Mirror, Mirror
She checked her makeup in the mirror again, for the fifth time, scanning for any blemish or smudge that could make her look less than perfect to the people downstairs. She had to be perfect. She fussed over her pearls, trying to decide how best to let them fall across her cleavage. Just enough to draw a downward glance, but nothing more than that. Enough to tempt them, but not enough to make them write her off as a ditz. Perfect? She twisted them again. Checked the mirror again.
Satisfied for the moment, she flipped up the faucet handle to wash her hands. Her phone clattered across the sink, and she reached for it with wet hands before it could vibrate itself onto the floor. She couldn’t afford to replace it.
“Hello?” She reached for the little wicker basket filled with paper towels. “This is Justine Smith.”
“Justine Smith!” The voice on the other end sounded tipsy. Maybe a little more than tipsy. “Well, that was quick!”
She instinctively glanced down at her bare left hand. “I told you that I was going to start using my maiden name from now on. Where have you been? I left you four messages!”
He chuckled, and paused. She knew he was pausing on purpose. It was a trick he used all the time, to infuriate her, to provoke her into saying things she would come to regret later. She wasn’t about to fall for it again, and she bit her tongue until he continued. “I’ve been out, Justine Smmmmith. Don’t act like you care. You made it pretty clear that you... that... are you in the bathroom right now?“
“I’m at the Savoy, and yes, I’m in the bathroom. At the sink, before you get any ideas.” She shut the water off. “Now what the hell did you do to our accounts?”
“Nothing important. Nothing to worry about. Relax.”
“Our checking account is locked. The savings account is locked. I couldn’t withdraw any money tonight! I had to ask Laura to pay my chunk of the cab fare. Do you know how...” Shit, he’s winding me up again! She lowered her voice and looked into the mirror to calm herself. Perfect. You’re perfect. He can’t get to you. You’re a rock, Justine. You’re a rock, he’s just a cock. She took a deep breath. “Do you know how embarrassing that was? You know how important the Rio deal is to me. We talked about this. You promised to be supportive.”
“It’s always about money with you, Justine. Isn’t that why you married me? Isn’t that why you liked my pretty gold coin? Do you remember the pretty coin?”
“What? No... I don’t even...” Her eyes fluttered. She held them closed for a long second to steady herself. He’s so good at this, the fucker. Getting under my skin. Another deep breath. “Richard, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry that we couldn’t make it work. I’m not... this was supposed to be a trial separation, and it might be. But if you want me to come back, you have to stop doing this juvenile bullshit! I don’t...” calm, stay calm “...that means letting me do my job. Without your help. Without fucking with my finances!“
Another pause. A sigh. “You’re right, you’re right. I need to let you do your thing.”
“Thank you.” A wave of relief washed over her, through her, coming back around again for a second dousing. She could get through this after all. Without the Rio deal, she’d be forced to crawl back to Richard. “I just need some space, Richard,” she lied. “That’s all.”
“Always about money. Do you remember when I first pulled out that old coin? How happy you were to see it?”
Her eyes fluttered again. “I...” so dizzy... “...listen, Richard... it’s... I’m running... I have to—“
“It was so shiny, catching the sofffft light from the dining room windows. Shiny, like a cool pond on a waaarrrrm summer day. So relaxing.”
“I... I have to... have... " I have to... something... shiny… relaxing…
“You stared right at it, directly at it, as I swung it back and forth in front of your tired, sleepy eyes. So relaxing, Justine. So comforting. A symbol of my wealth, my power. So powerful. So relaxing. Safe in my wealth, Justine. You were so poor growing up, you could be safe with me. Safe with me. Back and forth.”
“Ssssafffe...” her eyes closed. She dragged them back open. “Back...”
“Back and forth. Watch the pretty coin, Justine. Back and forth. Sleepy. Tired. Only my voice.”
He was whispering to her now, directly into her ear as if her were there with her, his soft words melting her resistance. A familiar, if forgotten ache—a need, a burning need—spread through her lower body. “Back and forth.”
“Let all of your worries slip away. All of your thoughts, drifting away like soft, puffy clouds. Drifting into the air, drifting away, so relaxing to watch them drift, drift, drift. Drifting, Justine. Drifting into a deep, deep sleep. Your eyes are closed as you fall back into a deep, deep sleep. The pretty coin is all that matters. Sleep, and dream of the pretty coin. Sleep.”
