"The Two-Way Mirror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grayson Roger)

Chapter 1

It was June 6th, her ex-husband's birthday; Karen Wilson awakened with a start and almost immediately fell into a state of depression. In fact, she had slept fitfully, the darkened hours measured in short, fleeting nightmares in which she kept seeing Jeff's bloodied face in death where he had fallen from an enemy shell; she had cried off and on throughout the night. It had been horrible. Now, she wondered where he was, if he was all right. He had been discharged when his tour of duty was up, that much she knew… and that was all she knew about him.

Eighteen months we've been separated… divorced… good Lord, is it possible…?

The lovely young girl swung from her bed naked, her long blonde hair an entangled mess from her sleepless rolling and tossing. She crossed the room to her vanity, her perfectly round and full buttocks quivering slightly with the movement; she ran a brush quickly through her lengthy, silken, honey-colored tresses. The raising of her arms lifted her firm and lushly copious, high-set, widely spaced breasts to a regal state, their rose-tipped nipples distending sensitively as she watched in the mirror before her. Strange, she meditated, how the mere thought of him could arouse her this way, yet when they had been together she had invariably frozen up…

He is twenty-five today, two years older than me… We would've been married two years… I-I wonder if he ever thinks of me…?

Subconsciously, she noted her slender waist and the way it flared into round, attractive hips. Her shape pleased her. Her stomach was flat and smooth as it should be, and her thighs were long, full-swelling, as did her calves taper admirably into thin, well-formed ankles. There was nothing fraudulent about her body, she thought proudly, no pads necessary, no defacing blemishes… and the soft golden down that sparsely covered her pubic mound denoted her natural complexion. The term divorcee did not fit her, she thought bitterly.

She picked up her robe, slipping into it, then looked closer into the mirror. Her eyes were swollen and puffy. She poked at the little bags beneath them irritably with a long slender finger…

Beautiful, laughing hazel eyes, he used to tell me…

Thank God, she didn't have to walk into some classroom looking this way. She tossed down her brush and went to the bedroom window. A typically hot and smoggy Los Angeles summer's morn greeted her. It was 6:30; she hoped she might get some writing accomplished, if only a page or so, before the temperature reached the unbearable point in the little apartment, but she was in such a hellish, downcast mood. The stupid manager hadn't repaired her air-conditioning unit as yet, and she doubted that it would be done today. June 6th, her Jeffrey's birthday… God, how she missed him… and loved him… Happy birthday, darling… wherever you are…

She sighed resignedly, and dabbed at a swelling tear. It was going to be a miserable day.

In passing through the small living-room on her way to the kitchenette, her typewriter and the cluttered array of papers around it caught her eye. It glared back at her… an ogre, seemingly challenging her determination.

"Go to hell," she snapped aloud at the mechanical monster, setting about to make herself a cup of instant coffee. "I've beaten you before and I'll do it again."

She spooned the dehydrated powder into a cup and drew hot water from the tap. Why hadn't Karl Fletcher contacted her? She had given him the manuscript over a week ago, and he was to call and give her his evaluation the moment he finished reading it and he'd seemed more than just a little anxious to be of service, too. She found herself smiling. Of course, his enthusiasm hadn't fooled her. She had felt his little fish eyes raking her up and down… almost sensed his fat, sweaty hands touching her cringing flesh a half dozen times when they had ridden up on the elevator together. But that was before she had learned he was a literary agent and had gotten up the courage to approach him.

"Why, I had no idea you wrote, Miss Wilson," he had said, drenching her in his jowly grin and wiping perspiration from his naked, fringed pate. "Imagine that, a writer and an agent living in the same building…"

Some phenomenon, Karen mused, dropping into a living room chair, her robe falling partially open to reveal the slightly tanned flesh of a smooth rounded thigh. All the same, she hadn't told him of the half-dozen rejections the book had brought her so far, only of her scant, now-and-then magazine credits, implying that she made her living at it. Well, she hadn't really lied about that; it was her only earned but thank God for the small annuity her parents had arranged for her before their horrible auto accident last year.

After all, she wasn't exactly destitute or without an active means of livelihood; she always had her teaching credential that she could rely on… even though she had never used it. Her ambition as far back as she could remember had been' to write. Teaching had been something to fall back on, in case the need should ever arise, and so far it hadn't, but there had been many discouraging days after Jeff had gone and before the income her parents had left her. Now, she was determined, by hook or by crook, and she was beginning to believe that one more often made it by "crook" rather than ability.

