Chapter 5: James steps into another fine mess.
Sunday morning. 10:45.
It wasn't the first
time that James had woke up in such an advanced ... state of excitement.
But on that Sunday morning he woke up with a hard-on that he couldn't
dreams, he'd had! They'd all seemed so vivid, so real, so ... happening.
woolly-headed, he was struggling to come to his senses ... as if he was
struggling to exit one realm of existence, and re-enter this one.
At first, with his
living room curtains closed up tight against the light, he struggled to
remember where he was. And why wasn't he tucked up in bed? he wondered.
Instead of in his ... And
then it all came flooding back.
was sitting in his favourite chair: his black leather, well-padded
armchair ... In front of the mirror.
Where he'd sat all last evening, and well into the small hours. Being
Watching the mirror's 'transmissions'.
all of last evening, and well into the small hours of Sunday, James had
watched the mirror's 'broadcasts'.
As though relayed
live to him via some telecommunications satellite, James had watched a
succession of 'broadcasts' on the mirror's incredibly true-to-life,
two-foot high, four-foot wide ultra high-resolution 'screen'.
Incredulous, amazed, and uncontrollably 'excited', James had watched
raptly as the mirror had tracked, for James's own, personal ...
delectation, the Saturday night / Sunday morning movements of his boss,
Miss Julia Carson, and her five accompanying office girls, and also the
movements and activities of Jennifer and Sharon, the proprietresses of
Tootsies Pedicure Salon.
After which, in a state of totally 'spent', dog-tired exhaustion he'd
fallen fast asleep in his armchair.
Where he had then spent the night.
Spent the night, sitting in front of the mirror that, yesterday, he'd
bought as a present for Debbie's mum, Doris, for her birthday in two
Spent the night, sitting in front of the mirror, that, after having
removed his pride-and-joy 46-inch Internet capable flat-screen TV from
its two-foot high plinth-like stand, he'd given the mirror pride of
place, in its stead.
as a result of his 'enchantment' – the result of the all tuned-in and
all-knowing, button-pushing and turning-on mistress of the mirror's
unnatural influence, over him ... what a mess, he'd made.
an awful, disgusting mess he had made, he thought as he surveyed the
ghastly, insanitary litter of the Man-Size squares of Kleenex
super-absorbent tissue-paper that he'd ... soiled, and then carelessly
strewn about his living room.
there was still some of the sticky, gooey mess on his body, too, from
the mind-blowing climaxes of his incredible succession of 'influenced'
The man he had bought the mirror from, Mr Howard – "My friends call me
Howie" – Leadbetter, had tried to warn him, James realised.
This was the mess he had made, due to the mistress of the mirror's being
"tuned-in" to him now. And therefore: "It 'knows' you, now", the
mirror's previous owner had told him ominously.
And, in being so tuned-in to James, and so knowing him, the mistress of
the mirror was therefore in possession of all of the necessary ...
wherewithal, to enable her to push all of his 'buttons'.
Each and every one of them ... for he could have no secrets, from the
mistress of the mirror.
Thus ... informed, she was enabled to turn him on. And turn him on, as
he'd never been turned-on before.
And, turning her new 'sex' slave on, as he had never been turned-on
before, the mistress of the mirror had coaxed twenty-one-year-old James
Noble – her latest, in a long line of 'sex' slaves – to climax, after
climax, after climax ... In honour of herself.
And now, after more than three decades of having gone 'without', due to
the ... inadequacy of her previous three owners, upon frenziedly feeding
upon the essential ingredient, nutrient-rich production of James's
'willing' sacrifices as he duly paid his 'devotions', the mistress of
the mirror was flourishing ... And developing.
uncommonly ... suitable subject, twenty-one-year-old James Noble was
turning out to be easy prey, for the mistress of the mirror.
fact, she'd never had it so good.
James was usually a full-of-beans sort of person in the mornings. But
today, he was lethargic. It seemed so hard to galvanise himself, this
morning; to motivate himself to movement. He just had no energy. No
I'll be okay though, once I'm up and about, thought James gamely. I'll
get up, take a shower – that'll wake me up ... And I need a shave, too,
he thought, rubbing his bristly chin with his fingertips.
Then, I'll have a good tidy-up in here ... Just look at the state—
Interrupting his thoughts, James's phone rang.
But for some reason, James just stood there, and made no move to answer
it. Just listened to it ring. It was like he'd suddenly been put under
some kind of trance.
His phone rang four times. And when James didn't pick up, the call was
automatically transferred to his answer-phone.
It was his girlfriend, Debbie. And she was sounding decidedly miffed.
"James ...? Are you there? If you are there, pick up ... Oh, this is
getting ridiculous, James!" complained Debbie in vexed frustration.
"You still haven't returned any of my calls from yesterday and ... it's
now nearly eleven o'clock, and we were supposed to be going out for the
day. Weren't we? Come on, James. What the hell are you doing? I'm
starting to worry now, James. At least call me, yeah?" pleaded Debbie,
Now that Debbie's call had gone safely unanswered, James came out of his
Hmm ... Debs had a bit of a cob on this morning, thought James. But
then, she was more than entitled, he admitted to himself.
