The Mirror Man

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A lurid tale of love, lust and deceit.

Submitted: December 01, 2016

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Submitted: December 01, 2016

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My name is Chad Maxwell. I’m from a strong Irish family. We’re all well-endowed men who have flowing blonde hair. Some people believe the last name Maxwell hails from Jewish descent. While that is the case for other Maxwells out in the world, I assure you I’m 100% Irish. I’m six feet tall with biceps that measure roughly 11 inches in diameter. My legs are toned and tan and I shave the hair on them to ensure they’re smooth. My hair is blonde and comes down to my neck. I’m extremely handsome in the face. My eyes are blue, but they tend to turn green depending on what attire I’m dressed in. I have strong abdominal muscles, well defined and the much-desired “v” shape just above my penis. My penis is above average when it’s hard, tilts just to the left when I urinate. I’m what most women want. I’m the epitome of “sexy”. I’m physically flawless, unless you count my black tooth in the back of my mouth that no one can see.

My wife is gorgeous. She’s a model that recently retired and is now a fashion designer. She’s continued to keep her body in shape. She eats almost as healthy as I do. Works out almost as much as me but tends to slack during holidays. Her hair is blonde but mine is natural. She was born a brunette and claims it turned blonde in her teenage years. I know she dyes it because I’ve seen her pubic hairs over a thousand times and they are brunette. The young girl I slept with in college, before my wife and I married, was a natural blonde. Her pubic hair was as blonde as her hair on top of her head: unless she bleached down there as well. My wife is what most men desire.

It’s late here in my home and my wife has just put on her see-through nightgown. She walks in the bathroom where I’m currently at and kisses my shoulder, then looks at me in the mirror with her seductive eyes. Her eyes are green but my eyes are greener when I wear the right attire. She slowly grabs my crotch and starts to kiss my neck. I’m not interested in my wife at the moment. I slowly become erect as she continues to fondle me and make out with my neck, which she’s now moved to my back. She tells me to come to bed. I tell her I will in a few minutes. She closes the door. I look deep into the mirror, penis hard and I admire my perfect body. I stare at my tight pecks and my youthful hairline. I lean in to the mirror and slowly kiss my reflection. I feel one last time of my biceps and then I grab my penis and feel of it. I smile and walk out into my bedroom.

My wife has been waiting now for over twenty minutes as I had been admiring myself. We argue and I tell her I’m exhausted from work. She rolls over, her ass sticking out of her nightgown, and goes to sleep.

I wake up with a sense of relief. I successfully avoided yet another sexual experience with my wife the previous night and this morning I feel wonderful.

After finishing my morning routine I walk downstairs to see my wife has left early but has remembered to make my protein shake. It rests by my briefcase and my keys. I quickly drink the shake and leave for work.

I drive a 2005 green Ferrari 430. It’s a beautiful car. I have to say it’s even better with me driving in it. I’ve often thought I should be a model. I also thought possibly an actor. I drive to work, which is about a twenty-minute drive, and I spend almost ten minutes of the drive looking at myself in all of the available mirrors. First I always glance at the side mirror to make sure my profile looks good. Right when I merge onto the Brooklyn Bridge I switch to the rearview mirror to check my gorgeous hairline. Once I’m in the city I usually flip down my visor mirror and look into my own blue eyes, unless I’m wearing green, which then they are emerald and stunning.

Mid day at work I find myself staring into my computer screen, which is turned off so I can see my reflection. I crack a smile as I see my hair continues to be perfectly combed. I lean back in my gigantic office and turn and stare out of the window. I watch New York during the day as the many people go to and fro. I think to myself that they’re so unlucky not to have my body and my looks.

My wife has yet to come home tonight. The clock reads 10:00pm and I wonder if she’s out having an affair. I think about how many months it’s been since my wife and I have actually had sex. It’s been so long that I can’t remember an exact number. Having had my protein shake I walk upstairs and enter my bathroom.

I admire myself in the mirror for over ten minutes.

