Through the Mirror

by Adriana Kraft

  She furrowed her brow, not wanting to prolong their discussion. “No flowers any time,” she said, her voice shaking.

  Doug shook his head. “Any time is a long time. For the moment, no flowers. But I can't see into the future. Can you?"

  "No, but...."

  He slanted a finger across her lips. Her eyes widened as his mouth lowered.

  His lips replaced his finger and she nearly crumbled under his tenderness. She shuttered her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her waist. She couldn't breathe. Her eyes sprang wide. There was laughter in his eyes as if he knew he could take her again—standing, lying on the floor, or draped over his desk—if he really wanted to. She broke away. “You!” she exclaimed, regaining her equilibrium. “I'm in a hurry. There's so much to do before I leave tomorrow."

  "I know,” he said. “Go, why don't you. But hurry back."

  She spun about and left his office as gracefully as she could and slowly descended the stairs to her office. She should be whipping herself more. Her little foray into his office hadn't done a damn thing to set the man straight. And he thought she was stubborn. For some reason as she entered her office an old description of Abe Lincoln floated across her brain—that though he would bend with the wave of popular opinion, he was like a ramrod that would never break.

  Apparently, so was Doug Forsyth. Her history professor certainly demonstrated plenty of resolve. She chuckled. His ramrod might bend, but she doubted it would ever break. She huffed at the roses in her wastebasket. At least he wasn't going to send her more flowers. She tucked his card in her briefcase. Actually, she was quite pleased they'd reached some sort of an understanding. She wasn't ready to give up on his ramrod. Not yet.

  * * * *

  "What's troubling you so, querida?"

  "What do you mean?” Lacy refused to make eye contact with the dark-skinned woman sharing her bed.

  "You wouldn't let Rex join us this evening and you've been distant even with me."

  Lacy peeked at dark fingers caressing her breast.

  "Querida, we've never been distant with each other. You've never rejected Rex any time during these past two years. What's wrong? You know you can talk to me."

  "I know,” Lacy murmured. She turned and gave Isabella Sanchez a wan smile. “You've helped me in so many ways."

  The older woman of indiscernible southwest heritage grinned broadly, showing straight, white teeth. “Yes, inside and outside of bed.” Isabella propped herself up on an elbow. Her eyes bore into Lacy's. “It must be a man."

  Lacy blinked. It was impossible to keep secrets from Isabella once she detected even the whiff of one. Lacy compressed her lips, not wanting to explore fears she hadn't fully acknowledged to herself.

  Isabella leaned over and parted Lacy's mouth with her tongue. She raised her head and smiled. “I thought two orgasms would loosen you up.” She cupped Lacy's mound. Lacy's groan brought another smile to Isabella's lips. “Maybe you need another one."

  Lacy nodded fractionally, closed her eyes and widened her thighs.

  Isabella sank a long finger between Lacy's folds and curled it forward until she found that most sensitive spot. Lacy gasped and Isabella chuckled. “Come for me, querida. One more time."

  Lacy opened her eyes and watched pleasure spreading across Isabella's face. The woman never seemed happier than when she was giving pleasure.

  Isabella shook her head. “Don't think. Just receive. Come, girl, come for me."

  Nodding, Lacy chewed on her lower lip and her buttocks lurched and began making time with Isabella's finger.

  "That's right, girl. Flow for me."

  Lacy scowled. Weren't those the exact words Doug had used when he wanted more from her? She blocked that thought, reached for Isabella and hugged her until their lips sealed. Her screams of joy were swallowed by the older woman. Her body trembled, but strong arms steadied her.

  Isabella pecked at her lips and laughed. “I'm not going anywhere, girl. Don't worry."

  Shuddering, Lacy lay back and calmed. She gave Isabella a demure smile. She'd have to tell the woman something or Isabella would torture her all night with one orgasm after another. She brushed the back of a hand across the dark woman's cheek.

  "So what's his name?” Isabella asked.

  "Doug.” Lacy felt her cheeks warm.

  Lacy propped herself up on a pillow and Isabella sat cross-legged beside her. “So why does he trouble you?"

  "I don't know, exactly."