He'd better postpone his shower and shave, he thought, until after he'd
called Debbie back. That was his first priority. He'd never failed to
promptly return her calls before, and he needed to put her mind at rest.
She was probably thinking he'd crashed the Astra, or something.
James was still naked. But as he was about to take a shower common sense
dictated there was no point in getting dressed. So he just went over to
his laundry basket and grabbed the pair of muddied up white shorts that
he'd played football in for his local pub team, and pulled them on.
Now that he was 'decent', James went over to the phone to call Debbie.
It would be humble pie, for breakfast. And lots of it. He would
apologise unreservedly for not returning Debbie's calls and causing her
to worry about him. And today's day out – wherever they ended up going;
and Debbie could choose – would be on him. His treat.
James's hand was on the receiver, and he was about to pick it up when,
looking over towards the mirror, he noticed that the eerie white light
was pulsing again.
Signifying, James knew, that ... something, was about to happen.
The strange pulsing went on for some moments; the eerie white light,
emanating from all around the edges where the mirror glass fitted into
its ornately carved hardwood frame ... And then suddenly the 'picture'
The 'picture': the amazingly realistic, true-to-life quality image, as
depicted on the mirror's two-foot high, four-foot wide ultra
James took his hand off the telephone receiver. And, all thoughts of
calling Debbie having suddenly gone from his head, he walked over to the
Standing in front of the mirror, James instantly became totally absorbed
in what he was seeing ... absorbed, that is, in what the mistress of the
mirror was purposefully 'broadcasting' to him.
Lying upon the white,
pleated quilt of a double-size bed was a stunning blonde woman. Her
beauty was breathtaking. She had a face that could launch a thousand
ships. And it was immediately obvious, to James, that she had 'it'.
It was all in her eyes. She was the sort of woman who, exuding sex
appeal, turned men's heads wherever she went ... and raised their
She was in her mid-twenties, James guessed. And she had the most
gorgeous tan; the sort that took a lot of 'work'.
All she was wearing was a yellow string-bikini, and a pair of
high-heeled mules that were of the same bright-yellow colour as her
decidedly skimpy clothing.
And, just as had happened last night at Jennifer's apartment, with
Jennifer and Sharon, the stunning blonde woman looked right at James ...
without seeing him.
Her captivating blue eyes looked right into his, yet she was obviously
unaware of his 'presence'. Totally oblivious, to James's ... interest.
The highly alluring lady was lying on her front, and facing the foot of
the bed. The white-cased pillows behind her were rumpled and deeply
dimpled, from where she'd been repeatedly thudding her high-heeled mule
shod feet into them. She was reading US Today magazine, and James saw
that a photo of Hilary Clinton was on the front cover: 'Hilary for the
Hill?' read the caption.
The spellbinding blonde woman desultorily turned the pages of her
magazine. And as she did so she repeatedly raised and lowered her
beautifully toned and tanned lower legs behind her and, with her bright
yellow high-heeled mules balanced precariously on her feet, she
absentmindedly performed the most extraordinary feats of shoe-playing
'tricks' that James had ever witnessed.
Bug-eyed, James was entranced.
Inevitably, as he was admiring the awesomely attractive blonde woman's
highly exciting shoe-playing performance, James became more and more
To simultaneously watch the changing expressions on her beautiful face,
as she read her magazine, and her playful and 'expert' feet as, with her
lower legs raised behind her, she absentmindedly toyed with her
high-heeled mules, was a recipe for ...
The gorgeous blonde woman's super-exciting shoe-play show continued for
a few more minutes ... And James was at it again – he just couldn't help
himself ... Rub, rub, rub ...
But upon looking at her wristwatch, the fabulous blonde suddenly let her
sexy shoes fall from her feet. And James clearly heard the soft thuds,
as she allowed her not insubstantial mules to drop to the all-rumpled-up
and deeply dimpled white-cased pillows behind her.
James then heard the snap-and-crackle crinkling of glossy pages and,
having folded it over to the page she'd been reading, the blonde
bombshell put down her copy of US Today magazine for later, and then sat
on the side of her bed.
Then, as if ... something, had made her look up, she looked right at
James ... without seeing him. And James felt all tingly, as he stared
right back into her captivating blue eyes.
And then the soles of her golden feet were flashing at James, as she
headed for the bathroom ... Yes, the bathroom: The door was left open,
and the shower stall was clearly visible inside.
Where is she? James wondered. Is she in a hotel room, or something?
James watched the breathtaking blonde as, with her back to him she
divested herself of her scanty little bright yellow garments; her bare
buttocks, all round, and lovely, and ... all-over tanned.
The blonde goddess tucked her golden hair into a shower cap. And then
the soles of her beautifully bronzed feet briefly flashed at James;
first her right foot, and then her left, as she stepped into the
Perspex-walled shower stall, and the gorgeous blonde's curvy contours
became obscured within.
James then heard the roar of the power shower. He could hardly believe
Via the medium of the mirror's 'audio system', the fantastically
realistic, true-to-life sound quality was amazing. It was as though the
power shower was right here; right here in his own living room.