How many times had Jeff said, It isn't what you know, honey, it's who you know.

Whom, darling, she would correct… damnit, there she went again. Jeff, Jeff, Jeff! He haunted her sleep and tortured her when she was awake. Her brain reeked with his memory! Damn him to hell, anyway! She bolted to her feet and went to the cupboard for the half-emptied bottle of bourbon. She was going to need something this day and there was no question about that. There, she was crying again… She spiked her coffee stiffly, watching through blurred eyes, then drank half of it, feeling it burn all the way down into her belly. She went back to her chair and fell into it, wiping at her eyes once more.

She could curse him all she liked, she thought, biting at her perpetually pouting lower lip… but it hadn't been his fault, had it? Face it, Karen, you blubbering little fool, if it hadn't been for your insane frigidity you would be together at this moment! Go on, face it! Think back and think hard!

That's right, open your mind… remember those soft, balmy summer nights when you were going together?… two whole years you teased and taunted him with your body… wanting him as badly as he did you… leading him on to that near impossible stopping point, until he would be almost out of his mind with desire… and then, your morals would gurgle up into your throat… prudistic bile… the molten transmutation of a too severe, religious upbringing, until in horrified repugnance you would fend him off… and only because he loved you… because he respected you… had he reluctantly given in.

Oh God, it was inevitable! She realized that now… had for a long time… It was following a dance and they'd both had too much to drink. Graduation was only a month away and they planned to be married the week after. Already, Jeff had a place in a small office of architects who were handling some veteran housing projects for the government. It was a magnificent start for him, and she would be able to write. They'd bath been so happy; had thought or talked of nothing else but their life together and the home Jeff was going to design and build for them. Karen smiled softly to herself as she remembered.

That night they had gone to their usual secluded, private parking place, climbing into the back seat where they would have room for their limited nature of love-games. They'd never gone all the way, but Lord knows, it was getting more difficult for her to control him, especially with her own passion and need just about driving her wild. Things had been getting further out of hand at every session, and probably if it hadn't been for her over-scrupulous determination to bring her virginity to their marriage bed she would've long before given in to him. Their friends were all enjoying each other to the fullest, they both knew, and that hadn't helped matters. He constantly badgered her with that until finally she had conceded to the gentle caresses of his hands beneath her blouse, undoing her bra and handling her naked breasts, kneading and massaging them into a vibrant, hard-rippled throbbing, setting her whole hungry body aflame with desire.

Perhaps, it was what they had drunk that night, rather than the amount, or maybe, it was just inevitable… but suddenly, he had taken her left breast into his mouth, his lips encompassing the entire aureole, his tongue playing maddeningly about her erect throbbing nipple, and she had been so out of her mind with the bliss of the moment that his warm hand creeping up the soft flesh of her inner thighs had seemed a necessary part of her rapture.

"Oh, Jeff, darling… no, no we can't do this, my sweet," she had gasped into his ear, her fingers running through his hair, pressing his face and tantalizing, sucking mouth tight to her naked breast, while she squirmed beneath his hot hand caressing her open white thighs, moving ever upward and over her soft quivering belly, then down to stroke the nylon covered softness of her pubic mound, until she had actually whimpered aloud from the shock and sensation of his fingers slipping inside her pantie-leg to insinuate themselves into the moist waiting slit of her virginal womanhood

Even now, Karen shivered excitedly, as she remembered the unbelievable titillating spasms that bad raced through her from the first galvanic, tactile contact of his finger with the pink, sensitive flesh of her vagina… The never before feelings of pleasure had rendered her momentarily helpless and she had writhed almost frantically beneath his hand ministrations.

"Jeff… Jeff… we mustn't, darling…" she bad pleaded, suddenly aware that all sense of control was getting away from both of them.

"Why…? Why…?" he moaned, moving his finger upward between the moist, fleshy lips of her hair-lined vulva, tracing through the warm pink flesh to the tiny bud of her clitoris and teasing the enshrined sensitive sprout into immediate hardness.

"Oooohhh," she had moaned, raising his face to her own between her hands and locking her lips wetly to his, her tongue darting into his mouth even as her thighs separated further in unwitting invitation to his hand.

