys were so absorbed in their conversation that they noticed nothing. After he got his tee-shirt and jeans on, the big man walked over to the coat rack and grabbed his coat. Eric followed him a few seconds later out of the locker room. The man was waiting for him outside the gym. He looked a little sheepish, hunched over against the cold air.

"You wanna come back to my place? I live around here. I'm Eric."

"Sure. Bob here."

They walked down the tree-lined brick sidewalk, each carrying his gym bag. They kept their heads down and spoke very little.

"I ain't no queer," the big man finally said, as he held up his left hand to show Eric his wedding ring, but it didn't sounds like a warning It sounded defensive.

"S'okay, but you do like to get your cock sucked. Don't your wife suck it?"

"Naw. She used to, before we was married" The man seemed to relax and loosen up, as if he was glad to have someone to talk to.

"Why'd she quit?"

"I don't know. Women! She said it's too big and makes her mouth hurt. She didn't use to say that."

"So you still fuck her."

"Well, not much. She says I'm too heavy for her. I dunno. I don't think I weight that much more than I used to. I said she could be on top and ride my dick, but she didn't want to do that either." The big man became more animated as he got going, letting his arms make great arcs. "I tried doing muscles poses naked for her, thinking that would excite her, but she didn't like me to do that. Hell, I work out hard. I don't know why she don't like it. She even complained about me flexing front of a mirror in the morning. You don't know what it's like trying to get a muscle to pop up big when some woman is whining at you. I don't get it. I mean, a lot of women like muscles, but she don't."

"Must be lonely. Do you fuck other women?"

"I get some offers, but I don't like to do that much. Ain't right"

They arrived at Eric's aging and not very well-kept apartment building and rode the elevator to his floor. Eric opened the door to his apartment and flipped on the light

"Nice place," the man said. It wasn't, but Eruic thought it was nice of him to say so.

"You wanna beer or somethin'?"

"Yeah,a beer'd be great."

"Go ahead, take your shirt off and make yourself comfortable."

When Eric returned with the beers, he found the man had stripped down completely.

"Wanna watch me?" he said.

"Sure." Eric sat on the floor The man didn't have a posing routine, like a body builder, he just flexed whatever he thought of a the time.

"Great chest, huh?" he said, as he curved his arms in front of him and joined his hands across his belly, pushing out his big pectoral muscles. "Last time I measured it, it was 50 inches around."

Eric felt a little trembly.

The man continued to pose land flex, showing off his pecs and as, his delts and traps, his firm smooth butt. His dick started to get hard as he flexed, because he flexed. He moved closer to Eric, flexing his thighs and turning his leg to show off his dick. Eric rose to his knees, his mouth open slightly.

"Suck my dick."

He licked the head of the man's dick, and then he took the dick into his mouth. Slowly. The man continued to flex and pose, though with less movement, while Eric moved further down the shaft. Eric tiled his head up to watch the show. He had never seen a guy like this before.

He reached up to grab the man's smooth, peach-sized balls sac. He rolled the balls round through his fingers.

"Suck my balls." Eric withdrew from the cock and moved under the mans crotch to take the ball sac into his mouth. The skin was tender and smooth, and the balls big, like huge pieces of fruit hanging from a vine. Eric felt that it was even more intimate to take a man's balls in his mouth than his dick. There was something more vulnerable about them. He carefully rolled them around in his mouth, as he reached under the man's crotch and grabbed his hard butt cheeks.

Coming up for air, he released the ball sac and backed out from under the man to look up at him. He panted in awe, as the man's face registered an impersonal, animal excitement.

"Man, you are the biggest muscle guy I ever sucked off! Nothing but fucking hard muscle. Big, beautiful muscle Damn!"

Eric reached up to grab a handful of pec muscle before going back down on the dick again. Quickly this time, and deeply. Not waiting to be told, sucking as if his life depended on it. Hard. Deep. He was so turned on that he didn't gag on the huge mallet he was deep throating. The cock stayed hard, and the man began to thrust in and out. Eric wanted him to cum in his mouth, down his throat, but when he heard the man making little moans he felt him starting to withdraw. The man grabbed his dick and fisted it. Eric stood up, unsure what to do. He saw the man close his eyes, as he seemed to be on the edge of ejaculating. Eric didn't want him to cum just yet so he grabbed his arm and steered him into the bedroom where he had a large floor-to-ceiling mirror on a wall. The man's eyes brightened as he saw himself, muscles all pumped, dick hard and quivering. He flexed his pecs, his shoulders, his biceps, staring at himself in the mirror, his dick still raging hard. Eric climbed under his crotch to watch the show in the mirror. The man's entire body was quivering with sex now as he saw not only himself and his muscle but also an admirer in the mirror. He bent forward slightly in masturbatory lust. He stared wide-eyed into the mirror, his muscles as tense as they could be. Eric could smell the sex sweat. The man's hips thrust forward, and he shot . . .

On the mirror.

Ten, twelve hard, high-velocity spasms of sticky, pearly muscle semen.

Eric watched each shot slam against the mirror and dribble slowly down, blurring the image of the naked muscle man. The man stood there, panting hard and staring hard into the mirror, as Eric crawled forward and rubbed the cum around, watching it blur the mirror as he did. He was so intrigued that he didn't at first notice that the man had backed away, but then he perceived a vague image of him putting his jeans on. Eric didn't stir; he just pressed his face against the cum-blurred mirror. Even when he heard the apartment door close, he continued to kneel at the mirror, his tears - tears of joy for the beauty of it all - mixing with the semen.



Mirror



We entered the elevator to proceed to the 8th floor. "Now what?" Gina asked.

"Now it gets tricky." I said. "First, we find out what are the room numbers next door." We left the elevator and walked in the direction of room 809. I had to find an adjoining room numbers, and then see if one or the other were empty. I would rent that room and try then to move on to the next step. We found the room and the fact that the rooms were numbered consecutively, rather than evens and odds on opposite sides of the hall told me this was an important move. I had to get either room 808, or 810, and it had to be an adjoining room.

I took Gina with me to the front desk. I meandered toward it until the guest who was there left, and then walked with a purpose, holding Gina's arm like a father. "Hi, my name is Jason Williams. My wife reserved a room for us and at the last minute our daughter was able to join us." I nodded toward Gina. "We thought the room would be big enough, but, well.. you know how these things are." 

The clerk was more bored than caring about my problem. He said nothing.

"So what I am wondering is whether either of the rooms beside ours is open, 808 or 810. If one of those is, and it is adjoining, I sure would like to make things more comfortable for us." My case was laid out and probably far more complicated than it need be, but I hoped that would make it more believable and comfortable for Gina too.

"Let me check." He pecked at the keyboard to his computer and responded in seconds. "Yes, 810 is adjoining and available. The rate is $179." He was almost too disinterested.

"That'll be fine." I took care of the paperwork, received my keys and escorted Gina to room 810. We entered and immediately looked for the adjoining door. It was there. 

She started to say something and I motioned for her not to. I turned out our single light and twisted the lock on the door and opened it slowly. There was enough light coming through the cheese cloth like curtains from the parking area below to see that there was obviously another door there. What I was interested in was how the bolt worked on my door and the other one. I would not be able to jimmy that lock. It was all for naught. We failed. I could not get through to the other room. Just then we heard a muffled scream, not of fear or panic, but of sheer delight next door. It was followed by some laughter. We both instinctively put our heads to the door to listen.

"Oh! Yes! Oh!, NO, Yes, there!" It was Gina's mother. She was having the time of her life and we could do no more than hear. After several minutes activity and exclamations there followed a period of dead silence. Obviously round one was over. I pulled Gina away from the door.

"Damn!" Gina shouted as she stomped her foot on the carpeted floor. "You can't get the door open?! How can you do everything else and not get that damn door open!" She was almost mad but more on the frustrated side. I was surprised at her faith in me, and a bit sheepish to justify my answer. Then I had an idea. It was risky, but if there was something in it for me, I might just try it. If I was right in my thinking, the consequences of guessing wrong might not even be that bad. "All right, I have an idea."

"Oh good!" Gina jumped up in glee. "What is it?"

I walked over to the bed and sat down at its base. I was scheming, trying to capitalize on my new found follower. How could I put this so it would sound right? I decided there was no way to cover bribery and extortion. By the time I was ready to make my demand, Gina was already on to it. She said, "So you are going to hold me up? Why you scoundrel, you!" I could see enough to see her teeth again as she smiled. She walked over to me and pushed my shoulders back enough to force me back on the bed, feet dangling to the floor.

I reached back to the bed stand to turn on one of the brass lamps. Gina was already unbuttoning her blouse. Her fingers moved over the surface of her breasts between each button to the next, smoothing the silk to her form. She was not wearing a bra, not needing to with such firmness to support her. Her cleavage gradually revealed, she dropped her blouse from her shoulders. It was only now that I truly looked at and admired her perfectly proportioned breasts. I wanted those puppies in my hands, in my mouth. Not able to reach her from where she stood, and I lay, I contented myself to finish my examination. 

She wore a tight leather skirt, no longer than mid thigh. How did I miss that, I wondered. It was riding so high on her thighs and wrapped so tightly at her waist it looked a size too small. I liked the look of her bulging slightly over the waist band, straining the leather to let her out. Her breasts above were stainding full and proud and I could see immediately that I was very fortunate indeed to have such a perfect young beauty standing between my legs.

Instinctively, I brought my knees together to make contact with her thighs, but she simply pushed me back open with her legs. Her skirt was the next article to fall as she undid the clasp at her back and dropped the short zipper. Just watching her undress was making me hard enough to break my own zipper. Gina was not missing that fact either as she continued to eye my crotch while shedding her clothes. She was standing there now in pantyhose alone, having kicked her shoes and skirt away. I hoped she would leave the hose on for awhile as it turns me on to reveal a woman's treasures in ever increasing temperatures of making love.

Gina leaned forward and knelt as if hearing my thoughts and busied herself with my pants. The buckle and snap came undone first, followed by the slow movement of my zipper. I was so busy shifting my gaze back and forth from her face to her breasts I felt her hands rather than saw them reach in and pull down my jockey's with one and grasp my now rock hard cock with the other. We moaned at precisely the same moment, and finally made eye contact. 

Gina curled her lip in the most curious way as she looked almost threateningly at me, and I started to bring my hands in to grab her head and kiss her.

"No!" She shook me off and dismissed my attempt. "Lie still. It's my turn to work, and yours later." And with that said, she dropped her head to the head of my cock, licked it, covered it, and then swallowed the entire shaft in one hot, wet sucking motion. My arms flew out to my sides and flapped down on the bed palms up. I was not one to argue with a woman on a mission. I also thought guiltily that I had better get her into that next room when this was over, or I would be squat in her mind. For now, however, it was time to let her do what she was about to do, and that was fine by me.

The motion on my cock was electric. This woman knew what she was doing. She would stop for a moment at the head of my dick, commence a suction that was quite noticeable, and then let her head be sucked right down my shaft until she was breathing pubic hairs from my crotch. She must have been inhaling me as she dove. It was unbelievable. It was so different from the standard blow job. Soon I was as involved with the analysis of her technique as I was with the enjoyment of its results. Her mouth maintained an even suction throughout, punctuated only by sudden releases, presumably for her to breath, and  followed by subsequent resumption of pressure. It was exquisite and I did not want it to end. 

Gina on the other hand, looked like she was enjoying this too, for she pursued her activity with a zest that could not be mistaken. She liked sucking cock, that was for sure. And despite our age difference, she was not in the least unhappy about my cock in her mouth. She would "hum" it every now and then, probably as much from her own enjoyment as from an attempt to give me mine. And she sure did that. Each time I felt the vibrations of her humming I felt my dick bolt straight up again.

Finally, I had to warn her, "Oh, Gina, you are tooooo good at this, Baby, I am going to cumm any second."

I half expected her to remove her mouth from my cock and splatter my juice all over my pants as she jerked me to fruition. But once again this hot little number surprised me and continued her suction right through a huge load of spurting jism and into the next world. It was perfect, and I could scarcely believe the evening had come this far. Then I remembered the promise I had made and began to relax and think.

We both knew there was a mission to perform and as hard as it was, I managed to start to rise off the bed. Gina stood from her knees and reached for her blouse while wiping a small drip of lingering sperm from her mouth. I interrupted her movement. I was afraid I might not get another chance, depending on the course of events about to unfold, so I said, "Please, let me help you."

I took her blouse from her and draped it over her shoulders while I stood before her. Her face could not have been higher than my upper chest area. I then knelt down as if to button the silk but I stopped at holding both sides of the blouse open. I leaned in and took one breast in my mouth and began a gentle but consistent sucking pressure on it. Perhaps, I thought, she might like the same treatment she had given me.

Her instant moan of satisfaction told me all I needed to know. I let go of the blouse with one hand and brought it down between her legs. I put the other hand on her other breast and began to massage the ripe young melon to warm it up for my mouth. My lower hand had found her crotch by way of her inner thighs and was already sensing the moisture gathering there. I was now torn between attempting to take this young harlot here and now, or wait till later to see what develops. I had to admit I was curious about more than simply watching the couple in the next room. I wanted to see if this hot young lady before me was going to blow her stack, jump in, or even steal the hunk in the next room away for herself. In any case, it was an opportunity to see action I and probably few others had ever seen and I didn't want to miss it. So I played the gentleman and simply sucked and kissed and massaged her tits, tormenting her, and stroked and felt her cunt until she came on her feet. The juices and her aroma were now prevalent on both her panty hose and in the air. I was as hot as I could get and still be in any kind of control. The one good thing that came from this was that I was now bold enough to try just about anything, even with the much bigger and younger stud in the next room. Time to fulfill a promise.

Chapter 3

"Turn out the light and keep totally quiet, understand?" I instructed Gina. I took my room key and the one from Gina for 209, swiped up the bedspread in a rather splashy flurry, much to Gina's amazement and curiosity, and exited our room, closing the door behind me after checking the hall for people. 

I looked for cameras too, but figured they were probably better hidden if indeed they were there. What the hell, I thought, you only live once. Damn the cameras and full speed ahead. I leaned my ear against the door and could hear nothing. I should have listened from our room first. If I was lucky, they might be napping after their first round of orgasms. If I am unlucky, they are wide awake, lying there in bed, lights all on and about to hear and see an amateur break into their room. I needed another piece of luck too, and I got it. The door between our rooms was near the entrance door to both as well. The luck came in when I found the hinges on the two doors, the hall and the adjoining, positioned so that the latches were at their closest possible range. I could keep from having to enter the room completely. It was one thing if they caught Gina in their room, but it was something entirely different if they caught me, a stranger, and I was no match for the monstrous and younger stud with that delicious looking lady.

I did my best, after one more glance down the hall to see it was clear, to poke and stuff the bedspread into the frame around the top of the room's door. Once done, I wiggled under it, between it and the door, and used the key to open the latch. I spent time in the Army, and in war, so the covertness of the operation was actually a welcome challenge. At least here, if caught, I wouldn't be killed. A chill ran down my spine when I thought about that again. The latch operated and the green light came on. The last possible hitch at the door would be if they remembered to bolt the door, or engage the swing latch. I dropped the handle slowly and pushed the door just enough to be able to find they had not. 

There was noise I could make out now, and the room was lit, probably back near the bed like Gina and I had done. The sounds gave them away immediately. The two people were eating each other out! There was no doubt about it. There were muffled noises of pleasure from mouths and sloppy slurping from body connections. They had to be in a state of sixty-nine and a click at the door would be the absolute last thing they would be expecting, or listening for. There was one last chore to perform now before exiting – unlatch the bolt on the door to our own room next door.

I pushed the door open another foot or so to let myself in further and further. At about two feet open, I was able to stretch my body and arm in far enough to reach the adjoining room door's latch. I knew that at this point if the couple eating on the bed looked, they would be able to see my arm. I just gambled that they were too involved and reached in anyway. It was a silent snap to twist the little knob and leave the door unlocked from this side. 

I pulled my hand back as slowly as it went in, backed out through the door, and let it close slowly and silently behind me. It took a total of about five minutes for the simple tasks, but it was required if I was to be able to pull it off with maximum chance for success and minimal chance of detection. And it had worked. I could hardly wait to see the look on Gina's face when I showed her the door was now open.

Once outside in the hall, I quickly removed the bed spread from the jam and let myself back into our room. There had been no one in the hall the entire time. I had not let any noticeable light into the target room, and the two love birds were snug in their embrace and about to be the subject of some serious voyeurism. All was well so far.

"Well?" Gina was beside her self with anticipation.

I looked at her dejectedly for a moment. Her face sank like a landslide of mud. It was painful for me to watch. I quickly brought back a smile however, and watched her eyes light up as I whispered, "The door is open Madam. Let the fun begin!"


Chapter 4

Gina lit up like a beacon. She grabbed my arm and smiled as broadly as was possible on her cute round face and I could see the gratitude in her eyes. She tugged me toward the adjoining rooms' doors.

Our side was already open and we both listened for a moment. I could barely make out the sounds I was hearing minutes before, but only because I knew exactly what I was listening for. Gina frowned a bit and looked at me questioningly. I knew what was going through her mind. Had they missed all the action? Were they asleep? Or worse, had they left already?

I took one last look around to ensure the lights were out and touched the door latch. I opened it slowly, all the time watching Gina's expression. It was one of intense anticipation at the moment, and I almost laughed as I had motioned her to interrupt her thoughts and shut off our light. She'd done so and was back at my side instantly. Then I'd motioned her to the window curtains. She was getting impatient with me, but they had to be closed if we didn't want to silhouette ourselves in the doorway.

Finally, I eased the door open a quarter inch at a time. I knew we couldn't be more than eight feet from the foot of the bed and the slightest noise now could hardly go unnoticed. After a minute, the door was open sufficiently for both of us, my head directly above Gina's, to see into the room. 

What better time, I thought, than to let my hand slide down Gina's back to her ass. I felt her tense at my touch, but knew she wouldn't do anything to stop me for fear of making noise. The control was quite exciting. Her cheeks were quite inviting.

There was light entering from the other room's windows, which unlike us, they had not bothered to close curtains in front of. The cheese cloth drape that obscured detailed viewing from outside merely served to diffuse the parking lot light bathing the room in a soft glow. Gina's breath suddenly sucked in as her eyes adjusted to the scene. 

Gina's mother was lying on her back, head hanging off the foot of the bed. Either side of her head were the large muscular thighs of her black stud date. Though it was difficult to tell for sure, I guessed he had his knees against the mattress, and Veronica's shoulders, with his feet planted on the carpeted floor. His body was lying horizontally above the waist, on top of Gina' mother. His cock, which had to be at least eight inches long judging from the exposed portion on withdrawal strokes, was alternately buried in Veronica's throat, and pulled back until only the head remained between her lips. The angle had been worked out to enable this woman to pull him entirely into her by dropping her head back over the edge of the bed, straightening the angle from her mouth right down her throat. He could have had 15 inches of cock meat for her, and it would all have slid right down that chute. The woman was voraciously hungry for this cock too, for she was accentuating the black partner's thrusts with motions of her own, pushing her head forward and back in cadence. Her hands on his thighs were also pulling him into her as far as she could get him.

Gina couldn't take her eyes of the point of insertion. She could now make out her mother's eyes, open and staring directly at the man's balls as they continued to pummel her face about her nose. The daughter was sure the mother was trying at each thrust to pull those golf ball sized sperm generators into her mouth as well, though they remained free to bounce. This was her MOTHER!!!! Gina was torn between glee that her mother was fulfilling a fantasy, finally getting treated like a real woman, in bed getting the sex of a lifetime, and the thought that this was her mother in this depraved state, and position, getting face fucked by a black man half her age and obviously out for the one night frolic.

As Gina considered these thoughts, her eyes wandered to take in the rest of the scene. There were clothes in disarray on the floor, obviously discarded at convenient moments and simply tossed wherever. The stud was holding her mother's legs back by inserting his arms forward and using his upper arms to brace up against her thighs and pull them toward the foot of the bed. This left Veronica's feet high in the air in a kind of total surrender, like a dog wanting its master to rub its stomach. His head was moving from side to side, twisting, and making all kinds of slurping sounds as it obviously worked on her pussy and whatever else it could reach in the sure to be wet crack. Gina could not imagine a more bizarre moment than spying on her mother in such a scene.

I was equally interested, though as much from the scene itself, two people in the depths of sexual abandon, as I was in watching Gina's reaction and feeling her ass. The young lady looked more surprised than angry, more intrigued than critical of her mom's activity. She even broke a smile when she heard her mother moan her satisfaction with the black stud's work between her legs. But Gina absolutely beamed when she heard the black man's growl signifying he was close to emptying his balls into her mother's mouth. I looked closely at Gina's face and I was sure there was a note of pride in her eyes at her mother's expert handling of the huge member between her lips. Her mother was going to bring this big black stud off with her mouth and take every ounce of his cum right down her throat, non-stop to her stomach as if in a mad effort to pour all the way down into her pussy. 




Mirror



I let the hand I had lying on Gina's back slide toward the center of her ass. She glanced up at me and smiled. I took that as a signal and moved my hand further down to the bottom of the leather skirt and slide it up her cheeks. My hand found the top of her pantyhose and pushed back down inside the giving garment. Gina's ass was perfect. It was firm yet pliable in my hand. It was tight, but large enough for me to luxuriate in its fullness. I tried to take my time, as much for the prolonging as for the silence, but was unable to hold back my assault as my hand began to slide toward her sex.

Gina wasted no time either, pulling my zipper down carefully. She then reached in and pulled on my briefs and slipped my cock back into the open. A second later she'd kneeled and was latched on with a suction that almost scared me in its intensity. Gina was hot from watching her mother, and still watching her mother while she herself was sucking meat. She pushed her head especially hard down on my shaft when I finally slipped a finger inside her pussy.

I used my other hand to lower Gina's pantyhose to her mid thighs. I like the look of a woman in clothing in disarray. It gives off a sense of abandon, of wanton lust unable to be constrained. The image in this instant was totally accurate. Gina was bouncing her head on my cock and threatening to bring me off before I wanted. And I wanted to take this whole party to the next inevitable step too. My mind suddenly clicked on an idea.

I figured Gina for maybe 115 pounds. I am not unable to hold her in the position I had in mind, at least for some time. It was getting her there that gave me some pause. But the prospects of success were far more inspiration than I needed and I made one swift movement to reach down and wrap one arm around Gina's hips, and the other around a shoulder, and I swept her off her feet. She did a cartwheel in my arms, leverage is a wonderful thing. She wound up with her head at my groin and her groin at my face. I could feel her tits against my stomach, and her thighs pushing against the sides of my head. My arms were wrapped around her still, one around her back and one around and down to her shoulders. By slightly cocking my knees but staying balance, I was able to take a lot of the pressure off my upper body and concentrate on my next moves.

It didn't take a very surprised Gina more than a few seconds to realize what had happened, and to take advantage of the situation now before her. There was a now familiar, very hard cock an inch or so from her mouth, and begging to be inserted. Meanwhile, she felt my head move between her legs right at her crotch, pushing the pantyhose up slightly to enable me to enter the triangular chamber formed by her thighs and the waistband of the pantyhose. I instantly buried my tongue in her snatch and began sucking and licking like I wanted her to do to me.

As soon as she was at it, and she did go at it with zest, I elbowed the adjoining door to open it wide, while I watched the other couple for reaction.

Veronica sensed, more than saw the motion of the door a few feet from her head. She had been enjoying a deliciously sweaty cock and soaking up the musty odor coming of the huge black stud's balls. She was in heaven with her second most inspiring fantasy. Her most inspiring, one of taboo and she always thought impossible to happen, was to pair up with her sexy daughter and take a couple of guys on together. She couldn't help but dream from time to time about such a terrible thing, and yet the details emerged each time she did, including lots of talk between each other and really moving in on the two "dates." That would really be the day, but of course that could never happen.

It was then that she saw the last movement of the door as it gave her full view of something she couldn't believe, a man and a woman, sixty-nining just like them, but vertically! And in THEIR room! She choked on the big black dick.

The black, "Ron" as he had told her to call him, was too involved to notice anything but that his dick was suddenly in need of renewed attention. "Don't stop now baby, big daddy's about to fuck you up!" He dove back into her slopping pussy.

Veronica instinctively began a less vigorous, more methodical motion on the big man's cock, while her eyes continued to get accustomed to what they were seeing. "GINA!" She exclaimed suddenly, gurgling around the cock in her mouth upon recognizing the hot, naked body of her daughter. "Whaa…..?" 

The black man raised his head and looked back, about to jump off the bed. Fortunately, there was enough light, and his eyes already accustomed to it, for him to make out the action, a man and a woman eating in the vertical. "Hahahaha…" He laughed. No danger there, he thought, and dove his head back into Veronica's twat. This was getting out of control, and he loved the whole idea. Whatever this chick had in my for her kinky fantasy evening was ok by him so far.

By now, Gina was looking sideways at her mother, though to her credit, never taking her mouth off my cock. After several more strokes however, she answered her mother's dream instinctively, "Let's finish 'em off Mom, and see just what they can do!" And she too dove right back down to her work. 

Veronica was so surprised, so shocked her big fantasy was apparently coming true, she could think of nothing else to do but to suck away on the impatient meat in her mouth.

"Ugh!" Ron groaned as his stamina was reaching its maximum. I on the other hand had more in me yet since I was the late cummer in all this. I ate my upside-down Gina with a vengeance, slurping and sucking her juices up like a dried up sponge. I pulled my head back while sucking her little clit to extension and pushed my head against the restraining pantyhose. Then I let the additional spring force my head back down into her cunt. She tasted better than anything I had had in a long, long time. Her sucking action on my cock was so intense after she had acknowledged her mother that I could only surmise this was the situation she really wanted right from the beginning, to party with her mom, trade partners and party some more. Who was I to deny her! Or her mom, I hoped.

When I could hold it no longer, I growled into Gina's cunt my appreciation and satisfaction with my emerging burst of jism into her mouth and down her throat. The noise could be heard by Veronica and Ron, who were inspired enough by the announcement of my climax to initiate their own. There followed a frenzy of abandon, of ultimate release from each of us, all for our own reasons. Gina was cumming lustfully just feet from her mother who was doing the same within ear and eye shot of her daughter. They were both sucking down cock and juice while giving their own juices to men they had not known before this day. The men were also not dangerous, yet totally involved and eager for more. The mere anticipation of what might be next was enough to push them both into oblivious bliss.

Ron was certainly in an element he was comfortable in, having positioned Veronica for maximum oral penetration while he was able to pull her legs back and feast on her vaginal and anal cavities. He pumped her mouth with equal vigor to that which he used on her crotch. And I, well, this was all too good to be true. My head was buried and captured there by the pantyhose that had slipped down Gina's spreading legs. I knew there had to be an end to this dream, yet there seemed nothing to do but ride the wave of wonder I had caught and see where it might take me. For now, I had but one thing on my mind, cumming in this wonderful lady's throat while I luxuriated in her cunt. It was all more than I could fathom, and I burst free of the floor and nearly passed out in the glory of release.

