Suddenly, an old car screeched to a silent halt on the street behind them. The girls threw up their hands in fright, dropping their parcels as two pinstriped figures emerged from the car, holding tommy guns. They were both women. An intertitle popped up. ‘YOU TWO! IN THE CAR!’
The flappers obeyed and there was a lovely close-up of them huddling together on the back seat before a dissolve relocated the action to a swanky hotel room. The kidnap victims were gagged and tied to chairs while the molls stripped out of what were presumably their gangster boyfriends’ pinstriped suits. Underneath, each wore a silk chemise and what looked like a cross between a girdle and a garter belt. The camera panned up their black-stockinged legs and over their bodies while they contrived sexy poses, chatting to each other and taunting their captives.
Alice couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I could almost have believed it was a normal film until now.’
Jake agreed, then added, ‘There’s something quite sexy about period underwear, don’t you think?’
‘Yeah. It looks so constricting, like a corset, but it’s actually showing off everything it’s pretending to conceal.’ She stopped short of confessing that she’d always wanted to wear something like it.
Lili and her friend struggled against the ropes, pleading with their eyes. But the molls showed no pity. The taller one, a leggy brunette, crossed to a cupboard and took out what looked like a riding crop. She smiled cruelly at the girls as she slapped it against her palm.
‘NO ONE DOUBLE-CROSSES US!’
Alice felt her face turn scarlet as the flavour of the action became clear. She was beginning to sense a theme in Lili’s pictures, a theme she’d often explored in her own fantasies, but never revealed to a living soul. The film was putting all her secret desires on-screen.
Then the camera iris closed itself, trapping Lili inside a diminishing circle until the screen was black. When the iris opened again, both girls were untied and crouching on the floor, clinging to each other. The director was clearly a leg man, as the low shot favoured the molls’ thighs, calves and feet as they walked back and forth and circled their prey.
Then the tall brunette grabbed Lili and dragged her over by the bed while the other moll took Lili’s friend into an adjoining room. Lili clasped her hands and beseeched her captor, ‘PLEASE, NO!’
But the other woman was merciless. She threw back her head with a theatrical laugh and then proceeded to strip her prisoner, slowly and sensually, making a show of exposing her charms to the camera. The director lingered on shots of her legs, before focusing on what was between them.
A glance over at Jake confirmed that he was enjoying the sight and Alice felt herself grow even wetter at the thought of his arousal.
On the screen, the dominatrix towered over Lili, who crouched naked on the floor. She kissed and stroked the other woman’s feet and legs, peering up at her and batting her eyes, like a pet trying desperately to please its owner. But the cruel woman wasn’t satisfied with Lili’s efforts and soon she hauled Lili to her feet and pushed her face-down on the bed.
Alice gave a little cry as the first stroke of the riding crop landed on Lili’s bottom, then covered her face in embarrassment. The only sound was the rattle of the projector, but she could easily imagine the sounds the punished Lili would be making. They would be the same sounds she had fantasised about making herself.
Just as in the other film, the action was clearly not faked. Soon Lili’s bottom was peppered with darker marks from the riding crop, but she made no attempt to avoid the whipping. Quite the contrary; she was writhing lasciviously and making such a display of herself that no one could possibly doubt she was loving every minute of her ‘torture’. The action was interspersed with unnecessary dialogue, all of it cheesy and silly, but none of it could dispel the unquestionably erotic atmosphere.
When the dominatrix had had her fun, she threw aside the crop and produced a length of rope. Alice’s sex throbbed in response and she realised she was squeezing her thighs together to stimulate herself. Jake moved beside her and, for one fearful moment, she thought he was getting up to leave. But he only extended his hand to take her by the arm. Although her limbs felt made of liquid, she managed to get to her feet and cover the tiny distance between them. She stood before him, trembling with both anxiety and lust.
He didn’t make her suffer long. He slid a hand up underneath her skirt and found her panties. His fingers gripped the elastic band and pulled them down to her knees. Once there, they slipped down to her ankles, hobbling her. Next he lifted her skirt and tucked the hem into the waistband. Then he turned her around and sat her on his lap, facing the screen. The intertitles did the work for her, declaring her excitement in writing.
She wilted like a flower, sinking down to straddle the hard, warm length of his cock. She’d been so focused on the movie that she hadn’t even noticed him unfastening his trousers. Now his hands were around her waist and his cock stirred beneath her, growing harder between her inner thighs as they both watched the action on the screen.
Lili was now tied spread-eagled to the bed, where she continued to wriggle and moan as her captor knelt over her. She stroked Lili’s breasts, tickling the nipples into stiffness before lowering her lips to kiss them. She circled each one with her tongue, fluttering it against the hard little buds. Lili tossed her head from side to side and strained against the ropes, but she was held fast.
Beneath her, Jake adjusted himself until he was angling his cock up towards Alice’s sex. She parted her thighs and writhed along with Lili as she manoeuvred herself into position. He was huge, and she cried out as he slid inside her, impaling her. For a long time she sat perfectly still, loving the sensation of being so completely filled.
On the screen, Lili’s captor was stroking the sleek folds of Lili’s sex as a prelude to slipping several fingers inside her.
