Girl In The Mirror

Chapter One-2

“Thought men like that had their whores.”

“Some, but that’s always a dirty business. The Journal appeals to the men too scared to take the risk.”

Angelica was quiet for a moment, then she finally suggested, “Maybe you should put a picture of me in the rag.”

“Don’t call it a rag.” He was annoyed.

“I’m sorry. Still, you could take pictures of me.”

He turned to her as he finished washing his genitals and studied the picture she made for him. Though his eyes were fixed on her, his mind seemed far away. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? Why maybe?”

“I don’t know what I’m looking for…” his voice trailed off as he lost himself in thought.

“Not me?” she said a bit despondently. She twisted more.

“Yes, you, darling, but you’re too much like…” He stopped.

“Like what?”

He didn’t answer, just shook his head.

“What are you not saying, Jonas?” she pressed.

He moved to the bed and leaned over her grinning. “You’re getting awfully testy for a woman all tied up.”

She smiled to pacify him. “But I really have to go to work.”

“Yes, so you do,” he agreed. He reluctantly untied the scarf and slapped her ass as she bolted from the bed. She playfully slapped him back and darted for the toilet. Her round ass jiggled and her breasts swayed back and forth. She was a lovely picture.

***

“Angelica Barth,” the redhead introduced herself to the new girl in the shop.

“Aimee Wynn Bloom,” the new girl ducked her head a bit humbly and smiled as she went about her work, carefully logging items in a ledger.

“You don’t like to be friendly?” Angelica queried, as she leaned casually against the counter.

“Oh, yes I do,” Aimee’s head shot up. “It’s just that this is my first day, and I want to make a good impression.”

“You’ve already made a good impression, if you were hired. You’ll learn quickly that Emma’s a sweet old thing with hardly any brains left.”

“Humm. She didn’t strike me that way.”

The door to the shop suddenly jangled and a man dressed in a dark formal suit walked in, moving directly to the counter. Both young women stood up a little straighter, Angelica nodding to the gentleman rather formally.

“You’re new,” he said to Aimee. He didn’t ask as much as state the obvious.

“Yes, sir. And how may I help you?” She spoke politely in a humble manner that was both natural and endearing. She was a bit nervous for she’d never seen a man like the one who addressed her now.

“A pouch of tobacco and a tin of shortbread,” he said.

Aimee moved for the items, while Angelica stared at the man for a minute. “Nice to see you, sir,” she said as she pulled away from the counter and went to work sorting fresh vegetables in a bin.

The gentleman nodded and returned his gaze to Aimee, who by then had packaged his purchase and added the total of his bill. Money changed hands and the man nodded pleasantly as he turned to leave.

“Oh, my! I’ve never seen anyone like that,” Aimee whispered when he was out the door. Her face was flushed, and her heart beat rather strangely, while the oddest fluttering sensation warmed her belly. She couldn’t fathom why. “His skin is so dark.” She stared at the front window in awe, as she watched the man retreating in the distance.

“He’s African. His name is Mr. Rys,” Angelica said flatly.

“Really? He is rather charming, not a savage at all.”

“And you’re fresh off the farm, aren’t you?” Angelica laughed. “This is the 20th century, girl. Africans don’t have to be savages any more than the rest of us. Trust me though, they can be divine in bed,” she said with a knowing twinkle in her green eyes.

Aimee, who had never heard such blunt talk, kept silent.

“Don’t mind me, hon. If anything, I’m always direct on just about any matter.” She smiled and resumed her task, pinching fresh melons and grapefruit.

Aimee went back to her work, nursing that crude and savage sensation she was feeling inside her underwear.

The shop closed at six o’clock. After the door was latched and the front light turned out, Aimee and Angelica swept it clean preparing for another day. Emma Whittier, teetering on her cane, watched, nodding all the while, with a vapid smile on her ancient face. Once the store was cleaned to Emma’s satisfaction, the girls were free to go.

“So, you are really new in town, huh?” Angelica wondered, as they put on their coats and Aimee picked up her bag.

“That’s what I said,” she stated. She was still a little unsure of Angelica. Though she was quite friendly and certainly very blunt, there was something about her she didn’t trust, an underlying cunning, perhaps. A girlish thing, reminiscent of cliquish friends from her school days.

“And no place to stay?” Angelica when on.

“I made inquires about several ladies hotels. Emma says there’s a very nice one just down the street.”

“That dreary old place?” the redhead screwed up her nose. “I wouldn’t spend my last night on earth in that stuffy fleabag.” The fearless Angelica suddenly grabbed Aimee by the hand and led her out the door. “You’re going home with me,” she said firmly. “And no arguments.”

Aimee stopped in her tracks. “But I couldn’t impose on you.”

“It’s no imposition. There’s a vacant room in our boardinghouse and I’d love to have you there.”

The deal was settled just that quickly. Aimee was too overwhelmed by the effusive Angelica to protest further. Without further discussion, the two were out the door and headed in a direction opposite where Aimee would have gone, apparently bound for the boardinghouse where Angelica lived.

Aimee viewed the old brick house and its broad front porch, scrutinizing every line and angle, feeling a little disappointed in the tacky, worn exterior—especially when this had been touted as the better of her alternatives. But it was too late to change her mind about her lodgings for the night. The sun had dwindled down to nothing, about to extinguish itself in the Western sky. She was in a strange city, knowing only a shopkeeper and the rambunctious Angelica. What choice did she have?

“Aw… I know it don’t look like much, but just wait until you’re inside. Then, its charm will climb right into your bones.” Angelica giggled darkly and dashed up the stairs, expecting Aimee to follow her. The fast moving redhead was practically inside before her reluctant protégé took the first step. Give her credit—Angelica’s confidence was infectious, so that with a bright surge of optimism, Aimee chased after her, now worried that she’d be left behind.