Chapter 5

Several minutes later, we sat in chairs facing each other, Ron and I, while the two women stood in the area between the the bed and the door the second room. They were hugging most passionately and cooing into each other's ears. I could make out some of the words, "I always wondered…..", I really wanted…", I wish I had…." And so on. Some of the phrases had ends I could hear and from the bulk of what I could make out they were both admitting these secret passions to pair up and lay and get laid by two strange men at the same time, watching each other while being fucked in every way. Why they had not admitted this to each other before is another of man's bothersome  inabilities to be open and honest. Will we ever learn to conquer this? Or will doing so take so much mystery out of life that it is no longer interesting? This night, with these four people in this room, openness and honesty suddenly ran amuck. We were about to challenge the norms.

"No man. I met her in the train station this morning." Ron said to me.  "We rounded a corner and bumped into each other and she knocked my coffee all over me. She was so sorry she made me go with her to get another cup and we just started talking." Ron was somewhat removed from the situation, judging from his tone, but not totally disassociated. I did get the feeling though that all this was not quite as new to him as it was to me, fucking strange women and all. Being that the guy was very handsome, tall, and I could see how women would think him a sexy man, he also seemed easy to approach. And once approached, he shined with articulate speech and a polite manor. "She asked me to dinner and it was there that she invited me here. That is one hot lady! Did you see her in action?"

"I sure did!" I smiled. And she sure was hot! She had taken care of herself very well, obviously exercising a lot and eating right. Her breasts were on the large side of "normal", whatever that means, maybe a "D" cup? Her daughter was almost the same and their equal heights brought there breasts together as they embraced, whispering in each other's ears. I liked the bulging of tit flesh emerging from their embrace.

Ron and I exchanged the rest of our circumstances like a couple of ol' buddies and watched the two women getting more and more "close." "Hey, man," Ron observed, "Looks like these two are getting away from us."

Indeed, mother and daughter were beginning to grind their hips against one another, while accentuating the contact and movement of their breasts. They were also kissing now, mouth to mouth in what surely had to be a mutual exchange of tongue meat and saliva. Their hands were wandering too, both in the same direction – down. When each had gathered some ass flesh to pull against, the grinding became more purposeful and it was obvious they were managing some contact of their mons. I guessed it would not be enough and that at some point they would either go back to a sixty-nine together, or ask us to help out.

I was very pleased to find that I was right on both counts. "So what are you two waiting for?" 

Gina looked too, her head side-to-side with her mother's, and said, "Come here you big stud and let me see if you are worthy of my mother!" They were getting comfortable with roles now and Ron and I didn't seem to mind at all.

Veronica added. "You, mister white boy, get your cock over hear behind me!" She demanded my presence, and I certainly wanted to obey.

I looked at Ron as if to ask for permission and offer sympathy all in the same breath when we then heard from Gina. "NOW! Both of you!"

Ron and I were up in a second and rushing into position. This was going to be a first for me, a night of firsts for that matter. We were about to sandwich these two hot women and I was just going with the flow. I stood behind Veronica and watched for a moment as Ron moved his hands up and down Gina's sides. Not knowing what else to do in this totally foreign situation, I mirrored Ron's movements, bringing my  hands to Veronica's sides and gliding them up and down.

Ron eyed my mimicking and winked and nodded with a smile. His lips formed to speak silently, "Follow me." I did.

Our hands went next to our charges' breasts where we lingered awhile. We both grasped the maximum amount of flesh in each hand and massaged the meat for them. We then tweaked and pinched the nipples somewhat and alternated between the operations. At one point, Ron brushed my hands from Veronica's tits and substituted his own hands. I took his lead and did the same with Gina. The girls were totally fine with this exchange as they both moaned their appreciation.

While they continued to kiss and grind against each other, their hands on each other's asses worked in unison too, turning about and facing back to grab our cocks. They pumped slowly and pulled us into their cracks while we worked on their chests. It was getting better and better by the minute. At some point I felt before I saw Gina's now familiar lips latch onto mine, over her mother's shoulder. We kissed passionately right over her mom, and I saw Ron and Veronica commence the same action over Gina's shoulder. This was getting more interesting by the second, and a bit confusing!

I couldn't help but pump my stiff rod up and down Veronica's crack as her hand held me in there firmly. Her already spilled juices were greasing my way and the sensations were terrific. I could see Ron's head bobbing behind Gina's too so I knew they were in the same mode as we. I wondered who would make the first move to add the next dimension to this outrageous experience. It seemed that the girls were in charge of their fantasies here, so we seemed to agree to let them continue their control.

Gina must have been horny as hell for that long stiff dong of Ron and made the first move. She pushed him down, causing her own head to move up slightly against our kiss, and must have positioned the big black dick at one of her holes. Since there was no artificial lubrication applied at this point, I assumed it was her wet, wanton cunt.

Almost immediately I felt a similar prompting as Veronica pushed me down and into her own pussy. I had this momentary feeling of inadequacy, wondering if I would be a disappointment after Ron's far larger shaft, but managed to push the weakness aside and ride this original object of my desire for all she wanted to be worth. My cock slid up and in like a spoon into jello and we connected totally.

Veronica and Gina both breathed out heavily. They were embraced and impaled. Since our heads were all still locked together, I could not see anymore of Ron than the top of his head. My knees were aching already from having to lean down to get my cock up into this shorter woman before me, and I figured Ron must be going through similar, if not worse agony for the same reason. I wrote off as mutually canceling, his extra height with his younger physique and gave us a pass on who hurt the most!

I reached my hands over to  Ron, around Veronica AND Gina, and motioned with contact on his sides, in an upward prompting movement, and got my message across perfectly. We both put our feet back about six inches and grabbed the girls firmly and raised them up. We were leaning inward, using each other as props with the ladies sandwiched between us, their legs now off the floor. Their tits were compressed into each other's and they were suddenly in yet another altitude of heaven. They were supported on two horny cocks and by each other in as intimate an embrace as could ever occur. Fantasies were coming true it seemed even before they were dreamed of.

We all got into a rhythm and began to pump our bodies to maximum contact and friction. Ron and I soon found that if one of us went up, while the other was in down stroke, we could "saw" their bodies against each other and increase their level of moaning, and ultimate pleasure. It didn't hurt Ron or I either for the women were bucking their hips at each other and back at us during all this motion and increasing the sensations another octave. We were all soaring soon and about to cum when Veronica blurted out, "Oh Baby! Fuck my Black Stud for me." She was grinding with abandon now, "Fuck him hard while I fuck your white dick for you. Let's fuck these guys into orbit!" 

The reaction from Ron was the same as from me, "Fuck on! Baby!" We pumped with equal abandon!

"Oh yes, Mommy, Fuck him for me. My cunt is so full of your black dick I can taste it in my throat! Oh, Mommy, help me fuck your man!" Gina was just as lost to lust as her mother and the two must have realized they would never be the same, nor would their relationship. I think Ron was as sympathetic to the revelations taking place between these two women as I was and we simply went along for the great rides they were.

The sounds and motion of four people cumming at once can only be described as chaos, chaos in sound, chaos in motion, and chaos in desire. We all erupted within seconds of one another and were all cumming at the same instant for more than a few seconds. It's a wonder we remained on our feet. I can only assume that our eight intertwined arms, in combination with Ron's and my persistent legs, kept the two ladies off the floor and the two men upright through the storm of sperm erupting into the hot wet pussies between us. We all groaned and pumped ourselves to excess, until we could finally pump and groan no more.

Chapter 6

Ron and I let the girls down to earth. I could feel the spunk in Veronica's cunt oozing out on my cock and thighs. And I had an instant idea.

"Quick, ladies, unless I am mistaken, I have an idea you are going to like." I pushed them both toward the bed. Positioning Gina on her back with her head near the middle of the bed and her ass at the foot, I then sixty-nined her mother over her. I made sure to prop Veronica's ass up high and she seemed to like that, perhaps anticipating what my next move would be. I motioned Ron down on his knees at the foot of the bed and found that my engineering was correct – his cock was perfectly positioned. He winked at me.

I then pushed the girls' heads down into each others crotches. They were suddenly sucking sperm from their pussies, the sperm of each other's partner. There wasn't much more they could share in this fantasy cum true. While they ate each other out, sucking more and more of their delicious mate's juice and jism, I nodded to Ron and we went to work. We both had enough slime still on our rock hard cocks to provide what little lubrication was necessary considering the sexual temperature of these two delicious bodies before us. I concentrated on my own efforts first. I felt Veronica jump at the first touch of my cock head on her anal opening. A similar bump occurred below her as Ron did the same to Gina. We must have both been in complete sync then for we both pushed the head in at once.

The girls moaned loudly through each other's soaking cunt. Veronica's had just a touch more of wantonness in it than Gina. Hers was slightly more consistent with pain. I could understand and expected we might have to end this idea if she felt she could not take that massive cock from my new friend. In any event, our next thrust was not merciful. We both pushed all the way in. There was another pair of moans from the girls and this time they were both in pain, and agonizingly loving each and every inch of it. 

We remained still for several seconds, all four of us, with total penetration. The girls were gurgling into each other's holes and Ron and I looked at each other and simply smiled. His nod got our mutual motion started and we began a slow withdrawal from our sheaths.

As the ladies groaned loudly in anger at the disappearing cock meat, they were rewarded with an encore thrust that took us both back in to the hilt again. More groans from the targets of our spears. With their heads so close to the action in each other's ass, one could easily assume the noises were coming from their asses instead of their mouths, simply reversed in each other's bodies. Ron and I pumped on.




Mirror



I stand in front of the mirror brushing my hair. You come up behind and slip your arms around my waist. I lean my head back against your shoulder as you move your hands to my breasts. I watch in the mirror as you knead my breasts, making my nipples hard. I reach behind me to caress your sides as your hands move to the buttons on my shirt. 

You slowly unbutton my shirt and then caress me from throat to top of my breasts. We look in the mirror and can see my nipples beginning to poke over the top of the cups of my bra. I watch as you pull and tug on my nipples, making them harder. You take a step back and unfasten my bra and smooth it and my shirt from my body. You once again move up against me, I can feel your cock as you pull me tight.

You slowly caress and knead by breasts as I push back against you and begin to moan. I reach behind me and manage to unfasten your pants and open them so I can touch your cock....all the time watching your hands knead my breasts in the mirror.

We both watch your hands move as you smooth them down my breasts to my pants. You unfasten my pants and move your hands slowly inside. You push my pants off as I watch your hands move slowly, caressingly, down my legs. I step out of them as you kiss your way back up my body. My hands tighten in your hair as you kiss my wet slit and flick my clit with your tongue. The image in the mirror wavers as my eyes begin to close with pleasure. You whisper to me to keep watching. I open my eyes and watch as your tongue makes contact again with my clit. My eyes widen and I shiver as you use your teeth to tug on my clit. 

I tug on your hair to pull you to your feet. You stand and I begin to kiss and lick my way down your body until I am kneeling in front of you. Your cock is jutting out from your body. I slowly stick my tongue out and touch the tip of your cock. It jumps, I smile. I stick my tongue out again...swirl it around the head. You watch me in the mirror. You can see the smile playing with your cock brings to my face. You caress my head and then grab my hair. I look up and see you smile as you hold my head still so you can fuck my mouth. You tell me to look in the mirror. I look over and see your big cock plunging in and out of my mouth. I moan around it... you feel me shiver and know I am wet and my pussy is wanting.

You pull out of my mouth and push me down on all fours. I turn and wiggle my rear at you. You can see how wet my pussy is and how much I want you in me. "Watch!" you tell me as you slowly enter my pussy. I look in the mirror and see your long cock enter my pussy....so slow... I start to thrust back. You slap my ass and grab my hips to stop me. You see the surprise in my eyes, but you also hear me moan and feel me get even wetter around your cock. I watch as you push more of your cock so slowly into me. My head drops as you fill me up; you slap my ass again and tell me again to keep watching. I lift my head and look at the mirror. I can see your cock...glistening with my juices as you pull out...then slam back in me. I begin to shake as I watch your cock go into me ever deeper and ever harder. You slap my ass in rhythm with your thrusting. 

You hold my hips still and start thrusting hard into me, both of us watching in the mirror. You start pumping into me faster...harder... deeper... slapping my ass harder. I groan and my orgasm overtakes me as you thrust in me and begin shooting your hot cum deep in me. I milk your cock with my pussy. 

We both end up lying on the floor. I look in the mirror. I see you looking back at me... both of us have tired grins on our faces. 

"Hey," you say. "Want to try the mirror in the bathroom?" I look at you, roll over, push to my feet...and lead the way.



Mirror



The Audi darted through traffic with a practiced hand. To the cars passing by it looked as if the woman inside were talking to herself, but then in the world of hands-free cell phones that wasn't really unusual.

"Listen to me, we need to get a monitor out to Dr. Kleinmann's site next week, or we won't have his data in time for the interim analysis. Is that too difficult to understand?"

Christiana disconnected her phone with a huff and wished fervently that she had a handset to slam down. She compensated by tapping the accelerator to make up for lost time. Christiana was a project manager at Genentor Pharmaceuticals and she was very good at what she did. She pushed herself and her team hard for the chance at taking a swing at getting a new treatment for breast cancer into the market.

Unfortunately, being that driven left very little time for much of a social life. Six months ago, she would have happily been staying in the office until 9pm or later to catch the morning (Kyoto-time) teleconference with the East Asian team. Her boss had rearranged her priorities since that time however, fearing that she would burn out before the last big clinical trial could be completed. So Christiana had slipped back into the dating pool after a long absence, and since it was work-mandated, she swam right for the deep end with gusto. All of her colleagues at the office agreed that the change had sanded down some of her rougher personality traits.

She was running late tonight. Late for her next date. The thirty-three year old pulled her sedan into her flat's parking garage and slipped out of the vehicle. A chirp from the car's security system and the soft click-click-click from her heels echoed through concrete chamber. Christiana pulled out her blackberry to check her email as she rode the elevator up to her floor.

She checked her watch as the door to her apartment swung open and realized that she had time for a quick bath to get ready. The soak would probably help her soothe her jangled nerves, she thought. Setting down the armor (cell phone, blackberry, two pagers, and laptop bag) of her corporate shell, she unbuttoned her suit coat and started to slip out of her clothes. Moments later, a white silk blouse joined the jacket on the bed. Soon enough, wisps of steam floated out from underneath the closed bathroom door.

Later, the curly haired brunette sat at her dressing boudoir; nude and pink from the bath. The brownstone from across the street reflected in the mirror in front of Christiana. Her graceful hands were spreading a dollop of sweet-scented apricot lotion over the rounded curve of her tummy.

Christiana smiled as she viewed herself in the mirror. The professional woman had developed a bit of a disdain for convention through the course of her life. Indeed, she could never have risen so quickly at Genentor without coloring outside the lines. A good deal of that trait came from her confident self image. She had the curves and voluptuousness of a woman in a Raphaelite painting, and she knew it. Granted, she did not match the modern stick figure body of a Victoria Secret model, but in some ways she was much rarer than that. Her beauty was smooth and full-bodied like an aged cognac.

A whisper of silk floated through the room as she pulled a black stocking up her leg. She caressed the pink skin which marked the line where the silk road ended above her knee. Quickly, the stocking's mate adorned the other leg. With another smile, she piled her chestnut ringlets above her head and thought about the coming date with her lover.

Her reverie was broken, as she stared for a moment at the image in the mirror. Its motions were oddly disconnected and out of synch with her own. It was as if someone were on the other side of the glass was pantomiming her movements - always a split second behind. Christiana gasped and jumped back with a start on her bench as her reflective twin gave a big Cheshire cat smile. The woman in the mirror blew Christiana a kiss as it abandoned the pretense of following her lead.

Christiana reached out a trembling hand as she tried to prove that she wasn't having a breakdown. The brown-haired girl could feel the cold hardness of the glass underneath the pads of her fingertips. Her reflection was giggling sweetly in such a way as to cause her breasts to jiggle softly. The doppelganger seemed to be mocking Christiana with a teasing 'I-know-something-you-don't' type of look.

With a frustrated snarl, Christiana's deep brown eyes paused, squinted, and challenged the doppelganger. Her twin matched the look; joining Christiana in a joust of wills. The ice queen project manager realized that her twin's eyes had a hard edge of something sinister about them. She was staring at something dark, and not knowing what it was terrified her.

Christiana blanched.

With a malevolent grin, the mirror image raised a delicate index finger to her full pursed lips. A squeak of surprise was all that slipped out of Christiana as she obeyed instantly. Like a wolf establishing its place in the pack, the reflection had Christiana about the neck with teeth bared. The voluptuous beauty could do nothing but sit meek and submissive in silence. 

The generous breasts of her twin swayed heavily as the mirror image leaned forward through the glass. The mirror rippled as a two dimensional reflection gained depth and feeling. Christiana could feel the hot moist breath of her twin on her neck as she sat paralyzed.

"Don't forget this sweetness, you'll be needing it tonight..."

Christiana felt a hot rush of moisture flood her loins as her doppelganger's fingers grazed her skin. Her pussy swelled and opened like a flower as she felt a stiff leather studded collar slip over her neck.

________________________

Chrissie squealed with delight at the collar latched firmly around her neck. "It's about fucking time that I'm away from that snooty bitch for awhile," she thought to herself as she slipped a finger over the swollen lips of her slavecunt.

With a dismissive glance at her reflection, Chrissie whispered, "Oh, I'm sorry sweetie-pie. You never remember me do you?" The woman in the glass looked confused and frightened. Christiana's mouth opened, but no sound could escape her flat two-dimensional image trapped in the boudoir mirror.

Ignoring her twin for the moment, Chrissie looked over at the Stickley clock on the dresser. She knew that Mistress wouldn't be terribly long, and the slaveslut had much to do before She made her entrance for the evening. Opening up Christiana's make-up drawer, the girl rummaged around to the back for her special supplies. The lipstick came first, a bright candy apple-red, applied in near whorish amounts. Turquoise eye shadow and bright rouge followed quickly - some for her cheeks and some for her nipples.

Christiana's eyes were pleading from within the mirror as she stared at her naked body decked out like a prostitute in front of her. Chrissie chortled as she popped in a stick of gum and commenced chewing loudly.

For a moment, she practiced blowing kisses to the girl in the mirror. Batting her eyelashes...cupping and playing with her nipples, Chrissie was a vision of slutty seduction. She hoped that Mistress might consider renting her out for a bit in the evening, as it had been sometime since she got to indulge in her whore personality.

With a baleful gleam in her eye, Chrissie engaged her twin again. "Oh right...I suppose you don't remember that either..." She caressed the reflection and smiled as Christiana gave a silent gasp as a memory unlocked in her mind. She felt herself, being led on a leash in front of a room full of beautiful silk and leather clad women. Christiana saw money exchanging hands and then felt her leash being given to a tall golden-haired stranger. And finally, she remembered screaming in ecstasy through her silk gag as the woman fucked her with a ribbed glass strap-on. 

Chrissie's eyes opened in synch with Christiana's as they finished sharing the memory together. With a sultry smile, Chrissie grazed her fingernails over the swollen orbs of her breast. Her reflection panted involuntarily at the sensation. The collared girl palmed her nipples and wiggled her mound against the seat as they grew taut with arousal. 

Slipping one hand lower, she teased the russet hair of her mound. Twirling a finger around and around the fuzz of her slavehole gave both of them a shiver. Christiana could feel those hands pulling at her in the mirror. Chrissie spread her full thighs with a languorous grace, pinched the lips of her cunt and tilted her head back in a breathy moan.

"Gawd...don't you just love this...being a whoreslave for Mistress?"

Christiana struggled in the mirror as she felt graceful fingers teasing her clit and pulling on her left nipple. Chrissie's full and rounded body was writhing lewdly on the bench of the boudoir now. A finger was poised at the entrance of her pussy. Christiana bit her lip as it slid into her; ready to sob, unable to resist her captor or even give voice to the pleasure forced upon her body.

Gasping now as she stepped up the pace, Chrissie moaned to her silent doppelganger, "Didn't you just love it the first time that Mistress made you strip for a week?"

Christiana bowed her head and tried to block the image of her prancing up on stage in her finest business suit. Gradually, she stripped down to a lace demi-bra and thong. She could remember the hands of dozens of women gliding over her hips and legs as they stuffed her thong full of bills. Chrissie's fingers were now slapping at her clit and circling the lips of her labia again and again. 

With a wet rush, Christiana realized that she loved dancing that night and giving every penny of her earnings to Her. Chrissie was squealing now - coming closer and closer to her final release. Her twin's forehead was wrinkled as she fought the feelings of lust inside of her and realizing her shame at how much she loved losing herself to Chrissie.

A musky scent of cunt filled the room. Chrissie's sexlips jutted out like a common whore. She closed her eyes, knuckles turning white as they gripped the mahogany boudoir. Two fingers slid deep into her gash as she howled out her climax.

Christiana wept as she was forced to do the same.

A horn sounded in the early evening, shattering the afterglow between the slave and her reflective twin. Glancing out the elegant window of the flat, Chrissie saw Her limo pull up. She shuddered with a post-orgasmic whimper at the site of the car idling in the long blue shadows of the midsummer twilight. 

With a smile and a wink, she leaned in close to the glass of the mirror. As she pulled closer and closer, her reflection matched the movements although it could be easily seen the woman in the mirror was struggling mightily to break away.

Chrissie kissed her twin in the mirror - leaving a perfect scarlet print of her lips on the silvery glass. "You know sweetie, I always wondered why Mistress didn't just give me your body permanently when she took control of your mind. But I think I understand now, it's sooo fucking hot to see you try to resist your fate, every night, over and over again. You're so mindfucked now, you don't even remember how badly you wanted to submit!"

The slave stepped away from the mirror to throw on a pair of red fuck-me pumps over her stockings and a short coat which would be her only clothing for the evening. She finally felt ready for her 'date'.

As she headed out the door, Chrissie looked over her shoulder and moaned, "Don't wait up Christiana....I'll be out late tonight." Alone for the first time, Chrissie's mirror image pounded the glass in soundless desperation. 



Mirror Beach



I spent the summer living with my twin, Marie (my name is Lee, which rhymes, because mothers are "so" original), in a small town in Idaho. We shared a one-bedroom apartment near the university, where I could bike to work and she could walk to her classes. At the end of August, I heard the news that my husband, Fred, would be going on leave! I had not seen him for over 6 months and I was aching with the desire to make love to him. My only release was with some vibrators and dildos, but those were just cold comfort. At night in my shared bedroom I would silently fantasize about his caress, and his tongue, careful to not disturb my sleeping sister.

Marie and I decided that the best way to celebrate Fred's homecoming was to have a vacation on the lake. We booked a small, secluded cabin with the south facing the water. When Fred arrived we picked him up at the airport and drove straight to the beach. Marie drove so that Fred and I could spend the whole drive catching up. Even phone calls, e-mails and letters are not enough when you are separated from your lover. He wanted to know if I had been working out, and what movies I had seen and what was the news from anywhere other than the military. He had gained muscle tone and his skin was that terra cotta color that it always turned in the sun. He had also gotten bolder, leaning in to wrap his arms around me and press his lips on my own. His celibacy was worse than my own, as he had even less privacy in the military. We were oblivious to the car and driver as we explored once familiar mouths and bodies. I couldn't wait to see him naked.

The slowing of the car interrupted our reunion embrace. "Hey lovebirds, guess what? We're here!"

The cabin was tinier than I had initially imagined it to be, maybe a little larger than the shared apartment, but the view was amazing. Trees separated the beach from other properties and the lake had crystal blue waters. We brought our things from the car and I mentioned we should swim before dinner.

I changed into a bikini with a rainbow bandeau top and boy short bottoms, Marie wore an aqua/brown paisley halter with brown hipster briefs and Fred wore olive green cargo trunks. Fred ran to cannonball into the cool water, while Marie and I took out the sunscreen. Marie suggested we apply the sunscreen onto each other, and as she was rubbing the cold white fluid into my shoulders I pointed to some people off into the distance. "They're naked!" Marie observed, she sounded shocked at first then intrigued, "You think we could? I mean Fred already knows what I look like."

It was true, since we were identical the only difference between her and I was that she had an inch or two on me, her breasts (34 B versus my 34AA) and ass were slightly bigger and her blonde hair was shoulder-length, while mine was dyed a light brown and was shorn in a pixie cut. She finished rubbing in the sunscreen then pulled my top over my head, and I discarded my bottoms before beginning applying the sunscreen to her now nude body. As I put the sunscreen on her legs I noticed her arousal glistening on her shaved mound, I already felt wet from the car ride and this glimpse of intimacy only intensified it.

"Hey what's taking so—" Fred noticed us and his jaw dropped. I pointed over to the group of people who had been our inspiration. I could see a tent in his trunks, and he was frozen in place.

"Let's have a little fun," I said and Marie and I started doing sexy poses for Fred. We leaned on each other, wrapped our arms in an embrace, then finally we pressed ourselves close and moved our lips close, tantalizing Fred at the brink of taboo. But we were teasing ourselves as well, warm juices flowed onto the opposite's legs entwined as part of the pose, and our lips drew together with magnetism. I closed my eyes and let my lips and tongue read the emotions coming from my mirror. My passion removed me from any logical thought, my hands felt curves that were familiar and my body felt a rush that was not.

Fred watched Marie and I, as a hunter watching the Greek goddess Athena bathe. The sagacity of our formation was beyond the mortal world. Fred waded back to the sand, stripped his trunks and crawled over to us and began kissing our feet. Our passion only intensified. Marie squeezed one of my breasts, and threw my head back and moaned at the unexpected pain. My exposed breasts were now open prey for Marie to nibble and suck, and my fingers found their way to my clit. Fred grabbed my fingers before they could reach their destination and shoved his tongue to clean up my dripping pussy. Marie moved to straddle Fred's chest and began to thrust her hips into him while continuing to play with my reddened tits.

If Fred was in heaven before, then this was levels beyond that. He grabbed Marie's hips and pulled them back, covering his pulsing head with Marie's fluids before spearing her. Marie groaned into my breasts, and gave one a small bite, I shrieked in response. I fell back into the sand and watched them for a bit. It was similar to an out of body experience: I was fucking Fred, and yet I was not. I stuck my fingers in the back of my throat, before crawling over to reach Fred and I massaged his anus. I prodded one finger in, but it needed more lubrication so I took it out, and fingered myself before trying again. I got a couple fingers in before Fred pushed Marie off so that I could suck cum that was spurting out of him.

