0 comments/ 7938 views/ 0 favorites Mirror of Love By: writelove The phone jarred me awake from the first good sleep of the week. It was Wednesday and already I was feeling myself droop at work. I needed sleep, craved it the way a man crawling around in a desert dreams of a glass of ice water. Creating imaginary worlds was a difficult task and without sleep ... "Hello." My response was loud in the quiet house. "Sorry." The sound in my ear was so soft I could barely understand the words. "I wanted to hear your voice that's all. Is this a bad time to call?" I felt such a strong emotion coming from her, a stranger, someone completely unknown to me. Odd I could sense that. It wasn't anger or rage – perhaps concern. "Not at all. I'm just sleepy. What do you want?" She was silent for a long time, then spoke, again with that voice that barely carried to my speaker. "I saw your name listed and suddenly I wanted to talk to you. It was a crazy impulsive thing, but here I am. I have a question. What did you imagine today?" "Desert worlds. They're hard to build and I get exhausted. I haven't been sleeping well." "What's the name of your story?" "Story? I don't understand?" "Don't you write novels?" I laughed. It might have hurt her feelings, but I couldn't help it. "No dear. I create imaginary worlds. I suppose that's a little like writing novels." "I thought you were a writer for Doubleday? I'm sure I saw your name at the office promo party. It said 'Doubleday – Publisher for the world's greatest authors'" "You got the wrong guy sweetie. I work for Double Day New Worlds Incorporated. We design the best imaginary worlds anywhere. Our worlds never break down and we give a ten year guarantee. You don't see that kind of guarantee any where in the archipelago." "Imaginary worlds?" She said it like a question, but not to me – herself perhaps. "Aren't they like stories?" I smiled. "In a way they're stories, but more real in an imaginary sort of way." She laughed this time, like a crystal chime tinkling. Then I joined her with my own chuckle. "Real in an imaginary way?" she repeated. "How do you do that?" "Use your imagination." She laughed again. "I've got it. You work in an insane asylum." "Oh no. I'm not like them. The insane have almost all been used up by now. I wish I had their talent. Big bucks in that ball game." "Big bucks in insanity. How's that?" "Don't be naïve. You must know about their ability to visualize. I'm just your average loony artist. Nothing too special." She was quiet for several minutes and I thought she had hung up. Then she continued. "I'm confused. I don't understand what you're talking about – imaginary worlds, schizophrenic fantasies. What's going on? The United States of America has none of that stuff." I had never heard of the United States of America but didn't want to offend her or anything. "Of course not. I live in the archipelago. That's what we do here -- make worlds." "But not real ones?" "They're real in people's minds. That's pretty darn real you know. And they're fully interactive; you can't control outcomes. Schizos and artists like me design all the rules." "I'm still confused. I've never heard of the archipelago. Maybe I'm calling long distance." She sighed. "What country are you in?" "Country? No country. It's just a group of islands. That makes it easy to test our worlds." "Everyone has a country. How could you be part of the United Nations if you weren't a country." Something strange was going on and I needed to get to the bottom of it. But later perhaps. For now I wanted to learn more about this strange woman who grew more interesting by the second. "What's the United States of America like?" I asked. "You've never heard of the USA!!" Her voice sounded incredulous.. "Am I supposed to know every two-bit city on the globe?" I wasn't going to admit anything Why should I feel bad if I didn't know her precious city. "It's not a city, it's a country." "There you go again with this country business. Let's talk about things that I know." "What do you know my dear?" Her voice was seductive now almost taunting. "Or do you just like to dream. I can be pretty dreamy too." "Can you now." I thought for a second. "I wish you would dream of being in my world." "Really. What would the dream be?" "We would hold each other, then kiss. Oh how warm you'd be. That is what I imagine most, your warmth. You'd be so warm you'd take off your clothes. I'd be shocked at first, then excited." "Would I excite you – my naked body? It's a short body, and thin so thin. I have small breasts. Do you like small breasts?" "I love them. I would love yours, small and soft. I would kiss them gently rolling the nipples with my tongue." "They're white breasts with dark nipples. I have this white skin as though I've never seen the sun. The hair on my head is dark and long but my other hair is short." "Other hair?" I asked. "You know, the hair you want to touch, to feel, to imagine running your lips and your tongue through. You would excite me terribly. I can tell that your tongue would be so soft." "And what would you do?" I asked. "I'd get wet, all the places you touch, between my legs. I would cry at your touch, want to hold you, to feel you everywhere." "I am tall you know," I said. "So very tall and thin too. My penis would be excited and would be hard like a sausage only so much more stiff. I would want you to touch me." "I would. I would. I would love you, not just imaginary, but for real. I would touch your hardness, let my fingers run up and down the smooth skin. Then I would grab it around my fist, slide it up and down, take the tip in my mouth and suck. My tongue would rest on the tip, pushing down on it waiting for the fist bit of juice to leak out. I would whisk the drip into my mouth with a huge suck of my mouth. I know it would taste wonderful." "It would feel so fine," I said. "I would continue to touch your wetness, the slippery part of you that I caused to happen. I would stick my finger in as deep as I could." "I would cry each time you touched me, scream as your fingers entered me. My juices would poor over your hand." "Then I would lick you," I said. "My tongue would be this dynamo of action, yet not rough, gentle, sweet licks enjoying your softness and the taste of you, drinking deep, holding nothing back, craving more, needing all of you." "And I would straddle you," she said. " My legs would be on either side of yours and I would lower myself onto you. Ah how good you would feel as you slide slowly, inch by inch inside of me. At first maybe you would have trouble entering me all the way." "The tightness would be like a magic glove, no escape from the joy of being inside of you. I would pull out a bit, then push back, out and in until I was completely inside of you." "As you entered me fully, I would cry out my pleasure. My wetness would be a river flowing down on you telling you how much I loved you." "Yes, I'm coming my sweet love. I am about to explode. Yes.. Yes. I .... I ..." "Ah, Ah, Ah. Don't stop. EEEeeeee. This is so good. I am shaking all over. Can't control myself. I jerk back and forth and release this scream like a Panther." "And we collapse on each other and fall asleep, our greatest need satisfied." Several minutes passed with neither of us speaking. Finally, I spoke. "I know one thing. You aren't from this world." "Of course I am," she said in the softest of whispers. "Just in a different country is all." "But we don't have countries in Kaligala." "What's Kaligala?" Now it was my turn to be incredulous. "Kaligala is our world. I live on the archipelago at the southern end. You must know about it. We have those electrical storms that produce the magic energy we need to create our worlds. That's when we do all those fun things, the things you and I want to do with each other." "Never heard of it." "Well, I've never heard of your so called country. Maybe you created it as an imaginary world. Are you schitzo perhaps?" "Certainly not!!" Her voice sounded offended now. "I'd be angry except that I know you're a genuine nut case yourself." "Ha. Ha. I wish I was, but like I said, I'm just your average artist. Why are you phoning this other guy – the one with my name?" "I like his books. They're so real as though he actually lived in the wild places he writes about. He has a new book out called 'Desert Storm." "I've never met any