I then slowly start to take off my clothes. I begin very seductive, slow, sexy and mysterious. I never take my eyes off my reflection as I do this. I gradually speed up the process and literally rip off my boxers leaving my penis lying limp against my thigh. I lean in to the mirror and kiss my reflection. This time, it kisses me back.

I’m caught off guard, even a bit scared as I notice my reflection is smiling at me.

“Jesus.” I say to the mirror.

“I’m sorry but I’ve wanted to do that for so long now.” It says.

I gently bring my hand up and graze the cheek of my reflection. It reaches out and I feel as if it’s also touching my cheek.

“You’re just…perfect and…” I trailed off, as I was lost in deep thought staring at my reflection’s eyes.

“I know. I know because you are too.” It whispers to me.

I lean in and kiss the mirror again and then before I know it I’m stroking my penis and making love to the reflection.

The clock reads 2:00am now as I lay in a pool of my own sperm on the cold bathroom floor. I can’t stop smiling. My entire body feels relaxed. I slowly get up off the tile and look at the mirror. My reflection says nothing to me. It simply smiles back at me. I kiss it one last time before I go to bed.

This morning my wife rolls out of bed. She leans back over and kisses me on the cheek. I pretend to be asleep. I know that she came home at 4:00am last night and it should bother me, but all I want to do is see myself in the mirror.

I drink my protein shake and read my tablet as my wife prepares her fruit shake. She tells me she’s sorry that the note she left last night fell behind the fridge. She had written that she had a late fashion show in New Jersey and wouldn’t be home until extremely late. I lie and tell her I was worried but too tired to call and fell asleep. She tells me I look great and walks over to me and starts to rub my shoulders. I smile and pat her hand in a comforting manner. She kisses my cheek and leaves for work.

My wife and I are dressed tonight for a function. I’m wearing a perfectly fitted tuxedo and she’s donning a curvy dress, which is so tight you can see her ribcage. Together we look absolutely breathtaking.

In the car on the way to the function my wife tells me she’s horny and wants to have sex, although she uses a different word for it. I tell her let’s see how late it is first because I have to go in to work early. I’m lying and she knows it and she knows that I know she knows. The rest of the drive is silent.

At the function I get over twenty compliments about how good I look. I kept counting until the compliments got to be around fifty. My wife, somehow, got even more comments than me. I believe it is a natural occurrence for women to be showered with compliments despite how ugly they truly are, not that my wife is ugly.  I casually separate from my wife and walk to the wet-bar and start in on a martini. I stew for a few minutes about how my wife is better looking than me. I catch a glimpse of myself in the glass of wine next to me. I suddenly feel better as I see how good I look tonight.

Mind now at ease I go to the bathroom. I pass a man who has just partaken in cocaine, his nose red and filled with white residue. I wash my hands and maintain my hair. I pull at my jacket and make sure I have no wrinkles in my shirt. I then see my reflection smiling at me. I look all around the bathroom, making sure we’re alone, and then I stare back at it.

“What a sight to see, Chad.” It tells me while almost licking its lips.

I blush and then get closer to the mirror.

“I didn’t know if you would be…here…” I tell it. It looks so good I want to rip its clothes off and make love right here in the bathroom.

I lean in and kiss it just as another man walks in. Thankfully he’s drunk and just laughs at me. I leave my reflection in the mirror as I walk out of the bathroom.

Back at home it’s almost 2:00am and my wife is drunk and she’s aroused. We walk, hand in hand, up the stairs and into our bedroom. She shoves me onto the bed and pulls down my pants. After she has slid my boxers down to my ankles she takes me in her mouth and begins fellatio. I’m noticeably distraught as I catch myself in the reflection of the vanity mirror across the room. I’m not smiling. In fact, I look disgusted. My wife is starting to grow inpatient with my penis because it’s flaccid. I tell her I’ll go down on her if she wants but I’m simply not up to having sex tonight. I blame the martinis. She takes a deep breath and passes out. I see my reflection staring at me and it looks angry. It may have been because I had been drinking, but I swear I see my reflection actually walk out of the mirror and turn its back on me in an annoyed manner. I roll over sweating and fall asleep half-naked.

