The Mirror ©
By Elizabeth Randolph
Jennifer sits on her chaise, gazing into streams of bouncing light, dancing on the surface of the pool. Normally her thoughts are centered on the beauty of the surrounding tropical countryside, but today images of a more personal and deeply intimate nature play, like an I-Max film, steadily through her brain.
Dale is a silent and complex man; the moment she saw him she knew she wanted him – it was a primal instinct surfacing in her mind like a swirling gyroscope – round and round and round. She watched him for months, studying his patterns, his habits – his ways. About this information she had absolutely no opinion at all – it was, quite simply, a sort of fascination as if he has just landed, alone, from another planet, totally unaware of her existence or his place within it.
Gradually, over many days, she became aware that he did, indeed, acknowledge her presence. Little things – a smile here, a thoughtful and pondering look there - she even received compliments given in his off-handed southern way, so as not to be noticeable to others. All of this jars her narrow world for Jennifer has made the one mistake she has always told herself she will not make. Older now, she finds herself in a sexless relationship with a lover who, because of prostrate surgery, has turned into nothing more than a friend – and sometimes not even that.
The scope of her surroundings is self-imposed and limited by her choices, not sophistication or knowledge. She is most acutely aware of the evils that plague mankind and society – the Iraqi & Afghan Wars, the tearing down of freedom by imperialist nations and the problems of poverty and AIDS worldwide – she simply chooses, at this time in her life, to omit them from her vision. Having done all she feels she can personally accomplish, through contributions, long ago protests and on-line petition signing, she is now content to step aside and gaze into the aqua pool where she spends each morning swimming.
Although she continues to meditate daily, acquiring highs from the perfect stillness that arrives during the ‘in-between’ spaces of life, she now accepts the fact that there is nothing that she can individually do to prevent the world from continuing in its downward spiral. She considers that the best option, for her, is simply to stand aside and let humanity pass her by - noticed but unattended – leaving politics, and its ilk, to drift aimlessly in oblivion, directed by egotistical and power hungry males bent on destroying their countries and society in general.
Her thoughts drift quietly back to memories of the day before. Jennifer had never made love under a ceiling mirror before and the recollection of this is alarmingly aesthetic. She thinks of her joy, the absolute amazement of sexual love with the most interesting man she has met in years - and viewing it all as if it is a movie reel displaying heightened sensuality. In preparation for this weekly event, her new lover Dale has dropped off some “Ben Wa” balls at her mailbox. Unsure of what they are, or how to use them, she goes to the Internet where she discovers that her lover has quite a vivid imagination.
The set given to her are called Duotone Balls – a pair of marble-sized metal balls. One has a drop of mercury in it while the other is a very small vibrating tongue. Reeling, she remembers the sexual excitement she felt, placing them in her vagina before leaving her condo for a rendezvous with Dale. It was a secret thrill, an action done in private for another, made all the more enjoyable by the fact that she was in public, walking down stairs and along sidewalks, while hailing a taxi. Whenever she moved her hips and legs, in any type of movement, the sexual sensation in her genital area was almost more than she could bear. It was as if he were already inside of her, pumping her to a climax. The ride to the motel, where she was to meet Dale, seemed to take forever - especially with the joggling over pitted roads, each bump bringing her sensuality to such a level that upon arrival she was almost ready to rape him.
Later, lying on a circular bed, gazing up into a ceiling mirror, she views Dale’s torso enwrapping hers as he places his long fingers into her wet yoni to remove the balls. Rarely has he seen a woman so turned on. When she emerged from the taxi her eyes were sizzling and her breathing was like a mare in heat – he could actually feel the passion emitted from her enflamed nostrils.
She views herself , all over him, her arms and legs are everywhere at once. Her back is arched, pushing her breasts towards his face while he sucks off her tits, one at a time. Fortunately, her eyesight is just poor enough that the many aging or physical imperfections, she knows her body contains, can not be observed in the distance covered between where she lies and the vision she perceives in the mirror. Actually, she is too turned on to care anyway – this is heaven.
Dale, meanwhile, is enjoying the results of his planning, and the difficulty he had in finding this precise sexual toy, as she is red hot and ready to go – no long fore-playing is necessary today. Just seeing her desire causes his phallas to engorge to a state seldom displayed for her enjoyment. She glares as he grows and becomes even wilder with desire. She watches their legs interlock, on the off-white highly rumpled bedcover, as she pulls him into her madly. She views her long streaked hair taking off in various directions, as if each strand has a mind of its own, covering pillows and then spilling over onto the mattress.
This experience thrills her very soul. After his initial penetration he pounds her body in a series of strokes that bring her to both mental and physical fulfillment. She watches herself reach orgasm after orgasm – all the while she visualizes the circular stroking of his beautiful hands on her clitoris and then his pounding her vagina with his hard and thrusting hands. Dale is an amazing lover who has studied the delay of his own ejaculation for many years and has now perfected it to such a state that his partners are always sated by the time he reaches his orgasm.
When Jennifer is finally relaxed, Dale’s body encircles hers in a harmony that she has rarely experienced – certainly not in many years. They totally join in Tantric unity. The recognition and beauty, of each individual fullness, throughout their lovemaking, totally intensifies their joined sexual experience and brings to her body a complete aliveness, as shown to him by her constant shaking – even her toes tingle from the sucking done by her lover during the afternoon.
To her it is all ideal – exotic sensuality, aided by soft provocative music, selected in a perfect mix for lovemaking - while the fading rays of dimmed illumination peep out of recessed lighting enhance the scene. The mirror provides a visual haven away from the chaotic world outside, as well as a hope for storing memories that can be recalled at a later date, when life becomes too difficult. She loves living in South America where taking a lover is so universally recognized and is amazed that there are hotels, beautiful and erotically furnished, for just such encounters.
The scenes in the mirror come close to becoming an obsession in her mind as she discovers that she can no longer even carry on menial daily conversations without mentally referring back to them. Jennifer is not normally a compulsive person but her desire, as an artist, to see beauty in all of her surroundings make the movements she witnesses in the mirror totally irresistible to her psychological musings. Sated - - -
physically, emotionally and mentally, she sees herself resting, totally engrossed in the beauty and persona of the man who lies next to her – realizing that getting to know him is going to be one of the great adventures of her life.
The sun’s rays divert into a spiral dance as a palm leaf blows onto the pool’s surface. A shadow approaches, becoming larger as it nears. From behind, large hands are gently placed on her shoulders presenting a touch so giving that her senses jump acutely in response.
He has arrived.
From 2006 - 2008 Dave and I lived on Swan Song in Venezuela. We had a dock at a lovely marina with a swimming pool that was to die for. One day I met a woman, close to me in age, from Tahiti. She spoke only French but was trying to learn English. She was also beginning an affair that she really needed to talk about. Being a writer, I saw this as the perfect opportunity to kill 2 birds with one stone. I encouraged her in her English as she told me the following story which I have labeled "The Jennifer Narratives". I have often wondered what happened to her although I know she split with Dale, her lover. The story is hers - the way it is written is mine. This was my first escape into Female Erotica and I must say that I enjoyed the writing as much as she die the action ~~~~