Mirror

Ivan took his time shaving. He always did. The razor edge followed his cheek bones. His chin. The dip underneath his nose. He left the water running in his marble sink as he shaved. As he brushed his porcelain teeth. When he combed back his short black hair to a smooth perfection.

Closing the tap, he paused, staring at the man staring back at him. Ethereal. Distant. He did not recognize himself half the time. The other half, it was someone else. A reflection of a stranger. His father. His grandfather. Never himself.

By the time he walked out of the bathroom into his apartment, the phone rang. He listened only briefly to the woman on the other end. Pushing the pound button unlocked the doors in the lobby. Placing his phone on the charger, he walked behind the island counter to the kitchen. Taking from his open rack, Ivan chose a least expensive bottle of red wine and poured two glasses. He stopped momentarily before the reflective doors of the glass cabinets and examined himself. There was a knock at the door and he entered the living room, placing the wine glasses on coasters. Beside them lay miscellaneous tools.

A pair of electronic clippers.

Hair dye, black.

A sleek blue strap on.

A bottle of personal lubrication.

Walking to the door, Ivan looked through the peephole once before opening it.

She was lovely. As lovely as money can purchase. Blond hair, flowing in smooth waves around a beautiful face. Lips red as strawberries. Eyes a brown like his. She wore a dress coat over a black evening dress, a purse in her slender hands. Her cleavage was cut low, the breasts filling out the chest firmly. Her legs teased through a slit along the dress, feet ending in heels.

“Hi.” She said with a smile. “My name is Charlene.”

Ivan examined her, her cheeks and jaw line. Her neck. Her hair line. He touched his thumb against her lips and she smiled, flashing a white row of teeth. Finally, he offered to take her purse and showed her in. As she entered his apartment, Ivan closed the door and locked it.

“Please,” he said, indicating the wine, “help yourself. May I take your coat?”

She stood with her back to him, allowing Ivan to slip the coat off. Her shoulders were pale and angular. He gently gathered her hair up, exposing the back of her neck. She gasped at his touch and lowered her head submissively before he let her hair fall free.

Taking the coat to the closet he hung it up with her purse. Charlene had settled on the leather sofa, holding the wine. She was looking at the objects on the table.

“Do we take care of the matters first?” Ivan asked.

Charlene faced him and smiled. “It would be best.”

Ivan stood and walked to the kitchen. When he returned, he carried a fold of money. Charlene took it from him. She rose and made her way to the closet. There was a moment as she counted it, failing to be discreet. When she returned, her hands were empty. She sat back down.

“You understood before agreeing to come?” Ivan asked, sitting himself down in the chair across from her.

Charlene nodded with a frown. “If I'm not mistaken.” She said. “You want to...”

“I want to cut your hair.” He helped. “And dye it black.”

“And dress me.” She added.

Ivan nodded curtly. “Yes.” He pointed slowly. “You don't drink wine?”

She hesitated before smiling sheepishly. “You understand.”
He smiled, though it held nothing. “I do. A girl of your profession can never be too careful. No matter who you work for.”

She nodded and placed the wine glass down. Ivan stood up. Charlene rose as well.

“Then I suppose you would prefer we start.” He asked. When Charlene nodded, he returned it. “Very well.” A pause. “Thank you.”

Charlene was seated in a elegant wooden chair, placed on the tile floor of the kitchen. The clippers were buzzing loudly and she giggled as it rose through her hair.

“It tickles.” She said. Ivan smiled flatly.

Strands of blond locks fell to the tile floor, inches long. Ivan styled with precision, using scissors near the crown and his razor at the back of her neck.

“You've done this before.” She smiled, chin tucked against her chest.

Ivan didn't respond.

They sat once more in the living room. Silent. Ivan stared at Charlene. She stared around at nothing. Her was cut short, plastered flat by the hair dye. Black as the sky outside. Over her shoulders was a protective plastic tarp. In her hand was half the wine glass. She was naked, legs crossed, her small red nipples erect with cold.

“You live alone?” She asked. Ivan didn't answer. “You must be quite successful.”

He showed no motivation in participating with the conversation and she soon fell to an uncomfortable silence.

The egg timer rang from the kitchen and Ivan stood up. Charlene rose, placing her glass down carefully on the coaster.

“Let's get you in the shower.” He said.

Charlene washed in his patterned glass shower while Ivan sat waiting on a stool with her. He washed the thick black water follower her spine to the crease of her rear, dripping down her thighs before swirling into the drain. She stroked away the hair dye, cleansing herself of it completely. Turning, she faced him and smiled. Ivan nodded slowly. Her hand eased down a breast, to the shaven bend of her groin. Charlene grinned playfully and slid a finger along the pink lips.

Ivan rose. “Don't.” He said, leaving the bathroom. “Wash yourself and then come out into the living room.”

She came out from the warm mist like a new person. Her hair short and black. Her body was wrapped in a towel. On the sofa was a selection of clothes. Ivan waited at the chair in the kitchen.

“Please.” He said with a wave to the clothing.