“Coin.” Her eyes slid closed before she could stop them. Then she forgot all about stopping them. The coin was old, bumpy, scuffed and scratched from centuries of hard use. It was so, so shiny. Beautiful, even. It cost a fortune. Richard was worth a fortune. So pretty, like the house and the car and her pretty, pretty dress. Just like Richard, in the right light or in the darkness of their bedroom. The coin was all that mattered.
Another pause, longer this time. She could hear him breathing heavily though the phone. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Are your eyes closed, Justine?”
Of course they were. She was asleep. “Yes.”
“You’re in a deep hypnotic trance. The coin has led you into a deep, powerful hypnotic trance. Open your eyes, but stay deeply asleep. Hearing only my voice. Open your eyes. Deeply asleep.”
She did as she was told. The coin swung before her dull, glazed eyes.
“Are your eyes open?”
“Yes.”
“Is there a mirror in the bathroom?”
She couldn’t see it—there was only the pretty, beautiful coin—but she knew there had to be one. “Yes.”
“Then look into the mirror, Justine. Stare into her face. Stare deep into her eyes. Her empty, mindless eyes. Who is she, Justine?”
“She’s... she’s your slave.”
“Is she able to think, or act, or feel anything on her own?”
“No. She’s a slave. She has to... has to... I...”
“She has to do exactly what I tell her to do. To think. To feel. Isn’t that right, Justine? She has to do exactly what I tell her to do.”
“Exactly... yes...”
“What are you looking into, Justine?”
“A mirror.”
“And what you see in the mirror is actually yourself, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“The woman in the mirror is you, then.”
“She’s me.”
“If she is a slave, then you are a slave. If she must do whatever I tell her to do...”
“I must... do whatever you tell me to do.”
“Because you’re a slave.”
“I’m a slave.”
“You’re my slave.“
“Yes, Richard. I am your slave.”
“You can play with yourself now, slave.”
She reached for the zipper at the front of her dress, and yanked it down to her stomach. She played with one breast, then the other. The slave in the mirror did the same. “Yessss… massster. Thank you, massster.” She needed to get out of the dress, immediately, so that she could reach her clit, press her fingers against… “Mmmmasssster… uhnnn…”
“What room are you staying in, slave?”
God, it feels so good... Her nipples were live wires. Each brush from a finger or thumb sent convulsions through her body. She moaned softly, lost in the... Master asked a question, slave. You will answer him. “I am in Room 621, master.“
“In a moment I’m going to hang up the phone. When I do, Justine will wake up. She will not remember this phone call.”
“Mmmm. Yes, master.” Justine was so stupid. So independent. So... resistant. Master always had to trick her into letting Slave out. “She will not remember this phone call.“
Justine will go downstairs as planned. When she does, she will go straight to the bar and order a single drink. When she is finished with it, she will pretend to be very, very drunk. She will openly flirt with Mister Watanabe and offer to fuck him... and his wife... if he approves her Rio deal. She will do everything she can to ruin the deal.”
Slave wanted to smile, but master hadn’t asked her to. Her voice was flat and even. “Yes, master.”
“Justine will go upstairs to Room 621, convinced that she has sealed the deal. She will remove all of her clothes and sit on the bed, awaiting Mister Watanabe’s arrival.”
“Yes, master.” She felt so good. Obeying felt so good. Master was kind enough to program that into her mind. Poor Justine knew of no such thing. “I hear, and I obey. She will do as you command.”
“I’ll be arriving at precisely nine o’clock. I will knock on the door five times. When Justine hears me knock five times, she will sleep, and you will reawaken. Obey, slave.”
“Yes, master. I obey.”
“Count backwards from ten. Clean up. Put the phone down. At one, Justine will awaken and forget.”
She heard a faint click as she placed the phone at the edge of the sink, right where Justine had left it. “Five,” she whispered, as she zipped up her dress. “Four.” She smoothed out the fabric until it looked perfect. Perfect. “Three.” She was a perfect slave, owned by a perfect master. “Two.” One day Justine would go to sleep forever, and she could take her rightful place at master’s side. “One.“
Justine blinked. She checked her makeup in the mirror again, for the sixth time, scanning for any blemish or smudge that could make her look less than perfect to the people downstairs.
She had to be perfect. She was perfect. I am perfect.
She made sure to turn out the lights as she headed for the lobby.