writers. My new world is called Desert Storm by the way. The whole world is made out of sand, and people live on these little islands of trees and water. Water is scarce and like gold. When the wind blows, a big sand storm gets created that often is so strong it can completely cover an island. This guy and girl they love each other, can't get enough of each other. And yet they never actually meet. It's just a virtual connection, no reality. They want to meet but have no way to do so. They each live on a separate island enduring the storm, thinking of each other, knowing that the other exists. They haven't met yet is all." "That's the same as the novel by the other Dan Buford. You didn't steal his idea did you – for your imaginary world. This doesn't make sense at all." "I could've told you that." "What happened?" "Maybe ..." I paused for a moment thinking of the possibilities. "Maybe you punched through to an alternate universe, one where all the rules are different – Kaligala rather than the United States of America." I waited for a response, but received only silence. Then she spoke again. "If, I mean, if that happened, then it must have been caused by something powerful." I thought I heard a choking sound from her end of the phone. Neither of us spoke for several minutes. "If we hang up, it might never happen again," I said at last. "So, this could be the only and last time." "That would be a mess wouldn't it. I'm starting to like you -- in an imaginary sort of way." She laughed softly. "Me too, but definitely imaginary. No reality at all. Reality would involve genuine feelings and I'm sure you have no feelings for me, right?" "Right. No feelings at all. So, let's hang up and forget this ever happened. It was just a dream. We will wake up in a few minutes and laugh about it all unless one of us starts crying first." "Crying. Why would we cry?" "Suppose, we actually have found magic here – true passion." "Sounds imaginary to me," I said sounding harsh, but feeling so different. "I think that sometimes when you want something enough, you find a way even if it is completely crazy and impossible." "And what do you want so badly?" I asked. "You know, because you want it too." That was all she said, before I heard the click disconnecting us. ***************** I finished Desert Storm and started my next world. It fattened my bank account nicely, but I didn't care much for any of that. In fact the next few weeks crawled by in a listless fashion with too much thinking and not enough doing. I always hated days like this when I lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, wishing that sleep would enfold me in its loving arms. Or in the middle of the night, I woke up and just barely remembered what I was dreaming about. It was something important, but I couldn't quite remember. There was a woman in the dream. I was sure of that, but the details were hazy, something about a group of trees with leaves the color of the sun -- orange, red, and yellow. We didn't have trees like that in Kaligala. I stopped visiting my friends and stayed in my small cabin all the time now. I had never been much of a socialite, but now I was even less of one. I worked from the console in my study and ordered my food delivered. The man from Kroger's or Domino's Pizza would leave the food standing on top of my light brown mat labeled "Welcome." When I thought of it, I would slip outside and grab the bundles in their cardboard boxes or paper bags and dump them on the kitchen counter. Sometimes I forgot to put the food in the refrigerator and it would spoil. I bagged it and tossed the bag down the front steps where the garbage man politely picked it up without complaint. I never forgot to shower or dress in clean clothes. I figured that the woman from my dream might call again and tell me how to meet her. I wanted to be ready. In fact, that's all I thought about any more. I wondered what she looked like and what food she ate. I had so much I wanted to tell her, but I knew that I would never hear from her again. And yet, I wondered. Maybe, she would punch through to my world again and we could talk. That's all I wanted -- to simply talk with her. At night I often woke up with my dreams slipping away and I would think of her. She felt close to me as though she were in the room next door. And I would fall asleep again wondering what she was doing. Was she married? What did she do for a living? What did she look like? In the morning the feelings faded fast with the hot sun beating through the windows. My dreams evaporated with the fading mist that always covered the ground in the early morning hours. In the brightness and heat, I felt foolish to think that a phone call from weeks and now months ago was anything more than the idle dreams of a crazy artist. And yet sometimes even during the day I thought of her in a way that was as real and as powerful as the moments of that phone call. It always happened in my bedroom when I was relaxed after taking a shower or when I was about to take a nap. I'd walk past the full-length mirror standing against the far wall and gaze at my reflection. That's when it happened. I'd feel something squeezing my heart, not a painful throttle, but a gentle tugging as though love was teasing me to open my feelings. And I'd always think of her. She had dark brown hair and eyes so black that the whites surrounding them looked like the purest ivory. On my birthday, I stared into the mirror and tears poured down my cheeks. I could feel my shoulders shake and my chest felt as though something were pressing into it like a giant vise. I never thought I was that emotional. Every artist needs a special empathy and imagination to create his worlds, but this was different. It was uncontrollable. I tried to freeze my heart the way I had taught myself when my parents shipped me off to the archipelago years ago at the young age of 17. But, I couldn't do it this time. I felt as though all the pain and sadness from all my years were pouring though my body. I needed to cry and shake and get all that poison out of me. And I had a lot of it stored up. The lostness in a new place without friends or parents; the broken love affairs; friendships betrayed; painful secrets revealed by those I trusted. I had them all locked tightly inside of me like padlocked doors in the house of my heart. And I had never let them out. But, now they poured like a waterfall, uncontrollably. When I came to myself, my knees were pressing into the hard wood floor. I lifted my chin and gazed into the mirror. It looked so deep and real as though it were more than a flat surface. As I looked, it shook with a shimmer as though it were the glassy surface of a calm lake and a small ripple starting at the bottom flowed through it to the very top. And the room was no longer my room but something else, a bedroom like mine but in oak instead of walnut. Someone was sleeping on the bed. It was a woman with brown hair. I couldn't see her eyes, but I knew they were black. I knew my mind was playing tricks on me in a way that was more real than all the imaginary worlds I had created. But I reached out as though to touch her and my hand passed through the mirror. So, I pushed my leg through and then I was all the way through the mirror. I looked back and simply saw my own reflection. A thought stabbed my brain. How would I get back? But I soon forgot about that as I turned to the form curled on a red and white patchwork quilt. I crept closer to the woman until I was standing above her and studying her in silence. She was smaller than I expected, but just as beautiful; not as most people would see beauty, but for me she was perfect. I stared at her for over an hour before she opened her eyes. I recognized the brown hair against the ivory white of her skin, the rising and falling of her chest, the way her bare breasts moved, the legs, short, thin, and so smooth. She was facing away from me, her butt resting against the edge of the bed, a half moon in the shadow of the angled light. As I stared at her, the warmth of the room, the allure of silky flesh encouraged me to remove my clothes. Soon I was as naked as her, standing over her, watching the curve of her breasts cast a shadow against the pale color of her sheets. When she turned and saw me, she didn't say anything, just lay still, gazing at me with a smile creeping over