In moments, the opaque Perspex walls of the shower stall were steaming
up and, as she began soaping herself, James could barely make out the
blonde goddess's divine form.
James had a right boner.
Not meaning to, James continued to think of the blonde beauty's lovely,
Moreover, he continued to think of her so, so sexily shoe-playing feet
as, without even thinking about it, she'd expertly manipulated her
James was in awe, of her 'skill'.
James was in awe, of her almost miraculous, incredibly precarious
was in thrall, to the thrilling way that she crossed and recrossed her
shapely ankles and, as she read her magazine, absentmindedly caused the
bottoms of her bare heels to slap-slap-slap-slap against her mules.
the sights and the sounds of the gorgeous blonde's 'teasing' were now
indelibly imprinted on James's mind. And, playing over and over, those
highly arousing sights and sounds were already starting to drive him
crazy with desire – with lust.
There was only one thing for it ...
But no. No! He would not, reduce himself to such ...
self-satisfaction again, to obtain the necessary blessed relief.
He would not, reduce himself to such frenzied pulling and tugging
and yanking away at 'himself', to bring about a relief that had by now
become only very temporary – and increasingly short-lived.
After all, he had Debbie, to take care of his needs.
best to take his mind off it ...?
some strange reason, the thought then popped into James's mind that he
hadn't cleaned the mirror since he'd bought it ... yesterday.
wouldn't do. Oh, no.
of the mirror's previous owners had cared for the mirror lovingly and
adoringly ... and dutifully.
twenty-one-year-old James Noble would be no different.
'She', would see to that.
mirror's ornately carved hardwood frame – in particular, its occult
symbols – must be adoringly and lovingly polished. Regularly. Every
single day. Without fail – and no excuses ... Devotedly.
what about the mirror's glass?
First, he'd clean the glass, James decided.
then he'd polish up the mirror's ornately carved hardwood frame. James
was sure he had a tin of furniture polish lying around the place
would pay particular attention, he thought, to all of those arcane,
weird-looking shapes and patterns on the hardwood frame. "Scary
symbols", Debbie had called them, when she'd first seen the mirror, up
in Howard Leadbetter's attic.
kiddo. Let's get to it! James said to himself, with an unaccountable
sense of purpose.
returned to the mirror with his plastic bottle of Sparkle window
cleaner. He positioned the spray-bottle's nozzle about five inches from
the surface of the mirror, and then sprayed. He pulled the trigger five
or six times, aiming the generously spurting ammonia-based liquid at
different areas of the glass.
was about to wipe the glass surface with a clean dry cloth, when he
realised that, although he'd seen the glass cleaner spray out mistily
from the nozzle, he could not see any of it on the mirror’s surface.
it was a quick-evaporation spray. But this was ridiculous!
sprayed a second time.
watched more closely as, from just three inches away, this time, he
again pulled the trigger five or six times. And again, although he saw
the misty spray come out of the bottle's nozzle, not a single droplet of
it landed on the surface of the mirror.
Tentatively, with his hand still holding the cloth, James made to touch
the three-centuries-old mirror's already spotlessly clean and totally
unblemished glass surface ... Upon which, he saw his hand and the cloth
disappear into the mirror.
a shocked cry, James quickly pulled back his hand. What, the ...?
his great relief, James found that he still had his hand, complete with
all five digits. So he put down his clean dry cloth ... and put his hand
inside the mirror again.
then his right foot ... which he then also retrieved, a moment later.
all was still in good, apple-pie order.
... mused James. When he'd put his right foot through the mirror, to the
... other side, he'd thought he'd felt a carpeted floor, under his bare
then – without pausing to consider what might be the possible
consequences; without taking so much as a second, to dwell upon the
unknown and unknowable ramifications of his doing so – without thinking
– James went through the mirror.
first inserting his right foot, then ducking his head and body through,
and finally bringing his left foot through after him, James went through
the two-foot high, four-foot wide mirror ...
found himself in the stunning blonde woman's bedroom.
couldn't believe it.
was amazing. Just awesome!
mirror, then, James marvelled, wasn't just a brilliant TV. But it was
also some kind of gateway. Some kind of ... portal.
Looking around the bedroom, James's eyes were drawn to the beautiful
blonde woman's shoes; her pair of bright yellow high-heeled mules.
were on the deeply dimpled pillows of her bed. Just where she'd let them
fall from her expertly shoe-playing feet – the finest absentminded
shoe-play 'exhibition' that James had ever witnessed – upon her deciding
it was time to take a shower.
went over to the sexy blonde woman's bright yellow high-heeled mules,
and picked them both up.
was in awe.
Holding the blonde goddess's shoes in his hands, he felt all tingly. It
was like he could actually feel her vibe now; feel some ... residual
something, of herself.
turned the incredibly attractive blonde woman's left shoe around; this
way, that way, admiring it from all angles.
he concentrated his worshipful gaze upon the indentations, and upon the
dark imprints, she'd left. The dark, black-on-yellow imprints, that the
undersides of her toes had made, and the bottom of her heel ... the
residual something, of herself.