Fred's semen mixed with Marie's fluids in my mouth in the perfect cocktail. I turned to share it with Marie while Fred prepared himself for the next round. Our hands were bolder this time and we rubbed each other's slits intent on sharing the experience completely. It didn't take long for Fred to harden again and he came up behind me and pressed his cock on my rosebud. "I have been waiting forever for this," his desire saturating his whisper. He spat in his hand to add more lubrication and slowly penetrated my tight ass. My head reeled. I was feeling his pulsing cock in me for the first time since February and it made me drunk. Marie was stunned, "You do anal?"

I nodded, "Do you?"

She shook her head, "No."

"It can be amazing!" I was gasping with Fred's cock filling me. I motioned for her to turn around, then I stuck my mouth in her crack.

By licking and sucking, I made Marie moan and lubed her up for my fingers. I gently slid my middle finger into her ass and wiggled it around to prepare her for more. Her ass was full of shit, so I knew she wouldn't be ready for Fred's cock at this moment, but in time she might be. I slid my finger out to lube up another finger and it was covered in a thin layer of dark chocolate. I sucked on it, and it was musky and not unlike my own taste, most likely from our similar chemistry and diets. I once again prodded my twin's anus with my fingers.

Marie groaned louder with the addition of the second finger and I noticed that she was frigging her clit as I penetrated her. This added to the intensity of my own ass getting pounded and I felt my pussy pulsing on its own. My orgasm shook my whole body and it was all I could do not to collapse. Fred eased his cock out and slid it into my mouth, where I had another taste of earthiness. I sucked his dick clean before jamming it down my throat. Fred groaned at the slimy velvet encasing him and a second round of cum squirted causing me to gag and choke. Marie had continued to masturbate during this and was reaching her orgasm. We all fell back into the warm sand and imagined what the next round would hold.



Mirror Bound



Chapter 1

Have you ever fallen in love with a guy that you know is trouble, but that you cannot resist?

I always thought I was too smart to do that, but as it turns out I was the biggest fool of all. Not that he was a bad person, not at all, he was totally loveable, but trouble followed him wherever he went, still does. Let me tell you how I met him.

It was a beautiful spring day in the city, the stately trees in the street where I lived were budding, grass and flowers were springing up between the pavement and in the parks. The neighbourhood that I lived in was old-fashioned and just a little run down, but not yet shabby. 

I rented a top-floor apartment from an inventor, a slightly elusive young man who used his basement to make innovative things, useful objects and beautiful as well, and made a good living out of that. Having just finished my studies and started working my first job I had my own money and some spare time, and I decided to go out and buy some stuff to brighten up my little house. 

I had not lived in my apartment long, but I already had a secret fancy for my landlord, who, rumour stated, was from quite a respectable family, though one couldn't call his lifestyle exactly upper-class. He lived on the second floor of the same building, in what was, all things considered, not a prime neighbourhood. 

In his basement, he experimented with steam and electricity, and a lot of cutting and welding, forging en fusing was always going on in there. When I first moved in, he had given me a tour and I was really impressed by his creations, made of cast iron and bronze and copper, with levers and gears and bolts everywhere. They were things of beauty, but with a function as well. Heaters for bathwater, pumps, fountains, you name it, he made it to order. 

He was just testing a new boiler, and steam was coming out of all kinds of seams and openings, making a lot of noise. That still needed some work, he said. He had proudly shown me an apparatus which he called an electrostatic generator, glass disks that produced beautiful flashes of lightning with nothing but human power. His slim figure was shown to its advantage with an unbleached cotton shirt and sturdy linen pants. He wore high protective boots and a nicely tailored leather vest with bronze buttons and a chained watch in one of the many pockets. 

I guessed him to be in his late twenties, his hair was brown and curly, and his face was slightly longish, with large, long-lashed grey eyes and a shapely, full lipped mouth. His nose was just the right size, and his jaws square despite his boyish looks. He had the distinct stubble of a man more interested in his work than in appearances. He smelled really nice, of smoke, and fuel, and something wholly male of his own. Unfortunately he didn't seem in the least bit interested in me as a woman, though he clearly liked to discuss modern technology with me.

In the following weeks we started to socialise a little, I invited him over for dinner a few times, and he did come and seemed to enjoy himself in my company. We talked about studying, city life, friends, family, modern architecture and of course, steam and electricity, and I found myself listening to him with sincere interest. He showed interest in my study and my work too, but he never seemed interested in me romantically. 

He did tell me his first name was Paul, and I introduced myself as Melissa, because that is indeed my name. From that moment we were on first name basis and we kind of became friends. We visited concerts together, but still we didn't get intimate. I would so have loved for him to take the initiative, and if I had thought I had any chance with him I would have taken it, but I had no hope at all to be able to compete with those shiny machines that he seemed to have thrown away his family's prospects for. So I just forced myself to be satisfied with being friends, and hearing his secret hopes and dreams for a future of technology, instead of sweet compliments and tributes to my lovely physical assets. 

Still I was happy, being useful in my work and having this nice apartment in a spacious modern building, with a nice landlord and neighbour who might be a bit noisy, but never complained about any noise I made either.

Going out as planned to get some ornaments for my place, I decided to go to a flea market a few blocks from my own house. I still like old stuff, with a history attached to it, but back then I couldn't really afford new things, I was still paying back a student loan to my patron. In an excellent mood, I skipped down the stairs, and after the first set I ran into Paul on the landing of the floor where he had his living area. 

Despite our socialising, I had never been inside his personal apartment yet, we usually met in mine or in bars and pubs. 'Hey there beautiful', he said with a big smile, 'feeling the arrival of spring?' And I was, so I told him: 'I am indeed, I love to see green things again. You going out?' 

He answered: 'I don't know yet. I heard you on the stairs and thought I'd ask where you are going and whether you'd like a companion.' 

Suppressing a little thrill of excitement, I said: 'Sure I'd like to. I'm going to the flea market in fifth street, browsing for good stuff to decorate my apartment. Care to come?' 

He answered: 'Yes please, let me get my wallet in case they have some copper or other metals to sell,' then disappeared into his apartment, to return a few minutes later. 

And so we walked arm in arm to the flea market, enjoying the sunshine and the warm air. Birds were singing, and there were a lot of people about. I had a really good feeling about this trip, arm in arm with the man I secretly admired, chatting with him, touching him, catching a hint of his exciting scent every once in a while. 

Soon we reached the market, and it was nice and large. After a long, cold winter, a lot of merchants had chosen this first really warm day to try and make some money, and they had set up their booths on the fifth street square. The market was busy with people negotiating deals, some already carrying their purchases. Boys with hand-carts were waiting to make a few pennies carting the larger stuff to people's homes, and a stray dog was checking out the street to see if someone had left something edible lying about. 

The buildings around us were quite tall, at least three stories like Paul's house, but the square was sizeable and the sun was at its highest, so there were some sunny patches amongst the stalls, giving the market a very pleasant atmosphere. 

I looked at Paul, thrilled that he had sought my companionship, apparently radiating some of my excellent spirits, for he looked at me in amusement and asked: 'Where do you want to start?' 'Right here,' I answered, and I proceeded to the nearest booth to check out its contents. Together we browsed a lot of stalls, he bought a few pieces of brass and copper, ugly ornaments mostly that he made a stiff bargain for. I knew he'd melt it down for its metal content, so I didn't tease him with having bad taste. He'd make beautiful and useful things out of the purified metals. 

I did wonder how he managed to carry all that weight around the market, for he must have had quite a few pounds to lug around already. Quite probably he was a lot stronger than he looked, physically demanding work does that to people. 

My mind started to imagine him bare-chested, working the bellows to heat his furnace, muscles rippling under his sooted skin. Too bad my common sense decided not to go there, stopping the thought short. My common sense was very much in charge of things then, but unbeknownst to me, events were already unfolding to change that.

I had picked up some little knick-knacks myself, an embroidered cushion, a nice lamp, a colourful rug. Paul called over one of the boys with a hand-cart, and he was clearly glad to unload his trophies on the cart. I added mine to the total, and we paid the boy a little extra to guard our stuff whilst we continued browsing. My excitement over this trip was quieted down a little by now, having already found some of the things I wanted. I was feeling quite satisfied so far, but still eager to see more and buy more. 

First of all, Paul decided he wanted to get something to eat at one of the regular stalls, one that sold sausages with fried potatoes. As we were a few hours further into the day, I immediately agreed to let him treat me to his favourite fast food. We sat down on a bench at one of the long tables, enjoying a beer. The service was quick despite there being quite a lot of customers, and we soon got our servings. Paul was not wrong to be a regular here, this was good food, especially for a guy working really hard in a forge all day, for me the portion was quite large, I'm not a type that can eat limitlessly. 

But Paul didn't mind finishing my portion as well as his own. I had been amazed before at the amount of food he could process without getting any fatter but I guess his body worked differently from mine. 

That reminds me, I didn't tell you about myself yet: I was, and am still, quite tall, and certainly not skinny. My figure is very feminine, with ample roundings and quite enough cleavage to make men check me out a lot. 

I never enjoyed wearing dresses, feeling uncomfortable with being judged on appearance instead of personality and merit, so I usually wore a long skirt with a bodice, or a women's suit, or even lady's trousers. This may also have had to do with my profession, having studied to be an engineer I was usually in the company of men, and I found that with my luscious body, wearing dresses tended to distract men, make them take me less seriously. A suit gives a business-like air, and when I finished my studies I successfully applied for job as an independent building inspector for the city council, wearing a suit, so I stuck to the practice.

I have some lovely dresses, but I save them for special occasions, when turning every man's head and most women's is an advantage. To complete my picture, my hair is coppery brown, slightly wavy and very long, but I usually keep it confined in a braid or even put up. My complexion is very light, I tend to burn quickly in the full sun, and I'm always battling a few freckles on my nose. 

But now, back to the market, for Paul had finished my potatoes as well as his own, and we were ready to continue our shopping spree.

Several of the booths were taken by merchants that I had not seen before, which made them especially interesting. In one of these stalls, occupied by a creepy looking fellow with stringy black hair and a likewise beard, I saw a piece of folk art that immediately drew my attention. 

It was a depiction of a mirror framed in a living branch. And out of that mirror came the head and one hand of a man with a rather narrow face and some decidedly goat-like features, like an impressive set of he-goat's horns, a deeply dented lip and pointed ears, as if a man were changing into a goat and the development stopped not even half-way. His nose was quite long and his eyes were set a bit high for a man's. 

It was a slightly disturbing work, but I fell in love with it instantly. Paul noticed my interest, and sarcastically said: 'You know he-goats are known for their randiness, don't you?' Of course I must have looked like a fool, for one moment I thought he had seen right through me, had read my lustful thoughts about him from my posture, maybe straight from my mind. 

The merchant, eager to make a sale, used my moment of stunned silence to get a word in: 'Beautiful paper-maché folk art, misses, and only a tenner. That is practically for free.' That was way cheaper than I expected, and the figure seemed to encourage me to take him with me. 

Next to me, Paul laid a hand on my arm in a familiar way and looked at me disapprovingly. The merchant quickly said: 'Eight pounds, that is my final offer.' I did wonder why Paul was so set against my buying it, but I told the man: 'Sold!'

After buying the goat-man I was ready to return to my apartment, and asked Paul: 'Shall we go home? And why were you so set against my buying this?' He laughed and said: 'I wasn't, that guy thought we were a married couple, so I pretended to thoroughly dislike it so you'd get it for as little as he would sell it for.' 

Of course the logic of that statement was clear to me immediately, so I told him: 'You're really smart, and subtle, I never even noticed that. Thank you.' He looked at the thing thoughtfully and even touched it briefly, then stated: 'It feels vaguely sentient, I have a certain sensibility to magic. I hope I won't regret helping you buy it.' 

I did not understand that last remark, why would he regret something I bought? But he mentioned another word that sounded positively ridiculous to me: 'Magic?,' I cried, 'this piece of painted paper? You're not serious!' By this time, we had reached the cart with the rest of our purchases, and after laying our latest buys carefully on top of the others, we set off for home, the boy following with the cart.

Back home, we shared the cost of the cart, and after taking his metals into his basement, Paul helped me take my stuff upstairs, and even find a nice place for everything. We saved the goatish man for last, and decided to place him over my small hearth. With a big iron hammer from his workshop Paul drove a nail into the wall of his house, and hung the mirror-like piece on it. Taking a few steps back to admire his handiwork he said: 'Nice and straight. Seeing him here I think he suits your place, he looks well on your wall and he'll feel safe here.' 

Again, I had a feeling he knew more than he let on, more about this work of art and more about me. I must admit I felt a bit disconcerted, I regarded him as a down-to-earth craftsman, a gifted craftsman surely, even an artist, but not a spiritual person. But now he seemed to see right through me. 'You are so silent, aren't you pleased with the new man in your life?' he asked when I just stood there, looking at him in surprise and yes, even dismay. 

Shaking the feeling of another world touching mine, I looked about my room with its new inhabitant, and I was more than pleased, I was thrilled. This was the piece I had in mind when I set out this afternoon, a real focal point, and just quirky enough. So I let all my satisfaction resound in my voice as I replied: 'Yes, I am very happy with him. He looks right at home here, as you said. Thank you for your help.' 

Still I couldn't help feeling that he knew I had a crush on him and wanted to let me know he did. Not wanting to show my disturbance I asked him: 'Will you stay for dinner?' 

His reply startled me again: 'I don't think so. I think it's time I made dinner for you, in my place. Let him get used to the place on his own'. The last remark was made looking at my new piece of art, which he seemed to almost regard as a real person.

Chapter 2

I went with him to his apartment one floor down, and had no idea what to expect behind that door. Would it be a bachelor's pad, with just a bed and a bare table? Or would it be stuffed with his family's heirlooms? Not much chance! Maybe a stylish ensemble with elegant minimalistic furniture? I had no clue, though I expected it to be in good taste, for his beautiful creations nearly demanded his home to be as beautiful. 

But the reality was even beyond that. His apartment, as humble from the outside as my own, turned out to be a Gothic palace from the inside. The door didn't open on a hall with a living-room and several bedrooms leading from it, but on a kind of gallery made of wrought iron ornamented with bronze floral elements, offering a view on a large living-room one floor down. 

I realized that he had two floors, my apartment being on the third floor and his workshop in the basement. Standing by the railing I saw a winding stairs, again wrought iron with bronze ornamentation, this time with reptilian creatures writhing down the railing and even through the steps. Dragons! 

The walls were mostly wood panelling inlaid with a mosaic of differently coloured woods. His vide had an enormous Gothic chandelier hanging over it, suspended from a stark white ceiling.

Paul was observing my reaction to his little surprise with amusement. Of course no-one could enter here without staring in wonderment. At last he broke the silence: 'This is why you are my first visitor in a long time, it takes ages to get to the kitchen the first time I let someone in.' I still had no words for what I saw, just a pressing need to see the rest of it, all of it. 

I followed him down the stairs, into the living area. The wood panelling was replaced by row upon row of bookshelves, stuffed with books of all shapes and sizes and ages. There was a sitting area with comfortable chairs and even a sofa of soft fabric in a corner of the large room, where the ceiling was decidedly lower. And there was a slim and elegant wooden desk. The floor was wood mosaic again, with deep red Persian rugs here and there. 

There was no dining table, and the space, though really high in the middle, was not wide, but it did seem larger than my apartment. As if he could read my mind, again, Paul explained: 'There are no bedrooms on this floor, just the kitchen. The bedrooms are one floor up, where the ceiling is lower. Will you come and sit in the kitchen? I'll make us dinner.'

The kitchen was the most beautiful place yet. Its ceiling was lower than the living area, but all the cupboards were made of wood ornamented with copper silhouettes of flying dragons. There was a beautiful copper boiler, not hidden away but in plain sight. The sink was also copper, set in a beautiful piece of hardwood. The dining table was set up here, with four light chairs. The table had no cloth, but was polished to a high sheen.

Light came in from a window, opening up to the inner garden of our block of houses. I was stunned, not able to say a word. Coming from a lower class family, able to study only with the patronage of my parents' employer, I had never in my life seen such riches. It wasn't gaudy, and I knew he had almost certainly made every piece of metalwork himself, but the value of everything in this house was way beyond my experience. I was overwhelmed. 

He led me towards one of the chairs, seemingly too fragile to sit on, but he assured me they were a lot stronger than they looked, and encouraged me to sit down. Then he moved one of the chairs close to mine and sat right next to me, laid his hand on mine and told me: 'I take it you approve?' Now I finally found my voice: 'It is beyond words. I've never seen something so beautiful. All the work you've put in, the materials, the style.' 

He closed his hand over my hand, and said: 'Thank you. Do you want tea, or a glass of wine?' I opted for the tea, with all the strange things that had been happening I preferred to keep my wits about me, though alcohol generally didn't affect me strongly. 

Paul didn't put on a kettle, but used a little tap that was part of the large boiler to pour steaming hot water into an old-fashioned china teapot. He measured out tea and put it to steep. Then he started busying himself peeling and slicing various vegetables, and he took what appeared to be noodles out of a cupboard. I offered to help, but he asked me to just watch him work and maybe pour myself and him some tea. 

He had a strange way of making dinner, immersing the noodles very shortly in more steaming water from the beautiful boiler, then draining them in a sieve. He cut up the various vegetables very finely, as well as some white meat, poultry I guessed. Then he fried it in a large copper pan, over a high fire, in oil instead of butter. Several spices from little jars went in and then it was all ready. 

I was amazed, again. And it tasted fabulously, light and savoury after the heavy meal of the afternoon. The combination with the smoky tea was also excellent. I realized that fried potatoes were not his staple diet, that this was what he usually ate. No wonder he was so thin. 




Mirror Bound Pt. 02



Chapter 35

After an hour, Lukas indeed returned, and he brought George along with him. George looked very intently at Paul and kneeled beside the bed, I could see he was incredibly relieved to see him awake and alert, but dared not hug him for fear of hurting his dear friend. 

Paul stiffly held out his hands and excused himself: 'I cannot do better than this, dear George, I hurt a lot.' George took the hands carefully and kissed them and said: 'I'm just very happy to see you awake, I've been worrying, though I've been busy too.' 

This hit a nerve with Paul, who anxiously asked: 'Are we in big trouble, is Lukas in trouble?' George laughed and said: 'Actually, you're heroes, but your little raid is keeping me busy. I'll tell you all in the right order, as soon as Lukas has checked your wound.' 

Now Paul mockingly complained: 'You're all so bossy.' Lukas grinned from ear to ear and kissed Paul intimately, saying: 'We are indeed. Will you show me your back?' 'If you'll help me, oh master,' Paul replied, and with Lukas' assistance he was soon turned over again. 

Lukas asked me: 'Will you guide me again, Melissa?' I nodded, and laid my hands on the skin beside the wound, feeling my way inside. Lukas touched my mind and soon we were connected as intimately as yesterday, a rather profound experience after our resulting love-making. I decided to give in to the feeling a little, or we'd only build it up, so I embraced Lukas and kissed him with heat, which he returned, also eager to lose some of the tension between us. 

After that kiss we tried again, I touched Paul's skin and let my feeling enter the tissue below. The healing had been successful, the squares Lukas had used to repair the damaged tissue had held, and it only needed to grow together again. But there were some alarming signs, some places were swollen, with a different kind of shapes cluttering the moving fluid, and an unhealthy colour. Lukas touched Paul himself, but nothing happened, his talent didn't step in. Paul would have to fight this infection himself, with rest and good care. 

When we came back to the now, Lukas said: 'There is some infection, but I cannot heal it, you'll need to keep quiet and let your body do the work by itself.' George handed him a bag: 'I forgot to mention it, but Frances sent me this, antiseptic herbs, just steep in boiled water and apply with a clean cloth.' I said: 'I'll get boiling water straight away, and tea for us all. I won't offer you coffee George, it cannot compare to your own.' 

And when Paul's shot wound had been cleaned with antiseptic fluid, not a pleasant task with him biting on the duvet to keep from crying out in pain, and bandaged with more of the stuff against his skin, we made him comfortable against a few pillows and all enjoyed tea with some chocolate. 

Then George started his tale: 'After you had left, Frances took care of the ten children. They had come from all over the island, promised an education in the magical arts. Instead of to a boarding school, they came to a cell, where they were fed reasonably well, but ritually robbed of their energy, which that black mage stored into a perversion of a node.

He used the power of the faerie-souls for no other goal than hide the power stolen from the children and the magic he used to steal it. The children didn't know what he wanted the store of power for. They were all from middle or lower classes, and this so-called school was their only chance of education in magic. 

Some of them want to return home, some still want an education, some didn't have a family, and some disappeared, having deteriorated through the abuse, until they seemed to have no will or power left. 

One day they would just disappear.' Here, Paul interjected: 'The children on the dump: parent-less, mindless. Living of refuse. Will you two test them, Lukas and Melissa? Together you may find if they can remember their parents and their homes, so they can at least go home and lead a bearable life?' 

He was right of course, those poor children, burned out and destitute, they were the rejects. Of course we would do what we could for them. 'Of course we will, Paul, we'll go together,' Lukas said, 'we may have to ask Frances too, somehow small creatures trust her, maybe those kids will too.' George nodded and continued:

'When Frances and the factory guard were talking to the children, the watch arrived, which was interesting, for no-one in the factory had warned them, and people in that neighbourhood don't like the watch. We soon found out why they were there, remember I told you about a mage on the council? 

He had his suspicions about the deaths along the river too, and was keeping an eye on the factory, so when he felt the ley-lines being used, and saw the fireworks going on inside, he fetched the watch for an inspection. 

With the faerie soul that powered the shield that hid the magic from sight released, the concealing magic had dissipated, and he could see the mockery of a node leaching into the river with his own sight, and he certainly could see those poor children, and hear their stories. 

The watch found the mage, the cells and the altar by which time he knew enough to proclaim the three of you heroes of the city. He wants to meet you, especially you, Paul, he knew about guardians but had never thought of combining forces.' 

I could see the relief on Paul's face, he didn't quite trust the voice of right against the voice of money, I guessed, and he feared especially for Lukas who couldn't spend a night in jail without being found out.

'Frances arranged for the children to be allowed to stay with us until their parents had been contacted. And we discussed a boarding school to be founded for these children, somewhere in the city, a combined effort of mages of all schools. Not all talented children can be taught by their parents, just look at Melissa here: had her talent awakened earlier, she'd have been in danger of falling in the hands of this black mage too. 

Anyway, we have arranged a meeting today, to discuss this. You can be included too if you want to, we can come to you if you're not fit to travel, or you can latch on in a later stage if you're not well enough. I'll discuss those rejects living in the wasteland with him too, the city may pay for them to be helped.'

'The council member had the factory sealed, and the children escorted to our manor, where Ilsa and the staff fed them and prepared baths and beds for them. My steward and Frances will be writing a lot of letters today. 

The council member, whose name is Tristan Telling, Frances and I remained at the site, and performed the rite to free the faerie-souls. One was already free after you destroyed the photograph containing its soul, and it was very upset not knowing what had happened and all the magic-use around it. 

Fortunately it was one of ours, and it recognized Frances and came to her when she called it. We freed the rest, convinced them to come back to their trees, though one wasn't ours. It seemed to remember where its tree was, so Marcus carried it there. Frances will check on all of ours and if you want to, on the others as well, to help the trees to recover.

That was about it. The black mage is dead and he had no family, so the council will probably sell the factory. I've shown interest in it, it would be a good investment even if I paid the workers a decent wage and attached a school to it. We've lived quite a secluded life so far, maybe it is time we went into the world once in a while. 

Oh and by the way, we found these two statues in the bags with the photographs.' And with that he got the two statues we had taken from the office out of a satchel, and put them on the night stand 

But by now Paul was so weary that the statues were forgotten, his eyes were glazed with pain again, and George left quickly to allow him to rest. Lukas ran to the kitchen for more painkillers, and I tried to make him comfortable by helping him to lie down again, which was pretty difficult since he could hardly lie on his back, and all his muscles were still stiff as well. 

When Lukas came back I could kick myself, for now he had to be propped up again to take them, causing extra pain. Still, that was also managed and soon my love was asleep and without pain for a few hours, hopefully. 

I was worried, very much so. I had no experience at all with wounds, and Paul seemed in a very bad state to me. Lukas sat on the other end of the bed and held his arms open to me, and I sat quietly in his embrace, hoping to find some relief from my anxiety. He just held me and caressed my hair and my face in silence. 

Then he touched my mind tentatively, until I welcomed him and connected to him. I could feel his solid trust in Paul's ability to get over this, relaxing me bit. He spoke: 'Bullet wounds hurt like hell Melissa, that does not mean he's in any direct danger. He'll just suffer a lot, and learn to never turn his back on an enemy ever again. That was foolish and arrogant, and he is paying the price. Fortunately it wasn't higher than this.' 

That sounded harsh, but his feelings were so loving and tender, I knew he felt for Paul as much as I did, he just knew more about wounds and healing and worried less. Our intimacy did not result in making love this time, just being together and watching our dearest friend and lover sleep was enough. But of course Lukas got restless after some time, and he picked up the statues and studied them.

Both were silver, and in the same style, very simple and still very realistic. It was easy to see what they represented: elves. At least as I imagined them, tall, very slim, pointed ears, beautiful faces. Lukas handed me one, and I looked at it with sight. It really looked the same as the plates with the photographs, there really was a soul in these statues. But would there still be a body somewhere for these souls to go to?

'There is a soul in this one, but is there a body somewhere?' I asked. 'Would you double-check this one for me, I think there's something in it?' Lukas asked, and I did. 

He was right, but that still didn't tell us whether these souls would still have a body to go to: 'I think there is a soul in this one too, don't you?' He nodded, and said: 'I have no idea if they still have a body, I guess not, unless they are a primitive kind of faerie that can live for some time without soul.' We put the statues back on the night stand, and Lukas said: 'Shall we take turns keeping an eye on Paul? 

I have some reading to do, but there is also work that needs to be done in the workshop, some of which I can do unsupervised. He won't be up to working tomorrow, but he may be well enough to help me do the other jobs.' I found it difficult to even consider leaving Paul, but I did have a job I had to go to, and I wanted to see my boss today at the council building, to tell him this job was finished and to give him my resignation. 

So I said to Lukas: 'Can you do the reading first? I'll cycle to work and to the council building, then return with groceries. I'm certain Paul will not mind my taking the bicycle, and it will be much faster.' 

Within ten minutes I was dressed in a suit and on a bicycle towards my work. I still didn't see any lewd or scandalised looks, but I think I would have used it anyway, it was so much faster. In a wink I was at the site, and I saw the architect and told him I'd sign off on the building today, there would only be one final inspection at its completion, but for now I had nothing more to inspect, there were no structural changes anymore. 