She hardly heard the metallic whisper of his zipper… hardly was conscious of anything but the overwhelming joy-filled transport of the moment… until she felt the sudden hot, naked hardness pressing against the soft flesh of her exposed thigh. Even then, there was a blank moment while it registered in her fevered brain. His prick! He had taken it out and was pressuring its long bluntness tight against her smooth flesh. He groaned into her mouth as his finger slipped down through her wet pussy and probed at the mouth of her vagina, sending further spasms of rippling pleasure coursing through her, momentarily anesthetizing her.

The huge, hot throbbing of his penis against her leg jarred her back to reality. She arched her neck and began negative movements with her head, clenching her teeth to him as she moaned an audible, "No… No… No… Jeff!"

Suddenly, he took her hand and wrapped her fingers his cock, holding it there briefly while the first shock of its strange feeling to her touch passed. She didn't fight it, but instead, found herself squeezing gently, letting her sense of touch convey its message to her brain. It was immense. She'd never had any idea of their size and a slight twinge of fear caught at her belly.

His hand left hers but she continued to cling to his shaft while a gasp of pleasure escaped him. Experimentally, she began to stroke it, her fingers barely able to encircle its thickness. Slowly, she drew the thick outer skin up and down, her breath tight in her throat at her own excitement of handling and massaging his cock while he slipped his finger deeper and deeper into her ever-expanding cunt, a complete feeling of unprecedented fulfillment creeping over her.

Again, she opened her mouth to his kiss, letting her hand slip down to explore the velvety soft hairiness of his balls, caressing and cupping them gently by instinct. She was extremely wet now down between her legs from the juices his finger was inciting as it played within the tingling lips of her soft hair-lined pussy, stretching the tiny ring of her still intact hymen in a gentle rotating motion that had begun to frighten her. She didn't want to lose her virginity now… not this way… not yet… but the pleasure he was bringing her overshadowed all else and she found herself moving her hips up against his finger, her thighs spreading wider as her hand slipped back up to stroke his prick with increasing vigor.

He had begun to grind his teeth and grunt out his pleasure with every breath, while her own growing apprehension at the stage things had reached, struggled against the intoxication saturating and taking command of every fiber of her tingling body. She felt the cool wetness of his rock-hard shaft smear against the warm flesh of her inner thigh as she worked the heavy skin up and down his long, thick cock and wondered if he was ejaculating, or whether it was the lubricating fluid she had read about in the sex guides to a happy marriage. My God, it was getting harder and bigger… It jerked in her hand and she caressed it affectionately, making him grunt again. He was struggling… moving on top of her!

"Damnit, Karen… I've got to have you! I can't wait any longer!"

"No, Jeff… Oh, no, darling… we can't! You know we can't…" she gasped back at him, the full realization that it was all out of control suddenly hitting her with full impact. She let go of his prick and thrust her hands between them, shoving against his chest and clamping her thighs tightly together, locking his imbedded finger deep in her cunt. She tried to squirm her buttocks down into the seat to rid her vagina of the invading finger even as she held it securely inside her with her tightly braced thighs. Her mounting consternation of moments before had abruptly transformed into sheer dread. A loathsome feeling of repugnance over their dangerous performance caused a wave of near-panic to seize hold of her, to the point where she barely knew what she was doing, and suddenly she was clawing at him while her hips squirmed wildly beneath him, his finger still buried deep up into her vagina.

"Oh… Oh, damn you… damn you, Jeff Lewis! Stop! No, no, stop, I tell you!" she half-screamed into his face.

He'd made no verbal response, she well remembered, but the mask of lust contorting his handsome features sent a shock of utter horror surging through her. She had tried to reason with him, but suddenly he had jerked his hand from between her legs and was forcing her thighs open to him, digging his fingers brutally into their soft tender flesh, his teeth clenched, his lips bared back like an attacking, feral animal.

"Oh God, not… no, Jeff! Please… please don't!" she cried, writhing and flailing furiously beneath him, but she'd been no match for his lust-crazed strength.

In her frantic squirming and kicking she had scissored out her legs, sufficient for him to slam his hips down heavily between them, until she quickly found herself pinned under his weight, her full wide-splayed thighs open defenselessly to him, her fear-quivering buttocks secured tightly to the seat.

"Jeff, Jeff… please listen to me? No, you can't do this! Not this way, darling… I beg you!" she whined, half-wailed up at him while her hands balled into little fists and hammered against his chest futilely.

