I still don't understand what kind of world this is that allows people to be trapped inside mirrors. I have to find a way to get released...but how? Maybe if my murderer is found, I will be unleashed from my own private hell. I still can't believe I would be murdered by my own-
The suite door opened to admit a bellboy, carrying luggage and leading a young red haired woman into the room. "I'm sorry about the mix-up, Miss Allen. We don't understand how it happened. This is the last room that's available this weekend. I hope you'll accept our sincerest apologies." The young man said as he placed her suitcase on the bed.
"Thank you. It's a beautiful suite. It'll be fine. I'm just glad something was available on such short notice." Miss Allen handed him a tip and closed the door behind him.
Leaning against the oak paneling, she let out a heartfelt sigh. Looking around the room, she smiled. "Well, at least it's a gorgeous room."
Walking up to my hell, she looked at her reflection. Her green eyes sparkled with youth. How I remember that well. It's hard to believe we all had that look at one time. Life seems to dull that light over the years.
"Why won't he ever notice me?" She asked her reflection.
Not notice you? Who in their right mind wouldn't notice you, sweetheart? I asked in my silent realm. Even though she wasn't what some would call a "typical" beauty, she was beautiful in her own way. I had always enjoyed those more original beauties, anyway. I could find beauty in any woman alive. They were women, of course they were beautiful. This young woman, though...
I watched in interest as she started unbuttoning her blouse. Her generous breasts were encased in a red lace camisole, surprisingly. The woman seemed the demure type, but her undergarments told a different story. There was passion hidden away in this young woman. I wondered who was going to be lucky enough to get to unleash that passion. She placed her blouse on the back of a chair and slipped out of her A-line skirt, draping it on top of the blouse. Her legs were covered not with pantyhose but with those oh-so-sexy garters and thigh highs. With one foot on the chair, she oh so slowly unrolled each stocking..then removing the garters. Oh, to be alive again.
Just as slowly, she sensuously removed her camisole, then put all of her clothing in her suitcase. Stretching out on the bed, she slowly ran her hands down her chest..her breasts.. lightly playing with the nipples, then pinching them. Moving lower to her slightly rounded belly..then down to her.. no..she moved on, teasing herself. Brushing her fingers lightly down her thighs, then back up her body, avoiding the bare mound that glistened with her desire.
I cursed whoever it was that knocked on the door at that moment. The woman jerked her hands guiltily away from her body, wrapped herself in the sheet from the bed, and walked towards the door.
The young woman hesitated with her hand on the doorknob, seeming to realize she was in dishabille. "Just a moment." She said as she hurried to the closet. Pulling out the robe provided by the resort, she replaced the sheet with it. The silken fabric seemed to swallow her small, yet curvaceous frame.
Glancing in the mirror, seeming to look right into me, she murmured, "Mirror Mirror, I want his love." She smoothed her flaming red hair before heading to the door.
Unlatching the door, she slowly opened it to admit a tall dark haired man dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase. In his other hand, he held some official looking papers, which he was perusing as he stepped into the room. "Order some coffee, would you, Kaitlyn? It's going to be a long evening." He said without looking at her.
From my vantage point, being an observer, a voyeur, I guess, I could see the way she looked at him. She looked at him with a deep yearning. An unfulfilled hunger. She was in love with the man and he had no idea. The poor girl.
The man took a seat at the table while the young woman went to the phone and called room service. I heard her also order food, probably realizing it would be a while before she got to eat again.
"Sorry the rooms got messed up, Kaitlyn, but I'm glad they could get you into one. Even if it is the Honeymooner's Suite." He chuckled.
Kaitlyn smiled. "It's all right, Mr. Jamison. It's actually a beautiful suite. I don't know how my name got off the reservations. I'm the one who booked our rooms." Moving to the closet, she pulled out her attache case and carried it over to the table.
Look up, I screamed to myself. Look at the beautiful woman before you! Open your eyes, man!
Finally, oh, finally, Mr. Jamison looked up from his papers. His eyes traveled up the silk robe, over her curves, her slightly heaving breasts, up to her young beautiful face, green eyes, and long red hair that flowed down to her hips. "Kaitlyn?" he rasped.
"Yes, sir?" she replied huskily.
"Did I um...interrupt you? You're not dressed."
Yes, you buffoon, I yelled inside the mirror, inside my hell, You interrupted her. She had been lying on the bed, rubbing her hands over her voluptuous body, probably thinking of you, you blind idiot!
"No, sir. It's all right. But, maybe I should get dressed." She moved to go do that when he caught her hand.
"It's all right. If you're comfortable in that, it's all right with me."