Today is Monday and it’s our day with our marriage counselor. We sit in his ugly office as he talks to us. I’m forced to see this ugly man and his ugly voice and his ugly clothes every Monday because my wife believes I have a problem. She believes our marriage is failing because we don’t have a love life. The counselor adjusts with his ugly notepad and writes something down before clearing his nasty throat. He tells my wife that he believes I suffer from something called “automonosexualism” and that ultimately I’m asexual. I fail to understand him so I don’t argue. I simply sit across from him and look for anything in the room that I can use to see my reflection. My wife inquires about what it is I suffer from and is really into it as she has leaned forward as if she’s watching a scary movie. I finally see a small portrait to my left that is of an ugly house. It’s in a glass frame and if I sit up just enough I can see myself in it. I do this and see that I don’t look that good. I look tired and I look bored. I sit back so as not to see my reflection or myself in the glass. I’m now happy there is nothing in the room with a reflection.

It’s now 1:00am and my wife is passed out with multiple clothing store catalogues sprawled across the bed. I quietly get up from bed and walk into the bathroom. I bend down and open up our cabinet below the sink and withdraw something I had been hiding for a few days. It’s our most expensive bottle of wine. As quietly as I can I uncork the bottle and pour two glasses of wine. I hand the glass to my reflection. It picks up the glass and sips from it.

“How was work today?” It asks me.

“Not that good. We had a major crisis and I was stuck in meetings all day.”

“I hate to hear that.” It replied.

“Only thing that got me past the day was seeing your face in the mirror and the windows.” I say to my reflection. It’s slowly touching my thigh as it takes another sip from the glass.

“I’m always here with you, Chad.”

We kiss. It’s passionate. It’s the most passionate kiss I’ve ever experienced.

Before I can start, It stops and holds my hand.

“We’re meant for each other. You don’t need that bitch in there. I’m your soul mate. Me. Not her.”

I glance back toward the door thinking of my wife. I smile as I turn back to my reflection and kiss it again.

It’s close to 5am and I’m cleaning the last of my sperm from the mirror. I don’t even bother going back to bed seeing how I have to be up in an hour. I start my morning routine and every so often see myself in the mirror.

Now I’m at lunch at Le Bernardin and my business partner was supposed to have met me here but he can’t now so I’m eating by myself. I gaze at some reports as I eat their famous truffle pasta. An attractive woman half my age walks in and sits in the booth next to me. For some reason I can’t stop looking at her. I see she’s wearing a bright red mini-skirt and red stockings and her red lipstick pops from her pale face. I think to myself that I may have seen her in a magazine or possibly she’s worn one of my wife’s designs. I finally figure out I just think she’s pretty and I’m finding excuses to look at her. I get her attention and smile. She smiles back. We start off a conversation about work and then move on to personal details, such as names and where we’re from. I’m finding myself aroused by her and I’m almost positive she’s looked at my biceps three times.

In the bathroom I urinate and then walk to the sink and wash my hands. I see my reflection. It looks jealous. I’m taken aback and I lean in to it.

“What’s wrong?” I ask it.

“What the fuck do you think is wrong?”

I then think about the young woman and feel guilty.

“I’m sorry, it’s just we happened to have a lot in common and she’s pretty.” I say to It.

“Just don’t forget about me, Chad.”

“We could have a lot of fun with the three of us.” I tell It, thinking of the young woman and myself in bed. A thought of my wife pops in my head but I quickly disregard it.

It’s now Friday and my wife is gone to a fashion show in Los Angeles. I sit on the couch and next to me is the new mirror I bought. I’m currently naked and I plan to be all weekend. I admire my reflection, and It admires me and we make love over and over again. My right hand begins to cramp up.

The phone rings and I pick it up to hear the young woman’s voice. She asks me if I’m busy tonight and I immediately say no. We make plans for her to come over.