Alice gasped along with Lili as Jake began to move inside her, thrusting in and out. She had to clutch the arms of the seat to raise herself up for him, grinding her hips and clenching her muscles for maximum stimulation.
The events on the screen began to blur as his thrusts grew more and more passionate. The clattering projector only seemed to intensify the sensations, as though his cock were vibrating inside her, shaking her apart.
He released her waist and his hands crept up under her shirt. She whimpered softly as he pulled it up to expose her breasts, restrained in a soft cotton bra. She’d have definitely worn sexier clothes if she’d known anything like this was going to happen. Not that it mattered in the small darkened cinema. Jake wasn’t interested in her bra anyway, only in what it contained. His fingers found the erect pebbles of her nipples, straining against the thin fabric. She shuddered as he stroked them, the stimulation almost overwhelming. Then he slid his hands inside the cups and pushed the material down to expose her.
Alice arched her back, grinding on his cock as hard as she could, flexing her inner muscles and twisting against him. A powerful climax was coming, for both her and Lili, who had been joined by the others at some point. Now both molls and dolls were having their wicked way with each other. Alice didn’t know where to look any more, so she closed her eyes and let the real sensations consume her. Jake kneaded her breasts as he continued to fuck her, exciting her beyond anything she had ever known.
Her gasps and cries grew frantic and he dropped one hand to her lap, seeking and finding her clit. The touch was like electricity and spasms overtook her as she came. Her own racking orgasm triggered Jake’s and he made primal, animal noises into her back as he exploded inside her.
For several moments, the only sounds were their mutual gasping and panting and the projector’s noisy rattle. Alice opened her eyes. The orgy was still in full swing, which made her feel even further spent. Then, suddenly, the film stopped and froze, and in the split second before Alice realised what was happening, the image on the screen turned reddish brown and began to dissolve in a big, melting blob.
Hurriedly, she scrambled
off Jake’s lap and switched the projector off. Her hands were still shaking from the climax and now she was trembling from the near-disaster. She quickly removed the reels and set them aside, frowning down at them. She had quite forgotten the state she was in until she looked back at Jake, who was eyeing her with a smile.
She broke into laughter. ‘Oops,’ she said. ‘I guess it did get a little hot in here.’
‘Mmm,’ he said, crossing to her and gathering her in his arms before she could adjust her clothing to cover herself. ‘Not as hot as it’s going to get.’ Then he squeezed her bottom and gave her a sharp smack that made her yelp.
Alice bit her lip as Lili’s words came back to her.
You must use it as it was intended to be used.
Oh, she had. And she would again. She had no idea if Jake was part of the inheritance as well, but she intended to make the most of him too, one film at a time.
Mirror Mirror
Ashley Hind
The shop I own used to be a pet shop. That doesn’t mean I’m forever finding fossilised budgies in dark crannies or having tropical snakes rearing out of cupboards and whipping up my skirt. It does, however, mean that the shop didn’t need a large display at the front. Instead it had a small window display and counter area, then a step up through a doorway into a larger square space with a high ceiling. Which suited me just fine, no alterations needed. I sell mirrors and lights and that is all. Don’t come here if you want a rare pufferfish, because those days are gone. Only come to me if you want a ceiling light or a mirror to hang upon your wall. As you can imagine, I don’t get loads of people in. A few a day to keep me going. I like to think it allows me to deliver a more discerning, more personal service. I don’t imagine the stick insects were exactly bombing out of the door either.
He left me one day without a word. Not even a note. Two years of what I thought was pretty deep entanglement suddenly proved ridiculously easy to slip free of. To this day I have no idea if he’d found someone else, if there was some hidden stress he couldn’t share, or if I was just simply too much of a face-ache to spend another second with. It knocked me, for sure. The shock still reverberates through my life even if I’m not always fully conscious of it. The unanswered whys have eroded my foundations and keep me guessing. I’m not old enough for him to have got himself a much younger model. I think I’m reasonably easy to live with and fun to be around. I don’t suppose you ever have a true sense of your aesthetic appeal but I haven’t to date cracked any of my stock simply by looking at it.
Something in me made him run, though. If I’d known what, perhaps I could have reacted. Instead I have to make do with silent bouts of introspection, of staring at myself to try and spot the fatal flaw so I can eradicate it before trying to gather the courage to start again with someone new. I study that time with him from all angles but still I cannot see the cracks, so how will I spot such things again? Since in all ways I’d had the stuffing removed from me, I decided the best thing was to immerse myself in something to keep my mind elsewhere. My ever-thoughtful grandma passed her collection of antique mirrors on to me and charged me with doing something useful with them, and thus my new venture was born.
I will never be a millionaire from it but my shop does make me proud. I have a knack for bringing in nice items and displaying them well. Hanging at varying heights from the ceiling in the main room are all manner of lights, from antique through to modern, all casting their sparkling glow about the walls, which I always ensure are covered with mirrors of every kind. I try to angle my stock here and there, both to throw the light around and to give illusions of extra space and shaping to the square room. Create the right mood and the customer feels comfortable and will want to stay and explore more. I give them a soft glow any Hollywood lighting director would be proud of. I don’t need anyone running from their own starkly lit reflection.