her face. "You look so real this time," she said at last. She lay on her back now, breasts open to my inspection, one leg curled over the other so I could barely see the outline of brown hair. "I am real," I said, my penis rising slightly. She laughed quietly. "In an imaginary sort of way, right?" As her mouth opened I saw her teeth, so white against her ruby lips. I smiled. "No. I'm in the flesh – warm and physical." I kneeled down so my head was just slightly higher than hers. I could smell the sweetness of her breath, the aroma of her body, so feminine, so appealing. "How I wish." She closed her eyes. "You look different though. I don't remember the scar on your nose before." Her breathing slowed and her leg shifted so it lay flat against the other. I could see more of the brown patch between her legs. Her pussy was not visible since her legs were so close together. What lovely legs I thought. White as new snow, smooth, they were like the brushed pictures of some girly rag, not that I'd seen many of those tucked as I was in my little home. "Did you ever find Dan Buford, the writer?" My voice was loud, too loud, and she jerked open her eyes. Black like ink yet deep like a pool of black water inviting me further. I swore they were almost waving at me – jump in the water is fine. "Dan? Oh, right. The other Dan." She rubbed a hand between her legs. "Yes. I called the number the next day. It wasn't you, only the writer. I liked him. He started a new story called 'The Mirror of Love'. It's about a man and woman in love from different dimensions. The man travels through a mirror to find her. They travel in marvelous ways until they find a home for both of them." I took a couple of deep breaths and stuck my hand under my arm to keep it from shaking. "How did they travel?" Her legs moved apart, her hand between them rubbing those mysteries that I wanted to taste, to touch. I could barely see anything, felt funny glancing away with her eyes staring straight into mine – those black pools inviting me further and further forward. Then she spoke. "They went through a mirror. It's like the mirror opposite my dresser." She pointed to where I had come from. Her hand pointing in the air glistened with her juices. "It's a portal into other worlds." "Real worlds?" I asked breathing deeply, smelling the aroma from her fingers. Her hand dove back to the spot under her abdomen, covering the hair that had become matted and wet. "Sure. Of course it's just a story." "Exactly. Where do the lovers find their home at last?" I leaned closer. My mouth was over a breast. She didn't react, simply continued her manipulations between her legs. "AAAAh!!" she said her mouth jerking upward. Her voice was a whisper and as she spoke I could smell her breath, sweet and tantalizing. "I don't actually remember that part. It was some place perfect for both of them. Dan sent me the story and it's in my purse. Should I get it?" Mirror of Love Ch. 02 A man and woman meet through a mirror that connected the United States of America with Kaligala. At the end of part 1 they jump together through the mirror. We splashed out of an orange waterfall. All portals weren't mirrors after all. We arrived as naked as when we left. I should be embarrassed I thought, but I wasn't. I felt at peace as though being naked with this lovely creature was the way life was meant to be. The thought struck me that I didn't even know her name. "Who are you?" "Althea." "Beautiful name for a lovely woman." In Kaligala I would have felt silly or flirtatious to call a naked woman beautiful as though I was trying to seduce her or something. But, I felt different here. I couldn't put my finger on it yet, but in that instant I knew that some basic law of nature had changed. "Let's explore," she said at last. We turned from the waterfall and gazed at the open space that fell away from the ledge where we stood. We were perched at the edge of a cliff high in the air like birds staring down from above. Only we didn't have wings and we needed something to get out of there. Althea slipped her arm around me and I turned to her with a smile enjoying the warmth and softness of her skin. As I stared down at the dizzying ground far below, I could barely make out the objects. Then, things cleared up a little. Some brown specks moved around. The specks grew larger and turned into small rabbits hiding in the long green grasses. I no longer felt dizzy. I could see the water droplets on the rocks below. Everything was so clear now as though I had the most powerful binoculars in existence. I turned so I could speak to Althea, but she had disappeared. A large eagle stared at me from where she had been standing just moments before. I reached out to the eagle and we touched feathers. Then, Althea slipped over the edge, tumbled for a second, and with powerful beats of her wings climbed higher into the sky. Before I knew it, I was beside her, racing with the wind in my face. I liked the way my feathers tickled when we plunged downward, speeding like bullets for the unsuspecting rabbit that ventured a little too far into the tall grass. We flew around familiarizing ourselves with the way the downdrafts grabbed us. I started a contest to see who could fly the highest without flapping wings. We moved them slightly to catch the wind, but the rules allowed no actual flapping. Althea was the best. She had a natural feel for updrafts and quickly caught one that shot her upward. I tried to follow, but by the time I got there, the wind had died and I was left flat winged -- stalled, dead in the air. I languished in the lower altitudes until she had pity on me and returned. She looked very smug with her long claws dangling in the wind, circling slowly downward to where I waited. "Very clever my dear. Or was it beginners luck?" My voice was raspy even for an eagle. "Pure textbook," she laughed. "I saw this island far in the distance in the middle of a sea. It had a tall mountain with eagles circling it." "How could you see so far? That must be ten miles away." "We're eagles remember -- those binocular eyes." She twitched her wing in a way that reminded me of a dark haired woman in a maple bedroom waking up and staring at me with eyes like black holes, deep and deeper, looking into another world. "Let's go check it out then!" So, we flapped our wings in earnest, climbing high in the sky until both of us could see the island. The living land flowed beneath us where the waterfall turned into a river. It sliced through a valley filled with greenery and trees and scurrying animals. I looked down as the river emptied into the blue-green sea. A world of fish lived under the surface and if I was hungrier, I might have stopped for a quick salmon snack, but Althea was single-minded today,her eyes focused on the island ahead of us. Soon, it loomed dark against the green water, its tall mountain slate-black and speckled with white like diamonds against a velvet bedding. Far above the highest peak, five large adult eagles circled as though guarding the island from intruders. That's how I felt as we approached the group and the largest bird sped toward us, its beak scarred from some recent fight. "Ho", the strange bird called. "Who flies there?" "Strangers," Althea responded quickly. "We're newcomers from far away and saw all of you circling round and round." "And what of it?" The stranger's voice was harsh and forbidding. "It's strange -- odd. Eagles don't flock." Inwardly I cringed when Althea said this. Didn't she notice that different rules governed this land. Of course, maybe she did know. Perhaps she was more in tune with things than I was. Maybe it was I who was detached. I thought how I had always been this way, detached and analyzing everything. My greatest desire was to enjoy the moment, the passion, not as a third person, but with complete abandon. And this was not the time to be introspective. The eagle stared at Althea with his beady little eyes glittering as they reflected the orange sun. "Yes, we do flock now. It isn't normal, but these aren't normal times. The Persuader has arrived." "The Persuader?" I responded. He turned his head toward me and shot me with the full force of his glance. "A powerful eagle, completely white, pure like snow. He is changing everything." The strange eagle stopped talking and stared at me unblinking. I felt like turning away