We shook hands, and he said: 'I hope we'll meet again on another site, working with you has been a pleasure.' I was pleased to hear that and told him: 'I have enjoyed seeing your building come to life from the drawings and ideas, it was a great inspiration to me. But I am thinking of quitting this job, I've had an offer for something else.' 

He almost cried out: 'You're not going to get married to that crafts master and quit your job, are you? I saw him propose to you yesterday, and he's a good-looking fellow, and very well-spoken and talented obviously, but you have too much talent yourself to give up your career.' 

Laughing, I explained: 'He didn't offer me his hand, he offered me a job, or rather a partnership in a firm of our own, designing structures and building them, solving engineering problems with his inventions. I think I'll accept.' 

The architect now showed some embarrassment at his outburst, and said: 'Oh, I'm sorry Miss Thorn, that was very forward of me, but he seemed to be...well... really fond of you. But your own firm, that is really good, I'm sure you'll do very well together. If I can ever help you with advice please don't hesitate to contact me. And would you still be available to do some structural checks on contract basis? 

Starting a business can be uncertain financially, and I would be much mistaken if your extraordinary talent with material would not bring you a nice extra income.' That was a good idea if I ever heard one, and I thanked him for the offer, he certainly might hire me for structural checks. 

We parted cordially and I went on to the building, to have a last look at it before I signed off on it.

After checking the outside, still in scaffolding but not for long now, I went inside and strolled along the paths through the increasing foliage. This was taking shape quite nicely, and by the time temperatures would start to drop the heating would be ready for its task. 

Absorbed in the grotto that was nearly finished by now, I didn't see anyone until I was pushed to the sandstone wall by a large, strong body. A similarly large hand clutched over my mouth prevented me from crying for help, and I felt a short twang of fear because I really could not move a muscle, this guy was very strong. 

Then I remembered I had raided the hideout of an evil mage yesterday, and that this was a busy building site. My fear was instantly gone, and looking at my attacker I recognized the guy who had been leering at me all the time I had worked here. 

He grinned: 'Saw you arrive on your sexy cycle today, I suppose you don't have a real man to give you some of that. You'll love this.' 

Detached now, I saw he was quite a handsome man, why would he stoop to forcing himself on anyone? His other hand now loosening his belt, I decided not to waste any more time on trying to deduce his motives, but put an end to this before anyone saw this and thought I was the kind of girl who screwed men on the work place.

I'd worked hard to create credibility as working partner among men, one horny fellow was not going to mess that up. I shaped a tiny bit of magical power to a ball, prayed it would only stun.

He had loosened his belt and that hand was now moving towards my hair, him crooning: 'Such pretty copper locks, couldn't have anyone else touch those.' 

One of my hands was stuck between his strong body and his arm still holding his hand over my mouth, but my other hand wriggled loose and struck him on the back of the head. As the power hit him, his strong body dropped like a felled ox. 

Stepping over his stunned body, I felt some fear I had killed him, but just at that moment, my favourite contractor came running up, calling out with real concern: 'Miss Thorn, thank God you're safe!' 

Quite upset now by the whole situation, I asked him: 'Is he still all right?' Looking at me in stunned amazement he said: 'You worry for him after he assaulted you? At your work place? It'd serve him right if he was not. How did you floor him anyway, such a big brute?' 

Saying this, he did kneel down and check the guy's vital signs: 'He's fine, just out. How did you do that?' I tried to evade a clear answer by mumbling: 'A trick I learned, but it can be deadly.'

He looked at me with his head tilted slightly, I could see he didn't buy that at all, but he let it go and asked: 'Are you all right?

I heard from Fritz that you were on your last inspection and were contemplating quitting with the council, and I wanted to say goodbye and thank you and make a proposal of my own, when I heard this lump speak to you in a respectless way. 

What a dork, you know I hired him? Won't make that mistake again, he's out on his ear. Assaulting a building inspector on site. Anyway, what I wanted to ask you, if you do go into business with the crafts master, will we be able to hire you to check out materials for flaws? It'll cost you a few hours a week and we can offer a steady income, you've saved my firm from a big disaster and I'm sure you will again. Just come in, check the stuff, mark anything that's not safe, and out. Please think about it. 

I wish he had proposed to you, that crafts master, you looked fine together, and both gifted. 

Oh, and did you hear the news about those deaths your Mr Kenwick was so interested in? Apparently it was poisonous waste from the wool factory that caused it. 

The council has promised to check the factories more closely for dumping waste, I know river water is unhealthy, but some have naught else to drink, so it should at least not be poisoned. That would be a good cause for your friend's family, Rupert told me they're loaded gentry, having the drinking water improved. 

But I suppose he's from the poor branch, every family has a poor branch, and if he were rich he'd not be talking to us craftspeople like we're his friends, he'd be way too important to do anything of the kind. Oh Miss, I'm sorry to talk so much, I was just so upset to find that large brute, he's coming round, leave him to me. Do you want to report him to the watch?' 

I replied: 'Better not, my friend is at home sick and I want to be with him, besides, they'd ask me what I'd done and it would be difficult to explain.' 

'I understand. Well, thank you again for saving my reputation, and think about my proposal. I'll be at your friend's workshop in a few days. He's not really bad I hope?' 

He was such a nice man, but I couldn't tell him what happened, so I just said truthfully: 'It could have been much worse.' Then we shook hands cordially and I left, leaving the signing off to the next day, for after what had happened I wanted to be home. 

Pedalling back took just ten minutes, and I put away the bicycle in the shed, then locked the doors behind me. The workshop was empty, the furnace cold. 

I ran upstairs and found Lukas reading on the bed and Paul still sleeping. I sat next to Lukas, who immediately noticed I was upset, put an arm around me and asked: 'What happened?' I told him about the assault and he got rather angry, saying: 'In my country, that would cost him his horns.' That seemed a really severe punishment for something that happened daily in our reality, and I said so, but that upset him even more, so I asked him: 'How are things here?' 

He replied: 'Much the same, he's even a bit feverish now, and in a lot of pain. We need to take really good care of the wound and of him, and if he keeps getting worse I'll try healing again tonight.' 

As if Paul had heard that he got really restless, making distressed sounds in his sleep, face drawn in pain, hands clutching at nothing. 

I very slowly moved towards him, and stroked his hair and his face very softly. His restlessness settled a little and he slept again, but Lukas said: 'I gave him another painkiller just after you left, if he wakes he can have another one. 

But they're really not strong enough for a man in his condition, maybe Frances has something stronger, I think I'll run over to ask her, it's twenty minutes around.' 

With Lukas away I got a pot of tea and some food, and a novel from the rows and rows of books and went back upstairs. Time passed quickly reading, and by the time Lukas returned with a stronger painkiller I was totally immersed in the story. 




Mirror Bound Pt. 02



He left the powder with me with instructions on its use, and went to work downstairs. I read on until Paul became restless again. This time he truly woke up, not feeling better at all, feverish and cramped with pain. 

I started with giving him the painkiller, and a lot of water to drink, then held and stroked him until the pain receded a little, which was surprisingly fast. 'I don't think I've ever felt this bad,' he said almost surprised, 'hot and cold, and I can't think properly. I want you to hold me but it hurts. Do you feel sorry for me?' 'Very much so,' I said, 'but I'm still going to help you turn on your stomach to check the wound.' 

He felt hot to my touch, and the wound was red and swollen, but not alarmingly so. The area around it was turning black and blue now, and I was not surprised he was in great pain. I washed the wound with the antiseptic solution and bandaged it again, then helped him back into a more comfortable position and held him as close as was possible. 

He did not want to eat, just drink, and we kissed some, which felt weird because he was so hot. I told him about the architect thinking our hug on the building site being a marriage proposal. 'He seemed almost disappointed, but he was glad I wasn't giving up my work. Both wanted to hire me to check materials.

I could make a career out of that, which would be boring I guess, but it will enable us to start up our own firm.' 

He was pleasantly surprised by this: 'So you will go into business with me?' 'I will,' I replied, 'I will hand in my resignation tomorrow.' That made him very happy, but with the pain gone he soon fell asleep again, leaving me to my novel.

The afternoon was gone before Lukas came in hot and sweaty from working at the forge. He was in a good mood from having done his day's work, but he did not like Paul's fevered appearance. 

'What is the use of having healing skills if I cannot use them when they are really needed? I'm going to try again, do you mind doing it right now?' I didn't, and I said so, and soon I had contact with the ley-line, and with Lukas. 

This time, he wanted to try by himself. Paul was sleeping on his side, his back way too painful to lie on it, so Lukas could easily reach the wound, removing the bandage and touching the area around it. And he really seemed to have more success, I saw the black and blue area fade to brown, then yellow, and the swelling went down markedly. 

The wound wasn't healed completely, but it was closed now, which meant he would be able to take a shower if he could face the stairs. I couldn't feel a change in temperature, but I guessed that would take a few minutes more. I knew I would feel the effect of the bond as soon as Lukas finished, and to be honest I was looking forward to the intimacy, the thought turned me on quite a bit. 

And sure enough, I felt a rising lust that was not my own, and that mind-blowing closeness that came with transferring power was fast taking over. 

Lukas looked almost wild with triumph and desire, and he jumped on me and kissed me very, very lingeringly. I felt his erection through his pants, and the throbbing in his mind, and I returned that kiss with all my heart.

'Hey you two, get a room,' a whimsical voice said behind me, and as I turned I saw Paul watching us, propped on an elbow, eyes bright but not with fever. Lukas asked: 'Do you want us to go upstairs?' Paul smiled indulgently and said: 'No please, I'd like to watch. Actually I'd like to join in, but though I feel much better I suppose that wouldn't be wise.'

I could feel Lukas hesitate, but my heat was up now and I planned to include Paul in the fun without taking a toll of his body, so I bluntly scratched Lukas' horn bases and felt his lust take over his mind. He was out of his pants and under my skirts in a second, and as he jumped me his body landed on me and he slid in me in one overwhelming dose of weight, musky scent and exhilarating fullness. 

I kept scratching his horns firmly, stimulating him to furious action, thrilling both our senses. It was really unbelievable to feel through our bond how sensitive those horn bases were, my touch there set all his nerve endings on fire. I don't think he'd ever been so fast and so furious, which of course meant he came to a climax really quickly. 

But that did not deter him, for he just lay between my legs and let me catch up with him with his tongue and nimble fingers. As I came to a shuddering climax, he was ready for his second round, and when he sat up, I turned around and kneeled before him, but within reach of my hurt lover, who was watching our love-play eagerly. 

Folding back the blanket I noticed he was ready for some loving, and as I took his penis in my mouth, I felt Lukas enter me from behind. That was quite something, I heard Paul moan in unexpected pleasure, and Lukas was using our connected minds to adjust his now more sedate thrusting to what stimulated me most. I knew this couldn't last long, I was being touched so expertly inside, that I felt a high coming from far away, but approaching rapidly. 

Of course my rising excitement translated to my own ministrations, and Paul was generally very excitable, so we came almost together, with him remembering to spill his hot seed on his own hand instead of in my mouth. 

After that, Lukas speeded up again, and I could see Paul was still amazed at his incredible stamina. I remembered Lukas doing the same when he was still stick-thin, and the ever rising elation in my mind that belonged to him was coloured with fond remembrance, until he lost every coherent thought in total lust and abandonment, then crashed on the bed laughing, taking me with him, elated with his success in healing his friend after all, and his total release afterwards. Upside down, he asked Paul: 'How do you feel, better?' 

Paul roughed his hair and said: 'Much better, I do think I'm almost free of pain. You are a miracle worker!' But when Lukas hugged him in response, he winced and said: 'Well, nearly almost free of pain. Can I have a shower now, please?' 

And of course he got his way, we half-carried him up the stairs and I think he suffered quite some pain, but the fever was gone and he could laugh again, and when he got out and I dried him very carefully with a towel, I could feel his back and shoulders were no longer rock-hard, his muscles had finally loosened. Of course the two guys now wanted to eat, so Lukas and I fetched all kinds of things from the kitchen, and we made a merry meal.

Chapter 36

But Paul wouldn't be Paul if he didn't start worrying again as soon as his mind wasn't overruled with pain anymore. Between bites he stated: 'I'm not up to excursions yet today, but you can leave me alone with a book for a few hours. 

Would you two be so kind as to visit those rejected children tonight, see if you can find out how much mind they have got left? If we have a meeting tomorrow with George and the council member about the wasteland and talented children, I'd like to know what we're dealing with.'

Lukas, also still munching, answered: 'I've been aching to do something for those children, if you feel confident on your own I'd really like to go. Do you agree Melissa, that we should take Frances along with us?' 

I said: 'I do, any wild creature would trust her before anyone else I know.' Now Paul insinuated: 'You didn't do so bad yourself with a wild creature, some time ago...' and I retorted: 'You weren't as wild as that, Paul, when I tamed you.' 

Lukas clearly enjoyed our bantering very much, as self-assured and as contained as he had gotten he still needed a lot of love. He manoeuvred himself into my arms and said nothing, though he clearly knew Paul had meant him, and the idea of Paul as wild creature was ludicrous to him. 

Of course Paul saw this too, and he targeted Lukas: 'You were too busy hitting on pretty girls to see it, but I was like a mad thing on that dance-floor.' Now Lukas couldn't keep quiet anymore, and said: 'Oh I saw you all right, and you were the most beautiful, most controlled dancer of the lot. Can we go again soon?' I added: 'Let's make a group of it, include Ilsa and her siblings if they feel like it.' 

Before we left, Lukas suggested to Paul: 'You might want to check out those statues when we are away. They contain a soul all right, but we couldn't find out much more.' He didn't have to say more, Paul's eyes lit up at the challenge, and soon we were on our way to the estate. 

I took a bicycle and Lukas went on his own two feet. After my experience of this afternoon, I no longer worried about being molested or mugged, I knew I could defend myself, and I had seen Lukas in action as well. Soon we were moving along the lane, then we were at the manor house, ready to look for Frances. The place looked different with ten children about, playing on the lawn, reading in the shade of the large trees. 

The children recognized us, and told us Frances was working in her greenhouse. She agreed to come with us and told us the first parents would come to collect their sons and daughters today and tomorrow, the ones living near the city, who had gotten the message today and had sent a reply back with the messenger. 

Some of the others might stay for a few weeks, their parents living as far away as the Islands. We spent some time with George, updating him on Paul's condition, reasonably sure he would be up to a meeting, as long as it might take place in his own Gothic palace, from a comfortable chair. 

George insisted we take a carriage, he didn't want Frances in the wasteland on foot, and maybe he was right, she was not as streetwise as we had become.

So in a carriage we went, leaving it halfway down the road, quite a ways from the houses where the children would be hiding. Frances had thought to bring a bag of the pretty cakes, and a bag of sandwiches, to tempt the children out, and of course to provide them with food, for it they were not going to show up, she'd just leave them there with a big canister of clean water and some cups. 

The going was tough between the rubble, and to be honest, it was even filthier than I had feared it would be. 

But we'd have to get used to the filth, for to win these rejects' trust and to check their minds, we would have to touch them anyway. There was not a child to be seen, but with sight I placed all of them in one of the houses near the road. 

We realized they might become violent in their despair, so we entered very carefully, trying to look harmless. Of course we had our appearance in our favour, for Lukas looked much like a large boy with his unruly mop of curls, Frances like everybody's mum, and I was only a young woman, so not much threat there either. The children seemed to know we came for them, for they were all huddled in one large room at the back of the derelict house, the only one with all the windows still unbroken. One rather large boy, nearly an adult, seemed to feel responsible for the rest, for he stood before them half afraid, half defiantly.

'What are you doing here?' he asked us, in clear English, with an immaculate accent. What was a boy like that doing here in a wasteland? 

This is what we had Frances for, and she replied: 'We have come to bring you food, and a healer if you need one.' 

With this, she put the water and the cups down, and the bags with the sandwiches. Still a bit suspicious, but clearly very hungry and maybe even glad to see friendly adult faces, the boy handed the bag to another teenager, probably a girl, but it was hard to see from her huddled shape and ragged clothing. 

She didn't say anything, but quickly distributed a sandwich to each child, then handed one to the boy, who had not stopped watching us, and took one herself. They didn't devour the food, but ate it slowly, savouring it, and they didn't fight over it either, which gave me instant hope that they might have some mind left, even if they had apparently lost every memory of who or what they were.

Now Lukas sat down in one fluid move, and he looked so harmless and loving, that one of the smaller children scooted over and sat on his lap. 

He didn't hold it for fear of making it feel caught, but he did stroke its filthy hair lovingly, and the child sat against him. I followed his example and sat down, and Frances also followed suit. This seemed to quiet the leader down even more, and now Frances spoke again:

'Are you the leader of this little group?' The boy nodded, and said: 'I've been here longest, and I've tried to keep us all together and share the stuff we gathered, food and clothes. 

And two or three still wanted to play, so we found them some toys.' 

Meanwhile, the girl had discovered that there was clean water in the canister, and she was pouring cups and handing them to the others. They shared the water too. Now the boy, cup in hand, sat down as well, pretty close to us, and went on: 'Two of us are sick, have been since they emerged from the place down there. 

They don't speak, they eat little, they just sit there, looking at nothing.' Frances nodded and said: 'This is Lukas, sitting with the little girl. He is our healer, he can check them out. This young lady is Melissa, and I'm Frances, what is your name?' 

The question clearly hurt the boy, for he cringed and replied: 'I don't remember. None of us have a name.' Frances spoke calming words: 'Don't worry, Lukas can help you remember too, forgetting your name was done to you in that place, and he will bring it back to you. The place is empty now, it cannot hurt you anymore.'

Through all this talk the girl was still busy distributing water and the rest of the food. The nameless boy got another sandwich and ate it slowly. 

Frances now told the boy: 'We are not just here to give you food and help, we want to take you somewhere where you can bathe, sleep, get clean clothes, cut your hair, and then we want to try if we can find your parents so you can return to them. If you agree.'

Now the teenager, who had kept this group together and managed to save them all, started to cry heartbreakingly. I couldn't stand it anymore, and went to him carefully, offering to comfort him. He didn't shy away and allowed me to put my arms around him, still crying in heaving sobs. 

The other children were watching him with fear on their grimy faces, clearly totally dependent on him, and aware he was lost to them for a moment. 

I held that brave, nameless boy for as long as he needed to spill his immense grief, and by the time his skinny frame stopped heaving so intensely, and his sobs became quieter, he was holding me tightly, finding some comfort in my warm presence.

Finally, he whispered: 'Will you please release me of this unbearable burden? I'm only a child myself, I cannot care for so many others anymore.' 

He nearly broke my heart with those words, his voice still rough from crying, and squeaky from his approaching manhood.

I held him even tighter, as Frances replied: 'I will, bravest of boys, but first I want you to have your name back. 

Lukas, can you look at him first, whilst I share out some of those beautiful cakes to his charges?'

She held the first beautiful cake out to the child on Lukas' lap, and the child quickly came to her to take it, enabling Lukas to get up and sit next to us. 

He touched the boy carefully, then said: 'I'm going to use healing magic to try and release your memory, if it's still somewhere in your mind. You may see some weird flashes, or feel weird things happening, please trust us that we will not hurt you. Can you do that?' 

I felt the boy nod, he seemed very weary all of a sudden, hoping his ordeal was over after years of struggling. I reached for the ley-line and contacted Lukas' mind, as he touched the boy again, and his talent took over.

I wanted to follow Lukas to see what could wipe the memory of a person but still enable him to speak perfect English and care for nine other children in a wasteland. 

But I missed the connection to his talent this time, so I decided to just feed Lukas power so he could do his thing and help Frances keep an eye on the other kids. For now they were enjoying the cakes, staring at them in wonder, undoubtedly not remembering having ever seen something so colourful and pretty. 

Then Frances gestured they could eat it, and they did, amazed by the sweetness. They were actually far too rich for children who had been starved for months, maybe years, but they were rather small, so they would probably not hurt them. 

Lukas was still in rapport with the boy, sharing the enormous load that one had had on his shoulders for such a long time, it seemed like years. 

And his grief, for not being able to help those who were merely vegetating. Something in him knew that living like this wasn't right, but when he had tried to remember how it was supposed to be, he struck a barrier, a blockade, each time, until he gave up trying and just went on with his life in this outpost of hell. 

Leaving just didn't occur to him, he had no memory of life outside this wasteland, and he couldn't leave the children who had come after him, dumped in the wasteland by a dark shape, a shape he instinctively avoided, for he didn't remember anything specific but he knew that person must not see any of them. Those children had been in a worse shape each time a new one arrived, lifeless, numb, without any idea of who they had been. 

The early ones started to wake up after a few days, got a little life back, built up new memories, and new emotional ties, but the latest ones stayed as numb and lifeless as the day they had been dumped.

I could feel Lukas' strain coping with these horrific memories, and I could also feel his intent to break down that barrier to the brave kid's older memories. I knew there would be even worse memories behind that barrier, and I wondered if it was a good idea to face them here, in the wasteland, covered in soot and filth, but he was already grinding away mentally on that barrier. I could see the advantage of this one kid regaining his memory, it would make treating the others much easier, for they trusted him through and through. 

And in my mind he had earned immediate relief for all the extra grief he had gone through protecting the others.

When the barrier finally broke, Lukas and I were both buried under an avalanche of memories, some of them gruesome, of being drained of magical power with brute magic by the black mage, of being savagely beaten by the same man, for resisting his mental torture, for being nearly strong enough to attack him with real magic, of the same man finally beating him to within an inch of his life, dumping him in the wasteland to die and rot away amid the trash. 

The memory of him waking after all, utterly alone among the filth, wounded inside and out from the savage beating, with no idea who he was and how he got there. His survival instinct drove him to drink from a puddle and find food amidst the trash, until he slowly healed and became reasonably strong again, still utterly alone but with an iron will to survive. 

And the arrival of the other children, one by one, not beaten like him but lifeless from being totally drained of magical power. 

Not alone anymore, he nursed each of them back to health, and because of his greater mental resilience they looked up to him as their leader, as their father figure, which was too large a task for a boy, no matter how strong. 

Lukas took all these profound and often intensely sad memories, and went over them with the boy until they were less strong, less overwhelming. He could not lay them to rest yet, they were too strong, and the boy would need more time and more sessions to truly face them, but this would help him cope a lot better with what he had been through.

And then Lukas took him back further, to the days when he was still a normal boy. Again, memories flooded in, memories that the brave kid would be processing for days ahead, weeks even. He would remember everything over time, and it would take weeks to sort his memories, put them in the right order, relive them and realize it was his own youth he was remembering. 




Mirror Bound Pt. 02



There were some sad memories, but mostly happy ones, and Lukas went in search of the ones that were most important now, the boy's name, and who his parents were and if they still lived. Searching for clues there was a profound memory of the boy sitting with his parents in a room, their own dining room he remembered, with a man he would come to hate but didn't know then. The man said: 'So, Mr and Mrs Woolridge, you agree with me that sending young Jonathan here to my boarding school in the city would be the best and safest for all parties concerned.' 

His parents, nodding but not looking convinced, himself, partly anxious to leave home, but eager to start the magical training he was promised.

Suddenly the connection between Lukas and the boy, Jonathan, was broken. Through my intimate connection with Lukas his feeling of triumph, but also an incredible weariness came rushing in. 

As Jonathan jumped up from my lap, shouting: 'I remember everything!' hugging his friends, large and small, vivacious and downtrodden, I was just in time to catch Lukas, who was sagging in exhaustion. 

I checked his power level and it was fine, so why was he so tired? Catching my unspoken question he whispered: 'Don't worry, just hold me for a bit, and stay in contact with me. That was a lot to cope with, for him, but for me as well. I'll be fine in a few moments. 

Can you imagine how strong he must be, to survive that with his sanity intact?' I held him, and together we watched the children in their confusion, seeing their father figure act like the child he still was, deliriously happy with his name, and the partial removal of the burden of his memories. Frances handed him one of the cakes, and he immediately recognized it: 'Cake! Haven't had that for years, and such a pretty one too.' 

He bit into it carefully, and his face reflected his wonderment at the sweet taste: 'It is the best one I've ever tasted, thank you so much Frances.' 

I didn't wonder, after two years of eating garbage, that that little cake was the best one he ever had. Lukas was watching all this with quiet satisfaction, and I realized that the love that bound these children filled his need for love nearly as well as sharing physical love. 

He'd drain himself to death to give them all their memories back, I was sure of that. Fortunately he couldn't do it without me, so I would be there to keep an eye on him.

Seeing that his charges were a little upset by his exuberance, Jonathan gave them all a little pat, and promised them their turn would come as well, and that they might see their parents again. 

He took the time to settle them all, then spent extra time with the girl who had shared the food among the children, soothing her, for she seemed especially upset. 

I bet she was afraid he'd leave them, letting the task of caring for the whole lot fall to her. Or maybe she was in love with him, for children in dire circumstances tended to grow up really quickly. This is where Frances spoke again: 'My dear girl, he will not leave you behind, we will not leave you behind. 

You can all come with me, clean up, eat again, drink again, sleep in comfort and safety, play on our lawn, sit under our trees, and when Lukas has recovered from healing Jonathan here, he'll help another one of you, and then another, until you've all had your chance. 

Hearing this, Jonathan went to Lukas, saw him sitting in my lap, clearly exhausted, and said: 'Thank you so much, Lukas, for giving me my life back. And for taking those horrible memories from the front of my mind to the back. 

It was hard for you, wasn't it? You look dead tired, small wonder with the power I saw being drained from you. I never realized one could take power from those glowing lines, or that guy would never have laid his filthy paws on anyone ever again after touching me. 

Here I spoke up: 'Jonathan, don't touch those lines unless you are with someone who can teach magic. It's like handling lightning, it can kill you.' 

He nodded, then promised: 'I will not, though I don't know if I'll ever get magic training, it's only the high-born kids who get it.' I asked: 'Aren't you high-born then? You speak like you are.' 

He replied: 'I was raised if I was, my father was steward to a gentleman, and his son and I were practically raised together. My lord wanted to sponsor me into a apprenticeship, but no-one would take me because I was of a lower class.' 

I told him: 'It is not impossible, for I'm not high-born and still I have a magics-teacher. So please keep heart.' 

He brightened a little, then addressed Lukas again: 'Say, you're not like us, are you? You look different somehow.' Startled, Lukas replied: 'I'm not, Jonathan, I'll explain another time, when I'm less tired. 

First we'll have to get your friends here to a better place to stay, it's nearly getting dark, and we have a friend who needs us. I'll be over tomorrow to help one or two of you again, maybe with Melissa, maybe with Frances' husband, who teaches me magic. 

Frances, can you put these up as well?' Frances, still sitting on the ground, and with the little child on her lap, replied: 'We will, even our second best is way better than what these poor kids are used to. 

Jonathan, do you agree to all come with me?' 

