face the mirror.
Sheâs kneeling there beyond the glass, and her hand juts from its surface as if from peaty water in a still pool. I can imagine that easily: thereâs something about her that makes me think of Celtic twilight and ladies of the lake. But sheâs perfectly conversant with the uses of buttons and zips, I find; popping one and pulling down the other, reaching beneath to the cotton thatâs sticking to my skin, finding her way to my over-eager cock and my useless balls.
And my only response is to hold my waistband so my trousers donât fall down. Because all of a sudden those balls donât feel so useless. She doesnât care if my sperm canât swim straight; she just wants to feel the hot spurt of my cream over her cold tongue.
She just wants to suck me.
I lay my forehead on the cool glass. I can see her smooth inhuman face swimming toward me through the depths of the smoky glass, breaking the surface, lifting out from the mirror. Her hair is sleeked behind her as if wet and gravity are drawing it down. Her pale lips part, spreading for the ruddy blunt bell end of my erection. Cold: cold like moor water. The hair rises on the nape of my neck and my scrotum contracts with a heave, but the chill is nothing compared to the slick caress of her mouth.
And Iâm so fucking grateful. I could drown in gratitude, if I wasnât going to drown in pleasure first.
* * *
âWhatâs that?â Penny asks, pointing at my chest. I pull my dressing gown over hastily to hide the paired dimples of the puncture wounds.
âDunno. Just insect bites, I think.â I feel groggy, hungover.
âThe mayorâs residence has bedbugs, does it?â
âYouâd be amazed. Old building, you know. Thereâre all sorts of dirty old corners.â
âEw. Donât go bringing anything home with you, thatâs all.â
Too late, I think. I pour my third cup of tea since staggering out of bed.
âAre you going into work then?â
I ought to. Not that thereâs anything to do, because itâs the election today. Far too late for him or me or anyone else to affect the vote, but weâve got to be seen to be around. âLater,â I mumble. âWeâre going to be up most of the night waiting for the results to come in.â
âWell, Iâve got to get going.â She heads off to the bathroom to finish her morning ablutions. Iâm so dull-witted that I donât immediately notice that she doesnât come back. I just sit there nursing my cup of tea and staring at the cloudy sky through the window. Picturing a face as pale and luminous as those clouds. When I rise from the breakfast bar the apartment feels eerily still. I wander down the corridor and tap on the bathroom door.
âYou still in there?â
Thereâs a soft noise: a sob. My heart sinks. Opening the door I find Penny sitting on the edge of the bath. She lifts her face and tries to smile, but her mouth is all over the place and all the blinking sheâs doing doesnât hide how wet her eyes are.
âMy periodâs come on.â
âOh, love,â I whisper.
âI thought this time ⦠I was late ⦠I really thought â¦â She stops talking and clenches down. âDoesnât matter,â she grits out. âNot to worry. We keep trying.â
And all I can do is hug her and rub the stiff angles of her shoulders and wish helplessly that thereâs something I could do to make her happy. And hate myself.
From the corner of my eye I see pale shadows shift in the bathroom mirror. I press Penny closer to my chest and shield her face, not wanting her to see the girl in the glass â and certainly not that look of possessive avarice burning in those pale eyes.
* * *
The mayor loses the election. Itâs no landslide, but by shortly after midnight enough of the ballot boxes are in and counted that weâve got a clear picture of