She screamed as he hooked his fingers into the narrow wisp of nylon covering her crotch and ripped it away with a savage, ripping sound, and almost instantly she had felt the blunt, turgid head of his huge penis as he worked it up and down between the moist fleshy lips of her cunt with his hand thrust down between them.

God, there had been no fighting him. His knees had held hers wide apart and he had found and poised the blood-filled head of his throbbing member against the tight little elastic mouth of her vagina. With one last desperate effort and in her horror, she had raised her hips in an attempt to dislodge him, to throw him off her, and as she did he had rammed his pelvis forward, sending his cock splitting and tearing furiously up into her tight quivering cunt.

"Aaaaaggggghhhhhh!" she had half-grunted, half-screamed, kicking her legs out wildly in shocked disbelief at the total agony his fiendish assault sent shrieking from the core of her body to her brain. He had ripped her wide open, she knew, and the blood was streaming from her. She had felt the thin membrane of her hymen give way before the vicious onslaught and she was certain he had torn the tight opening of her virginal hole.

Again she squealed, kicking out and was immediately sorry, for it only worsened her position as his moist flesh of her vaginal walls in rippling waves before it, digging deeper and deeper into the soft warm confines of her secret and treasured cuntal channel.

She wept profusely from the beginning, both in shame and physical anguish as he had continued to batter into her, until finally she felt his balls slap solidly against her buttocks and his pelvis ground against hers… then, he stopped, breathing in heavy rasps, his thick hard rod sunk all the way to its lengthy depths inside her quaking belly, the warm wet walls of her vagina wrapped so tightly around it that she could feel every ridge and wrinkle of the pain-giving instrument of lust.

Maybe it was then, as she lay impaled in excruciating pain, like some ravaged serf out of the dark ages with the raping cudgel of the brutal invader spearing into her chaste, defenseless vagina, or maybe it had been that moment when he had forced himself between her legs and ripped away her panties… or was it the first seconds of racking torment when he had burst into her? Whichever, the metamorphosis of passion to Anaphrodisia had taken place. Desire, if and when it came over her ever after was to be accompanied by fear and dread.

God, was she really to blame? Even then, she had begged him to stop. He hadn't even given her the opportunity to adjust to his sudden presence buried deep in her womb. He had just begun to fuck, like a madman, his mouth slack, his eyes staring unseeingly as he rammed into her and she groaned in unceasing torment beneath him, mumbling incoherently, her tears bathing her cheeks. Then, his hands were groping at her ripe, full breasts, clutching insanely, flesh protruding painfully in white bloodless ridges between his straining fingers. He had chewed at her nipples until the blood trickled from them, and even then she had tried, tried, tried to gentle his brutal attack. The damage had been done; he had taken her… let her give herself to it and to him in love… She could forgive him… she could!

But it was as if she had read his sudden lust-demented mind. One thought blinded him… to spew his hot, scalding load of pent-up sperm deep inside her… fulfill and release himself… with no longer any thought of her. God, she had so wanted to know the ecstasy of love in its entirety… but he was fucking her like a slut, not making love to her!

She whined up at him once more, pleading, begging, but her whimpers were in vain. Suddenly, he had slid his hands beneath her thighs and was lifting them. She didn't resist… even helped as he pushed them up and back, locking his arms behind them and forcing her down into the seat beneath his rampaging thrusts that was blunting the cruel, spongy head of his cock against her virginal cervix. She hit her lower lip arid held to his ribs as he pummeled unmercifully into her. The horrible agony had passed and there was a time of indecision gripping at her. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him… how, how close she was to understanding… but then, he sucked in an enormous breath and his cock slammed into her naked, upturned buttocks with a wild and new fervor. He was going to cum in her belly! She could feel it in the tensing and jerking of his hard muscular body heavy upon her. His breath was hot and coming in gasping rushes against her face. She remembered that further panic had gripped her because he was using no contraceptive. Supposing she should get pregnant? How horrible… a child born out of such savagery…

She had never really stopped crying, but whether it was more from the physical or mental pain, she was not sure. He began to fuck into her with fierce inhumaneness, his huge prick scoring the tender, sensitive walls of her tight, unwanting vagina mercilessly. He held her knees hack to her shoulders in an abasing, cramped position that exposed the upturned plain of her helpless, defenseless crotch completely to his vicious Islet. With every stroke, he drew almost completely out of her then plunged forward with demoniacal force. She had never felt so ashamed or humiliated in her entire life. It was the end for them… there never could be anything between them again… he hated her… she knew it!