The clock reads 7:00pm and I hear her knock on the door. I open it up and see she’s wearing a revealing shirt and a short skirt that exposes her young thighs. She is caught off guard as she sees my wife’s picture. I lie to her and tell her we’re separated. We waste no time as we begin to kiss. I feel of her tight body and she feels of mine. My body is probably better but I’m definitely enjoying hers at the moment.

I tell her to wait a few minutes while I prepare the bed. I’m actually adjusting my new mirror and making sure I can properly see myself while the young woman and I have sex.

The sex is going really good and I have to admit that it feels so much better. I lay on my back as she rides me. I see my reflection come from the mirror and join in. I’m now more interested in It than her. I see as my reflection is now inside of her as well, both of us enjoying this young woman. But I now see my reflection, mid-thrust, glaring at me. He looks at me with disappointment. He is using his right hand to cup the young woman’s breast and with his free hand he brings up a butcher’s knife and quickly severs her main artery in her neck. She gasps for air as the blood runs down her breasts and onto my stomach eventually trickling down my penis and testicles. She falls back and I can see her eyes are still open. I look up to see my reflection is back safely in the mirror.

“Why?” I ask It.

“There’s not enough to go around, that’s why.”

My wife’s satin sheets she bought herself for Christmas is soaked in blood and the young woman’s lifeless body just lays at the foot of our California king size bed.

“I liked her.” I say as I stare at the blood on my penis.

“She wasn’t pretty enough for you.” It responds.

My stomach hurts and I’m sweating as I wrap her body up in the sheets and pull her down the stairs. It’s a good thing I’m in shape. I can now bench press close to 220 pounds and my leg press is an even more impressive 450 pounds so a body that weighs in at one 120 pounds is very easy for me to drag. I also have the help of the sheets which keep the limbs intact making it easier to move.

As I have the corpse now on the floor of the living room I see my wife standing behind me, her bags in her hands. She screams and I try to make her quiet down but of course it doesn’t happen. She asks why I’m naked and what’s going on and who is in the sheets. I tell her it was a young woman and that I was having sex with her and she ended up dying. My wife then screams even louder and reaches for her phone. I can see my reflection in the window directly adjacent from my frantic wife. I see my reflection as it walks out and makes its way toward her. I panic and I scream out for it to stop. Now my wife is even more confused and looks behind her thinking someone is there. She tells me that I’m crazy. I tell her I’m in love but not with her and not with the young woman. I tell her I love myself and myself loves me and we’re meant to be together. I tell it to leave my wife alone.

“She’ll turn us in.” It says.

“I don’t care, just don’t hurt her.” I plead with it.

I sit in my cell and I think about the trial that just happened a few days ago. I think about how long I’ll live in this prison and how it all happened. The cell doors open and I’m aloud out in general population for the first time. They’re making me shower now with the other inmates.

In the shower I notice the guards are nowhere to be seen and there are a few very big and very ugly inmates circling me. The one on my left cuts my face with a shank and then proceeds to beat me in the face until I can’t feel anything. The one that was on my right begins to unbuckle his pants and flips me on my stomach. Before he can put anything in me, the guards come in and see me.

Today I’m being released from the prison infirmary and I haven’t seen my beautiful face in weeks. I’m led to my cell and I sit on my cot and quickly withdraw my mirror and look for my only friend in the world. My reflection is there but an awful creature replaces him. I see that I have huge scars on each side of my face and my once perfectly proportioned jawline is now crooked. My left eye is swollen.

“You did this to us.” It says to me.

“I don’t care how ugly we are, I still love you.” I exclaim.

I see now as my reflection turns its back on me and disappears.

I can’t help but cry out loud. My crying is so loud I hear the other inmates mock me and scream out things like, fresh fish is worried and other horrible words.

I grab the mirror and smash it against the wall and with the sharpest shard I begin to cut until I’m passing out.


© Copyright 2020 Les Terry. All rights reserved.

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