James could not believe, just how incredibly exciting it felt, to
actually hold that gorgeous woman's recently worn sexy shoe in his
hands; still warm, from the sole of her foot.
could not believe, just how unbelievably uplifting – heart-soaring – it
was, to adore it.
not believe, just how awesomely arousing it was, to actually smell the
sex goddess's shoe – to sniff up and inhale, deep into himself, that ...
residual something, of herself.
to kiss, the blonde siren's shoe.
Kissing, all over. Kissing her shoe, in respect, in reverence, in
adoration – in worship.
to lick, the blonde bombshell's shoe.
Licking, where the undersides of her tanned toes had been, and the
bottom of her golden heel.
Licking – working his craving, ravening tongue into all of those
irresistibly alluring indentations.
Licking, at all of those dark, black-on-yellow imprints, and savouring
the unbelievable flavour – loving the mind-blowing taste – and devouring
that ... residual something, of herself.
it was! thought James.
it was, to worship the breathtakingly beautiful blonde woman's shoe: Her
left, bright yellow high-heeled mule.
it was, to adore it!
hold it in his hands, and appreciate its great, iconic beauty. To have
his worshipful eyes, solemnly behold its awe-inspiring, majestic
splendour. To lose himself, in all of its loveliness ... Its sexiness.
it was, to kiss it!
hold it in his hands, and actually feel his own, humble and unworthy
lips, paying due homage.
it was, to sniff it!
hold it in his hands, and to sniff up and inhale – to breathe, deep into
his body and mind, that ... residual something, of herself.
it was, to lick it!
hold it in his hands, and work his craving, ravening tongue into all of
those irresistibly alluring indentations. Licking at those dark,
black-on-yellow imprints – licking, at the ... residual something, of
it was, to hold it in his hands, and ...
then the power shower was turned off.
the stunning blonde woman – the drop-dead-gorgeous foot goddess, who's
face could launch a thousand ships, and who had 'it', in spades, and who
had so expertly performed the finest and most exciting absentminded
shoe-playing 'exhibition' that James had ever witnessed – stepped out of
the opaque-Perspex walled shower stall ... Large as life.
Facing him, in all of her considerable glory.
was panic stricken.
could he have been so impetuous? he thought. Coming through the mirror,
like that. Coming through the mirror, without so much as a thought about
Urgently, James turned around ... to find there was no sign of the
stunning blonde woman screamed; a high-pitched shriek, that went on for
about five seconds but, to James, seeming like five minutes.
adjoining door to another room burst open, and the gorgeous blonde
woman's husband, a tall, dark haired, muscular-looking man in his late
twenties stood in the doorway. Uncertainly, he surveyed the decidedly
singular scene. He also had a great tan; the kind you have to 'work' on.
Regarding James – stubble-faced, hair all over the place, dressed only
in his pair of white, all-muddied-up football shorts, and holding his
wife's pair of bright yellow high-heeled mules – with a look more of
puzzlement than of hostility, the man said in an American accent, "Who's
he, Sandra? And, where'd he come from?"
glaring at James, and hastily donning a white towelling robe as she did
so, Sandra replied, "The hell do I know, Chuck? He's just ... some guy.
And I don't know where he came from. And besides, he'd have had to get
past you to get in here, wouldn't he? So how come you didn't see him,
couldn't answer that one.
"Well, I heard you scream. So, what was he doing here, Sandra ... in our
just stepped outta the shower, and, well ..."
what, Sandra? I've never known 'just some guy' make you scream
was ... making out with my shoe, Chuck. You should have seen him! He was
actually licking it! Ugh! Can you imagine? And the look on his face! All
sorta depraved. That's why I yelled. I – I guess he kinda freaked me
out, okay? I mean, he's gotta be some kinda pervert, hasn't he? Licking
my shoe, where my sweaty foot's been?"
... I guess," said Chuck.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Get him, Chuck! We've gotta make a
Citizen's Arrest. But first, I wanna piece of his ass! No guy makes out
with my shoes!"
was wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this one – and
keep his ass in one piece – when Chuck made James's mind up for him.
Chuck charged at him like an angry Rottweiler, sicced on him by an even
angrier mistress, James drew his right arm back and with all the
strength he could muster he hurled Sandra's left, bright yellow
high-heeled mule right at Chuck's fast-approaching head ... And got
was like Chuck hadn't seen the projectile coming, because he could have
easily batted it away. But somehow, James's missile sailed through the
air in a seemingly undetectable parabola, and the heel tip of Sandra's
left, not insubstantial mule hit Chuck right in the mouth, chipping one
of his front teeth.
his being so assailed, Chuck stood stock-still and, holding a hand to
his mouth he emitted a high, barely audible keening sound.
knew he was in trouble now. Big trouble. If Chuck got his hands on him
needed to seize this fortunate chance to escape ... but where to?
blind panic James rushed past the temporarily immobilised Chuck, and
into the adjoining room from which Chuck had emerged ... And yes: there
was the door to the outside!
said Chuck, ineffectually pawing at his evasive assailant one-handed as
James took his chance to dink and dodge past him.
getting away, Chuck!" wailed Sandra. "Stop him! He's still got one of my
shoes! Don't let him get away, Chuck. I wanna piece of his ass!"