  Isabella nodded. “It is difficult sometimes to know the whys of men and women."

  "Isn't that the truth!"

  "So are you in a committed relationship with him?"

  "Of course not. I'm with you, aren't I?"

  "Yes, but what about Rex?"

  Lacy scowled. “I don't know. I hope he's not too hurt."

  "He'll survive. But what about you?"

  "I'll manage."

  "Do you love him?"

  "Of course not,” she snapped.

  "I see.” Isabella unsuccessfully tried to conceal a grin. “Does he love you?"

  "I don't know.” Lacy crossed her arms under her breasts. “I'm afraid he will."

  "And that scares you?"

  She arched her eyebrows. “To death!"

  "Ah. What are you afraid of?"

  Lacy shrugged. “I like who I am. I've no intention of changing for him or anyone else."

  "Does he know how open you are sexually?"

  "Sort of."

  "So would he join us?"

  "You and me?” she squeaked.

  "I don't see anyone else in bed with us, do you?"

  She shook her head.

  "Though it does appear this Doug fellow is already here in spirit."

  Lacy winced.

  "Would you want to share me with him?"

  Lacy inhaled deeply. “I don't know."

  "Would he want me?"

  Shrugging, Lacy huffed, “That's not the point. I doubt he'll want to share me."

  "I see.” Isabella closed her eyes and did not speak for what seemed like minutes. Then she opened them and a tiny smile parted her lips. “This Doug must be something if he's got you worrying about changing your lifestyle. That is it, isn't it?"

  "Maybe. I haven't really tried to think about it much. But you're right, he is troubling."

  "Like a boil festering."

  "I suppose. I've never had one."

  "Too bad. That experience might be helpful in dealing with your man."

  "He's not my man,” she hissed.

  "He is until you exorcise him.” Isabella narrowed her eyes. “You do want to exorcise him?"

  "I'm not sure,” Lacy whispered.

  "So what do you like about this Doug?"

  The image of Doug's mouth dropping when she'd asked him in his office whether he still wanted to fuck her popped in her mind and she chuckled. “He's determined. He has a witty sense of humor. His curiosity is sharp and we have many common interests. And...” She blushed.

  "He's good in bed."

  "Great so far,” she replied, nodding. “Not that we've had time to really explore each other fully."

  "But you want to. You want to explore him fully and let him explore you fully."

  "I think so,” she whispered.

  "And that scares you?"

  "Yes."

  "Because exploration may lead to changes you don't want to think about?"

  "Yes,” she squeaked.

  Isabella clapped her hands and smiled broadly. “Sounds good to me."

  Lacy arched her eyebrows. “But what if...."

  Isabella pressed a finger across Lacy's lips. “What if there comes a time when you no longer want to share your bed with me?"

  Lacy nodded.

  "Then we will be friends out of bed only.” Isabella smiled softly. “Worse things have happened to me. And we both will still have memories of precious moments shared. Haven't you learned anything from us—we cherish the moments. We can't cling to the past, and we
can't control the future. You may be about to learn that even you, with all of your science and sophistication, can't control the future."

  Lacy shuddered. “Maybe that's what scares me the most. Isabella, would you hold me please? Just hold me.” She laid her head on the woman's large breasts and Isabella stroked her back. Lacy shook her head. Where were the tears coming from? She never cried.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CHAPTER FOUR

  —Bouncing about on the jeep passenger seat, Lacy gripped the roll bar tight. She glanced over at Rex Manuel. Her twenty-something guide was no doubt intent on paying her back for not letting him join her and Isabella last evening.

  They weren't far from their destination—the ruins of an ancient Anasazi civilization. She'd been in this area several times before. It was breathtaking. The tall red rock columns stretched toward the sky as if they carried messages to and from the gods. She glanced back at Isabella, whose eyes gleamed with mystery. There were times when Lacy wondered if Isabella hadn't truly lived in that ancient time. She seemed so at home—so alive in these ruins.

  Rex slowed to let the jeep work more gradually over slippery rock. Little by little they descended another two hundred feet to a dry stream bed. Rex turned west and followed the stream bed until it began to rise toward its source. There he brought the vehicle to a sharp stop.