He nodded and asked: 'Will you care for us?' Frances replied: 'Until we can find your parents, and if they cannot be found for some of you, we will find a suitable place to live for them.' 

This was good enough for Jonathan: 'Then we'll come with you. But two of us cannot walk far.' At this, Frances said: 'I have a carriage waiting outside, they can ride in it. But you won't all fit. Take any toys you're attached to, leave the rest. Let's be off.' 

Jonathan soon had all of them in motion, even the two catatonic children. Frances carried the little girl, and asked: 'Did she come from the place as well?' The answer was shocking: 'No, she just came here by herself one day, from the other side we think, but no-one came to fetch her, we let her play outside for days to allow her parents to pick her up, but after a few weeks she was still here. So we kept her.' 

By now we had reached the carriage, and Jonathan urged the two children in, I thought they were a boy and a girl, but wasn't sure under the filth. The little girl went in as well, and I practically forced Lukas in.

Slowly we walked towards the manor, a soot covered row of skinny children, led by a skinny teenager with the eyes of an old man. 

When we arrived at the manor house, Bertha was waiting with the small carriage pulled by the tiny ponies, and everyone could ride, which speeded our journey up considerably. At the house, the staff was also waiting, having been through the same process yesterday with the children saved from the factory. 

Jonathan was still everywhere, soothing one child, coaxing another, but I could easily see that the load was from his shoulders, he had given up the tremendous responsibility to Frances, who was much better suited to handle it.

In the warm summer evening they made a game of the bathing, all stripping and soaping on the lawn, then spraying each other with a water hose connected to an ingenious apparatus that was powered by a lever. 

'Paul's work, to water the plants' Frances said, 'you to must be aching to get back to him, I will call for the carriage to give you a lift. We'll manage just fine here. Lukas, will you be going too?' Lukas put an arm around me and asked: 'Will you be all right to go back on your own? I want to see George for an hour or so, talk about what happened tonight, maybe exchange some intimacies.'

I knew this had been a very difficult healing for him, not only the personal suffering he had encountered, but he had also been confronted quite harshly with the shortcomings of our society in caring for its weaker members. I could understand his need to talk to someone with a lot more experience than himself or me, and George being a very attractive and active lover as well would make him irresistible to Lukas right now. 

There was still a price to pay to his talent after all. I told him: 'Of course I understand, it's been a difficult day for you, and George is the perfect partner for you right now, as well as your magic's teacher. Will you come home tonight?' 

He replied: 'I will. When all is said and done, my place is still with you two. But don't wait up, I'll let myself in.' We hugged and kissed, and then I went towards the carriage. 

Frances hugged me as well, and asked: 'Will we see you tomorrow? I want to talk to you about the greenhouse.' I replied: 'It depends a little on how Paul's doing, but I think I'll come. 

Have to fetch the bicycle back too.' 'We'll take good care of it,' she said, 'good night!' And I was into the carriage, and back home in a few minutes.

Chapter 37

I rushed upstairs, suddenly afraid Paul had been alone for too long, that he had had a setback. But as I stormed into the bedroom I found him reading peacefully, happy to see me of course, but not anxious or in pain. I sat down on the bed and we embraced tightly, wrapped up in each other's presence, and we kissed, then looked at the other, then kissed again. 

He made room for me to lie down, and when I was nicely settled in his arms, I felt that tentative touch brush my mind, and I reached out for it. The intimacy of that contact was so deeply satisfying to both of us, that we didn't do anything but share feelings for what seemed a long time. 

We didn't get overpowered by lust this time, I certainly had more need for quiet intimacy, and I felt Paul was still in some pain, making physical exertion not a very appealing prospect. When the pain started to become worse, so that I could even feel it, I got up and brought him a painkiller, which he obediently took. 

I watched him, my love for him overflowing seeing him sitting there, almost back to his normal self, his curly head tilted questioningly at my silence, his stubble thicker than usual, his loving eyes mirroring my infatuated look. Of course he could feel what I was feeling, just as I knew exactly how deeply he loved me, but still he said: 'What?' 

On impulse I said: 'I have met your younger brother just now. I don't know what he really looks like, for he was covered in soot and filth, and his hair was long and matted, but he single-handedly saved not just himself, but nine other kids as well. 

He didn't remember his name or anything else since he was dumped in that wasteland to die, but he knew how to keep a group together and he fed them and clothed them and never thought of escaping his fate. 

When Lukas unblocked his memories, his talent also unfolded again, and when Frances promised to take care of all of them, he cried with relief. Paul, I don't think he can be many years over sixteen, and he pulled them through two winters, on nothing but garbage.' 

Clearly, this made Paul feel very guilty: 'And he suffered right under my nose, for as long I have been guardian of this quarter.' 

I retorted: 'Which is a few months, whilst it happened under your predecessor's nose for more than one and a half years. Paul, you uncovered this foul business, you led the raid that exposed this black mage, you beat him in a duel. You nearly died to save those children, we couldn't go into that wasteland until the mage was beaten. 

He reminded me of you because he sacrificed so much and it still wasn't enough.' This silenced him on the subject of guilt, and he asked: 'You like him very much, don't you?' I replied with feeling: 'I couldn't help it, this boy is special, to have suffered such hardship and still be totally human. He cannot be allowed to go back to his parents and lead a normal, boring life. 

So much talent and such drive have to be given direction, such natural leadership cannot be buried alive in a secretary's job or a stewardship. If he is not challenged he will get bored, and with his horrible memories and his talents he may become the next black mage.' 

That message came home, and Paul offered: 'When I'm able to move around again, do you want me to test him and see if he is guardian potential? Then we could help him get his education, even if that school that the council member wants to found is not viable.' 

That was enough for me, for I knew that those two would recognize one another for what they were immediately, so now I just needed to make sure they'd meet soon.

After this I described the whole scene to him, Frances' role as mother-figure, Lukas' incredible effort, and his subsequent wish to see George about it. The total of twenty strange children on the estate now, of which the two catatonic ones certainly wouldn't be able to reveal their parents. 

'I want to help as much as possible, and Lukas feels the same. 'Is he coming home tonight?' Paul asked. I replied: 'He is planning to, but I'm afraid he may try to heal another child first. If George is willing to help him.' 'I trust George with anyone, he'll not ride him as hard as I did you, driving you into reaction sickness time and time again, Lukas will be fine,' Paul said, 'do you want some dinner? You must be starving, I know I am. I think I can make it downstairs and maybe even cook.' 

That's when you know you really are a bad cook, when people with a fresh and very painful shot wound prefer to navigate a stairs over eating your cooking.

But of course I knew that already, and I had never put any energy in improving my skills, so I guessed I deserved it. Fortunately I was allowed to help, by dicing stuff, and pouring tea, but I did not get to touch a pan or even the boiler, though I was sure standing up hurt Paul more than he hurt my feelings insulting my cooking. 

We got an edible dinner within half an hour, and we both enjoyed that very much. It was even quite romantic, him and me gazing at each other infatuatedly over a plate of good food. 

But after dinner he graciously allowed me to do the dishes all by myself whilst he laid on the sofa, waiting for his painkiller to take effect so he would make it up the stairs. 

Soon I was sitting on the sofa with his head in my lap, stroking his hair, and he asked: 'Do you want to know what I discovered about those statues?' I had completely forgotten about those silver statues, and I said as much, at which he told me: 'I can imagine, saving a bunch of neglected children from a derelict house in the midst of hell is much more exciting. Though I did find something interesting, I just need to verify it with a book. 

Could you fetch it from the bookcase, it's placed among the magic books, a large red leather-bound tome with the striking title of 'The merry faerie' in gold lettering.' 

Carefully I got up from the sofa, replacing my lap with a pillow, but he got up and sat on the sofa instead. I searched for the book among the scores of magic books, and finally discovered a large tattered red book with the title in gold letters, removed it from the shelf and took it with me to the sofa. 

Once there I sat next to my lover, and laid the book on his knees, it was big enough that when Paul opened it it covered both our laps. He started to turn pages, obviously familiar with the contents of the ancient book, and I caught snatches of beautifully calligraphed images and a nearly illegible script. 

Paul didn't seem to have any trouble reading it, and he quickly found the page he was looking for. He scanned it, then read part of it very carefully and slowly, then said: 'It is as I thought, these are elven marriage statues, some families have them made for their children to celebrate their joining. They're usually just beautiful and associated with good luck, but sometimes their maker puts so much of himself in them, that they develop a soul of their own. 

Apparently the souls are part of the statues, they don't have bodies pining away somewhere. Interesting as they are, studying them any further can wait until the current situation has been resolved. We'll just leave them here to get acquainted with the house.' 

Now when had I heard him say that before, and why did it raise the hairs in my neck?

But those children needed our help, and I hoped we would have something to offer them the coming days. I took a good look at Paul and it seemed the painkiller had taken effect, for he sat straighter and more relaxed. 

I asked: 'Is the pain gone?' He nodded and replied: 'It is, and even when it comes back it hurts ever so much less than it did this morning. That is a very valuable talent Lukas has. Do you suppose his father knew somehow, going to such lengths to set it free?' I mused: 'It would make him very useful to his father's court, if one didn't care about the price Lukas had to pay to get the talent.' 

Paul added: 'Maybe dear papa also hoped it would make him more tractable, having suffered a little at the hands of scary demons, having been humbled .' 

Suddenly I remembered something I had wondered about earlier that day: 'Does your boiler need attention to keep the contents hot? I realized today that I have never seen you stoke it yet.' 

Paul answered: 'It does, you're right, I almost forgot. I use a magic to stoke it about ten times as efficiently as a normal boiler, but it does need some fuel, about once a day. I'll show you straight away.' 

We put the red book aside and I followed him into the cellar, down the rather steep stairs that ended in the small, rather cold room with one wall covered in shelves, where Paul kept his supplies. On the other wall was a cabinet, I guess the deepest darkest place in his house, where he told us he kept the mirror that was the portal to the world full of demons, wrapped in black velvet. And a large boiler, made out of copper but unadorned, still a thing of great beauty, with the expected pile of coal beside it.

I asked: 'I have wondered before why it is cool in here, when that thing should be heating the room up to an unbearable temperature?' This made Paul laugh, and he said: 'Can't fool an engineer, can I? I have a spell on that boiler, keeping all the heat inside. 

If it overheats, it vents into the workshop on the other end of the wall in winter, and outside the house in the summer. The boiler in the kitchen is connected to this one, as well as the one in your apartment. 

They merely keep the water hot and send it around the house, they don't actually heat it. This one does all the heating.' He opened a chute and handed me a hand shovel, asking: 'Can you fill that from the pile three times and ease it in?' I filled the shovel up with coal and let the contents slide into the chute. He nodded in approval, that was slowly enough. 

Then I repeated that movement twice, hung the shovel back where it came from, and closed the chute. 

Satisfied, Paul said: 'That is it, it's ready for another day. In winter I need to stoke it twice a day, with double the amount of coal, and I remove the spell from the piping and the other boilers, and they heat the house.' I was stunned, thinking of the quantity of coal my parents used to burn to keep our house heated in winter. 

Our tiny house, where we lived with five people in one room and had two unheated bedrooms. 'It's one of my great frustrations, not being able to improve society with magic. Every family in the city could live this comfortably, with running water as well, I use magic to pump that from the ground and engineering to pump it around the house. 

But if anyone knew, I'd be imprisoned, murdered, who knows what the people would do to me for using magic. So the boilers I sell are just that, boilers, though I try to make them as fuel-efficient as possible.' He seemed positively sad about having to keep the advantages of using magic a secret, and he looked so wistful I couldn't help wrapping my arms around him and kissing him. 

He returned my kiss with fervour, a good sign, his body responded to stimuli again, he really was much better.




Mirror Bound Pt. 02



After the kiss he said, in a very serious voice: 'Melissa, I've had a lot of time to think about things. Getting shot reminded me of the dangers we face. If something should happen to me I want you to know that I keep the portal in the cabinet over there.' 

This, pointing at the cabinet I already suspected was the hiding place of that powerful thing. But he was not done yet: 'Until you are at your full powers, George should have that, he is strong enough to guard it. I also want you to have this house, instead of running the risk of being turned out by my parents.' 

I didn't even want to think of him leaving me behind, I still heard the shot and saw him fall in my mind. His comments distressed me, and he noticed: 'Melissa, I can see this upsets you, but please bear with me, I have a reason to want to discuss this with you. You love me for who I am as a person, and you love my work, and I want you to have my legacy if anything should happen to me. Which I hope will not, for I want to live with you for years and years to come, I love you more than anything in this world and I want to build a life with you, make us both happy. 

So though maybe this isn't the time and most certainly not the place, I still want to ask you something:'

He was very intense now, the air in that little room was laden with feelings. I found that having him look at me like that still caused my heart to skip a beat, and I had some trouble remembering to breathe. 

As I watched him, rooted to the ground by his intensity, he slowly sank to his knees and looked up at me, eyes burning, and I heard his voice, thick with feeling: 'Melissa, will you let me be yours forever, will you marry me?' 

I know I said I didn't cry easily, but I can tell you, his intensity combined with the humble posture, and the still fresh image of him dropping, not knowing whether he was dead or alive, or hurt beyond hope, well I'm not ashamed to tell you that made me cry now. 

I helped him up, for I didn't like to see him humble himself for me, and though I knew it was his way to show me that he wanted us to be equals, I could also see that in his condition it was painful. Of course he needed an answer too, and instead of just saying 'I will', which I did, wholeheartedly, I contacted his mind and let him feel the depth of my love for him, but also a big question: what about Lukas? 

For though I would marry Paul, how could I not marry the man I loved so much it hurt and who loved me at least as much, it would nonetheless break my heart to shut Lukas out of it.

Wrapped up in Paul's arms now, and bearing a significant part of his weight as a sign he needed to be back in bed as soon as possible, I felt his happiness and reassurance flood my mind and my intended whispered in my ear: 'Dearest, how could I ever do that to someone I professed to love? But even if I didn't love you way too dearly to break your heart, I have come to love Lukas too. I don't want to marry you to claim you for my own, I want to marry you to provide for both of you in case something happens to me.' 

I wanted to hold him forever, but I could clearly feel that he was at the end of his strength, and I didn't want him to have a setback. So I kissed him once more, then helped him up the stairs to the sofa, where I cleaned the wound, and from there to bed. 

Chapter 38

When he was comfortable again, I continued where I left off to take him to bed, caressing his hair, his face, kissing him and holding him. 

He asked: 'Do you want a real wedding, a big thing? With both our families, a gorgeous dress, a walk down the isle, dancing and a banquet? It can be arranged, my parents would love it, they would of course have preferred a girl of a noble family, but they have a healthy respect for a true talent like yours.' 

I contemplated it seriously, but I couldn't imagine putting the highest class of the country in one room with my working class parents. Would anyone benefit by the association, even if it was just for a few hours? 

After a moment I replied: 'I don't think it would be wise, Paul. You'd better invest your savings in our new company than in one day of luxury. I'd rather just go to the town hall for a licence and to a parish priest and get married there, with a few friends. I think I'd feel like a broodmare if your parents only approve of me to bring some new blood and more magic into the Kenwick-line.

Would they be insulted if we keep it really small?' Paul laughed and said: 'I have not seen my parents in at least five years, I would have to re-establish contact to pull off a big wedding, but I'd do it for you.'

'Then I'd rather keep it very small, I understand why you want to marry me, and I love you even more for it, but nothing will change except my name.' 

We cuddled some more, and when I noticed Paul nearly dropping off I watched him fall asleep, always eager to catch the precise moment that he changed from someone nearly ten years my senior to a young man my age. 

I saw it happen this time, the years just melted away as his face lost its worry lines and its seriousness, and the boyish features and the unruly curls remained. A month ago I had a hopeless crush on this beautiful man, and now we had been through so many things together and we were engaged to marry. 

Only a month. Still I had no problem believing it, having shared our most intimate feelings we knew more about one another than countless couples who had been married for many years. I didn't wait up for Lukas, but snuggled up to Paul and let sleep take me.

The next morning I awoke early, there was a lot to do. Paul's sleeping shape next to me was warm, but not feverish, and part of me wanted to stay close to him and enjoy his feel and scent. 

But first I checked if Lukas was there, and he was, in bed but awake, watching us sleep. I looked at him and he smiled at me, his most endearing smile, impossible to resist. 

Remembering the past, I held out my arms and whispered: 'Come to me,' and in a second he was in my arms, his musky scent as strong and as pleasant as ever. 

We managed to stick to cuddling for about two minutes, and then we both got overheated, and with one look at Paul, still sleeping, we quietly left the large bed and tiptoed out of the bedroom, on our way to my bed for some rough lovemaking. 

We were up the stairs in a second, and we hit the bed simultaneously, kissing passionately and touching each others soft flesh greedily. I straddled Lukas and felt him slide into me with a thrill, softly scratching his horns whilst riding his ever increasing thrusts. Neither of us lasted very long, we were both so excited we came nearly together, and Lukas must have had a playful night, for he didn't offer a second round, instead lying against me quietly, letting me stroke him softly. He suggested: 'Let's do this in bed with Paul, a bit of cuddling can't hurt him, can it?'

As we went down the stairs again, I decided to tell him straight away: 'Lukas, Paul asked me to marry him last night, and I told him I will.' 

Apparently Lukas could grin even wider, for he did so now, I thought his lip might split for real. He took my face in both his hands and planted a kiss straight on my lips. 'My dear Melissa that is wonderful!' he said, 'I'm so happy for both of you! You were meant for each other When will you do it, and how do you celebrate a wedding here?' 

I replied: 'Usually there is a ceremony in church, and a big party for the whole family with dancing and a lot of food, but we're planning to keep it small, our families are so different, and besides, nothing will change by marrying: Paul just wanted to do it because he realized something might happen to him and then you and me would be destitute, losing this house and what we've built up with our future company to his family.' 

By now we were back in the bedroom, and we continued our cuddling on the big bed, talking softly not to disturb Paul. 'I'm glad to hear that, I'd survive without your love now, but life's so much better with the both of you,' he said seriously, then gave me that huge grin again, 'how is he now?' 

I replied: 'Almost better, your healing worked incredibly well, but he still needs some painkillers, he insisted on cooking last night and showed me how to stoke the main boiler in the cellar, but after that he was knackered and had to go to bed. 

He proposed to me in the cellar, on his knees, between the boiler, a pile of coal and shelves with rations. But how was your night?'

Lukas grinned again, and said: 'I talked over the whole thing with George, then we fooled around some until I was crackling with energy again. Afterwards he wanted me to check out one of the worst kids, so we went to meet them. All of the kids had been cleaned up, and boy did that make a difference. 

That Jonathan kid is positively stunning with his hair washed and cut and wearing clothes instead of rags, and with hope in his eyes. The rest were clean as well but they still lack life. I connected with George and picked out one of the two worst ones, a girl.' 

Now his happy expression faded a little, and he went on: 'It was sad, Melissa, very sad. That poor girl had no recent memories at all, not even of the last thing she ate, or that water battle on the Nomes' lawn. Nothing. 

She did have a barrier and I wore it down until it gave in, which was easy compared to Jonathan's. And her memories were fine, she had lived in a small village with her parents and siblings, on a tiny farm, and her parents hoped to give her a better future by sending her to a boarding school.

Now I know her name was Felicity, but she didn't register it. George of course saw her memories too, so he'll contact her parents, and he'd ask around among all his contacts for someone who might still help her. They'll call her by name now in the hopes it'll stir her memory.'

'This was a sad business, but not really hard on me, so I asked George if we could help another child. He looked at me very critically and decided we could. So we did the oldest girl, the one who handed out the food and water. 

She had cleaned up nicely too, only she seemed very depressed. When I touched her I got a lot of memories, more than Jonathan had, she remembered practically everything. Her gift was burned out by the constant draining, and she remembered everything that had been done to her in that place. But the worst thing was, and that was why she was depressed, she had nothing to go back to. 

Her parents were deceased, she had been living on the street when that mage found her. Nobody will come for her, living in that wasteland was the happiest she had ever been, because she had Jonathan, and brothers and sisters.

She couldn't remember ever having better food, or being loved better. In her mind, things could only get worse. I dealt with the trauma of her memories, practically all her memories were traumatic, and then George called Frances over to talk to her, to tell her things would get better, that we would make sure they would even though she didn't have any magic left in her.

Meanwhile we met up with Jonathan, checked on him, I had energy left working with George, he is clearly very experienced in magic. I'd like you to take a few lessons from him as well, I guess we will be working together often and he can improve our merge. 

If your sleepy teacher over there agrees of course. Anyway, we told him about Laura, that's the name of the girl, that she remembered everything and that being in that wasteland with him was the best time of her life. That rightfully shocked him, and he promised to try to help her become a child again for a short time, which he was planning to do himself, be a child instead of a miniature adult for as long as possible, like a sort of holiday from responsibility. 

I applaud him for that, I do it myself whenever I can. But I must admit he didn't seem to have much hope for his friend Laura. I did teach him to ride a bike, he wanted it very much and he was pretty good at it. 

Then we had a good square meal and I took the bicycle back here. It was still early and I was bored, so I went to that place where we danced, and went a few rounds with some nice girls until they were giddy. They really liked me there, those girls got me drinks and all, and several wanted more but I told them I'd rather dance, so we did. 

Some of the boys didn't like me though, I guess their sisters liked me a bit too much. When I got fed up I cycled home, and since I didn't have a key to the shed I put it in the workshop. I thought you might like to use it today.' 

Which I did, I didn't expect Lukas to take it home but I was very glad he had: 'Lukas, so sweet of you to think of that, I was a bit disappointed I didn't have it here, it's so much faster than walking and I need to go to the council building today.' 

Now a lazy baritone voice beside us drawled: 'If you're going there anyway, bring a marriage licence, will you? I'd like to get on with it.' 

That certainly got our attention, both our heads turned instantly towards Paul, who was propped on an elbow again, looking, well, good. He looked good. 

Lukas was with him in an instant, grinning broadly at Paul, saying: 'Congratulations my dear friend, you were made for each other, you will be very happy together.' Paul grinned nearly as broadly, then became serious again: 'Thank you Lukas. Please don't think that I am trying to take Melissa away from you.' 

Just as seriously, Lukas replied: 'I will not. Melissa told me why you want to confirm your love with a marriage ceremony, and I love you even more for thinking of us. And now I want you to lie on your stomach for me.'

Of course Paul complied, and Lukas stroked his muscled back with a loving touch, until Paul nearly fell asleep with relaxation. Then we looked at the bullet-wound, now just two days old and already well on its way too healing, thanks to Lukas' extraordinary talent.

Lukas prodded the edges of the wound a little, and Paul didn't even wince. He laid his hand on it for a moment, concentrated, then declared: 'That is as good as healed now. How does it feel?'

'It feels nice, you have warm hands,' was the answer, muffled by the pillow, and, 'seriously, I'm fine, no pain, no fever.' 

Paul sat up in one fluid motion and moved his shoulders, flexed his muscles, bent over: 'The scar tissue is a bit stiff, but once I'm back at the forge that'll get supple again soon enough. Or you can massage me again, that was so good.' 

At the mentioning of the forge, Lukas tsk'ed and resolutely said: 'No forging for at least a week. Melissa just told me cooking caused you pain yesterday, your back muscles have been torn and need rest. 

You can talk as much to George and the council member as you like, and you may boss me around in the workshop, for I need your supervision to finish a few projects that are due this week, and you may accompany Melissa to the council building to get a licence, but absolutely no hammering, working the bellows or lifting.' 

In response, Paul hung his head and demurely said: 'Yes doctor. And thank you for saving my life.' Lukas took his chin in one hand and lifted Paul's face to his own: 'Are you fooling me around?' Still very demurely, Paul replied: 'Yes doctor, sorry doctor,' and got his laughing smothered in a kiss.

'I need to go quit my job today, and I need to work on my new job today, and I want to see how those children are doing,' I said. As a reaction, Paul asked me: 'If I accompany you on all three, will you stay with me during that talk with the council member? I don't like to make deals involving our time without at least one of you present.'

'Are you well enough to handle so much action in one day? You were still in a pretty bad way yesterday,' I remarked. He reasoned: 'I can sit down for most of it, it's just the cycling to the council building that is strenuous. We can probably even ride back home with George in the carriage for two of your points.' 

That was true, and he added: 'Did George tell you what time they were planning to come here, Lukas?' 'He did, actually,' Lukas replied, 'right after lunch was the intent.' 

With that, Paul stirred into action saying: 'All right, I'd like a shower and a nice breakfast before cycling to the town hall, so I'd better get moving.' 

He looked at me questioningly: 'Care to join me in the shower?' I sure did, so we went upstairs, whilst Lukas dressed and went to the workshop to start on the jobs still waiting for completion.

You know I pride myself on being a strong woman, able to support myself financially, not prone to hysterical fits or excessive crying, but I have to admit I really liked to have my lover back to his vigorous self, letting him lead the way, having him take me in his arms with his greater physical strength. 

We became really intimate under the shower, kissing passionately, touching greedily, but at some point Paul seemed to rein himself in sharply, taking it a lot slower from that moment on. He went back to just looking his fill, admiring my lush shape, kissing my breasts, my throat, my hair, touching me with something like reverence. 

Of course I had no problems with being admired like that, what woman would? And it was very easy to admire him back, his elegant figure with subtle but very strong muscles, his wet curls framing a finely chiselled face, but still masculine with its squared jaw and the stubble, now nearly a short beard after two days without shaving. 

I don't know how long we just stood there, touching each other carefully, tenderly, but at some time the hot water ran out and the shower turned cold rather suddenly.

We quickly dried each other and retreated to the bed, where we proceeded to make love very, very carefully, not forgetting anything, paying attention to every sensitive spot on the other's body. Even when we finally connected our bodies as closely as our minds, we did not speed up, or become less careful. 

The consciousness of still being together after Paul's life-threatening wound was so strong in both of us that it nearly overcame our heat, but in time exaltation did get its short moment of supremacy, and we both reached an intense climax. Still we didn't speed up our actions, neither thinking of anything else but the person in front of him. 

We held each other for another ten minutes, and then the real world entered again via Paul's voice asking: 'Do I need your parents' permission? I know you're twenty something, but how old are you exactly?' 

'I will be twenty-one September the fifteenth, so I'm not yet twenty-one. That means you'll have to get my parents' permission, doesn't it?' I asked. 

Lazily he replied: 'It does. I don't even mind, I'd like to meet your folks. I hope they approve of me. Fortunately we don't need my parents' permission, I turned twenty-one last February the seventh, just before we met.' 

Oh my god, he was only twenty-one! If he had told me he would be thirty next year I would have believed him. Of course he expected my surprise, he smiled sweetly and asked, just as sweetly: 'You're not stuck on an older man, are you?' 