In the middle of the floor, to fill the emptiness, is a fabulous and very large modern-style chaise. From the raised end it stretches out to accommodate even the lankiest specimen lying down. It is flat-seated and has no back, so customers can sit either side and peruse my wares in comfort, rather than have to stand around looking at themselves. Most don’t mind the sight of their own face whilst alone but can suddenly become quite shy once I come along to offer assistance. Self-consciousness can take over and that can mean potential buyers fleeing, which is something I don’t need.
I have shrewdly angled mirrors near my counter so I can keep an eye on browsers in the main room without having to go up through and disturb them – I couldn’t do that if I was selling gerbils. I can create complex views all around the place, bouncing reflection off reflection. I can have my back to you yet still be looking at two or three different aspects of you. Plenty of times I’ve suddenly spun round thinking there was someone there, only to be met by my own reflection in some corner. It’s something you have to get used to. It’s comforting in a way to not feel alone when actually you are, but it is disconcerting too, like you are constantly being spied upon, from all around.
As it is, it’s mostly me doing the spying, filling the time when unaccountably not one single person in this whole town feels the irresistible pull to buy a plate of silvered glass with their face in the middle of it. I angle my mirror display in the front window so I can see people approaching from either direction. I can do a lot of people-watching this way, whilst apparently not looking at them at all. This fellow, for instance. He’s always enough to stop me doing what I’m doing and sneak a good peek. I don’t see him too often so the welcome sight provokes just a little internal flutter. He has a pleasant face, a handsome face, and he always dresses smartly. And yes, if nothing else occupies my mind, idle moments are spent imagining other details.
It is almost impossible for anyone to walk past a mirror without looking into it. It’s just instinct. You catch a sight, you look. Of course, if you then see me inside looking back you may quickly avert your gaze, staring straight ahead as if you weren’t just gawping at yourself. Or you may feign sudden interest in another mirror, as if there was no vainness at all behind your desire to check out my window display.
He’s no different. As usual he’ll turn his head my way, eyeing the low mirrors along the front, noting the reflection of his always smart shoes below the neatly tapered trousers. Then he will look up and see me there, apparently coincidentally distracted from my work at that very moment, so that our eyes meet as if by accident. Then he will give me a little smile and a nod to confirm that familiarity has given us some kind of connection, albeit through a plate-glass window. It used to be just a nod but recently a smile has been added, giving me another little flutter and a burst of warmth that can last a while after he looks away again and proceeds to wherever it is he goes.
So here he comes. I’ve got my technique down these days; I’m a true expert now. Keep the head bowed but the eyes up so you can watch his approach. It’s all about timing. There’s his sideways glance, down at the mirrors. Hold for just a second. Now look up to meet his gaze. And there it is, along with the burst of warmth inside. Hold those kind, brown eyes. Melt just a little. Allow yourself fleeting notions of romance. See the little smile break instinctively across his lips – nice kissable lips, if you want to really to embellish the moment. Give a shy nod back and allow a slight smile to flicker whilst wishing your cheeks didn’t colour so much and make you look like some blushing virgin from a Jane Austen novel. Then watch him walk away, being sure to grab a sneaky back view as he goes out of sight.
Except that this time he doesn’t go. He passes the door and is heading away when he suddenly stops, his eyes down on a particular mirror in the far corner of the window. He is studying it. It’s a modern design so I think it might be genuine interest – it’s the kind I’d expect someone like him to be drawn to. Not that I know him at all, of course – outside my head, that is. He really is studying it. He’s looking at one behind it too – another modern design. And now he is coming back, eyes still on the mir
rors rather than me, but my heart has started to race a little and he is coming in for sure, opening the door to the accompaniment of a burst of traffic noise. I actually feel my legs going weak.
He smiles my way, since we do kind of know each other in that eye-each-other-up way. It’s the same smile you’d get from someone who’d been checking you out from across the room at a party.
‘Do you mind if I look around?’ he asks.
Of course I don’t – despite the weak knees. His voice is pretty much as I’d imagined it. Polite without being posh.
‘Please do. There’s plenty more through there.’
My voice doesn’t sound too shaky, thank heavens. He smiles his gratitude and goes up to the main room. All my carefully placed spy mirrors can now come into their own and I can stay where I am and compose myself – it is, after all, simply a guy on his own in my shop. It’s not the first time. Just because he smiles as he passes doesn’t mean he’s not here on serious business. He’s giving the mirrors some pretty genuine-looking attention, or so it seems. He can’t see that I can see him. Or so I think. Actually, I can’t be sure he hasn’t found an angle of his own and is perfectly aware I’ve been covertly checking him out. That kind of forces me into action, whether my legs are ready for it or not. I go up the step and into the room and ask him if there is anything I can help him with. The kind, brown eyes fix on me.
‘I keep meaning to come in here,’ he says. ‘I don’t know why it’s taken me so long. It’s embarrassing how bare the walls in my flat are. I was always going away, often abroad, so I never really saw it as my home. So now I’m spending more time there I ought to do something about that.’
The Pact Page 2