  Lacy climbed out and rubbed aching muscles. Isabella joined her and massaged her neck. “It's good to have you back here, querida. You must forgive Rex. He is a little miffed this morning. He was looking forward to sharing our bed."

  Nodding, Lacy breathed deeply. “Thanks,” she said, grinning softly. “I do miss the freedom of this space. As to Rex, I guess he'll just have to be miffed."

  "I understand.” Isabella joined Lacy in removing gear from the jeep. “I'll straighten him out before we leave.” She pressed a fist against her lower back. “We don't need another bone jolting ride on our return trip."

  Quickly Lacy lost herself in her work, sifting through powdery soil, cataloging shards, keeping her eyes open for the surprise that lurked somewhere below. She didn't know what it was, but she'd recognize it when she saw it. She scrutinized a white and black shard. A piece of pottery? Probably. If so, who made it? Who had used it? Had anyone marveled at its beauty? Had anyone mourned its loss? She shook her head. Focus, girl. Don't get lost in the mystery.

  Lacy looked up at the sun then over to where Isabella and Rex worked. She uncapped her water bottle and sipped the cool liquid. What would Doug think if he could see her with dirt under her fingernails, her hair in a tight bun under a straw hat and nipples hardening because she'd let him enter her awareness? “Shit,” she grumbled. She glanced up quickly at the giggle.

  Isabella stood near her with her arms crossed. “You having trouble concentrating?” Isabella broad smile made it clear Lacy didn't need to answer the question.

  Lacy stood and shook her limbs, working the kinks out of her muscles. “You know I am."

  "Maybe you should journey about it."

  Lacy sighed. It wasn't that she hadn't thought about that. But journeying held risks. She was never sure what she'd find when she crossed into that other reality.

  "I'll drum your way if you desire.” The words were spoken softly and sincerely. Isabella Sanchez knew and respected the beauty and the danger of journeying.

  Lacy studied the eastern horizon for several moments before answering. She could journey with a drumming tape, but what Isabella offered was a gift. She wasn't about to turn it down. “Okay, I'd appreciate that.” She looked squarely at Isabella. “Tonight?"

  The woman nodded solemnly. “I'll prepare the room."

  "Thanks.” A sudden cool breeze swept through the small canyon. There hadn't been a wind all morning. It stopped as soon as Lacy noted it. She hugged herself. This place filled her and spooked her at the same time. Would she ever really be a part of it?

  * * * *

  Feeling boneless yet a bit unnerved, Lacy lay on the rug covering the wood floor in Isabella's upstairs room. The pungent scent of the sage and sweetgrass used to cleanse the space played at her nostrils. Several candles provided the only light.

  Isabella stood in one corner holding a drum. She wore a long white nearly transparent garment—her dark nipples stood out like buttons. She had already offered prayers to the spirits for guidance. She emitted a series of shrill whistles and then asked softly, “Are you ready, querida? Our grandfathers and grandmothers are prepared to meet you."

  Smoothing out her own white dress, Lacy nodded, flexed her fingers then let them rest at her side. “Yes,” she said, “please begin.” There was no more talking—only the beginning of a steady drumbeat. It started soft as if from a distance and grew louder. The beat never altered. Soon Lacy's ears reverberated with the beat of the drum. The beat skimmed along her entire body. When she began to feel at one with the drum, she sought her favorite hole for journeying to the other world. It was a hollowed out tree trunk.

  Lacy focused on the beat, but the tree trunk failed to emerge. Initially, she panicked. How could she journey if she couldn't locate the place to begin crossing over? She'd done this countless times. Journeys always began with finding the tree trunk and sliding down its hollowed base. Then she'd be met by a guide—sometimes that was a person, sometimes it was an animal—but always, she got there through the trunk. She squeezed her eyes trying to concentrate harder. She craned her neck.

  "Trust, querida. Trust the spirits. Do not fight them."

  Lacy fell back into herself. She did trust Isabella's words, though she knew they hadn't been spoken aloud. She'd never be able to hear them above the drumming, but she'd heard them none the less, and that was all that mattered. She allowed herself to breathe and to be patient. Dimly, she wondered if Doug had enough patience to journey. He'd certainly demonstrated plenty of patience with her.