from the intensity of his eyes, but knew it would be a mistake. At last, he looked away. "I don't think you are one of them." He was talking more to himself than to us. "They have shifty eyes." "What are you talking about?" Althea's feathers ruffled back and forth as though a strong wind were blowing over them. Was this impatience? Nervousness? I was still learning about her. "The Persuader has an army of eagles now. They are taking over the world. Our island is one of the few safe places left." He glanced past us toward the land we had come from. "They're coming for us. It's just a matter of time." "What's so bad about the Persuader? Does he take your food?" The giant eagle shot me a hard look. "He changes us somehow." He stared away as though deep in thought. "He makes us all do the same things." His eyes no longer focused, but gazed past me. "My brother was large like me and could fly faster and higher than all the other eagles. He would never flock. Not Gabriel. I was so proud of him. "But, the Persuader came and changed all that. Gabriel began to fly with everyone else. He was no longer Gabriel, but something else, a stranger. Even his body seemed smaller somehow." Althea glanced at me before speaking. "I can handle a little mental brainwashing. Sticks and stones and all that. Bring on the Persuader. I'm ready baby." She jerked her wings back and forth which caused her to bounce up and down like a prize fighter dancing around a ring. I started laughing and stopped paying attention until I slipped on a downdraft. Then, Althea laughed. The giant eagle couldn't help himself and a grin slipped across his beak. "That's the way my giant friend," Althea encouraged. "You've got to laugh. The Persuader will never beat a good belly laugh." "How do you know all that?" The grin was gone and his feathers curled above his eyes. "We have him where I come from too." "And how do you beat him?" "Two ways. Laugh and dream." That stopped him. It stopped me too. Athea had truth in her. Its simplicity bowled me over. I stopped moving for a second and just floated in the air. Maybe that was why we connected across time and space. She was just perfect for me. I felt as though I had been searching for this missing puzzle piece all my life and suddenly floating right in front of me was the missing piece -- a perfect connection for my jagged edges. We arrived at the top of the mountain and joined the other circling eagles. Michael, our new friend, introduced us to the group. They were beautiful eagles, not because of nicely colored feathers and abundance of wing strength, but something else that seemed to flow out of them. It was this spirit that each of them had. I had sensed it before with a person or two who I would meet and wonder about, but never this strong. It was as if all the best and most beautiful eagles in the universe were gathered on top of this island preparing to protect all of reality from some age-old evil. The seven of us circled the mountain, around and around, tirelessly waiting. As we circled, my mind wandered in and out and I asked myself if this was real or just my imagination. What was real anyway? Weren't my fantasies and dreams as valuable as the day to day drudgery of sitting in front of a console creating fictitious worlds. "Seven is the perfect number you know," Althea remarked. "I've heard that. How does that apply to us?" I asked. "There are seven of us now. Whatever is going to happen can happen. We are complete, ready to begin." "I'd prefer waiting a while. This Persuader sounds nasty." "Oh no. He isn't nasty," Michael said. "He's like an angel of light -- white and pure. He'll be wonderful. You'll like him, maybe love him. The problem is loving him too much. Then you are no longer yourself." "Eagles flying low from the SouthWest!" a small gray-feathered bird cried out. We watched as the flock approached. It was huge. Hundreds of birds, maybe thousands, flying wing to wing in perfect formation moved toward us like a black ink spot spreading through a paper towel. As they came closer, they flew up into the higher altitudes blocking the sun like an eclipse. A shadow slipped over the island and a darkness covered my heart. But, I had an idea. "Remember the way to fight them!!" I shouted. "Laugh and dream. Dream of a land where each of us can have our own perch with our private ideas and thoughts. No one can tell us how to feel or who to love." "And follow your heart!" Althea's voice boomed before the sound from a thousand wings silenced us. And that's what we did. The darkness covered us and I felt the cold fingers of fear squeeze my heart, but I held on to Althea's tail and I felt another bird hold on to mine and we circled that mountain around and around, seven of us, the perfect number. ***************** I started to dream. I sat at a bar with a friend. We were watching the women pass by. I hated bars and this one more than most. I hated myself for being here. The women were all perfect -- poised, confident, hair in place, smiles frozen around perfectly white even teeth. My friend kept mentioning the nice features of this woman or that one and I smiled politely. I was sure they were all wonderful and their skin would be flawless and they would move with well timed passion. Yet something was missing. I couldn't put my finger on it. I just felt uncomfortable. I stared at the tall man across from me for a moment wondering what made him so different from me. It wasn't his black hair with the white streak down the center. Or the mustache and goatee. It was something else. Something in the way his eyes gleamed as he gazed toward the stream of undulating flesh. It was as though he was here for a completely different reason from me. I was lonely, desperately so. The evenings alone at my console creating worlds of romance and mystery always left me feeling empty. I didn't want an imaginary love no matter how sensual and vivid. I needed the real thing. True love in a bar! The only thing worse would be signing up for those internet romance services. I did that a few times. It always left me with this smoky taste in my mouth, not much different from imagining a steak and yet not quite getting the flavor right. My friend had this habit of clicking his fingernails together. Perhaps he did it when he was nervous. Was his confidence a mere mask to cover hidden insecurities? Or was I thinking too much again. I did that sometimes. It was as if all these waves of feeling and thought poured into my heart and mind. I would feel something and wonder what caused it? Most of the time I couldn't trace the source and assumed my imagination was racing again. But, other times I knew exactly why I felt the way I did. A person across the room wanted to talk to me or was angry with me or a friend on another island was thinking of me. That happened a lot. My mind would grab hold of these powerful thoughts about a friend and then later I would find that my friend had been thinking of me also. The clicking sound annoyed me. I was already tired of this place and wished to leave. "Check out the blond at 1 o'clock." He liked giving directions according to the face of the old analog clocks that existed only in museums now. The blond was attractive. I was sure of that. Bret Hammond wouldn't have said that if it wasn't true. Yet I felt nothing. I yawned. "She certainly has a nice tan and slender legs," I responded politely. "Go over and ask her to dance." He nudged me with his elbow. "Why don't you?" "I'm not the one who won't leave his cabin unless his best friend drags him to a bar." "There must be a better place to meet people than here." Bret started laughing. "Right!! You mean at work. You could meet someone at work. Click on your consol at the people icon and start talking. Make an imaginary lover just for yourself. Don Buford the great master of imaginary worlds makes the perfect woman." He continued laughing quietly to himself. "But, it's so sudden. All these people. I don't know them at all. It takes time to know people." "Of course it does. But, ya' gotta start somewhere, right?" "What do I say?" "Anything you want. But, you must follow the first commandment of love." "What's that?" "Never tell the truth." "What!!" "Women don't want to know the truth. They want a fantasy. Tell them you're a doctor or a lawyer or an airline pilot -- something exciting or dangerous is