Charlene let the towel drop and took the articles. His pleated black pants. A grey button up shirt. A black tie. A belt. She slipped them on, fitting into it well. When she was dressed, Charlene turned to him.

Ivan motioned for her to sit.

Smiling, Charlene walked over and sat down. Before her hair would dry, he combed it. Styling it. Shaping it. He meticulously floated around her, adjusting every detail. Touching each needed flow. Stepping away from her, he examined his work silently. Charlene blushed under his stare.

“Is it...” She said. “Is it as you wanted?”

Ivan stepped back, allowing her to rise.

A mirror. A mirror of perfection.

Before Ivan stood a replica of himself, the physical ego of his demands. His needs. Short black hair. Brown eyes. The cheek bones sharp like his. Jaw line straight. Like his. His shirt. His pants. His tie. He felt himself harden.

“Your breasts.” He started.

Charlene reached for the buttons. “Do you want to see them again?”

“No.” Ivan stated quickly. “They will have to do.”

He turned from her, to the coffee table. Charlene followed along. He reached down and took hold of the edge. Lifting, he slid the table along the rug, opening the space of the living room floor. He then took the strap on and turned to Charlene.

“Do you want me to lower the pants?” She asked.

Ivan gave it a thought and then nodded. She unfastened the belt and lowered the waistline, freeing the crotch of her pelvis. Ivan handed her the leather harness and Charlene carefully secured it around her hips. He stood back and stared at her.

Charlene. A split image of himself. Erection sticking out. Overcome by a sudden impulse, Ivan rushed forward and grabbed the rubber shaft. He pulled her close and kissed her.

She returned it with her tongue.

On the living room floor, they fucked. Charlene on her knees, thrusting hard against Ivan's rear. The phallic toy buried in his anus. She held him by the shoulder and grunting with each push.

“Say it.” She moaned. “Say my name.”

He bit his fist, on all four to receive her, and groaned. “Ivan.”

“Again.” She pushed on. “Say it.”

His arm was underneath, pulling himself quickly. “Ivan.”

“Say it.” Hiss Charlene.

He shouted. “Ivan!”

She pulled out of him and he scrambled around to his knees. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he bent Charlene down on her elbows and moved behind her. Pulling the back of her pants down further, he ignored the bottle of lubrication on the floor and forced himself into her rear.

“Ivan!” He grunted, pumping quickly. “Fuck you, Ivan!”

They lain on the living room floor. Ivan was completely naked. Charlene still wore the shirt. The tie. His pants had been lowered down passed her thighs. The strap on had slid aside, the lips of her vagina pink and moist. Her chest rose softly with each sleeping breath. The bottle of wine lay toppled on the floor, the contents long been drunk.

He rose on his elbow and examined her in the moonlight. The jawline smooth. His showed the signs of stubble, light where he had shaved. Her hair showing roots missed, golden as her hair was. Her neck lacking the Adam’s apple. Her chest rose and he touched it, squeezing a breast. Her stomach ran sooth and flat while his was ribbed with muscle. He touched the lips between her thighs where her sex went in.

Rolling over, he climbed onto her. She squirmed in her sleep. He pulled her pants lower, struggling to get them down until he could raise her knees. In her slumber, she opened her legs.

Ivan tried to force his soft member into her.

“Ivan.” He grunted, stiffening inside her. “Ivan.”

He began fucking her, slowly. She stayed asleep.

“You're Ivan.” He whispered. “You're Ivan.”

In the moonlight, everything about her that was Charlene seemed to glow. Inside her warm moisture he weakened. Pushing himself up on his arms, Ivan looked down on her.

“You're not Ivan.” He said. His penis slipped uselessly from her. “You're not Ivan.”

He put his hands on her throat and squeezed. As the crushing hold of palms cut the air, she awoke in shock and confusion. Looking up at him, Charlene began to struggle.

“Fucking bitch.” He spat. “You're not Ivan. You will never be Ivan.”

She fought to scream. She tried to push him off. She gasped and choked and pushed against him. In moments, her eyes rolled back. Her arms went limp. Her head slumped down.

“You'll never be me.” Ivan growled. “You'll never be me.”

He let go only when he was sure she was dead.

Standing at the bathroom mirror, Ivan washed his face. He combed his hair back. Stepping out into the living room, he looked down at Charlene. Her body lay twisted and distorted, eyes open. An illusion of himself in his shirt and tie. His pants down around her ankles. The fake penis hanging off her hip.

He took her by the arms and drug her aside to the bedroom. Opening the door, he pulled her in.

On the bed lay another. Smaller breasts. Shorter. Her hair was black, though longer. The colour showing her red roots. Her eyes were whitened. Lips blue.

He left Charlene lying on the floor and stepped out into the living room once more. Taking the empty bottle of wine from the floor, he brought to the kitchen. Ivan then pulled the table carefully back in place.

She was closer, he thought. Closer than the other before. The others. The many others who came to him. His search would continue. He could feel it. His search would soon be over.

Sitting down in the chair, Ivan sat and stared. On the kitchen floor, blond hair lay scattered about.

He would find perfection soon.

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