  An image began to form behind her closed eyes. She frowned. It wasn't the familiar tree trunk. It was a mirror. It wasn't just any mirror. It was the full length mirror hanging in her bedroom. Had thinking of Doug led her to the bedroom? She was drawn to it like she'd never been before. She touched the mirror with her fingers. It opened, and she stepped through. As with the tree trunk, she found herself gliding through space. Where was her guide? She clung to the wind of the tunnel she was slipping through. Her guide should've come to her by now. Her heart raced. Something wasn't right.

  "Trust. Trust the spirits. Trust yourself."

  Lacy calmed and floated. She hadn't felt this light, this free on any other journey. She was beyond boneless. Had she become spirit? Suddenly, she landed with a thud in a wide meadow carpeted with colorful flowers. She breathed deeply, inhaling the fragrances. She skipped about the inviting grasses and twirled around. It was lovely. It was delicious.

  She spied several blankets and pillows as colorful as the flowers. Had she come here to rest? That might explain the absence of a guide. Her vision cleared enough to see a tent at the edge of the meadow. Why hadn't she seen that when she arrived? She hesitated. Should she enter the tent?

  She stepped forward and then stopped as the tent flap was thrown open and a man stepped out into the clearing. She placed a hand over her heart. It was Doug, and he was naked except for a pair of moccasins. His cock loomed larger than she'd even remembered. “What are you doing here? This is my journey. I didn't invite you."

  He gave her his too familiar crooked smile. “No, I'm sure you didn't."

  "Why aren't you wearing clothes?"

  "They'd only get in the way for what I'm going to do to you."

  "But...” She backed away until she was pressed against an oak tree, but Doug had only moved with her. Trapped. She was trapped, but who had trapped her? She could reach out and touch him if she wanted. “I didn't come here to fuck you,” she protested.

  He shook his head. “I'm not sure we tell the spirits what is to be,” he murmured, reaching out to caress her breasts.

  Lacy leaned hard aga
inst the tree. Her throat constricted. Was this really her journey? Or had she conjured Doug up to calm her with his cock?

  He grabbed the hem of her dress and easily lifted it over her head. He stood back and let his gaze roam over her. “You are a beautiful woman, Lacy Hogan—a very luscious gift that I accept. I am pleased you came for me."

  She wanted to tell him she hadn't sought him out, but his fingers grazing her belly made her original intent suddenly unimportant. He dipped a finger into her. She gasped and grabbed his shoulders for support.

  He laughed. “Are you always so wet and ready? Is it just me that brings you to such a quick boil?"

  Seeing no need to stroke a male ego even if it had been conjured up by her imagination, Lacy chose to remain silent. She was surprised when he lifted her easily and carried her toward the blankets and pillows near the tent.

  He placed her gently on the ground. “On your hands and knees, woman. Nature invited us here, so we will fuck like the animals."

  "Good,” she said, crawling onto her hands and knees. “This is my favorite position."

  "We will see about that. Won't we?"

  She was no sooner in position than he dropped behind her, placed a hand on either side of her buttocks and, with one violent thrust, impaled himself.

  "Jesus,” she screamed. “And I thought you were gentle, maybe too gentle."

  He stretched over her back and bit down on her shoulder.

  "Ouch!” Pain shot to her vagina and ignited her inferno. She pushed back against him, wanting more.

  "As I thought,” he said, pulling nearly out of her before slamming back in. She grunted. “You like it a little rough, don't you. A little edgy intrigues you."

  She shuddered and nodded.

  His palm slapped her butt and she jolted with surprise. “Say it,” he demanded.

  "Yes,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “I like it rough. Use your fingernails on my back. Slap my ass. Please!"

  She arched her neck as he complied with her request, using one hand to claw at her back and the other to slap her butt. Her senses were on a collision course. She concentrated so completely on what was happening internally that she nearly missed the feathery caresses tracing the curve of her mouth. She didn't want to look for fear it might leave her. So velvety. It felt almost like a...