This time I had to remind myself, not to breathe, but to close my mouth, which I did, instantly.

'You look cute when I've managed to stun you. Anyway, I think they'd approve, but we'd have to take a train or hire a carriage, it's a three day ride to their estate. They're usually not in town in high summer. The smell gets to them,' he said. 

Which made me realize his parents were incredibly wealthy, and upper-upper class. He seemed so...normal. 

'I am very normal,' he belied his own statement by picking my thought out of my mind, 'it's the rest of the world that is crazy. Do I really look so old to you?'

I told him frankly: 'I like to see you fall asleep, you always shed nearly ten years in a single moment. You told me you were near my own age, but I didn't realize how near, I thought you looked younger when you slept. 




Mirror Bound Pt. 02



It's mostly your posture, the way you present yourself. You're so competent and controlled, you just cannot be a twenty-one year old male, the mind denies it.' 

He wrapped me in his arms, and even his embrace was not that of a twenty-one year old boy with his first girl, but that of a man holding his wife. I decided not to think about it, it made me dizzy. Instead I asked: 'Do you plan to get that licence another day, or do you want to see if my folks are in right now, before we go to the council building? I think we can get there in twenty minutes with the bicycles. Are you up to such a ride?' 

He replied: 'I think I am, shall we try? Breakfast first, though.'

Chapter 39

I dressed up for Paul, in the dark green dress that accentuated the colour of my hair, and I wore the copper horses over my perfect cleavage. Of course I left my hair loose, only tying the front part out of my face with a tiny bow in the back. 

And after breakfast we did cycle to the house where I grew up, in another working-class neighbourhood, where people dried their laundry from their balconies, and where Paul padlocked our bicycles to a tree in front of my old home. We knocked, and both my parents were in, just awakened after a night shift. 

They were very surprised to see me all of a sudden, but I think they were pleased. I said: 'Mum, dad, may I introduce you to Paul Kenwick, my landlord. He's asked me to come and work for him, we are going to design houses and utilities together. He's a master craftsman in fancy metalwork, and he invents useful machines.' 

Paul shook hands with my dad and kissed my mother's hand very elegantly, saying: 'Mr and Mrs Thorn, I'm very pleased to meet you.' My mother, always the one in the family who kept up with the society news, replied: 'Very pleased to meet you Mr Kenwick. Any relation to the Kenwicks if I may ask?' Graciously he replied: 'Indeed I am, Mrs Thorn, they're my parents. 

Even though my father seemed impressed by such a visitor in his humble home, he also looked a bit suspicious, but still he politely asked us in and offered us coffee. 

As we sat at the kitchen table I looked at Paul but couldn't see any signs of discomfort from the ride and the hard chair. 

My parents' house had not changed at all, still the same shabby but clean interior. The coffee wasn't half bad, and my mom's cookies were as good as ever. Paul seemed to enjoy himself, of course he had told me before he saw no class, and he proved it now, chatting with them about things most nobles didn't even know existed. 

I'm sure my mum was thrilled by his company, such a handsome man with such good matters. But my dad kept a close eye on him, and I think Paul noticed. He asked, quite formally: 'Mr Thorn, do you think it is possible that we talk eye-to-eye for a few moments?' My dad clearly thought that was a good idea, and he invited Paul to the tiny balcony. 

When they were out, my mum said: 'What a charming man, you have really struck good fortune having him as a landlord my girl.' 

I laid my hand on hers, and said: 'He's not just my landlord, mum We have been seeing each other for several months now, and Paul has asked me to marry him, we're here to ask your consent.' This was quite a shock to her, but clearly not an unpleasant one. 

She looked at me incredulously and said: 'A Kenwick wants to marry you, a working class girl? A gentleman from the most important family in the city? How can that be? You have no money, no name?'

'We're in love, mum, and besides, he's only a youngest son and he works as hard to make a living as I do,' I replied.

'Well, if you both want to, and you're really in love with him, I see no reason why you shouldn't get married, so you have my consent. A Kenwick, with my daughter, I still find that hard to believe.'

Paul and my father had returned, but there was still some mistrust in my father's demeanour, as if he had something on his liver but was reluctant to mention it.

Paul looked at him and said: 'Mr Thorn, you have given me your consent to marry Melissa, and yet I still see doubt written all over you. Won't you spill the beans? I may have a big name, but I work hard for a living, just like you.' 

My dad spoke hesitantly: 'That's not it, son, there is a thing I want to discuss with you but dare not, not because your family could break a small man like me, but because no-one, not even your family dare speak of it where others can hear.' 

This certainly intrigued me, and both Paul and my mum looked at him as if he'd grown wings. My mum said: 'Come on, Jakob, we're all family now, remember. You can't not trust your own son.' That decided him, and he said: 'You, young Kenwick, are a practising mage. I can see it, you glow with it. People in my circle told me the Kenwicks have always been mages, and I have always maintained that that is their own business. 

But Melissa here is my daughter. She has had a little seed of magic in her since early childhood, but now she glows nearly as brightly as you do. Now you tell me honestly: do you really want to marry my daughter for herself, or do you just want to breed her magic into your family-line?' 

The intense silence that followed this question was broken first by my lover, who managed to close his mouth and answer my father: 'Mr Thorn, I admit I practice magic, and that I have been teaching Melissa to control her awakening gift.

I also admit my family will accept her much more easily because of her talent. But I want to marry her because I love her with all my heart, because I want to share my life with her. 

Not to please my family, who have given me less love in my ten years life with them than your Melissa has given me in the few months we have known each other 

We have shared power, have shared minds. She knows my feelings for her, as I know hers.' I took his hand and squeezed it, and I saw my mum swallow, I don't know if she was touched by Paul's plea or afraid to have her husband found out as witch, though I hoped it was the first. 

My father looked straight at me and bowed his head then looked at Paul again: 'In that case I wish you both the best of luck and happiness together. 

And I insist you both visit a meeting to have yourselves shielded so you don't betray your power to every talented witch hunter you have the misfortune to cross paths with. Would this Friday suit you?' 

Taken by surprise again, Paul looked at me and I nodded. It had bothered me from the start that anyone with sight would know we had magic. 

Learning to hide that could possibly save our lives. I asked: 'Can we bring a friend?' 

Dad replied: 'You can, if you can vouch for him.' 

'I will,' was my only answer. We would meet at my parents' place, then accompany my father to one of the places where his circle convened. Paul thanked my father for the trust and the invitation, and added: 'We'll be getting our licence now, we'll have someone visit you to confirm your consent, and Friday you'll get an invitation for the real event, and of course your other daughters and their families as well.' 

He shook hands with both my parents and I kissed my mum and dad goodbye, got their heartfelt well-wishes, and off we were. 

Outside I said: 'Well, that was a surprise I had never expected to get. My father practising magic, and not wanting me to become a broodmare for your family. Are you holding up dearest? Not in pain?' 

He looked at me, embraced me and kissed me saying: 'I'm very happy my love, your dad knowing about magic is kind of a relief for me. And you are right that hiding talent is priceless, especially for children not yet able to defend themselves.' 

He unlocked the bicycles and we were off, another ten minutes to the council building, then to the town hall next to it, and ten minutes back to the house.

My boss, after taking a good though respectful look at my striking figure, took my resignation in stride, almost as if he was already expecting it. 

There was no place to sit in the hall, so I had boldly taken Paul along, and my boss asked to be introduced: 'For I suppose this is the gentleman that you will be working with in the future.' 

I was very surprised to say in the least, how could he have known? 

Must be gossip from the contractors at the site. Still, I told him: 'Mr Millner, may I introduce you to Paul Kenwick, master-craftsman in metalwork and also inventor of useful conveniences. Paul, this is Mr Millner, chief of building safety for this part of our beautiful city.' 

Paul bowed, still a bit stiffly I noticed, and said: 'Pleased to meet you sir, I'm sorry to rob you of one of your most valuable inspectors.' 

Mr Millner replied graciously: 'Don't be sorry Mr Kenwick, I had a hunch she wasn't going to stay an inspector much longer. Her talents have developed so quickly, I knew she'd want more. I'm glad you'll be working together, I think you will complement each other very well. 

Actually, I've heard of your necklace with life-like running horses from three different people, and three different accounts I may add. But it is even better seeing it in all its glory.' 

This looking at the necklace. 'They really do seem to move, and the copper indeed matches Miss Thorn's hair perfectly.

But Mr Kenwick, I've also heard your name mentioned by a colleague from this very building, council member Telling mentioned it in connection with the exposure of the abuse of ten under-age children in the wool factory on this side of the river, and a nasty case of pollution of the river by the same factory, causing numerous deaths. 

He seemed to also count on your help starting a boarding school for children from lower classes with special talents in rare professions, at that very site, I hear. 

I think you will be a busy man, Mr Kenwick, and your beautiful partner here with you. I hope that you will listen to her as an equal, for we have found she is often right.' 

Leaving Paul stunned with his deductive abilities, he turned to me and said: 'Miss Thorn, may I distract you from your tasks once in a while to do a final inspection of an especially sensitive project, for a very fine salary? Really short jobs, very well-paid, with a lot of responsibility, especially suited to your specific talents? Say once a month? It would provide you with a stable financial base.' 

I nodded, speechless with the recognition I was receiving from all my former colleagues, and the prospect of doing the easy work for more money. 

'I would be happy to, Mr Millner, just send someone over when you need me.' 

After this, we took leave and went to the town hall next door. We did not have to wait, for Paul pulled rank shamelessly, using his name to gain us entrance to the office of the highest clerk in attendance. 

Here, Paul could finally sit down for a moment in a comfortable chair, which he did with evident relief. We both signed a few forms, I wrote down the address of my parents, Paul paid a substantial sum, and we were out again with a licence. 

He said apologetically: 'If I hadn't used my name there, they would have had us cooling our heels for hours, and I am feeling my back now. Cycling in the sunshine will do me good. This guy is from a family close to mine, so my parents will know I'm getting married within a few days. I wonder if they'll let me know they know.

Let's go home, dearest, I want to lie on that soft sofa with you running your hands through my hair.' He pedalled firmly and we were home quickly. I sent him upstairs to the sofa and put the bicycles away by myself. Then I went into the workshop, but Lukas was not there.

Chapter 40

Once in the house I found him there, waiting on Paul hand and foot. He had tea ready, and a nice lunch was nearly ready. 

We ate in the living-room, Paul eating lying down like a Roman emperor. After half an hour he felt much better, for I had not only caressed his hair, but also massaged the stiffened muscles of his back until they were totally warm and supple again. 

Now he was resting whilst Lukas and I cleared up the mess we had made having lunch, brewing a pot of coffee for our guests as well, and some tea for George in case he didn't dare try our coffee. 

Before long we heard a carriage, and Lukas went upstairs towards the front door to receive his friend and teacher and our guest, as I brought the tea and coffee and cups into the living-room. Paul sat upright again, assuring me a bit of rest had done wonders. 

Pretty soon our guests came in above us, and we could hear their admiring gasps, even though both of them were landed gentry, so they must have been used to having art and wealth around them. Apparently Paul's Gothic palace had that effect on all people, the sheer hours of work that had been put into it just blew the mind, and the total perfection of everything was a rarity even among the wealthy.

George greeted me cordially, shaking hands and hugging me, and when he turned to Paul he was really affected again.

'Paul my boy, why have I never seen this before? This looks like the work of a lifetime, but I'm sure you've only lived here for three years,' he said, kneeling down before Paul to hug him without Paul having to get up. 

A shadow of pain flew over my lover's face as he hugged George, just before he looked George in the eye and answered seriously: 'It is because I never invited you, George. And I did the work of a lifetime in three years because I never entertained. But that is all going to change.' 

And with that remark he looked straight at me and smiled. 

Then he turned his attention to the council member, a tall, broad man, a bit overweight with a full round face and a receding hairline, a very imposing figure that radiated authority and to me, power. He was not handsome, but he dressed fashionably, and he had a friendly appearance despite his aura of power. 

I guessed he was a decade or two younger than Sir Nomes, say thirtyish, and he was admiring the house as much as George was, talking to Lukas about it.

Lukas of course presented his usual striking figure, in company of nobility he automatically transformed from the rakish boy into a noble diplomat. 

Our guest was obviously impressed by his manners, and treated him with the utmost respect, though as a mage he must have sensed something of Lukas' alienness with his sight.

Now George got up from Paul's side and introduced his two fellow mages to one another: 'Tristan, may I introduce Paul Kenwick to you, master mage in the guardian tradition, master craftsman in fancy metalwork and anything else he sets his mind to, as you can witness in this little palace, inventor, and dear to me as a son. 

Paul, may I introduce Tristan Telling to you, adept in the ancient art of high magick, and member of the city council. He has authority over city planning, and he has a proposition for the factory site. Tristan, you know about Paul's injury, I suppose he's not getting up to greet you.' 

They shook hands cordially, Paul remaining seated, and Mr Telling said: 'You have an absolutely beautiful house, Mr Kenwick, did you really craft everything in here by yourself, within three years?' 

Paul replied: 'I did indeed, but at that time I had little life, so to speak. May I introduce you to the people who have given that to me lately?' 

He started with me: 'Mr Telling, this is my apprentice in the arts, Miss Melissa Thorn, a qualified engineer and my business partner as well as my beautiful intended. Melissa, Mr Telling is an adept in high magick, a form of magic as ancient as the Arthurian legends. It is very powerful, and being an adept he has reached the pinnacle of his arts. Besides being a council member that is.' 

Mr Telling laughed at this description of his achievements, and shook my hand, saying: 'Miss Thorn, I've heard of your work as a building inspector, but I never realized you studied the arts as well. 

And no-one ever mentioned your surpassing beauty, though they did mention your copper necklace with moving horses. It is as beautiful as you, a work of great art.' 

I curtsied, and dared comment: 'Word sure gets around in the council building! It must be the excellent coffee drawing everyone to Mr Millner's office to share the news.' 

This got a laugh from Mr Telling and then Paul introduced Lukas with his real name: 'Mr Telling, you've already met my apprentice in the mundane arts, Lykos Hermeides, who is also George's apprentice in the less mundane arts and a healer of great talent.  

He calls himself Lukas here, but his original descent is Greek. Lukas, Mr Telling is our best hope of preventing situations like the wool factory in the future. 

Mr Telling, Lukas has been bearing the brunt of the harm done by the black mage operating in the factory, having healed not only my near-fatal wound, but also the mental trauma of children the mage drained of magical energy then dumped in the wasteland neighbouring his factory. 

There were ten captive in his building, but there were ten more children roaming that desolate place for two years, with no memory of who they were, where they were and how they got there. 

Lukas has treated three so far, but it is hard on him, being confronted with those horrible memories again and again. And it drains him at a rate that no apprentice can keep up with, so we supply him with power in turns.'

Of course as a mage, Mr Telling knew what that meant, and I saw him eye all of us speculatively, though not in a disapproving way, and he observed: 'Mr Hermeides, you speak English like a native, and your manners are upper class, yet I hear you are from Greece, and though my vision shows me a well-dressed elegant young man, my sight tells me you're not entirely human. May I ask an elaboration?' 

With his polished manners, Lukas invited both gentlemen to take a seat and accept a cup of coffee or tea, and then he sat down himself and said: 'You are an astute observer, Mr Telling, and I have no problem explaining. 

I'm what your ancient Greeks called a satyr, I used to have a set of beautiful horns, and my shoes are clamped around my hoofs. My origins lie in a world much like ancient Greece, where my people occupy the coastlines of that worthy state. 

My father is an important noble there, and I worked as a herald for another such personage, which is where I acquired my polish. My talent awakened after I was kidnapped and escaped through a portal that led me here by accident. 

Melissa and Paul have taken me in and taught me your language and metal working skills, and George is helping me to develop my healing gift. I am probably stuck in this world, but I don't mind, I'm at home now.'

Even for an experienced and high-ranking mage that was a big pill to swallow, I could see Mr Telling struggling with the implications. 

That was when George took the lead, saying: 'I'm sure we'll meet often, and we will have plenty of time then to talk of other things than business. But I have fifteen traumatised children in my home, and my wife wants Lukas and someone to feed him magic over there an hour ago. 

Besides that, Paul still has a fresh bullet-wound and he may need to rest again soon, so let us get to the point now, and socialise later. If that is all right with all of you?' 

All parties nodded. George said formally: 'Tristan, with the introductions behind us I give you the floor.' 

And Mr Telling started speaking: 'We have had our suspicions about that wool factory and its owner for half a year now. 

The wasteland had been there since the factory was built, and we knew there were some destitute children out there, but to be honest, we see those everywhere in the city. But half a year ago it suddenly vanished from sight, and a black mage started to get active in the city. 

Our guess is, that he already stole magic from talented children and dumped the burned out ones in the wasteland, but that he did not accumulate the energy yet. Once he tried to pool the stolen energy he needed to hide his activities with stolen faerie souls, and that is when we got suspicious.




Mirror Bound



With the food finished, he graciously allowed me to help him wash the dishes, not that there was much to clean. After that, he made a pot of a different tea, and invited me to sit in the living area, bringing the pot of tea, along with some chocolates.

Sitting on the soft sofa with Paul, looking about me, I realized why he didn't seem to have an inclination to become intimate with me. It was very clear to me now that whilst he seemed to be a normal craftsman, working hard and renting out an apartment to a working class girl to make ends meet, socialising with me in this non-fashionable part of town, he was in fact a member of a much higher social circle.

I was way beneath him, and certainly not the kind of woman his class preferred, with a paying job in a man's domain, dressed more like a man than a woman, voicing opinions like a man. I had let my fancy once again get the better of me, but my common sense did allow me that he hid his true colours really well. I couldn't have known he was this upper-class.

Paul, sitting next to me on the sofa, had again been studying me whilst my thoughts were dragging me down to my own level. He was very good at not speaking, letting silences fall where they would. 

When he spoke, it was in a low voice: 'You are awfully quiet tonight, Melissa, I don't know you like this at all.' I pride myself on always controlling my emotions, and whilst I did not show any unseemly signs of my disappointment, it did make me reply with more truth than propriety.

'I am, I am much more silent than usual. Seeing this has made me realize that I have been a great fool. Since I have moved in and we have started socialising, I've allowed myself certain feelings towards you. You are very attractive, and we share a lot of interests.

I know you have not encouraged me in any of this, and I hope I have not shown my preference in any way that might be embarrassing to you or to myself. But this afternoon you said some things that made me realize you might not be exactly what you seemed to me, an artist and a craftsman making beautiful objects through hard messy work. And seeing all this, I suddenly realized you are way above me. A gentleman.'

I still wasn't crying, and I wouldn't, but I was sadly disappointed and suddenly afraid to lose a good friend because of my admission. I should have kept quiet and overcome my infatuation in secret, safeguarding our friendship above all.

And again, Paul didn't say a thing whilst I was controlling my feelings in silence. He just sat there, his expression thoughtful but friendly, and not condescending, which I was afraid of most of all. He moved close to me, really close, and put an arm around me. I could smell him, as exciting as ever, the smell of the craftsman I admired, the smoke, the cleaning agents used to improve adhesion between the metals, his own smell. 

The familiarity of it, and his touch, had a calming effect on me. He waited until I was myself again, and by then I, secretly enjoying his closeness, was even able to discern signs of enjoyment of our closeness in him. A slight pressure of his body against mine, his head leaning the tiniest bit on my shoulder, his face in my hair, did he just take in a deeper breath to smell it? It did certainly seem that way. 

Then he confirmed my suspicions by kissing my hair, slowly, not stealing a kiss but giving it to me. And still sitting so close to me he said the following: 'You did not become friends with a personality I play. That is the real me. The craftsman you are attracted to really exists, and he is sitting right next to you. I rarely let people into my home, because it usually gives a totally wrong impression of me. 

I was born in a high class, but I have left it voluntarily because I see no class. To me, you are not lower in any way. My home is the culmination of my art, I have made every inch of it myself, even the cast iron, even the woodwork. All of it. Though I did have some help with the sofa we're sitting on. Are you comfortable?' 

I sure was, even though I still felt foolish for confessing I had a crush on him. But sitting so close to him I regretted it a lot less, it felt so good. I only nodded, knowing that would be enough answer for him, daring to settle even more comfortably against his solid body. How I'd love to feel that..stop! My common sense was losing ground fast. Fortunately he spoke up again, halting my lustful thoughts.

'Melissa, I had to show you this, but in a way it was too early for you. It has made you doubt me, doubt yourself, and you will have to trust both of us in the coming period. You may have realized by now I don't need to lease my top floor. I get by really well without the rent you pay. 

You live here, because you have a talent that will soon show itself, and when it does, it will need training and you will need guidance and protection. I am a so-called guardian, I can see and manipulate magical energy, and I use it to protect this part of the city and its inhabitants, human or other. It is an innate talent, one cannot stop it from surfacing. 

The power a guardian has attracts predators, making an untrained guardian an easy target and almost certain to meet a painful and messy end.' Here he stopped talking to look at me inquisitively, I guess he wanted to see whether I believed him. He looked almost anxious, as if that were very important to him. 

So I looked him in the eye and spoke my thought: 'And I'm a guardian too?' He replied: 'Can you believe that?' Again, the truth: 'I did have a feeling this afternoon that there was more to you than meets the eye. Seeing this', I tried to encompass the whole house in one gesture, 'I thought it was stature, but now I realize it is spiritual. 

You have certain powers, picking up my romantic thoughts about you from the first, seeing something in that folk art piece I bought, something sentient.'

I must have said the right thing, for he looked relieved. He said: 'I'm glad you believe me. Once the guardians become aware of a talent, they appoint a mentor to guide him or her through the awakening of their powers and to protect and train them. 

Though I may seem a bit young, being not that much older than your twenty years, I was raised by a family where guardianship is hereditary, so I've been trained since childhood. I am well able to mentor you and guard you. 

Usually we take time to ease our pupils into the guardianship, but your awareness of the goat-man was an indication that your talent is stirring. That in turn meant you needed to know about this place. It is a sanctuary, impenetrable by evil magic, protected by layer upon layer of spells. You will always be welcome here and you will always be safe here.

But there is one more thing you need to know: I did know your feelings, and though I have not encouraged your attraction to me, it is mutual. I could easily fall in love with you, but I have not allowed myself to do so as yet. 

For I know you will change as your talent develops, and your love for me may not survive that process. That would break my heart, and it is difficult to teach someone who has broken your heart. Therefore I must beg you to be patient, to first let me help you discover your talent, become one of us. And if you still feel the same about me once your power is totally awakened, I promise I will love you as much as you could ever wish for.' 

This was quite a lot to take in. So he wanted to love me back but dared not for fear of being hurt. That seemed sensible in one way, but how could one decide to not love someone? Since he did say he was attracted to me I felt free to follow my feelings and hug him really closely. 

I would have liked to kiss him but I didn't have any experience at all with loving, and I supposed at his age and with his looks he would have. Understanding his reasons to not want to become intimate yet, trying to kiss him in a fumbling way would have been embarrassing in the extreme.

And besides, me, magical powers? I just couldn't imagine that, nor that I could have him within reach and still choose another. But knowing my infatuation was at least not hopeless, I decided to wait and see.

He fished something from one of the many pockets of his vest, and handed it to me. It was a key. 'The key to this sanctuary. Whenever you need me, come to me or call out for me. I will find you.' Looking me straight in the eye, he said forcefully: 'Even if you have done something that you are ashamed of, or that might hurt me to know. Don't hesitate, or you will be in danger and that will hurt me more.' 

It is as if he had an suspicion what would happen, and already expected to suffer great emotional pain because of my actions. I decided there and then not to let him down, to be as resolute as he was and face whatever would be coming. 

He came with me to my door, and we held each other one more time, as if we were not going to see one another for weeks. Which just wasn't true. He said: 'I'll see you tomorrow at eleven, first lesson even though it's your day off.' I didn't say anything in return, but just held him shamelessly, memorising the feel of his muscled body, and the smell of his skin. I ran my hands through his hair, having wondered for weeks what that would feel like. 

How could I ever not love this gorgeous sweet man, I could not for the life of me imagine it. But I could easily survive a few weeks of just working together, I was sure of that, so I gave him a chaste goodnight kiss, and opened my door. He left.

Chapter 3

Back inside I decided to not take a shower, but go right to bed instead. That way some of his touch and his feel and smell might still cling to me, to help me go to sleep after this intense day. Taking one last look at my new decoration, I went to bed in quite a flutter. 

The man I had been dreaming of since I met him returned my feelings! I fell asleep more quickly that I'd believed possible, probably dreaming about him a bit more and hopefully not of evil things hunting me down and devouring me for my as yet dormant magic. 

Until I sat up straight in my bed, suddenly wide awake, for I had heard a strange noise in my living-room. It took just a few moments to gather the courage to get out of bed and check out the room. After all, what was going to pass those protections on this house? Paul had told me it was absolutely safe. 

Slipping on a dressing gown I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark. Then I quietly moved towards my living-room, alert but not really afraid. I opened the door in total silence, and came into an apparently empty room. Checking the room, I found the space above the hearth empty, and the mirror-like shape lying on the floor. Picking it up, I noticed that the goat-like figure was gone, not leaving a surface of torn paper, but just an empty mirror. 

That was decidedly weird. Feeling a bit ridiculous, glad no-one could see me, I put the empty mirror on the table, and started to search the room quietly, listening carefully for any sound a goat-man might make in my living-room.

And indeed I did hear him before I saw him, a small sound of something hard briefly touching metal. Moving towards the metal hearth I never feared an attack, somehow the creature had given me the impression of being harmless despite its fearsome horns. I found it hiding in an incredibly small space behind the hearth. 

How it had managed to get in there I don't know, but if it hadn't accidentally struck the hearth with one of its large curved horns, I would not have spotted it. All I could see was a bit of horn and some mottled skin, crossed with angry red welts, some of which were bleeding. I was nearly overcome with pity for this wretched creature, for when I touched its skin, stroking it as one would a scared dog or cat, it cringed and I felt it shake. 

Also, I felt ribs and bones sticking out everywhere. Deciding to stick to the scared dog or cat tactic, I talked soothingly, stroked it, promising food and a nice warm blanket. The shaking did stop, and the creature seemed to enjoy my gentle stroking, for it got a tiny bit larger, and more horn appeared. It did not trust me enough to come out though, and I couldn't deduce from its actions whether it was intelligent and could understand speech or not. 

In a last effort to convince it before I'd get some food to tempt it out, I held out my arms and called: 'Come on then!' This had an immediate effect. Within a fraction of a second I was nearly bowled over by an armful of mottled skin, arms and legs. And horns. The creature didn't try to lick me as a dog would, it rather settled in my arms as a child would. It had a decidedly musky scent, not unappealing, just rather strong and very enticing.

