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.
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