"Don't worry, Thandra. I won't let that athole get away. Becoth I wanna
pieth of hith ath, too!" lisped the enraged Chuck.
threw himself out of the adjoining room's door, and found himself in a
narrow corridor. Numbered doors were spaced at irregular intervals on
either side ... I must be in a hotel, James marvelled.
his right, just up ahead at the end of the corridor, was another door.
Time being of the essence – Chuck wouldn't be immobilised for long –
James ran to it headlong.
frantically opened the door, stepped through ... and James just could
not believe, what he saw.
it was James, who was suddenly stopped in his tracks, and standing
stock-still, temporarily immobilised.
despite his desperation to escape from the outraged and enraged Chuck,
and his lovely sex-kitten wife, the vengeance-hungry Sandra, James could
only stop, and stare, at the scene that greeted his eyes.
had been right: He was, in a hotel ... sort of.
stunned amazement, James stared at the most beautiful blue sky he had
ever seen. And at the endless expanse of blue-green ocean; misty spray,
breaking free from the whitecaps of the larger swells.
utter incredulity, James stared at the rows and rows of sun-loungers,
occupied mostly by young women.
of the young women were topless. While others wore skimpy,
nothing-to-them bikinis ... so they might as well have been.
there, on a flag, fluttering and flapping in the breeze atop its
flagpole, was a travel company logo he recognised: On a cheery bright
yellow happy-faced-sun background, printed in bright blue letters was
the legend: Sunshine Holidays.
couldn't believe it.
was actually aboard an ocean-going liner – a Sunshine Holidays cruise
Sunshine Holidays, James knew, was a British-based travel company, with
affiliated offices and agents worldwide.
upon his seeing another fluttering flag, James saw that she was actually
the Lady Caroline – the pride of the fleet.
was named after Caroline Flynt: the British Prime Minister, and leader
of the Authoritarian Female Party (AFP).
sister ship, James knew, was the Lady Theresa. She was named after
Theresa Maynard: Home Secretary.
just as the majestic-looking ships were coming in to commission last
May, upon the Authoritarian Female Party's landslide General Election
victory, Sunshine Holidays had also named all of the other ships of this
splendid new generation of cruise liners after AFP Cabinet Ministers.
Making his way down towards the crowded sundeck, James observed the rows
and rows of young women on sun-loungers, who were 'working' on their
of the sunbathers appeared to be in their twenties, and James wondered
if this was one of Sunshine Holidays' 18 to 30 holidays.
arriving at the rows of sunbathing young women, James saw that most of
them were lying on their fronts, so as to feel the sun on their backs
... And so that they were facing away from him, with their bare soles
excitingly displayed to his view, toes pointing downwards. Though some
of them, with their lower legs languidly raised behind them,
absentmindedly waved their feet in the air as they read their book, or
magazine, or newspaper.
of the sunbathers, though, were lying on their backs, so as to feel the
sun on their fronts ... And so that they were not facing away from
facing towards him.
as he slowly walked past them, the female sunbathers – and a few men,
too – who were facing towards him, raised their sunglasses, and lowered
their book, or magazine, or newspaper, and regarded with open curiosity
the unkempt, unshaven, all-muddied-up white football shorts attired
James promenaded past all of those bronzed babes' bare soles, under the
mistress of the mirror's ever strengthening influence over him James was
making virtually no attempt now, to disguise his keen ... interest.
young ladies who were lying on their fronts, and who were as yet unaware
of James's watchful presence – and oblivious, as to his ... interest –
continued to languidly raise their lower legs behind them, and
absentmindedly wave their feet in the air.
of them, with their legs up straight, angled their feet this way, that
way – every which way. While others idly crossed and recrossed their
ankles; their soles, too, catching the sun from ever changing angles.
Though the sun-kissed soles of most of the other, non-foot-waving young
women were relatively motionless, James's finely tuned antenna
unfailingly picked up on any such sudden absentminded movements of toe
scrunching, wiggling, and splaying as was 'on offer', as they idly
whiled away yet another shipboard day in the hot sunshine.
though, the lovely Sandra was emerging through the door behind James.
And, his ... unconventional dress-code attired figure being so hard to
miss, she spotted James's ambling, insouciant form immediately.
now it was the stunning blonde's turn, to be stopped in her tracks, and
stand stock-still, temporarily immobilised. She couldn't believe it.
sheer gall, of the guy. Just nonchalantly strolling along the sundeck,
and blatantly staring at the sunbathing women's feet, marvelled Sandra.
Sandra was barefoot and, holding aloft her left, bright yellow
high-heeled mule, the gorgeous blonde angrily and loudly demanded of
James, "Hey, you! Gimme that shoe!"
her chipped-toothed husband was right behind her. "Bathdard! I'm gonna
have a pieth of your ath! And thath a promith!" vowed Chuck.
the sudden commotion caused by Sandra and Chuck's threats of impending
violence, almost everyone on the sundeck was aware of James's presence
“Stop him! Stop that
guy! He's some sorta foot pervert!” yelled Sandra. "And he's got one of
of the sunbathers merely looked on with mild interest, and remained
where they were ... 'working' on their tans.
good number of them, perhaps seeing it as their moral duty as good
citizens to aid in the fugitive's capture – or maybe they were just
bored of soaking up the sun all day, and so were glad of the opportunity
to participate in this small, monotony-relieving diversion – sprang up
from their sun-loungers, and eagerly joined in the chase.