It was really, really thin, skin over bones, and I felt the sticky blood covering the fresh welts. Now the horns moved, and a face looked up at me. It was the face with the goat-like features of the work of art I bought, now animated. 

It looked at me mostly trustingly, but with a little flicker of suspicion still in its eyes. I said soothingly I wasn't going to harm it, to not be afraid of me. In response, a hand came out of the collection of bones and skin, and touched my face. It was quite a large hand, and well-shaped, though it did seem divided in two somehow, reminding me of a cloven hoof. 

I took it in mine, to show I meant no harm. Sitting hunched was becoming painful to me, so I warned the creature I was going to move and I stood up, still holding its hand. It stood up with me and to my surprise I noticed it was at least as tall as me, only a lot thinner. And he was most definitely male, for his naked body was ornamented with a rather large and well-formed penis.

Now I had him standing, I had to decide what to do with him. The wounds needed to be looked at, he needed food and drink badly, and something to keep him warm, for he was still shivering. I decided to try communication first: looking straight at him, I said: 'Hello, I'm Melissa.' 

He clearly didn't understand so I used my hands to explain, pointing at myself and saying: 'Melissa'. Now he understood, and he pointed at himself and said: 'Lykos'. 

He had a nice voice, much deeper than you'd expect from such a slight creature. Trying to pronounce his name as he said it was really hard, my efforts at which he apparently thought quite funny, smiling broadly, revealing perfectly normal teeth under his deeply dented upper lip. Combined with the horns that lip made his face quite goat-like, but also very appealing in a roguish way. 

I asked him: 'May I call you Lukas instead?' He pointed at himself again and said: 'Lukas?' Now it was my turn to smile broadly, this clearly was a smart guy. His reaction to my smile was extraordinary, he sort of launched himself at me again, making me hold him as a natural reaction. This seemed to please him, and he blissfully surrendered to my embrace, leaning into me with a very slight weight, resting his horned head on my shoulder. 

We stood like that for a while, until his bony body and the sticky feeling of the blood still running from the welts on his back started to bother me. I tried to get his attention again, but he seemed to be almost sleeping so I spoke up: 'Lukas, do you want something to eat?' 

My voice and the name he had adopted got his attention, and he looked at me again. I pointed at him and then at my mouth. He suddenly became eager, probably realising he was very hungry. I took him into the kitchen and showed him the things I had there, some bread, some cheese, a few apples. 

He nodded, apparently able to digest them, so I took all of it to the table with a plate and a knife, glad I wouldn't have to go out in the dark to pluck dandelions for him to eat. He followed me like a puppy, and at my gesture sat down on one of my chairs, on the tip so he'd not stick to the backrest with the bloody welts. 

Then his eye fell on the mirror, and he jumped up and seem to panic. A string of flowing words came out of him, and realising I couldn't understand them he gestured that I should wrap the mirror up in cloth and put it away face down. I quickly fetched some fabric, but that was clearly not good enough. He pointed at several objects in the room, but it took me a while to deduce that the cloth needed to be black. So I checked my clothes and found a black skirt, which I used to wrap the mirror in, and I put it away face down in the farthest corner. 

Now he sat down and ate, carefully, apparently knowing he'd be sick if he ate too much or too fast. All too soon he stopped, gesturing he shouldn't eat more. I put the stuff on the cupboard, available to him at all times. He needed to eat small meals often to get used to food again. I also put out some clean water and a glass, of which he made good use.

Then I pointed at his back, and went into the kitchen to fetch a bowl of water and a clean cloth. With it, I carefully cleaned out the welts, sorry for the grimace of pain my treatment caused him. He had some cuts on his head as well, which I also cleaned carefully. When I was done I gave him an old shirt to wear, much too large but nice and warm, and it would protect the welts from getting dirty. 

Now his three main needs were met, I showed him the sanitary facilities, which he gladly used right in front of me. It was clear he had no body modesty at all, something I was going to get used to really quickly, though I didn't know that yet. Now I looked at him questioningly to see what else he might want, and he looked so forlorn, so emaciated, abused and well, lonely, I decided to take him to bed with me. 

I went to the bedroom, pointed at the bed and got in, covering myself with the blanket. With a look to make sure I approved, he crawled in beside me, snuggled up to me with his whole body and wrapped his skinny arms around me. He clearly enjoyed the feel of my soft warm body very much. And to be honest, I felt really good as well, feeling him relax against me, giving in to his weariness and falling into a deep, deep sleep at my side. 

I started to realize that Paul had known this would happen as soon as he saw the work of art, and that this might be part of one of those tests he mentioned. Well, I was not going to put a helpless creature out in the state this guy was in. It was clear he was a thinking, feeling being, and I was going to help him either to go home or to find a place in our world. And with that thought I fell asleep myself, and this time I didn't dream.

The next morning, it was already light outside, I woke up disoriented. Did that really happen, did I really find a goat-like man behind my hearth, or was it a weird dream? Feeling arms still around me, and a body pressed close to mine, smelling his musky scent, I realized it was all real. 

And I felt something else, and though still a virgin I immediately understood what it meant: Lukas was carefully trying to penetrate me with his rather large penis, and he was almost successful! To be honest, it felt very exiting, a hotness sprang up between my legs and all my nerves screamed to let him continue. 

But I was also a virgin and my own person, and no-one was going to deflower me so casually, without even asking my consent. So I turned on him in an instant, shouting: 'Just what do you think you're doing!' right in his face, still set in a blissful sleepy expression. I saw him wake up, register my sudden move, my intense anger. 

And then I saw him cringe as if I'd hit him, and he rolled out of the bed and under it in an instant, the instinctive reaction of someone used to maltreatment. Though I felt justified in my reaction, I was also sorry to have scared him so badly that he fled, he was very sleepy after all, and had clearly been abused. For a moment I didn't know what to do. 

But the thought of that vulnerable, maltreated young creature shaking in fear under my bed just wrung my heart. So I got out, sat down on the floor and looked under the bed. He was there, curled up in protective ball, a pitiful sight, his back towards me. I noticed he had a cute perky tail.




Mirror Bound



Soothingly I said: 'Lukas, I'm sorry I reacted so strongly, I've just never done that before, I'm still a virgin. In my culture you can't just insert yourself into a woman, you have to ask first. Please Lukas, stop shaking, come to me.' Those words seemed to have a magical effect again, for within a second he was in my lap again, curled up, head on my shoulder.

'Lukas, look at me' I said. And he did, his anxiety still clear in every feature of his face, looking at me in desperation. 'You have no idea what made me mad, do you?' I asked him. He understood from my soothing tone I was not really angry anymore, but how to make it clear that I was not an object, to be used at will? 

Of course he must have had an idea what made me mad, he was obviously an intelligent man. He now looked at me questioningly, and said something in a beautiful language that I didn't understand a single word of. But it sounded apologetic, which was good. We had to rely on gesturing again to communicate. I tried to gesture that he had to ask before he did that. And it seemed he understood. 

Apparently his need was enormous, for where a man would have taken my actions as an absolute refusal, he proceeded to gesture his request to me, to be allowed to make love to me. Or maybe he just wanted to penetrate me, I couldn't know, the gestures weren't that specific, and I certainly had no experience with lovemaking, I was a virgin after all. 

His need must have been very great to go from shivering in fear to politely asking if he could take me within a few minutes. I remembered Paul's comment on the randiness of goats, and decided he probably needed sex as we need food. And the strange thing was, I wanted him to do it. I was twenty years old and I had never had a man, and it felt so good, and so careful when he tried. Besides, Paul had made it clear that was not going to risk getting involved for some time yet. So I gestured my consent, and we sat back on the bed.

I tried to convey that I had never done this before, and I think he understood for he became even more loving and more careful. It never occurred to me that our wordless communication was too perfect, too easy to be just gestures. But that is something I would find out later. For now, I let a total stranger with horns give me my first experience with lovemaking. 

He did immediately penetrate me, but really carefully so it wouldn't hurt me. And it didn't, it was glorious! I became so hot inside, it felt so good I wanted him to move, to thrust deeper and deeper inside me, moving along with him to stimulate him. The musk of his scent enveloped me totally, adding to the experience. He clearly enjoyed my enthusiasm, kissing me on the mouth, also my first time. 

My passion rose still further, and after what seemed a long time of increasing elation I felt a wave of little shocks taking over my body, a blissful release. Suddenly they were gone, but the heat wasn't gone at all, I wanted this to last forever. 

Realising again how frightfully thin my lover was, I was suddenly afraid this exercise would be too much for him, but instead of draining him it seemed to give him energy. All this time, he had been keeping contact with me, with a look, a kiss, but now his thrusting increased, and his expression became focussed inward. 

It was glorious how he managed to reach some nearly electric places inside me, and I had one of those high points again. Then he collapsed on top of me, which scared me at first. But when I saw him smile at me cheekily I realized this was supposed to happen. His shape on top of me felt good, though I couldn't help wondering how someone so emaciated could have so much energy. 

I enclosed him in my arms, wanting to to stay connected, touching him wherever I could. For a few moments, he was lying still, happy but totally out of breath. Then he looked up at me again, his cute face already familiar, even with the horns.

Having no experience with making love, I was not surprised that as soon as he had caught his breath again, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, then moved down to kneel between my legs. He made a bit more space for himself by spreading them with his hands, a very exiting gesture in itself. Then he caressed my ruddy pubic hair and carefully took hold of my labia, then spread them as well. 

This flared up the heat in me again, and I wanted him to do everything all over again, but he had other plans. Instead of entering me, he applied a very nimble tongue to a very sensitive spot, which was even more stimulating than anything he had done before. Taking his time, he brought me to another of those highs, but this one felt different, lingering. As soon as he had felt me reaching that high, he was on top of me again in a second, penetrating me but not at all carefully this time. 

The combination of that climax with this relatively forceful entrance was ecstatic. He kept me in a constant state of passion now, again pumping away but less frantically, and with more force. I couldn't imagine how a man could keep a woman in such a state of ecstasy for what seemed to be such a long time. 

He looked as if he was the same passionate state, still moving slowly and deeply, constantly watching me, talking to me with his eyes and his facial expression. When he started to show signs of rising tension again, I invited him to kiss me again, and doubly connected he reached another high, with me sharing his intense feeling through our kiss. This time, he really was spent, again collapsing on top of me and staying in my arms for a long time. I was totally relaxed by now, feeling a strong bond with the strange creature heaving on my chest, totally enveloped by my arms.

He was nearly asleep, no longer out of breath, looking almost like a child with his rakish narrow face. I stroked his hairless head, and his body with its mottled skin. He had removed the shirt at some point, so I pulled the blanket over both of us to prevent him from getting cold. 

The welts on his back were no longer sticky, so I had good hope they had closed up during the night. Instead of thinking about the weirdness of all this, I let myself drift off to sleep again too until I realized I had an appointment for magic instruction from Paul at eleven. And then it struck me. This is what he had been afraid of all along. 

He knew what would come out of that mirror, and he knew what it would do to or with me. I felt a flash of guilt and loathed myself for forgetting about him so easily, after dreaming of him for weeks, and holding him so intensely only the previous night. 

But when I thought of his curly hair, of his muscled body and his exciting smell, I immediately saw myself doing the things I had discovered today with him. It was confusing and encouraging at the same time. I did still love him, wanted to try out lovemaking with him as well. But what if he would stick to his plan of waiting until I had mastered magic, he seemed someone who'd do that once his mind was made up. 

Having discovered physical love I knew I'd want more soon, and I realized it was almost inevitable that Lukas and I would become lovers, but what would that do to Paul? I couldn't find a solution, so I decided to see what happened.

Chapter 4

I carefully eased myself from under Lukas, washed, dressed and prepared a nice suitable breakfast for a starving young man. Then I woke him by softly caressing him again, noticing to my incredible surprise that he had hoofs instead of feet. How come I hadn't seen that before? I took hold of one and carefully examined it. 

It was elegantly shaped, of solid horn, but slightly too long. It needed trimming, small wonder with his other signs of neglect and abuse. I wondered where he had come from, and why he had been treated so badly there. It would be long before we could communicate well enough to find out. But by now my creature had woken up, and the smell of food clearly enticed him. 

I gave him the t-shirt back, and he put it on. He ate more than the evening before, but he was clearly still limiting his intake to prevent getting sick. Apparently not used to drinking hot black tea, he carefully sipped his and seemed to like it. I checked the clock and found I had an hour left until my lesson and facing Paul after what I'd done. 

Strangely enough, I didn't feel ashamed, somehow I realized that what I had done with Lukas was a natural consequence of having bought the mirror. I didn't think I could have refused to have sex with Lukas, I was starting to comprehend it was as necessary as food to him. I also suspected he would just as easily have sex with another woman, also without asking first. 

Maybe my test would be to teach him about the morals of our society, and finding a way to fit him into our society, though I doubted that would ever be possible. He was so different, how could one disguise a pair of horns that size, let alone hoofs and a tail? 

Having finished his food, Lukas was still sipping his tea and he was looking at me. He didn't look forlorn anymore, maybe a bit of food and a bit of love was all he needed. But somehow I doubted that, he seemed too intelligent to live a life as simple as that. 

Now I needed to find out what I was supposed to do with him. And I needed to explain to him that I was going away for an hour or two. For that, I needed to be able to communicate with him, which wouldn't be easy. 

But it turned out to be a lot easier than I thought it would be. As I had to leave him soon, I started with pointing at myself, then at the door, and at him, still where he was. At the same time, I told him in simple English. As he answered in his own flowing language, in my mind I got a clear reply: I was going away for a while, and he could stay here. And he was sorry he had tried make love with me still half asleep. And for not realising I was still a virgin.

And love was indeed food to him, and he had been starved from it on purpose by someone, partly explaining the abominable condition his body was in. He felt much better now, and very grateful for the incredible gift of my pureness. 

All right, this was weird. He spoke his own flowing language, but the meaning of his words came straight into my mind. So I said: 'You make me wish I didn't have to leave you, there is so much to speak of. But we can do that when I'm back. I'm still a bit disconcerted that you would have taken me without asking, but you sure made up for it, I still feel you inside me.' 

He came towards me and knelt before me, laying his horned head in my lap, as if asking for forgiveness. This was such an engaging gesture that I couldn't resist him, I stroked his head, hoping he'd look up and kiss me. And he promptly did, sitting on my lap with his bare legs, his member still hanging free. The burning feeling inside me intensified, and I felt his excitement against me quite clearly, but I was not going to let Paul down on day one of my training already.

So I told him: 'You can eat as much of the food as you like, I'll get new stuff this afternoon. Let me know what you need to eat to gain strength. Do you want a pair of trousers? 

His answer came swiftly: 'I will eat some more, and sleep some more. If you want me to wear clothes I will. And my hoofs need trimming, maybe you can get a tool somewhere? A file or a sharp knife?' I nodded, certain I could borrow both from Paul. 

I had decided to be totally honest with Paul, I was going to need his help to see this through, and I wanted to be able to look him in the eye always, to be worthy of his love and respect. With this thought, I gave my mottled creature one last, lengthy hug, feeling his bony frame against mine, smelling his strong, musky scent. Then I told him: 'I'll be downstairs,' and I left.

Walking down the stairs I felt totally unsure what to do. In desperation, I decided to just go in and see what happened. I had some questions I would love to ask Paul, but I'd have a lot to explain first, things he might not want to hear.

Reaching his door, I knocked on it quite loudly since he might be in his kitchen. But there was no answer. I considered using the key to open the door, but before I could act I heard his voice from downstairs, calling me: 'Melissa, I'm in the workshop, will you join me here?' 

So I descended two more stairs and entered the basement. Paul was in his working clothes, polishing one of his current projects, nearly completed. It was a lovely elegant copper boiler, richly engraved with hunting scenes. 

I had seen its development in the time I lived here, and it was amazing to see it now in its full glory. Paul was clearly very proud of it, and glad to show it to me.

Let me picture his workshop, to me it was the best place to be on this world, even above my own apartment. It occupied the whole basement, one large space with stone columns to support the house above it. 

The walls were red brick, and there were sturdy wooden cabinets against most of them. One really large cabinet held little drawers, to store his smaller tools and his spare parts. The larger tools were suspended on hooks on the wall, each in its own place. 

There was a large brick furnace, built against the outer wall to allow easy venting. And there were creations in different stages of completion everywhere, on tables, on the ground, hanging from the ceiling, standing against the columns. 

In this little corner of paradise Paul was totally himself. I fell in love with him all over again, seeing him in his sooty shirt, his old shabby pants and his leather apron covering both. He wore the same sturdy boots as yesterday, but an older, worn pair. 

I couldn't help myself, I just had to stride towards him and give him a solid hug and a kiss on the mouth. I secretly breathed in deeply, catching the usual mixture of smoke, etching fluid and male sweat. It was just as exciting as ever. Paul returned my hug, and accepted my kiss in good grace. 

He proudly listened to me praising his handiwork, then said confidentially: 'I thought you might prefer meeting me here.' I replied: 'I love this place, I'd like to stay here forever. Your house is beautiful, but it takes some getting used to. This is home.' 

He clearly understood, and said: 'You will get used to it, and wait 'till you see the bedroom!' I laughed at him: 'Is that an invitation?' At this cheeky remark, he looked at me appraisingly and said: 'In time, who knows...? What happened? You're different.'

I told him: 'Something did happen, as you probably expected, knowing that work of folk art was magical. Last night, the bloke with the horns tumbled out and hid behind my hearth. I ..' 

Here, Paul interrupted me: 'You mean to say that a real person came out of that mirror-thing?' Stunned, I replied: 'Yes, wasn't it suppose to? I thought you expected that to happen, that it was a test. 

The horned guy sticking out of the piece came out for real, scared to death, nearly starved to death and whipped until he bled. You said he'd feel right at home, yesterday.' 

Disturbed now, Paul told me: 'That work of art was magical in a really small way, meant to tempt its owner into crossing boundaries. I expected it to loosen you up a little, to go have some fun. Where is the mirror now? And the guy?' That was so sweet of him, wanting to help me to have fun, possibly at the cost of my love for him. 

But: 'The mirror is wrapped in black cloth, a skirt actually, face down in the farthest corner of my room. Lukas was very afraid of it. And Lukas himself, he is probably in my bed, sleeping, or in my kitchen, eating. He was skin and bones, and incredibly weary. Wary too.' 

Paul now came straight at me, took hold of my shoulders with both hands, looked straight at me and said: 'That is not how it's supposed to be. Better sit down and tell me every detail. That sounds like strong magic, but I felt nothing. 

Come to think of it, it shouldn't even be able to cross my wards.'

Thinking of what happened, I told him: 'Maybe the mirror thing is some kind of portal to another dimension and he was afraid something would come out after him.' This thought clearly impressed Paul: 'You think really logically, and you may very well be right. A portal wouldn't need magic to activate, it is just a door. 

And it would explain why he wanted it covered and upside down.' I added: 'And it had to be black cloth, he insisted on that.'

'Tell me everything, please, and then I want to meet him. A portal can be very dangerous, and you, and this part of town, are my responsibility, ' he said. This was not going as I'd expected, and now I was going to have to tell him what I had done. 

Well, I did promise myself I'd see this through, so I started: 'As I said, there was something hiding behind the hearth, and I didn't know if it was intelligent or animal. It was clearly very afraid, so I tried to soothe it and get it out. Eventually it did, and it was the guy from the mirror. He was stick-thin, hurt and very weary.'

I described the whole event to him in detail, and it was easy enough until I got to the next morning. 

I told Paul: 'This is going to be very embarrassing to tell, so please be patient.' Paul nodded and took my hand to encourage me. 

I went on: 'The next morning, I thought it had been a dream, until I felt his presence, and I felt his, you know, male part, trying to enter me.' 

Shocked, Paul said: 'He raped you?' In distress, I told him: 'Please don't judge until you've heard it all, Paul. I think he's not like us, he needs sex as if it were food. I was a virgin still, and I did not take his action lightly. I turned on him and got very angry. 

He was still half-asleep and fled under the bed in fear. I felt so sorry, you should have seen him. Abused, starved, lonely. I talked to him and got him quieted and in my arms again, where I soothed him and told him you can't just take a girl without asking first. He must have been starved for lovemaking as well, for he proceeded to ask me to allow him to make love to me. 

And not in English, he speaks a kind of flowing language, beautiful to hear. But still we understood each other. Paul, I gave him permission. I wanted it, and he needed it.' 

As I expected, Paul was crushed to hear this, but he did hold on to my hand and he didn't turn from me in disgust. I didn't really want to describe my feelings having sex with another man to the man I loved, so I said: 'Paul, he is really different. I couldn't refuse him any more than I could refuse him food. I enjoyed it. But he would probably do it with another woman as easily and as skilfully. 

I thought he'd kill himself with the exertion, but it gave him strength instead. He apologised for not having asked at first, and I've forgiven him. If he asks again, I will allow him again. 

But that doesn't change my feelings for you. I want to do the same things with you, really badly. I was a twenty year old virgin with a crush on a man I thought I couldn't have. And now I'm no longer a virgin, and if that means you don't want me anymore, my virginity is the only thing that will have changed.'

But here, Paul showed me what he was really made of. 'I would be a hypocrite if I held loving another man against you. I practically set you up for it by not telling you what hanging that mirror over your hearth would do to you, even if it took a totally different form than I expected. I don't care about virginity, I do care that he treats you with respect. 

I did ask you to wait for your talent to develop before you decided if you really loved me, I knew there might be other men before that.' Putting his arm around me proved to me he didn't blame me, and he said: 'I didn't realize you were still untouched.'  

I told him the truth: 'I just never met anyone I wanted to do that with until you came along, and you made it clear to me you needed more time. I let Lukas do it also because I wanted to finally know what it was like.' 




Mirror Bound



Clearly, Paul still found that difficult to hear. I wondered if he realized he could have had the honour if he hadn't kept me away. I thought so. He observed: 'You seem to know exactly what you can expect from this man, and what you want from me. 

I feel hurt, but I don't know if I have the right to. And the thought of you wanting to see my bedroom kind of excites me. A lot. It's really tempting. But first I want to meet this creature of yours, find out if he means danger to you or to us all. Will you take me to him?' 

Relieved that he seemed to understand me a little, I told him: 'Gladly, but I have a few questions first: do you have a file or sharp knife to trim his hoofs with? And do you have some pants that may be too small for you, or that you don't like to wear anymore? Not too tight, he's not used to wearing clothes. 

And what about my magic lesson?' He laughed and took a large file and a sheathed knife from their place on the wall. Then he held out his hand to me, inviting me to follow him up the stairs and into his gorgeous house, where he left me outside a door on the landing: 'I'll check out my pile of excess clothing, he'll want some shirts as well. 

But you cannot come in yet, you will not see my bedroom until I'm ready for some love-play of our own.' I felt relieved at his joking, glad I had been totally honest with him. When he came out, he handed me a black velvet cloth and a glass bottle. He carried another bundle himself, plus two leather bound books. 'Homework', he said. Then we left his apartment and climbed the stairs to mine.

Chapter 5

I had to put the cloth and the bottle down to open the door, and I picked them up again and entered my house, followed by Paul. Expecting to see Lukas in the kitchen or in bed, I looked around and started to worry: he seemed to have disappeared. 

Looking at Paul I felt a bit foolish, suppose he thought I had made it all up. But Paul motioned me to keep quiet, then pointed at the little room where he had personally installed a really nice shower, hooked up to a central boiler located in his basement. Apparently he had other means to find people than just his ears and eyes. 

I moved toward the room rather noisily, not wanting to startle Lukas if he was hiding in fear. Quietly opening the door I found him behind the curtain, slightly startled it was me but very relieved. He spoke in his own language and I again heard the meaning of what he said in my mind: 'I sensed a source of great power coming this way, and got scared. I'm totally without resources, I can't defend myself at all.'

From right behind me I now heard Paul speak up, but I couldn't understand a word he said, for it was spoken in the same language that Lukas used. It sounded much more commanding than his usual tone, but it didn't seem to scare Lukas any further. 

I could understand Lukas' answer, apparently my mind still caught the meaning of his words when they were not directed at me: 'So I find myself in a guardian's home, what a stroke of good luck. And a guardian who speaks Greek. Now I dare to feel a lot safer.' 

And at me: 'You must be talented then, no wonder you can understand me and make yourself understood through your mind.' Suddenly he realized something: 'That makes what I took from you even more of a loss, though it probably saved my life. Please tell me you weren't chaste for your calling.' I didn't understand, but clearly Paul did. 

He spoke several sentences in the strange language, apparently Greek, and Lukas' face fell. Paul, seeing I didn't understand, explained and translated for me: 'If you had been chaste to develop your talent, he might have ruined your guardianship by trying to take you unasked. I told him it was a despicable thing to do.'

I can tell you, that made me more than a little mad, and I told Paul in no uncertain terms that it was not his place to judge Lukas for what he did, I had already done that and I had forgiven him. It was my body and my decision, and I had made a choice to let him continue, and greatly enjoyed the results. 

If the deflowering of a potential guardian had saved Lukas' life, I'd say it was power well spent, I didn't feel the loss. I had the satisfaction of seeing Paul look a little shamefaced, but not hurt. He might be my self-appointed mentor, but that didn't give him the right to patronize me. He'd better teach me some magic first, for at the moment, I had not a shred of evidence of the existence of magic, I only had his word for it. 

Clearly, the translation of language not directed at the other worked both ways, for Lukas' face cleared and he embraced me thankfully. Regrettably, that did seem to hurt Paul, though I'm sure Lukas was only relieved, not triumphant. Lukas seemed very impulsive to me, almost childlike. 

But in the matter of lovemaking he appeared to be very much adult and very experienced. It would be interesting to get to know him better.

We sat down with a cup of tea as Paul asked Lukas endless questions about how he had come through that mirror, and who had mistreated him with so much expertise. I couldn't understand the questions as Paul asked them in Greek, but Lukas' answers still came straight into my mind. 

Paul offered to translate for me, and when I told him that I understood everything Lukas said in some strange way, he was amazed. 'That must be your talent awakening,' he told me, 'though it is a talent I've never heard of before.' So from that moment on, he only translated his own questions, and we could all understand one another.

Lukas' story was frightening. He had been taken from his father's home, a villa in a place akin to ancient Greece, on the shore of the Mediterranean, but with people like himself living there in a society based on intimacy. 

He had been taken to a place that looked nothing like anywhere on his earth, or ours. It was cave-like, but the stone was not like caves on earth, and outside there were no plants or animals at all. The air was hot, laden with moisture and heavy with sulphuric fumes. The creatures keeping him captive were nothing like humans and not like his own kind either. Demons would be the best description, and they never gave a reason why they had taken him. He suspected they just enjoyed torture. He had been systematically starved, of food and of company. He needed a lot of emotional and physical attention to thrive, and even with plenty of food he would have slowly succumbed to sheer unhappiness. 