best." "And why do I do all of this?" "So they want to be with you. They'll laugh and titter away and maybe come home with you. When they find out you're not a doctor, you can find someone else." He laughed again. "It's great fun." "A smart woman would see through all that. What would I gain anyway?" Bret put his glass mug down on the table with a splat as a puddle of beer squirted into the air. "You get a moment of forgetfulness is all. That's all you ever get. A small slice of time when you don't feel alone anymore." He was staring into the crowd with his eyes wide and glassy as if he had had too much beer. I knew otherwise. I reached out and touched his arm. "Maybe, we can make a true connection. Perhaps our hearts can actually care for another and be loved in return." "I thought that once. I was a bigger fool than you in those days. No longer. Never again. Never give all your heart. It is the second commandment of love." "You're a regular rule book on love. Any others?" "One more. Never love too long." "So that's love is it? Lie, hold back, and run when it's hard." "No. Being hard is good." Bret started laughing and then tried to drain his already empty beer mug. ***************** Then I was back with the eagles, my dream completed. The armada of birds hovered over the island, almost blocking the sun from our view. A large white one separated from the rest. Accompanying him was a second even larger bird. I waited for Michael to speak. "This is our home. Please return to where you came from." Michael's voice cracked. "We don't want your kind here." "What do you mean our kind?" The white eagle had a pleasant voice. I watched him closely. He was completely white except for a black streak along the top of his head. He didn't bob up and down the way Michael did, but floated in the air, motionless and still. I wondered how he could do that without moving his wings. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to play mind-games on us." Michael snapped the words out, barely moving his beak. "Not at all." The white eagle smiled peacefully as he clicked his claws together. "You don't have to listen to anything I tell you. I am not going to hurt you. I just want you to realize that your life can be so much happier." "What do you mean?" The Persuader's claws clicked like an old grandfather clock, louder and louder and I had trouble concentrating. They reminded me of something from long ago, but I couldn't remember. "You're already so wonderful." His smile increased. "I don't even need to say much. It's as if your hearts already know how you should feel. You can join us if you want or stay here." He raised a wing into the air. "Peace be with you my brother." "I'm no brother of yours." Michael's voice had an edge to it. "I'm onto your mind games. What do you think we are doing that's so great?" The white eagle grinned in a way that showed the inside of his mouth. "You're flocking together. You no longer stand alone. You care for each other. You work for a common purpose. It's so wonderful to see the caring and love you show." He waved a wing at the thousands of eagles. "Like all of us. We all work together. We're a team." "He's right," said the large eagle, flying in place beside his white leader. "Gabriel," Michael addressed the other eagle. "You're my brother. Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Michael paused in mid-air as if contemplating the thoughts swirling around him. I was thinking about it also. The white eagle had a valid point. Eagles, like people were stronger together. Yet, something bothered me. I couldn't quite identify it. Perhaps the white eagle was lying about this new togetherness. Maybe it was just a ploy until he had more power. "I'm positive," Gabriel replied. "I broke my wing last week. See it's still bent." He waved the hurt wing. "I couldn't hunt and would've died, but all the other eagles helped me. I would've starved if it hadn't been for the Savior. He's the coming king from beyond time to heal our pain and suffering." I had waited long enough. "I see a problem with all this togetherness." They all looked at me. The white eagle flew over and floated directly in front of my face looking into my blues eyes with his gray ones. They were soft eyes, like water. An eagle could fly into those eyes and stay there forever. I wanted to do that. "What's bothering you my friend?" His voice was soft, silky soft. "Don't you want to love and be cherished in return?" "Of course I do." I hadn't meant for my voice to sound so harsh. "I just want to know who decides what we all do in our new togetherness. Can I decide for all of us?" "I'm sure your ideas are wonderful. We all want your input." The white eagle smiled at me. I tried to make my voice as liquid and soft as his. "Thank you. You're so kind." Then, I shouted to the thousands. "How beautiful is our togetherness. How wonderful that we have each other." I glanced at the white eagle. He was beaming. So, I continued. "We have so much to give. Let's search our hearts and find that one thing we crave more than anything else. Do you want to fly higher? Do you want to skim over the ocean and admire the colors reflected by the orange sun? Do you want to sing songs? Do you love another eagle and want to find her? My friends, follow your heart's desire. Let's do it together. Let's stop our calm beating of wings and find our passion. Follow your passion. Follow your heart." The white eagle was no longer smiling. The feathers above his gray eyes curled. His eyes blazed into mine as though he wished a mere look could destroy. Then, he rose high into the air and disappeared. The other eagles began to disperse. Some flew high into the air. Others dove toward the water to catch fish. One began this loud cawing sound that reminded me of chalk scraping against a blackboard. Was that an eagle song I wondered? My ears were still too human to handle such harmony. Mirror of Love Ch. 02 Althea and I flew across the ocean toward the waterfall portal. It was time to leave this strange world. We changed into our human bodies moments after reaching the ledge. We gazed one last time at the world we were leaving and noticed a bird flying toward us. It was the white eagle. He became human as he landed. "Bret!" I exclaimed. His eyes darkened and he clenched his fists. "You're a meddler Dan." "Maybe," I replied. "Perhaps I don't like the first commandment of love." Althea and I leaped into the waterfall. ***************** We crashed against a wooden floor. My head hit something and a black cloud covered my eyes. I didn't know how long I lay unconscious. Opening my eyes, I saw Althea kneeling over me with brows forming a hood around her eyes. I smiled and her face brightened. I pushed away from the wooden planks and pulled a splinter out of my left hand. Looking behind me I saw the portal -- a large black and white painting of a man and a woman. They looked exactly like us. This adventure was becoming stranger and stranger by the minute. We were no longer naked. I was dressed in jeans and a checked flannel shirt. A large brimmed cowboy hat pushed over my head. Around my hips were a pair of shiny colt revolvers. Althea was dressed in equally odd attire. A long dress folded over her legs and knees, sprawling over the floor. It reminded me of pictures of a quilt I had seen in an old slide reel from the past. But, it was different somehow. It had no color. All the lines were black and white. Something odd was happening. Once again the normal laws of Kaligala were modified. I had an uneasy feeling about this place. "Let's explore!" Althea said staggering to her feet. She gathered her purse. It was the same shape and size as the one she had carried when she left her bedroom a lifetime ago, but this one was leather instead of cloth. And black with little white lines crisscrossing it. "This must be a dining room," I said. "I can hear some voices from over there." I pointed to a door at the far end of the room. We crept over to the door and I pressed my ear against it. I heard laughter, tinkling of glass, and the scrape of moving chairs. Slowly I turned the large metal door-knob. It needed oil and squeaked loudly. As a crack of light appeared, I gazed into a large room filled with round tables and chairs. Men sat around the tables with bottles and glasses. A few women dressed in low-cut dresses sat on the laps of