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” Earl lies quickly. His face is flushed and his eyes are glistening. I graze my fingertips across his thigh and I can feel him shiver in anticipation. “Maybe you should go home,” Cynthia insists. “No, I’m fine really.” Earl insists. “Are you sure babe? We can go to the movies some other time.” I ask him, sliding my hand back to the inside of his thigh before slightly squeezing his package. The booth we were sitting in covered any trace of my movements. Paul’s voice interrupts us. His deep voice surprises me and when I turn I can see his eyes flick to see my hand resting on Earl’s groin. I don’t move my hand if anything I continue to massage Earl’s erection. Earl adjusts himself slightly giving me more access to do as I please. We both enjoy the thrill of having someone watch us. Paul’s eyes widen in surprise but he only clears his throat. “What’d I miss?” His eyes dart back to me and I notice a slight shift in his position, but otherwise he acts unfazed. “We were just about to go to. This was some sort of illusion, the reflection wore the same flare skirted French maid's dress that I was dressed in, the same fishnet stockings. The toe crushing high heels that I could feel wedged onto my feet were also present in that lying reflection. It had to be lying for the waist dramatically narrowed as the fitted body of the dress passed down from the bosom which mounded out against the upper torso, straining against the material. And my hair was a light brown, moderately long for a guy but not hippie, where as the captive in the mirror had a head full of tight blonde curls peeking out from behind a lacy headpiece. This image, this non-me had large dramatic eyes drenched in make-up and her lips were large and bow shaped, slick with bright pink lipstick.As I tried to deny this image was me, I could see her struggle in counterpoint to my own squirming for freedom. She had an identical Debbie flanking her, just as I had beside me, it couldn't be me, but it was, it had to.
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