They did not actively torture him, just the occasional beating. It was mainly the emotional void that brought him to the point where he had to get away or die within a few days. He was not bound in the caves, and one day he found a strange opening in one of the rocks. In desperation, he stuck his head into the hole, and saw a strange but welcoming living-room. 

Not able to imagine a worse fate than his current one, he jumped through, and found himself on the floor of the room. Hearing someone approach, he hid, and nothing could have tempted him to come out besides an offer of intimacy, the one thing he could no longer do without. My friendliness had made him feel a lot better, able to eat something, to see some future for himself. 

Used to a culture where practically everyone would be intimate with each other, he felt free to initiate sex with me without consideration. Stopped in his tracks brutally, he was devastated, ready to give up. After I explained my anger and we had shared intimacies, he could go on.

Having no way to return home, he would have to try to fit in. The Greece where people like him lived had to be a different reality than ours, and there was no way to find it from here. We would have to try to make his life bearable, fit him in well enough for him to be able to enjoy some freedom. 

It would be really difficult in our stiff society and with his alien looks, but I was glad to hear that Paul was willing to help, and we decided to start with Lukas learning English and basic Victorian manners. Paul showed him the clothes he'd brought, and fitting Lukas well enough, they'd probably look even better on him once he'd gained some weight.

But before all that, Paul showed me how to infuse the black velvet cloth with the fluid from the glass bottle, a kind of spiritual holy water. Then we wrapped the mirror in that. Now it only needed putting away in a deep dark place.

'Why not destroy it?' I asked. 'Frankly, I don't dare. The collapse of the portal might flatten my quarter of the city, or the whole city,' Paul said, 'this should be safe enough.' And then there was the matter of Lukas' hoofs. Though he could file them into shape by himself, it would be easier to have someone else do it. 

Of course that was a job for the artist Paul, and with directions from Lukas he cut and filed one hoof into the shape it was supposed to have. Then he did the other one in reverse, without further instruction, proof of his superior craftsmanship. 'If you ever need shoes, come to me, and I'll forge you a nice pair out of copper,' he joked, but the concept of shoeing hoofs was totally new to Lukas. When we explained he said: 'My hoofs are hard enough to climb rocks with all day. 

I'd rather wear shoes like yours. That would make me fit right in.' And he was right. Fitting in would be the main challenge from now on.

Paul took the mirror for safe-keeping. I'll make you a new piece for over your hearth,' he promised, 'you read those books, and I'll get some for Lukas to study English. I'll get some food too, and cook for the three of us tonight, if you both agree.' 

He translated this into Greek, and we both did agree. In English he said to me: 'You were right to give him what he needed. I will try to keep an open mind.' Relieved by his understanding, I embraced and kissed him, and he left. I decided to feed my goat-man, then send him back to bed, but he turned out to be just as much his own person as I was. With another meal inside him, he started to nuzzle me, and fondle my curves. 

Absently I permitted his attentions, until he said: 'Melissa.' I looked at him, saw a thoughtful look on his face. 'You love him, don't you?' he asked. Did he speak the words out aloud, or were they just in my mind this time? 'I do, Lukas,' I replied, I've loved him since I first met him a few weeks ago.' 'Why aren't you intimate then? He loves you badly, it hurts him when I touch you,' he wondered. 'I want to very much, Lukas, but he doesn't want to get intimate for fear of getting hurt,' I said. 'That is stupid, he already hurts. I think he should love you as I love you,' he insisted. 'I know, and I wish he would,' I said, 'but he wants to wait until my magic has come through.' 

'Do you love me?' he asked. 'I think I do, Lukas, I haven't known you that long but I think I love you,' I said, 'do you think that is possible?' 'How could anyone love just one person?' he retorted, 'where I come from that would be considered unhealthy. 

Can I make love to you now?' As answer, I took him in my arms and kissed him deeply, the remembrance of feeling him thrust himself into me rushing in, making me feel as shameless as a cat in heat.

We made it to the bed, where I stroked his mottled skin, across his chest and over his stomach, until I reached his impressive penis, stroking it too, the base, the smooth, bared top. Then I took it in my mouth, first as far as it would fit, then running my tongue over the smooth surface, under the ridges, and back in. He lay back for some time, enjoying my caresses, only moving slightly along with my movement up and down. 

But soon he took a more active part again, and I felt him move beneath me, felt his hands stroke me, my soft white skin, my beautiful round breasts, until he was once more kneeling between my legs, spreading them gently, stroking my thighs and tasting my most intimate place with his tongue. With my passion rising, I also felt the need to be more active, and I in my turn moved beneath him until I could reach his penis again, head between his legs, passing my heat on to his sensitive member. This was really turning me on, and I soon had a high, feeling his flesh in my mouth at my height of passion. Moaning with ardour, he carefully pulled his male part out of my mouth, turned a little and entered me, nice and firmly. 

That was a good trick, penetrating on a high point, for it once again brought me sheer bliss. I guess this was his favourite part, for he looked triumphant, pumping away on top of me, looking at me with real love, fondling my breasts, my face, my hair. He lifted my legs a little to allow himself even more access, reaching other sensitive spots inside me, leading me to new heights. Collapsing on me was becoming an excellent habit, he was so light that I could have had him there for hours.

I suddenly realized that I had ignored one of his most distinctive features so far. Were his horns just too alien for me to acknowledge? Or did I suppose they had little feeling because they were so hard? In any case, I pulled the blanket over both of us, snuggled comfortably under him, and touched one of the horns. 

Of course, it felt like a horn, hard and rough. But my touch did have an effect on him. He turned his head to give me easy access, and closed his eyes in pleasure. He loved to have his horns touched! Feeling along the surface of the horn, I was amazed that his body could make such a hard substance, and when I reached the base I rubbed the ring where the horn was attached to his skull, a bony ridge covered with soft skin. 

This put him in a near trance of ardour, he leaned into the caresses like a cat, it felt as if he would start purring any time. He reached for the breast he was not lying on, stroking it, feeling its soft weight in his hand. With my other hand, I started to give his other horn base the same caresses as the first, and it seemed he could hardly contain the feeling this gave him. 

I felt his penis rise against my thigh, and I spread my legs to give him access to his release, which he promptly took, taking care to keep his proud horns within my reach. Feeling his penetration inside me again, I shared the ecstasy he was experiencing. He bent over slightly to take one of my nipples in his mouth, the whole top of my breast, gently sucking it, and licking the tip with his tongue. That sharp feeling reached right down, further and further, and when it met the place where his penis touched me inside, I exploded in the strongest high I had had so far. Feeling that high slowly ebb, flaring up with every one of his thrusts, I felt completely sated. Lukas now released my breast, and sat up straighter in his furious action. 

No longer able to reach his horns, I stroked his chest, his arms, his shoulders. Where did he get that energy? How could the small amount he ate ever become even a thin layer of fat if he spent it immediately on making love frantically? I just knew he needed this more than food, so I stopped thinking and enjoyed his release. 

This time, he lay next to me, truly spent now, our bodies touching, limbs entwined. We kissed some more, but we mainly just lay there, enjoying the silence.

Chapter 6

He soon fell asleep, still low on energy I guessed, so I picked up one of the books and sat on the bed next to his sleeping form. The book was interesting, explaining where magic energy came from and how talented people could manipulate it. I read for a few hours, trying to understand what I read, and writing down questions for Paul. 

When Lukas woke up, we showered together, and I decided to wear one of my dresses instead of my usual skirt and bodice. Lukas was watching me dress, and I'm sure that if he had not been sated totally not three hours ago, he would have jumped me again. 'Are you dressing up to convince Paul to make his love for you physical?' he asked. 

I answered: 'Yes I am, does that make you jealous?' Looking at me questioningly he said: 'What's jealous?' That made me want to hug him, but I was sure that if I did that, we'd never make it to dinner. So I told him I couldn't explain quickly, and that it was better not to know the feeling anyway. 

He added: 'If he sees you in that dress and still won't make love to you, he must be a machine instead of a man. You look like a goddess.' I took heart from his certainty of my success, for I did not feel nearly as sure. Paul was a very disciplined fellow, he could be dying of love and still not act on it, I feared.

But still I said: 'Thank you love, every woman wants to be compared to a goddess. Hair up, in a tail, or down?' His answer was clear: 'Down of course. He'll want to touch it, it looks like molten copper. If he won't, he must really be made of steel.' 

Looking in the mirror, despite my realisation how beautiful I really was, that was exactly what I was afraid of.

I convinced Lukas he really needed to wear clothes when visiting, so he chose a shirt and a pair of trousers and put them on. He wore them well, not looking as uncomfortable as he must have felt. His hooves looked cute, peeping from under the pant-legs. His tail was just a small bump under his shirt, hardly noticeable. 

Only the horns really betrayed his alienness. As we were ready to go, I took his arm and we went downstairs. I knocked on the door, and after a short time, Paul opened the door. 

His face became a study in stunned amazement when he saw me. I'd never worn a dress in his presence, and he had clearly never really looked at me as a woman before. He did now. 

The artist in him could not be immune to my perfect form, usually hidden in practical clothing. I saw it in his posture, in his face, he wanted to touch me, feel my glorious hair, run his hands through it, caress my perfectly symmetrical curves, bury his face in my luscious cleavage. 

But he didn't. He didn't even hug me or kiss me, he just gently took my hand with both of his and kissed it gallantly, saying: 'Melissa, you are so beautiful you stopped my heart there for a second.' Then he shook hands cordially with Lukas, addressing him in Greek.

I could clearly see that Lukas did not understand Paul's behaviour at all. He stammered a greeting back, but he looked like he had been hit with a hammer. In his culture it must have been the worst sin to nearly die of admiration for someone and then deny it so totally. 

In our society it was proof of total self control, mind over body, a sign of manliness if you please, but in his it must have been a gross rudeness and probably very unhealthy. I took his hand to comfort him, he was really upset, but at the same time I did feel a bit rejected by Paul's behaviour. Still, he had made it clear he needed more time, and I had promised myself I would stick it out, so I would. 

I'd explain it to Lukas later, and maybe share a little love with him to relieve both our feelings. For now, Lukas would not be able to dwell on them, for Paul invited us to enter his palace. I suspected he must have been more used to riches than I was, for he was not stunned with admiration of the total, but rather very much interested in the detail. 

He studied the wood panelling, the stairs, the mosaic floor with so much patience, that Paul and I got a little restless and went ahead. Paul said something to him, and I heard the answer: 'Sure, I'll see you in the kitchen. You don't mind my hanging back?' 

Paul said something in Greek again, and then him and me walked into the lovely kitchen.

Alone, Paul showed a little more feeling, saying: 'Melissa, have you any idea what you're doing to me looking like that?' I decided to play it cool as well, and replied: 'The idea was to have you fall at my feet and worship me.' 

'Well, you nearly succeeded in that, it took my utmost discipline to act casually. I thought we had agreed to just be friends until you had your talent under control?' he said in a pained voice. 'No, you decided that, because you were afraid to get hurt,' I retorted, 'I'd rather take the risk, loving someone is always a risk.' 




Mirror Bound



He clearly didn't want to discuss it any further, he had trouble looking at me but also couldn't keep his eyes off me. He nearly whispered: 'I didn't realize you were so beautiful.' There had been way too much talk already, and this wasn't helping. I said: 'I'll respect it if you don't want to become intimate with me, but don't expect me to start acting like a stranger.' 

And I took him in my arms and leaned against him, resting my head on his chest. It was so good to smell him again, and feel his strong body. I felt him tense at first, then give himself over to me, allowing himself to enjoy this little bit of intimacy. 

We stood there, with me imagining him on top of me, stark naked, thrusting his manhood deep inside me, the thought giving me an instant thrill of intense lust. What he felt I don't know, but the way he clung to me proved it was not indifference. He even dared running his hands through my hair, saying: 'I've tried polishing copper to this sheen, but I couldn't do it.' 

When Lukas came in, Paul released me instantly. But Lukas of course did not claim me, and he was very happy to see me where I desperately wanted to be. Still, his entrance was the end of our little bit of intimacy, but it had been enough.

Lukas and I sat down at the table with a cup of tea, and Paul busied himself with food, listening to Lukas' praise of his workmanship and taste whilst he prepared a meal in the same way as yesterday, only with Greek style cheese instead of meat, and a lot more oil. Apparently Paul thought Lukas needed to eat some fat to gain weight. 

Lukas did understand without being told that Paul had made all of this, every little detail, with his own hands, and he was clearly very much impressed. He said: 'You are clearly a gifted craftsman, even an artist, as well as a highly ranking magician. No wonder you have little time to spend on women.' 

Of course this was meant as an allusion to Paul's rejection of my blatant attempts to get him to bed me, but Paul reacted quite embarrassedly, apparently understanding it the wrong way, and thereby revealing more than he would have wanted. I filed that new knowledge away for future use, and waited to hear what Paul would reply, of course depending on his own translation of what he said: 'Thank you, I think.' 

Lukas had more observations about the house, having compared it to my apartment as well, and seen the differences in spaces. He also professed a great interest in seeing Paul's workshop, where all those beautiful things had been designed and crafted. Of course, Paul was happy to offer him a tour of the workshop tomorrow, during my working hours. 

I worked mornings on the sites of the buildings I inspected, then usually spent some more hours calculating and drawing at home, in preparation for the next day. It was a great job, giving me plenty of freedom and quite an adequate salary. It also would enable me to study magic with Paul for a few hours each day.

Then, dinner was ready and we sat and ate, talking about Lukas' people and their customs, and about our Victorian customs. Paul said everything in two languages, Lukas and I both spoke our own. 

Lukas enjoyed the meal very much, after being starved he had much more use for a light meal like this, even though he looked as if he could use the calories of something like those sausages on the market. But rich food could still make him very sick. Still, Paul dared to offer him a slice of home-made pie as dessert, with cream on top. It was delicious, and Lukas dared to eat all of his generous slice. He was clearly doing really well. 

After dinner and the washing up, we sat in the living-room for a little while, checking out the books Paul had fished out of his enormous collection to help Lukas learn the language. And Paul took the time to answer all the questions I had accumulated whilst reading his books on magic. 

I learned I could expect to discover magical abilities that I would develop spontaneously. And by practising discipline and meditation I would be able to direct the abilities more accurately, and control them in acute situations. I was really curious what abilities I would get. 

Lukas listened with interest as well, his people also knew magic he said. In fact, it was widespread, his people knew little technology, using magic for most utilities that we were improving with steam and electricity, like lighting and heating our houses, and heating water for cooking and bathing. This interested Paul immensely, and I was certain they would discuss the differences between both societies a lot in the near future. 

Lukas was clearly intrigued by the technology that Paul used, even invented. Paul asked if Lukas had any magic of his own, and Lukas replied that he had some experience with its use, instinctively, but that he had no magic he could use consciously. His father apparently was a high-ranking magician in his country, and all his siblings followed in his footsteps. 

It seemed as if our Lukas was a bit of a black sheep in the family, not amounting to much in the eyes of his father. Paul told him that in our world, magic often took some time to break through, especially at a more profound level. This intrigued Lukas, for apparently he was only a half-sibling to his more talented sisters and brothers, his mother having been of his own kind, the people with horns we generally called satyrs, and his father human. 'My mother had no magic,' he said, 'and I had only a tiny, unconscious bit, and that was before my captors shaved off my hair.'

'Wait a second, ' I exclaimed, 'you have hair?' Lukas laughed at my surprise: 'I'll have you know I have curly hair to rival Paul here. Those demons shaved it off after I pulled a trick on them, nearly getting them to fight each other. 

They shaved me, and not gently, just before I escaped. The welts on my back were the result of my feeble attempts at resistance.' That was quite a revelation, I thought he was naturally hairless. I couldn't resist, I had to feel his head, and indeed, there was a little stubble there. There were also the cuts I noticed yesterday, reminding me of the welts on his back. 

I asked Paul: 'Do you by any chance know anything of healing?' Paul answered: 'I'm not a doctor, but I can treat wounds when they're not infected. Comes with the job of guardian, it's a bit of a high risk job, and some of the people I come into contact with distrust doctors. In really bad cases I can sometimes use magic, but not always.' 

That was good enough for me, and I asked Lukas: 'Would you mind showing Paul those welts, I'd like to have his opinion on their condition.' Lukas answered cheekily: 'Any excuse to take my clothes off,' and he stripped himself of his shirt.

Seeing his mottled skin with the angry red marks reminded me of yesterday night, when I had held him in my arms, still sticky with blood. It caused me to feel a surge of love for this young man, looking so different, but feeling so familiar already. Paul was clearly a bit shocked at the extent of the damage, he hadn't realized Lukas was hurt as well as emaciated. 

He sat next to Lukas and probed the welts, noticing that the skin around them was not swollen and that they were clean and scabbed over. 'They must hurt quite a bit, but they are not infected and are healing well,' Paul said. 

'Melissa cleaned them yesterday night. It hurt like hell, but apparently it worked, ' Lukas explained. Paul looked at his head as well: 'And this is from the shaving? The cuts are deeper but narrower, and also clean and on their way to healing. I can feel your stubble too,' Paul said, stroking Lukas's head to enjoy the feel of the tiny hairs. Lukas was undergoing the attention with his eyes closed like a cat, so predictable and yet so endearing. 

I was actually looking forward to tonight, before going to sleep we would probably make love again, my hands on his horns, his hands on me. But tomorrow was an early day, and I needed my hours of sleep. So I proposed to Lukas to go back to our own apartment, which he agreed to.

Paul asked Lukas: 'Will come to me tomorrow? I can help you with your English, and you can help me in the workshop. No-one will see you there, and you'll be safe and not feel lonely.' I was really grateful, for I didn't look forward to leaving him all alone for a whole day. 

And Lukas told him: 'Yes, please. Such a stroke of good luck that you speak Greek.' At this, Paul said cryptically: 'That may not be a coincidence. I'll have to look into that.' As we climbed the beautiful stairs to the front door, Paul seemed to be a lot less sure suddenly, which I took as a sign that he wanted to be intimate in his goodbye to me, but didn't know how to start. No longer hindered by doubt and insecurity towards him, I embraced and kissed him, and he not only returned it, but also leaned into me and dared to touch my hair again.

I'd rather have had him run his hand over my breasts, but with patience that moment might still come. With Lukas looking his encouragement to me I kept Paul in my arms until he started to get restless, then I released him and Lukas and I went upstairs.

Chapter 7

Once in my apartment, Lukas had a night snack, and I asked him: 'I suppose that not accepting an offer of intimacy from someone you love would be very rude where you come from?' Lukas confirmed: 'Very rude indeed, I have a lot to learn if I ever want to fit in here. What Paul did tonight, just kissing your hand instead of showing you some real affection, when you had clearly dressed up especially for him, would have meant the end of his chances with you. It would have been an insult.' 

I nodded, observing: 'And here it is a sign of self-control, of manliness even, and it shows great respect to the lady in question. He actually accepted quite a high level of intimacy from me. That doesn't mean I wasn't disappointed.' 

Now, Lukas looked at me in an intense way, and said: 'Will you allow me to make up for your disappointment by showing you my admiration for you?' And though I really needed my sleep to be able to get up early the next morning, I did want what he offered, so I nodded to show him my consent.

He took off his shirt and trousers, folding them neatly and laying them on a chair. Then he offered me his hand, and led me to the bedroom. There, he sat on the edge of the bed, and instead of watching how I undressed, he unbuttoned the whole front of my dress, then helped me out of it, laying it over the same bedroom chair as his own stuff. 

Seeing him naked made me realize this was still his natural state to me, and to him as well, for he had no consciousness of being undressed at all. Soon I was totally naked too, and Lukas clearly showed his appreciation of my body. Starting with my feet, he held every part of my body, stroking it, kissing it, admiring it. 

As he slowly moved upward, of course my excitement grew. He invited me to sit on the bed, and sat on the floor between my legs. Kissing my inner thighs, he came ever closer to a part of me that now wanted him intensely. But he kissed it, tasted it, and moved on to my buttocks, my belly, my breasts, my neck, and my mouth. His hands ran through my glorious hair, and he bent over me to kiss it, too. Then he went back to what he had only tasted before, and gave it his undivided attention. After that, our lovemaking turned a lot rougher, and it ended with Lukas totally out of breath, and me totally sated. 

The last thing I did before falling asleep was warn him: 'If you want to make love tomorrow morning, you'll have to wake early, for I have to be up at first light.' Excitedly he asked: 'Can I wake you, you know, by entering you? Like this morning, only with you not scaring me?' Already half asleep I agreed: 'Yes you can. You are really something, you know.' And then I fell asleep, dreaming of an intensely blue sea, craggy rocks, and venerable old trees standing in dry tilled earth.

That morning I had a different dream, a very stimulating one. I was riding wave after wave of intense pleasure, a burning hot spot between my legs the centre of the blissful rolling movement. It was a very nice dream, probably brought on by the awakening of my sexual feeling by... waking a little bit I realized I was not just dreaming. 

The movement I was riding was Lukas', and the stimulation was not just in my mind, for I now clearly felt him filling me up. He must have manoeuvred himself under and behind me in just the right spot to penetrate me without waking me up, and now he was moving us both in that slow, wave-like rhythm. He had an arm around me, his hand between my legs, stimulating me from the outside. How had he done that without waking me? He truly was a randy goat, but I loved him for it. 

Soon, I couldn't think anymore, the pleasure was getting so intense it took over my whole being. A cry escaped me when I reached my high, after which he speeded up his pumping. I moved to my knees to give him more space, which stimulated him even more, holding on to my hips and thrusting at ever increasing pace. 

Just when I thought he couldn't go any faster, his hands clenched at my hips and he came in a series of spasms. Panting like a dog, he fell back on the bed, totally spent once again. 

I lay down on top of him, supporting myself on my arms so as not to squash him, and kissed him on his mouth. He couldn't return the kiss for lack of breath, but he did look at me with intense love. I said: 'You naughty horny billy-goat how did you manage to do that without waking me?' He laughed, getting his breath back reasonably fast, and said: 'Years of experience my dear, years and years of practice.' Then he admitted: 'Actually, you were sleeping quite deeply, it would have taken a lot of effort to wake you. But it was time anyway and this was more fun. Wasn't it?' I had to admit he had brought me to new heights of passion, and I could see he had totally spent himself again. I asked him: 'Do you have to go so deeply, spend yourself so totally each time?' He replied: 'How else will I get my stamina back? I can't go for a good run outside, or go swimming. Maybe helping Paul at the forge will make me a bit more fit.'

But now I had to go to work, so I kissed my bed-partner, thanked him for the ride, showered and dressed in one of my suits. My hair was put up again, and I had a good breakfast. 'Will you go to Paul straight away, or will you sleep some more first?' I asked.

Lukas answered: 'I'll sleep some more, then I'll go, he'll probably interrogate me again, about my country, about my family, maybe even in English, to see how much I have picked up already, but I will go. He can help me fit in, too, and I can help him with his work. I'm looking forward to seeing his workshop, where all those beautiful things are born.'

'Wear clothes, or at least ask him if he is fine with it before you go there naked,' I advised. But he said: 'No, I want to fit in, I'll wear clothes so I get used to them. As long as I can sleep naked and maybe sometimes walk around without trousers in your house, I'll manage.' That pleased me, though I kind of liked him being naked, it seemed fitting for him to walk around as nature intended. I had to go, and I kissed him once more then left. 

On the last stairs I ran into Paul, again, which confused me quite a bit after last night. He seemed more comfortable with me in a suit and my hair put up, and I clearly felt that though he did 'see' me now, he hadn't forgotten how I looked in a dress. 

Good, I wanted him to remember that, I wanted him to lose some inner peace or even sleep over that image. 

I did please me that he wanted to say goodbye to me, for I had not a doubt that he had been waiting for me, listening to hear me on the stairs. I decided to allow myself a hug and a good sniff at him, so I wrapped my arms around him, resting my face against his throat where his shirt opened, and took a nice deep breath. It was wonderful. 

He did feel a bit awkward and tense in my arms at first, but soon he started to lean into me a little. I even got a slightly more than chaste kiss out of him, which was enough for now, I would just have to allow him some time. 

Then I said: 'Please take good care of my billy-goat for me, he's coming over after his beauty-sleep. I'm going on an inspection, I'll be back in the afternoon to do some calculations at home, and then I'm free to do some studying.'

Paul asked me: 'Lunch at my place?' I accepted gladly: 'Please, deliver me from my own cooking!' and off I was.

After a twenty minute walk I arrived on the construction site I was currently inspecting. The building was starting to look quite impressive, after the foundation had been laid the contractors were now putting up the frame of cast iron, fusing it together with huge bolts and some welds. The cast iron construction would be covered with glass panels, shaping an enormous glasshouse in the modern Victorian style. 

My job was to monitor the whole building process for safety, the city council my employer. I would check the architect's calculations, run over his drawings minutely, measure every line put on the building plans and calculate it up to full-scale, then measure it in the field to see if it all added up. I had to check the building materials for quality, all for the good cause of safety.

It was a really responsible job, and a difficult one, not only because of the work itself, but mostly because I was a woman in a man's world. But the contractors knew me and no longer tried to get away with inferior materials or sloppy calculations. They knew I'd spot them and use my authority to stop the build until safety measures were met again. 

I'd had to do that in the past, but no longer. Even new contractors were warned not to fool with me, and though the people whose work I inspected didn't like me, they did respect me, which was good enough. I suppose they didn't like my male colleagues either. 

My superior in the council trusted me in everything, and even liked to talk shop with me, and the work itself was a continual challenge. I could more or less decide what hours to work, was allowed, even supposed, to do the calculations and measurements at home, and I had a lot of leisure time. And the pay was good.

As I passed the temporary gate put up around the building site, the workmen nodded or called 'good morning' to me. They mostly liked me, for inspecting safety measures was also my job, and they knew the risk of accidents was reduced to a minimum on the sites that I controlled, no matter what corners their bosses tried to cut to save a few pennies or hours of construction time. 

In the two days I had been off work they had progressed a lot, the whole metal frame was standing up, and they would be ready to start applying the glass tomorrow. It would take at least a week to cover the building completely, provided the framework was stable enough to start glazing, and it was my responsibility to judge if it was.

So I went to the little cabin that served the architect and the contractors as office for a briefing. All three of them were present, the architect, the contractor that had built the frame and the one who was supplying the glass panelling. 

Whilst we were drinking coffee and talking about the progress of the building and the weather forecasts, the owner came in as well. Now everyone was present, and I started off by telling I had checked every one of their calculations and had found not a single aberration. Today, I wanted to measure the frame against the drawings, to see if the measurements matched the drawings, ensuring it was strong enough to carry the weight of the glass. 

The four men were very confident, and so was I. This lot had not made a single mistake yet, so I expected them to get the rest right as well, but of course I was going to check.