"Where are all the guys?" asked Sandra, of the nearest of her summarily
recruited female posse members.
"They're all watching the World Series," was the reply James heard.
the hell is he? And what's he done?" James heard one of his other female
pursuers ask Sandra, in tones of breathless excitement.
dunno. He's ... just some guy. But he suddenly appeared in my cabin –
appeared out of nowhere! I'd just stepped outta the shower, and I caught
him making out with my shoe! You should have seen him – the look on his
face! All sorta depraved. He was licking my shoe – actually licking it!
Can you imagine? Ugh! Licking my shoe, right where my sweaty foot's
been! Ain't that right, Chuck?"
"Yeth. He'th thum thort of thyoo-kithing, thyoo-licking thicko. And, tho
help me, I'm gonna have a pieth of hith ath!"
"What?" asked yet another of the pursuing female posse members. "You
mean, he's one of those ... foot fetish guys?"
got it!" confirmed the stunning Sandra.
Thoroughly panicked, James darted into the first corridor that he came
to – and found himself trapped.
had blundered into the cruise ship's keep-fit gymnasium, and the chasing
mob were right behind him ... Now, he was for it.
first, James thought there were more than twenty young ladies in the
gymnasium. Not least, because the sentiments of angry indignation that
assailed his ears were vociferous and vitriolic, at his having burst
into their aerobics class so rudely.
James realised his mistake: it was an optical illusion.
Because the lower walls of the gym were faced with mirrors, the
multitudinous reflections had fooled James into thinking there were many
more leotard-wearing young women in the gym than were actually present –
about a dozen, rather than the twenty-plus that he'd initially imagined.
whether there were a dozen, or twenty-plus leotard-wearing,
all-sweated-up and angry young women, James was still in the same
now, at their seeing the entrance of the angry-looking Sandra and Chuck,
closely followed by their large and mostly female posse of superbly
tanned young women, the ladies of the aerobics class fell silent,
looking on bemusedly.
we've got him!" exclaimed the exultant Sandra.
Wielding her left, bright yellow high-heeled mule like some preferred
weapon of combat, and eyeing James maliciously, like some evil-minded
female conqueror, the stunning Sandra gloated, "Oh yes ... Now, we've
lady in charge of the aerobics class – a very attractive, lean and
fit-as-a-fiddle blonde in her early twenties – complained exasperatedly,
"Er, excuse me. But would you mind telling me just what the hell is
going on? I'm trying to conduct an aerobics class here!"
"Yeth. We're gonna have a pieth of hith ath," explained Chuck.
now, James was almost backed up against the far wall ... there was
nowhere left to go.
James's horror, Chuck started to advance threateningly on him. Pointing
to his newly chipped front tooth, Chuck snarled, “Thee thith? Bathdard!
I’m gonna have a pieth of your ath!” he promised. "Tho help me."
very sorry, sir," offered James. "I didn't mean it."
so fast, Chuck!” commanded Sandra. “I want my turn with this little
jerk-off, first. Ya hear me? I'm gonna make him pay – and pay real good!
Now, back off!" she told her husband authoritatively.
”Nobody metheth with my wife! Not even me! Ha ha ha!” Chuck
blustered, and laughed awkwardly, in trying to save face in front of the
watching posse of mostly female pursuers, and the annoyed ladies of the
interrupted aerobics class. "You'll thoon thee," he assured them.
James's dread, the stunning Sandra started to advance menacingly on him.
He knew the game was up ... it was all in her eyes.
“This is the end-game, shoe guy. And now ... I’m gonna finish your ass,”
promised Sandra as, with her left, bright yellow high-heeled mule
tightly gripped in her right hand, she exultantly moved in on James.
seeing James cringing defenceless before her, and awaiting his fate in
mute trepidation – his fate, at her hands – the stunning Sandra paused
to stand triumphantly over him, and savour her highly satisfying moment
all the more ... Oh, she was really going to enjoy this!
her rapt, admiring husband, and her excitedly anticipating audience of
female fugitive-pursuers and leotard-wearing aerobics ladies eagerly
looked on, Sandra gleefully told James, ”Now, asshole. You little foot
freak ... you're gonna get what's coming to you."
more encouraged, by her husband's and her larger audience's vociferous
and enthusiastic sentiments of approval, the fabulous Sandra went on,
"So, you like my shoes, do you? Well, let me tell you something, you
shoe-kissing pervert, you – you shoe-licking little jerk-off. I like
them, too. And I don't appreciate them being all slobbered and slavered
over! See where I'm coming from?"
very sorry, Miss," offered James. "I didn't mean to. I ... I couldn't
gorgeous Sandra waited for the riotous noise of the latest wave of
encouragement to abate some, before going on. "Before I hand your sorry
ass over to the ship's Captain, I’m gonna give you a good taste of my
shoe, sonny, that you ain't, gonna like so much. And that you
ain't never gonna forget," promised the crowd-pleasing, incomparable
what you've done to my Chuck’s teeth, shoe guy? Well, that’s what I'm
gonna do, to your shoe-kissing, shoe-licking little head with the heel
of my shoe: Chip it. All over ... Chip. Chip. Chip. Chip ... All over.”
shouted excitedly, ”Yeah, baby! Go girl! I can't wait to thee thith! Let
him have it, Thandra!”
time for talking, was over.
thus encouraged, the lovely Sandra menacingly raised her left, bright
yellow high-heeled mule high above her head, and like a wildcat she
launched herself at James, intent on delivering on her head-chipping
Braced himself, against the chosen chastisement that he knew the
sensational Sandra was about to administer.