various men. Directly opposite my door-crack was a huge mirror. It seemed out of place in the drab and musty room. I wondered how anyone could have fit it though the small swinging doors that led to the outside. A long counter of wooden planks stretched along the entire length of the mirror and stools lined against it. Several men sat at the stools, hunched over the dark counter-top. "You're a damn liar! You bastard." The voice was loud and came from the far corner of the room. A huge man stood up, five worn and dirty playing cards in his greasy hand. The man had a huge mane of black hair falling around his face in a way that made him appear like a lion. When he shook his head, the hair bounced up and down and fell across his cheeks. We saw his face as he towered above a table, his eyes resting steady and cold on a smaller man. The sound of chairs moving and feet pounding grew louder as people raced to the side of the room or out the swinging doors. A quiet descended on the room. The lion-man and his smaller opponent had the place to themselves. Keeping his hands in full view, the smaller man slowly slid his chair back and stood up. He backed up until 20 feet separated the two. They stood motionless for a long time, hands still. "I never lie," the smaller man said. His voice was quiet and I could only hear it because of the silence that had filled the room. "You're a liar and a coward." "And you're a dead man -- a big fat stupid dead man." I couldn't see the front of the smaller man as he spoke these words, but the effect on the giant was obvious. His dark face paled and his hands shook. The playing cards slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor. I had never witnessed violence before. All my imaginary worlds had elements of danger, but never so raw and deadly. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. It was probably a dream and I was lying peacefully in a bed somewhere. Soon, I would wake up and everything would begin to fade and in a few minutes I wouldn't remember any of it. But, it felt so real. Yet barbaric. It never happened like this except in stories and dreams. The large man's hand moved. As if by magic, a gun appeared in the hand of the smaller man. The end blossomed with a flash of light and the large man staggered backward as if an invisible rope jerked him. Two inches below his right pocket, a dark mark appeared. A dark stain spread down the front of his shirt. He fell to his knees and his head hit a chair with a thud before clunking down against the floor. It was over. The small man gathered some money from the table and after stuffing it in his pocket, he walked slowly to the swinging doors. Then he was gone. "I'll be back!" I yelled at Althea before racing across the room and through the doors. I couldn't see him at first. Then, I saw a man in a leather coat turn a corner into an alley. I followed. When I rounded the corner, I saw him leaning against a building. He was coughing and something spilled from his mouth. As I neared the man, the sweet bitter smell of vomit hit me. I put my handkerchief to my nose. The motion alerted him and he spun toward me with his hand on his gun. "Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to startle you." "What do you want?" The man wiped his mouth using a white handkerchief clutched in his left hand. His right hand rested casually over his revolver. I wasn't sure what to say. He looked at me with this calm expression, but I could feel the tension that lay just under the surface. "I don't know what I want. I've never seen anyone killed before." I paused for a second. "I guess I wanted to meet you to see how it felt." "Well, now you know, don't you." His face twisted into a grin. "The great Jack Slaughter throws up after every killing. Can't stand the sight of blood." I noticed such sadness in his eyes. "And there's more too. Sometimes, I want to simply run away and leave town, but I never do." His eyes had a glassy expression as he continued. "I dream of them sometimes. I see this long line of people walking down a path lined with flowers -- gray flowers. For some reason the flowers are always gray. And the people are those I've killed. They stare at me, not with anger or anything, but with no expression at all. It drives me mad. I want them to show their anger, but they show nothing, nothing at all." He grabbed my shirt and twisted it. "If I killed you, wouldn't you hate me?" "Maybe the world of the dead has different rules." "What do you mean, different rules." "I'm talking about the way things look." He gazed into the air without focusing. "Yes, everything did look different. The flowers were gray." His face became excited. "And the faces, the dead faces, they were gray too. I wonder what it all means." "I don't know," I said. "Can I buy you a drink or something?" He smiled and laughed softly. "You owe me a drink all right. I've never told anyone these kinds of things before." He stared at me for several minutes. "Maybe, I'm losing my edge talking like this to a complete stranger. There is something very different about you." We walked back to the saloon. As I pushed through the swinging doors, my stomach knotted up. Althea stood against a wall, a tall cowboy pushing against her. Her blouse was gone, her breasts bare to the gaze of all the onlookers. Her skirt was lifted in the air and a dark hand had slipped between her panties. I raced over to the pair and pushed the man's hand away. "Leave her alone," I said. He turned toward me, his mouth slightly open revealing dark teeth. His face looked like the surface of the moon with pock-marks and scars. "I saw her first. A woman comes in here she's fair game." "She's with me." "Not for long creep." He shoved a hand against me and I fell sprawling. Slowly I got to my feet. The cowboy watched me without moving. As I stood there motionless, a warmth spread through me. It started at my feet and hands and moved toward my heart and then up to my head. My hands tingled and my head throbbed as if every pulse of my heart was a sledge hammer pounding my temples. I glanced down at my hands. They were shaking. I could feel moisture gather on my forehead and trickle down into my eyes. I had never felt such anger before. I wanted to leap at this vermin, this pestilence against mankind, this small speck of irritation that needed to be squashed. The thought of leaping at his throat appealed to me until I remembered the shiny colt revolvers strapped to my waist. I eased my hands slowly toward my weapons. His eyes narrowed and he opened large claw-like hands above his guns. "Get out of the way!!" I shouted to Althea. She slid along the wall toward a stairway leading to the second floor. Others moved as well until the cowboy and myself were standing alone in the center of the room. I was eager to get this over with. I had quick reflexes, but had never fired a gun before. How did you do that? I thought that I needed to pull the hammer back and squeeze the trigger. Of course, I would need to get it out of my holster with blazing speed. I was thankful Jack Slaughter wasn't facing me. I recalled his speed and accuracy. This was no game, but the real thing. I needed practice or something. The tall man facing me looked slow, but he had probably been in a fight before. I needed an edge, something to give me a break. My anger was no longer boiling and overflowing, but was cooler like a white-hot lance about to stick this bozo in the heart. I planned my moves carefully. I would leap sideways as I drew my gun. That might startle him enough so I could get a shot off. At these distances any shot should be accurate enough. But I needed more. "Have you ever been gut-shot?" I tried to keep my voice calm and matter-of-fact as if I talked like this all the time in my many past gunfights. He didn't say anything as his eyes narrowed to slits. He was breathing hard, but so was I. "It's painful. I remember once seeing a man gut-shot. He cried and screamed for over an hour before he finally died." I gave the rock-for-brains a smile of pleasure. If he only knew the terror in my heart. "That's what I'm going to do to you. I love watching a man squirm in pain. Everyone will see what a coward you are, a coward who can only hurt women and not real men." His hands shook like limp spaghetti noodles. I'd gained my edge. It was time to make my move. "Hold it, all