Oh my freaking God!!! I have posted a story! This effectively ends a six-month dry spell, so I hope you enjoy it. I make no promises that it won't be the beginning of another six-months of dryness, so make the most of it!

It was quite late at night when I saw her, so at first I thought it was just a trick of the light, my tired eyes seeing things that weren’t there; and I almost dismissed her at sight. When I looked again, however, she was still there, gazing back at me impassively from the other side of the mirror. My eyes widened in wonder, and hers followed suit - a mindless mimic of reflecting light.

There was no doubt that she was me; the shape and colour of her eyes; the nose slightly bent from a childhood accident; and when I turned my head, the skull the same shape as my own. She put her hands to her face, as I felt to check I was still myself, and let them drop again to her side, her face an expression of bewilderment. I pulled a face, and watched as she wrinkled up her nose, squinting slightly, in apparent distaste. I examined her clothes, the same as mine, the lazing-around-the-house sportswear; the bare feet, her nails, unlike mine, painted purple; and the smooth, un-tanned skin on her face and hands.

Sitting back, onto my bed I noticed hers, as she did the same, identical to mine, and I leaned left and right, examining the rest of her room, which was all the same, even down to the obscure band posters pasted across the wall (chosen, in my case at least, for their aesthetic merit, rather than my liking of the music). She disappeared behind the frame for a second, as I leaned too far, and I panicked briefly, afraid that she might have disappeared, but when I moved back into view, she was still there, a look of relief on her pale face.

I unzipped my sweat-top, watched her expose her small, firm breasts, and smiled as I looked down at my own flat chest. Looking up again, she smirked back at me, and I stood up once more, turning about, examining her through the glass as she turned with me, and I felt a rush of narcissistic lust pass through me, as her lips and cheeks flushed red, and her pupils dilated; a reflection of my own ardour.

I moved closer to the mirror, examining her close up, noticing the differences, her softer jaw line, the light brushing of makeup over her cheeks and eyelids, along with her fuller lips and slighter figure. I felt jealous that she was more beautiful than I, despite being merely my reflection. I pursed my lips, exciting as she did the same, and reached out my hand to touch the glass. For a second I felt the reassurance of the familiar, cold, hard surface beneath my fingertips, but then it seemed to melt away, and my hand briefly pressed against the warm skin of hers. I pulled away in momentary shock, before my mind settled, and with sudden resolve I pushed my hand through the glass, gripped her forearm and pulled her, stumbling over the frame, knocking her shins, into my world. She stood there for a moment in disorientation, no longer mimicking my movement, and then, before she could react, I pushed her down onto my bed, climbing on top, pressing my weight on her hands as she struggled against me, trying to fight what she knew was coming.

The violence over, she curled in a corner of my bed, pressed against the wall. She didn’t cry, but her eyes were glazed, and her mind seemed in overdrive. I watched her detachedly, as I sat, naked and flaccid, pondering on the possibilities of life on the other side of that mirror.

Submitted: November 28, 2008

© Copyright 2022 Sam Halfpenny. All rights reserved.

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