About to administer, with the heel of her left shoe.
About to administer, with the heel of her left shoe, a frenzied flurry
of retributive blows to his vulnerable head ... Chip. Chip. Chip. Chip
... All over.
James knew, as they avidly witnessed the sweet-faced Sandra's merciless
downpour of blows showering down upon his gravely under-protected head,
Sandra's all-fired-up audience would enthusiastically shout and yell
their approval and encouragement, and energetically urge Sandra on to
even greater efforts ... to even greater, head-chipping.
at seeing the start of the supreme Sandra's left, high-heeled mule's
doom-laden descent, in sheer panic James tried to back away further ...
Only to find that he now had nowhere left to go. That he was now almost
backed up to the gymnasium's reflective lower wall.
in that moment, when time seemed to stand still, James could see it in
Sandra’s eyes. Could see it in her eyes, that she knew she had him,
she had him, exactly where she wanted him. That she had him, at her
mercy. That he had nowhere left to run to. That he had no avenue of
escape – that he was trapped!
was it, then ...
was trapped, by his angel-faced assailant.
Hopeless, James resigned himself to his fate.
would never forget the look on the superlative Sandra's lovely,
launch-a-thousand-ships face; an expression of such malicious glee as,
with great velocity, Sandra brought down the heel of her shoe – her
left, bright yellow high-heeled mule.
shoe, that James had so reverently held in his very own two hands, and
so excitedly sniffed, and so adoringly kissed, and so lustfully licked –
so ardently worshiped.
would never forget the look on the sublime Sandra's angelic, come-to-bed
face; an expression of such malevolent delight as, powerfully and
accurately, and viciously and cruelly, Sandra brought the heel of her
left shoe down towards his gravely under-protected head at frightening
speed, James feared, that was going to crack his skull ... the first of
many, such cracks. Crack his skull, just as easily, and just as surely,
and just as remorselessly as Sandra would crack the shell of a
soft-boiled egg with her breakfast spoon ... Chip. Chip. Chip. Chip ...
would never forget the look on the spectacular Sandra’s captivating,
head-turning face; an expression of such triumphant, vengeful glee as,
eyes shining in victory, she eagerly anticipated the now
fast-approaching moment when the heel of her left, bright yellow
high-heeled mule would impact the top of her helpless and hopelessly
trapped victim's vulnerable head with a resounding, and highly
resounding, and highly satisfying crack, that would be only the first of
first of many, that the sensational Sandra would sadistically administer
... Chip. Chip. Chip. Chip ... All over.
in the split-second moment before the first of those terrible vengeful
impacts could become a painful reality, James instinctively cringed back
from the incoming blow.
Cringed back, from the sweet-faced Sandra's shoe-wielding assault ...
And passed through the mirrored surface of the gymnasium's reflective
wall ... and back into his living room.
could not believe it.
hearing the sounds of familiar voices; voices that were raised, in
confusion and frustration and anguish, James hurriedly got up from the
carpet where he'd just been ... deposited.
looking at the scene, as depicted by the mirror's two-foot high,
four-foot wide ultra high-resolution 'screen', he didn't know who was
the more stunned, and the more disbelieving: himself, or the
flabbergasted folk he'd just left behind.
behind, in the reflective-walled gymnasium aboard the Sunshine Holidays
cruise ship, the Lady Caroline.
James had safely returned, he now realised, by means of having passed
through the mirrored lower wall of the ship’s gym. The reflective
surface of which, apparently having served as some kind of gateway. Some
kind of ... portal.
Stunned, and shaken to the core, by his incredibly narrow escape – and
by his fantastical experience – James gratefully plonked himself down
in his favourite chair; his black leather, well-padded armchair.
There were a lot of puzzled people in the ship's gym, and that was for
There was Sandra and Chuck, and their mostly female volunteer-force
posse of sunbathers, and the leotard-wearing ladies of the aerobics
class ... And now, the ship's Captain, who'd apparently been called to
the scene by the aerobics instructor.
"What appears to be the problem, here," inquired the calm-voiced
Captain. And, at the resultant clamour of overexcited voices, he held up
both arms in placation and said, "One at a time, please."
athole dithappeared!" blurted Chuck.
disappeared?" said the Captain.
was ... just some guy," explained the splendid Sandra. "But he just
vanished ... right through there," she said, pointing to the exact spot
where James had inexplicably gone through the gym's mirrored lower wall.