The light inside the boardinghouse at twilight was thick and yellowish… gaslights hanging on the papered walls had just been turned on. Each one radiated a grimy and yet mellow glow. And like seductive fingers would, they drew Aimee into a steamy atmosphere ripe with s****l overtones. The sexuality wasn’t so much an idea in her mind as it was a feeling creeping about her insides. The wondrous sensation of lust that startled her that afternoon when she waited on the black man surfaced again, grinding now like a machine inside her belly.

“This is Mickey,” Angelica rushed on in front of her, introducing a freckle-faced gangly youth, “and Israel. He’s Jewish,” she said of a somber looking man wearing a black turtleneck sweater. His curly hair drooped into his sorrowful eyes, making him look even gloomier for it. “And Jessica,” the redhead turned to a slouching blonde in a royal blue silk wrapper. There was a Chinese painting embroidered on the back of the robe, which Aimee was inspired to study. But then Angelica was off again and refusing to leave her charge behind. After making brief eye contact with the lovely Jessica—who offered her a sly half smile filled with innuendo enough to make her shudder—she was again at Angelica’s side.

“This is Terrance,” Angelica introduced her to another of the rooming house boarders. Aimee shook hands with the smiling fellow, finding herself blushing as she gazed at his handsome face. “I think you’ll be fast friends,” Angelica told them. Aimee almost wilted as the young man calmly smiled. She’d remember little but that smile once they parted company—though it was enough to dote on for hours. Diverted yet again, Angelica insisted that Aimee follow her. “Celia, dear… this is Aimee,” she rattled off another quick introduction, then the pair moved swiftly up the stairs and down a corridor, while the residents of the boardinghouse seemed to pop out of the walls to greet her and then disappear again. Had Angelica choreographed their entrance? Aimee wondered. That was impossible, and yet it had the character of a frenetic dance. “And here’s home,” the redhead stopped abruptly in front of an open door at the end of the upstairs hall. “Not much; none of the rooms are, but you’ll be glad to know that I’m right next door.”

Aimee hesitated, a little out-of-breath, her head spinning. She looked inside the room feeling a big dazed.

“Yes, I know it’s small, but there’s really all you need right here. Jonas thinks it’s the best room in the house for the view from the window.

“Who’s Jonas?” Aimee turned to her friend.

“My lover. He’s a photographer and a newspaperman. A real artist. Dreamy. A little dark—but not like Mr. Rys is dark,” she talked on, while Aimee tried to make sense of her surroundings. The room where she found herself was indeed small, with just a bed, a chair, a dresser and a nightstand. She’d been hoping for something bigger. “You can always use the front room, or mine, for that matter,” Angelica suggested as she noted Aimee’s less than enthusiastic reaction. “We’re very open in this house. And besides, you’ll never find any place as nice, or people as grand as the ones here.”

“No?” Aimee asked softly.

“Of course not. Get yourself settled and we’ll raid the kitchen for dinner. Just knock on the door when you’re ready.”

Later that evening, Aimee sat quietly in her room, pondering her existence, her day in the mercantile, and especially her new surroundings. She pondered Angelica too, thinking that she’d really have to put her foot down with that woman. She wouldn’t continue being led about like a found puppy. But that was another matter. She surveyed the space; it was decent enough and she should probably stay. Yet, the whirlwind of unexpected activity that occurred as she was swept from the shop left her confused and perhaps a bit annoyed… if not annoyed, at the very least, it ruffled the calm resolve that began this journey. She felt less in control of herself, more at the whims of those around her, particularly the divine Miss Angelica. Yes, she was divine! Beautiful, charming, glib, witty, sure-of-herself without any doubt, and sexy. There were few women she’d ever think that about—about being sexy—but there was no mistaking Angelica’s s****l character, even when she tried, well sort of tried, to mute it at the mercantile.

Aimee wanted to be with her, touch her, talk to her, sit with her a while and soak up the atmosphere she created around her. While the boardinghouse frightened her for reasons she had yet to understand, she was least afraid with the vivacious redhead at her side.

There was a knock on the door. What fortuitous timing!

“I thought I told you to come see me!” Angelica burst through the door when she heard no response to her knock.

“I was planning on that, but I was just wondering about this room… and who lived here last?”

“Let’s see… her name was Desiree. Cute thing; wasn’t here too long—a few months, but then she took off one day. No one’s seen her since.”

“That’s too bad. I hope nothing terrible happened to her.”

“I doubt it. Some girls fit in here and some don’t. They certainly don’t owe me any explanation.”

“Were you good friends with her?”

“No, not really,” there seemed to be something Angelica wasn’t saying, a bit of uneasiness with these questions, “she latched on to one of the men here and stuck close to him most of the time. I suppose they had a quarrel and she thought that it would be easier to leave than stay. But she’s gone now and you’re here . . . so, come join me,” she said, holding out her hand as a parent does for a small child, and then she gave the room a quick going over, adding, “You know this room is a bit small.” She smiled. Gathering Aimee as she’d gather her brood of young, she pulled the girl willingly into the big bedroom next door.

For a moment, Aimee stared in wide-eyed wonder. This was exactly the kind of place she was looking for when she thought of moving to the city. There were big windows on two sides of the room, an especially fine one in the corner, which was part of the turret that ran up the side of the building. The wallpaper was yellow, bright and cheery, even in the dim glow of the antique gas lanterns that were lit about the room. The sumptuous feel of the room warmed her spirits and chased away the chill.