Then, she felt his thundering prick growing bigger and bigger as it dug deeper and deeper into her warm, wet passage, until suddenly, he threw back his head, a guttural, racking sound coming from deep in his chest as she felt his rock-hard cock jerk wildly inside her and his white hot sperm spewing from its tip in great spurts.

"Oh God, no, no, not" she wailed in helpless submission as she felt the thick, hot fluid splashing wetly in a swirling pool in her vagina, filling her womb and belly to the almost overflowing point…

And it was done. Like that… she remembered it all too vividly… how he had slunk off of her, shamed in the aftermath of his vented lust, tears actually streaming down his cheeks… begging her to forgive him… vowing to make it up to her. What a pathetic sight he had presented… and God, how she loved him. They had wept together, holding tight to one another, long into the wee hours of morning, pledging and re-pledging their love… but it was never to be the same for her again.

They had been married that weekend… the first day, and night, of six short months of sexual fiascos. She had only to see him coming at her with an erection to set the cold chills of revulsion creeping along her spine. God knows, she tried… did everything to hide it from him… even pretended at orgasm like any good whore, for that was how she felt about herself. She was his private, and personal whore, well paid for his use of her body…

Oh God, do I have to keep this up all day?

Abruptly, Karen got to her feet, went to the kitchenette and made herself a second cup of coffee, bracing it with bourbon once more, but lightly this time. She was a drinker, especially at seven o'clock in the morning. It was just that she had needed something to bolster her after the hectic night… and today being his birthday. Again, she found herself wondering where he was, if he was well… and happy.

Perhaps he had even married again. She had no way of knowing. Her limited circle of friends were all comparatively new acquaintances she had made since their divorce, none of whom had ever known Jeff. She had learned of his discharge from an old college-mate, Chick Spellman, accidentally bumping into him one day while shopping, and they'd had lunch together. He had come across Jeff in a bar in San Francisco two days following Jeff's discharge and they had gotten blazingly drunk for a solid week. But he hadn't been able to tell her much more, or perhaps it was just that he hadn't wanted to. Well, it didn't make much difference anyway, did it? It was all over and done with now. A part of the divorcee's bitter past.

Oh, she wasn't so bad off, she supposed, if she could only think about it intelligently. She had friends, both male and female, and she certainly got around enough. Of course, there was always the divorce stigma, with every man assured in his mind that she was a certain lay. The fact of the matter was that she had slept with no man since Jeff… none whatever, but sometimes, the desire to be made love to, the sheer, raw, sexual craving of her lush young body nearly drove her mad. Yet, she knew that the mere sight of a man standing naked before her, or lying against her, his bard fleshy rod touching her soft body would immediately instigate the old rigor mortis… she would freeze like an icicle. God, what an affliction.

Well, she had her writing, she thought, plodding slowly back to her chair. It had really become her whole life. Success was all she sought now… that illusive goddess, success. And her book was good; she felt certain of that. The rejections were not indicative of its quality. Editors were forced to turn down many good works for numerous other reasons.

Why didn't Karl Fletcher call? He must've read it by this time. Perhaps, she should call him. Why not? Damnit, that's just what she would do, she decided determinedly. She would shower and dress and give him a call at his office after nine. Yes, she would…

She arose suddenly and started for the bath. Enroute, she stuck her tiny pink tongue out at her typewriter, then smiled to herself. She was beginning to feel better. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad day after all.

After nine, Karen telephoned Karl Fletcher's office.

"This is a coincidence," he said. "I was just going to call you, Miss Wilson. I've finished your novel and I'm quite excited about it."

"Really? You liked it then?" A tremor of elation spiraled through her. She visualized his pudgy, grinning face.

"I feel it definitely has merit. There are a few things… but nothing major," he said. "I've been trying to get around to calling you, but I've been… Say, why don't you have dinner with me this evening, where we can discuss it leisurely?"

"Well…" His voice was like syrup. She hesitated, then: "All right, I'd like that, Mr. Fletcher."

"Around eight then… I'll call for you?"

"Very well… around eight."

Karen cradled the receiver and smiled. So, maybe… this was it… the long awaited big break. She was… pleased as she moved slowly into the kitchenette… and proceeded to make herself a third cup of instant. No bourbon necessary this time, she decided. Maybe, she could even work now, in fact, she thought, it was really going to be a good day in the long run.