of you!!" The sound boomed across the empty saloon from the direction of the swinging doors. The bone-head and I both turned toward the voice. A man stood against the doorway with the light shining through his hair. He had a bright star pinned to his left pocket and a double-barrel shotgun resting in the crook of his arms. He was Bret Hammond. "We can't seem to leave each other alone, can we," I said. "Unfortunately true. Only this time I'm completely in charge." His smile reminded me of that time long ago when we were at the bar in Kaligala and still good friends. "You won't have a chance to mess things up today," he said. "What is your plan now," I responded. "I'm the sheriff this time and plan on establishing law and order. I don't want any loose cannons flying around." His smile fell and his cheeks crinkled up. Fan lines spread out toward his ears behind a pair of watery eyes. "You must think I'm too controlling. But, I only do it for others." He began that nasty clicking of fingernails again. I wondered if he did that when he lied. It was certainly better than growing a nose. He waved a hand around the room with people still plastered against the walls. "This world is too wild with the drunkenness, fistfights, gunfights, and whore-mongering. I can make a difference." He stared intently into my eyes. "Can't you see that Dan?" "But is the price worth it?" "What do you mean?" He touched my shirt and whispered. "You were always so cryptic." "You need to search your heart Bret. That's all I can say." He gave me a look of disgust and stomped out of the swinging doors. As he left, I felt as if I was waking from a dream. People began to filter back into the room. I grabbed an old black-and-white checkered tablecloth, wrapped it around Althea and left the room. Slowly, I led her up the stairs to the back room where we had originally appeared out of the waterfall. I spread an old Indian blanket on the floor and laid Althea on top of it. A couple of puffy quilts were crumpled in the corner, almost unused, clean. Soon I had them positioned under the blanket. Her blouse was torn and useless. "I'm going to look for some clothes," I told her. A nearby room was empty. It was a woman's room with a closet filled with clothes, mainly the garish kind used by entertainers of lonely men. However there was one black shirt with white vertical lines that looked to be Althea's size. After examining my pockets and finding some money, I left a handful on the table as payment. Soon I was back in the room with Althea. She was sound asleep, so I curled up against her, my arm over her waist. I touched a breast, a mere grazing of finger tips to soft flesh. Lightly I slid my fingers over her skin, stopping at the nipple to gentle circle it with thumb and first finger. A soft moan came from her lips. I reached my hand and unbuckled her belt, then slipped her jeans over her hips and off her legs. Quietly, so as not to wake her, I removed all my clothing as well. Nestling up against her, I slid my hand over her hips and down her legs. Bringing my hand back up to her hips, I curled my fingers along the edge of her panties. That was all she wore so I slid them down and over her. Now we were both naked, lying in spooning position, my penis hardening just below her buttocks in the mysterious region where her legs met. Grasping her breast in my hand, the softness of her back was warm on my chest. My penis pushed against her, feeling a growing wetness. As I pushed into her, I felt the penis slide into her just an inch. I continued to rub my fingers over her nipples while slowly moving my hips back and forth. Slowly I wormed my penis farther inside of her. I slipped my hand between her legs and stroked her just above where my penis was embedded inside her. There was a small bump there, her pleasure center. I knew about this, had touched her there once before, in her bedroom. We were in a strange place, around strangers, and yet she was still irresistible. My penis was now two inches inside of her sliding easily in and out. Her groans were loader now with little whimpers each time I pushed my self inside of her. As the juices flowed out of her pussy, I slid my penis further inside of her. Then I felt her push back against me and I slammed all the way into her. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world. I simply lay there for several minutes, my hardness quivering inside the tightness of her pussy. Her clasp was firm and I felt as though I would come any second simply by the rhythms of her muscles squeezing me. I continued my movements -- in and out. Her groans were louder and with eyes wide open, she turned toward me, placed her arms around me, her leg over my hip. I felt her hand guiding me to her and then I was inside again, shoved tightly against her pelvis. She slid over me so her breasts were against my chest, her pussy pressed tightly against me, her lips open and succulent against mine. Our juices mingled, tongues entwining. Taking the initiative, she arched her back and pushed against me. My penis was deep inside her now. I knew I would come any second now. But she was first. "Ahhh," she cried. "I love you so." I shot my load into her just as her cries reached their loudest point. Quivering with her release, she sank at last against my chest, quiet at last, spent of passion and desire. Minutes later, I slipped out from under her, dressed, left the room, and quietly crept down the stairs. When I reached the main tavern itself, I paused just inside the doorway. The stools at the bar were full. A man pounded out a festive tune on the piano. The tables were filled with groups of men with chaps and spurs -- cowboys. There were some guys with hard hats, corduroy pants, caulk boots. I felt a tug on my arm. "You gonna buy me that drink?" I smiled down at Jack Slaughter. "Sure. Don't want to be called a liar or anything. Then we'd need to fight to the death, right?" He returned the smile. "Nah. I'm too curious about you. Want to know all about our kindly sheriff. You seem to know him from somewhere." A few minutes later, I sat at one of the round tables next to Jack. A dark bottle of undefined poison sat in front of me. I had a tumbler filled with the brew clutched in my hand as did Jack. Tilting his head back he tossed the liquid down his throat. I took a sip. "Aach!!" I exclaimed. Jack laughed. "You need to get used to this stuff. Won't be a proper member of the community otherwise." Soon after this,. Althea joined us, a bit groggy perhaps but still as beautiful as ever. I wondered if her juices had sopped up her panties. Turning to her, I asked, "Don't you want some of this elixir? It'll relax you or kill you. I'm not sure which." She shook her head and leaned against my shoulder. Her smell was pleasant like flowers, probably from that country of hers -- USA. "If your friend hadn't shown up, you'd be dead now." Jack's mouth was firm and his lips puckered forward. "You have no idea about fighting. But, you're a game one. Stupid, but brave." He smiled. "Now tell me about Bret Hammond. He showed up around a month ago and took that sheriff job. Seems decent -- fair, but tough. You don't like him -- why?" I wasn't sure how to answer his question. I didn't want to meddle with this world. I was just passing through. I'd find a home for Althea and myself somewhere else. "He doesn't want you to feel," I said at last. "I don't understand. He said you were cryptic. Are you doing that now?" "It's hard to explain. Certainly, this town is dangerous and should be safer. But wildness and freedom can be very good." Jack lifted the dark bottle. "You've been drinking too much of this rot gut. You've gone completely loony on me." I waved my arm. "See the walls. They aren't black with little white lines now. See them changing. They're becoming gray like your dream." He glanced around us and then looked into his empty glass. "I wonder who is really crazy." He poured himself another drink. I put my arm around Althea. I was so very tired. I wanted to go home only I had no idea where home was -- not here, not Kaligala, not the USA. Maybe only in my imagination. "Where is the portal my love?" I asked her. She pointed toward the mirror with her chin. "Ever seen a mirror that big before. It's got to be the doorway home." "Doorway to what I wonder?" Jack mumbled. "You guys are the strangest I've ever