"Oh, and he sounded English," added Sandra, as though as an
seeing the expression on the Captain's face, Sandra gestured to those
around her and shouted at him aggressively, "We all saw it! And we all
everyone voicing their emphatic agreement with Sandra, the Captain
sighed deeply and replied, "All right, all right ..."
the Captain's patronising tone only angered Sandra all the more. She
stood confronting him, hands on hips.
Sandra, the Captain said, "Hmm. You say he was ... just some guy. And he
just vanished ... right through there," he said, gesturing to the exact
spot in the mirrored lower wall that Sandra had pointed out. "Oh, and he
Sandra asserted, "Yes, he was. And he did ... You got a problem with
that?" she challenged the ship's Master belligerently.
"Well ... there are no English people listed on the passenger manifest,
for this voyage," the Captain informed Sandra.
Sandra was stuck for a reply to that.
Thinking that humour might be the best way to calm his obviously
agitated and unsettled passengers, the Captain said, "Well, we shouldn't
be too surprised, should we, if someone disappears? After all, we are in
the ... Bermuda Triangle."
the Captain's attempt at humour didn't work – fell totally flat. In
fact, he'd only succeeded in agitating and unsettling his passengers
further. It was obvious, in the expressions on his freaked-out
passengers' faces. Expressions, that clearly said: Will I be next, to
scintillating Sandra, frustrated at so mysteriously being denied her
vengeance against James, blurted angrily, “What the hell, Chuck! Where
is the little jerk-off? I mean, I just don't get it. How can he be here,
and then just not, be here?”
“Thyuckth! I dunno, Thandra!" replied the equally bewildered Chuck. "I
thyure don't know. There’th no thign of the thyoo-kithing, thyoo-licking
lother! He'th jutht dithappeared – ith ath thimple ath that."
* * *
The mirror then panned out of the
reflective-walled gymnasium, along the corridor, and out through the
door to the sundeck.
James observed the rows and rows of
sun-loungers, most of them occupied by young ladies.
Some of them were topless. While others
wore skimpy, nothing-to-them bikinis ... so they might as well have
Those of them who were lying on their
fronts, causing the brilliant Bermudan sun to glint off their bare soles
at ever changing angles as, with their lower legs languidly raised
behind them, they absentmindedly waved their feet in the air.
And, James saw, as they read their novel, or newspaper, or magazine,
some of the young ladies absentmindedly scrunched, or splayed, or
wiggled their toes, as they did so.
And all of the sunbathing ladies, James noticed, were superbly tanned.
The sort of tan, that they'd had to 'work' on ... And were still,
Now the mirror started to pan out.
There, James saw, was the cruise ship's flag. Fluttering and flapping in
the breeze atop its flagpole, it displayed the well-known travel
company's logo: a cheery bright yellow happy-faced-sun background and,
printed upon it in bright blue letters was the legend: Sunshine
The mirror panned out further ...
And, as if he was listening to it through some ultra high-fidelity sound
system, James heard the tremendous, realistic roar of the cruise ship's
boiling wake, as the Lady Caroline's enormous propellers churned the
blue-green waters astern to a seething white maelstrom.
And the mirror panned out further still ...
Until all James could see, was the most beautiful blue sky that he'd
ever seen. And the endless expanse of blue-green ocean; misty spray,
breaking free from the whitecaps of the larger swells ...
And the receding spectacle of the majestic cruise ship.
She was the pride of the fleet.
Her name, James could still make out on the graceful lines of her stern:
And then she was gone.
* * *
But James remained seated in his favourite chair; his black leather,
Because the mirror was pulsing, now.
Pulsing its eerie white light. The eerie white light, that emanated from
all around the mirror where it fitted into its ornately carved hardwood
Which signified, as James now knew well, that ... something, was about
James stood up, and quickly pulled off his pair of white, all-muddied-up
So that he would be unrestricted and unrestrained, unencumbered and
unhampered – liberated.
With nothing to get in the way of his ... movements.
No impediment, to ... pleasure.
The mistress of the mirror was once again summoning James.
Summoning her latest, in a long line of 'sex' slaves, to ... service.
Summoning him, to offer his 'devotions' ... In her honour.
So that, through the essential ingredient, nutrient-rich nourishment of
James's 'willing' sacrifices, she would continue to flourish ... And
James waited ...
The mistress of the mirror wouldn't keep
him waiting for long, he knew.
No. It wouldn't be long.
It wouldn't be long, before the mistress
of the mirror once again brought him to such peaks of almost unbearable
pleasure, that, frantically pulling and tugging and yanking away at
'himself' in yet another frenzy of climactic ecstasy, he would duly
deliver up his 'devotions' – the precious seed, of his 'willing'
And deliver up, to the mistress of the
mirror, a little bit more of himself.
As James waited, his fingertips
sensuously caressed what he lovingly cradled in his hands ... The
sensational Sandra's right, bright yellow high-heeled mule.
And, especially in the dark,
black-on-yellow imprints, made by the undersides of the stunning
Sandra's tanned toes, and by the bottom of her golden heel, the little
residual ... something, of herself.
The Mirror continues,
in chapter 6.