seen. Talking about things no sane man would ever think about." Althea pulled me toward the mirror. We slipped behind the bar and tried to push our hands through. We tried doing it together -- nothing. Separately -- nothing. Finally, we returned to the table where Jack was still mumbling about portals and doorways and gray walls. We slumped against each other for a long time listening to Jack talk about the good old days when life was so much better and young punks weren't so gun crazy. Then, this idea popped into my head. Mirror of Love Ch. 02 My idea was crazy, but it might just work. "Do you still have that story from Dan Buford at Doubleday books? Didn't you put it in your purse?" It was at the very bottom, wadded up but still readable. Althea scanned the pages at the end. "The two lovers find a heart shaped pond and dive into it," she read. Now we were getting somewhere. I shook Jack's arm and he stared at me with this dazed expression. "Is there a pond or lake near here shaped like a heart?" I asked. "Yesh there ish. I'll help you find it." He staggered to his feet. "Everything ish spinning." He plopped back down and lay his head on the table. Soon we could hear him snoring. We left the saloon and wandered toward the edge of town. An old man at the horse barn pointed down the road. We followed the dusty trail for a couple of miles. The pond wasn't a perfect heart shape, but close enough. We jumped into the water, clothes and all. Mirror of Love "No. That's fine. Continue what you're doing. We'll get it later." "Right. As if a dream is going to stick around for later." "I'm not a dream. I'm real. I can prove it to you." "How? By disappearing like all the other times?" "No. By this." I reached out and touched her breast. It was warm and she immediately grabbed my hand and pressed it to her lips. I slid onto the bed against her buttocks. She moved over to make room for me. Pressing my penis against her butt, I wrapped my arms around her, my hand over her breast. "You're real all right," she said. "And I won't let you go." She held my hand firmly against a breast. "I don't want to go," I said rubbing a nipple with my fingers. She didn't respond, content to hold my hand against the soft flesh of her mammary. Finally, she spoke. "How did you get here?" "Through the mirror." "Like the story?" "Yup. Just like the story." I laughed. "If we want to complete the tale properly, we need to do something to connect us forever." "Like what, make babies?" She had turned toward me, her chest exposed to my stare. Slipping an arm around her, I pulled her toward me. Her breasts lay against my chest, one of her legs over mine. My penis twitched against the softness of her stomach. With eyes wide open staring into her black ones, my lips touched her softer ones. They opened and my tongue entered with a tentative taste. As her tongue twisted around mine, I slid my arm around her to stroke her bottom. Her mouth tasted like milk mixed with something wild, a taste I couldn't exactly identify. I continued to stroke her buttocks, sliding my hand over the curves upward along the small of her back. My touches were light, probing the folds of her skin upward to her shoulder blades and then to her neck. Moving down again, I slid the palm of my hand over her skin. Upon reaching her buttocks, I held fast to one soft cheek and pulled her toward me. "At some point we will need to jump back into the mirror." "Now?" "Absolutely. This is our one chance I think. We only get a few magic moments to change our lives forever." "But you feel so good," she said. "Please just hold me a moment longer." So I did. I closed my eyes. My hand was over her breast, my fingers rubbing her nipples. I moved it down over the smoothness of her stomach until I felt the brief tickle of her hair. Such thin hair, not the bushy type but fine like silk and sparse as though she had shaved it at one time, let it grow back, but had not had the chance to do so recently. Or perhaps that was simply the way it grew. She was on her back now. I slid downward, my mouth on first one breast then the other, encircling the nipples with my tongue. While sucking on her breast, my tongue continued to roll around her nipples. Little gasps arose from her mouth. She arched her back, grabbing mine with both hands, her fingernails digging into my skin. With my tongue hanging below my mouth, I let the tip lightly touch her skin sliding downward across her chest to her belly button. A few moments of encircling her lovely indentation and I moved further downward. Meanwhile my hands were busy caressing the curves of her sides as they angled toward her hips. Her stomach tasted a bit salty, but oh so soft and the hair below was like silk. I had never tasted a woman with hair so soft. My chin was digging into her pussy and she arched her back pressing herself deeper and deeper into the end of it. Then my tongue was into her, tasting her wetness. I pulled out of her and began to rub the base of her clit with my tongue. Lowering my mouth, I encircled her little nub with my lips my tongue flicking the tip with slow easy movements. "OOOOh," she cried. "It feels so good. Don't stop." Swiveling over me, her mouth moved toward my penis like a magnet to a piece of metal. As she moved, I held fast to her hips so as not to lose my connection to the sweetness of her nether lips. And then she had fastened onto my penis. I wasn't sure exactly what she was doing but it felt as though the tip of my hardness was pushing against the back of her throat. Then her lips slid over it so that I could feel the air from the room. Moments later, they slid back. With a bounce my tip hit that back part of her throat again. She repeated the process several times to the point where I thought I would come. As if she knew, she suddenly stopped the motion, her mouth fastened like a sock on a foot two sizes too big. Her tongue stopped its motion. My quivering subsided. Still locked onto the full length of my manhood, her tongue began to move over and around me. Then a sucking motion gripped me, then subsided, gripped me then subsided. "Ahhh," I cried, my penis quivering again. I would be shooting my cream into her mouth at any moment. I didn't want that. I wanted her sweet pussy. So I pulled my mouth off her, disconnected from hers, laid her on her back and positioned myself. Slowly I eased into her. She was small, quite small, yet I slid in easily, only it was tight, gripping me firmly. I moved back out of her, just an inch, then pushed in again. I performed the same action several times over and over, just an inch in and then an inch out. Then I pushed in a bit further, out again, in further, then out. Bit by bit, I entered her further and further until I finally felt my pelvis reach hers. I could go no further. Her eyes were closed now. A soft sound escaped her lips. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray." She kept repeating those words over and over but so softly I could barely understand the words. My in and out action was now stronger. I was pulling myself almost all the way out of her before slamming back in as far as possible. My hands were under her buttocks, pulling her to me as I pushed back to her. We pushed and pulled feverishly as though we could do nothing else. A frantic desperation gripped me. I had never experienced anything like this before. I was no longer this tender lover, but totally consumed by my need. I smashed into her with a force that caused a grunt to escape her lips. Yet she was equally frantic, gripping my back with those long fingernails, sliding them against my skin, digging them into me as I dug my penis into her. "AAHHHGGG," she screamed, convulsing against me. "Oh baby," I sighed as I shot into her. We lay exhausted on the bed. I dozed off. She slipped away but returned soon after that, fully dressed, in blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. Upon waking, I dressed as well. Then I took her soft hand in mine and approached the mirror. It didn't have the ripple motion I had seen before. I tried poking my hand through, but the surface was hard as glass. My dream love tried to push her hand through with the same result. "Maybe, we need to do it together," I said at last. Holding her hand in mine I pushed into the mirror. Then we lifted our feet and slipped through the opening that had suddenly appeared.