Dark Comedy, Adult, Smut
The cream-coloured goop feels damp and sleek as you comb it through your hair. However, the full-length mirror in front of you shows that the results are well worth it.
A clean shirt with a modestly-styled leather jacket and dress pants completes the look. You let a smile tug at your lips. It's a smile that told the world, "I don’t need someone else to love me, because I have enough love for myself!"
The mirror reflects an upside-down frown that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You’re going to have to work on that.
A vibration to your left alerts you to an incoming text. Picking up your cell, you attempt a more natural smile and answer the text from your date, Lucy.
Sorry I can’t make it tonight! Family emergency! Maybe another time! Say hi to Harper for me!
No, no no no. Take a deep breath: Inhale… exhale...
Okay, you're fine. Now reply. To the "Family Emergency."
I’m sorry to hear that. Yeah, another time. I’ll hold you up to that, lol!
A sigh escapes you and your reflection deflates. Great, just great. You got stiffed! And worse, you got no other female friends to ask out on short notice. You can’t even cancel the double date because Harper would never let you hear the end of it. You two were solid, not only as lovers, but best friends to boot! There was no such phrase as "too weird" in your relationship! You even showed her your secret kink!
"I thought she liked the Burger Bed!" your mind-voice pouts.
Maybe it was because you told her that she looked better in the beefy Patty suit than the lettuce one…
“Heh.” Yeah, that may have been one reason. Well, you know you look good, staring at your made-up reflection. Hell, you would date yourself if you could.
"Wait a minute!"
The mirror returns your devilish smirk with its own as you grip the smooth wooden frame.
"Hello, good lookin'."
That Evening at the Restaurant
You could see your date-mates chatting animatedly at the table, stuck in their own world. Harper succeeds in making Softcore Goth look classy. Her quirky dark curls styled down to organized chaos. A white embroidered blouse on her pale figure and a faux black rose sticks out from her breast pocket.
She let you wear that, once.
A coy chuckle echoes from her date, Jill. Looks like she decided to play foil and dress in her Solarpunk orange gown. completing the look is sun-themed jewelry that caught the light of the restaurant’s lamps alluringly. Harper probably told her that turtle joke.
She called you a pussy, only to leave you for one.
You look at the full-length mirror you brought, giving yourself a challenging grin.
"Well, wait ‘til she hears this one about the guy and the mirror."
"Hey, ladies," you greet them. You puff out your chest a bit when their gazes lock onto the mirror—as you set it right beside you and angle it to yourself. Deep breaths, don’t laugh!
"Uh, where’s your date?" Jill asks. Harper puts a bread stick in her mouth. Probably already knows what’s up. You gotta wonder if it's because she knows it's a joke or because she's embarrassed by your actions.
"This is my date!" God, you hope that doesn’t sound as ecstatic as you think it does. "Thought I’d embrace the single life and start loving myself more. There’s no problem with that, yeah?"
So it goes...
"Don’t laugh! Don’tlaughdon’tlaughDON’TLAUGH!"
Too bad Harper can’t hear your thoughts. She chokes on her water as you give the mirror—him—a wink. Jill is doing her best avoiding the elephant in the room by focusing on her lasagna and psychology facts. You wonder how well she’s doing psychoanalyzing you.
You swirl some spaghetti with your fork and chomp down, then another fork-full for Him. Oops! He got some on his cheek! You point to your cheek, Him mirroring you.
"No, no," you chuckle, using your napkin to wipe his mouth. Then you wink at him playfully… and he returns it! You can’t help but look away, cheeks fired up, and lock eyes with Harper. She must think you look so awkward like this, but it’s… God, this has been such a great night!
"Hahaha!" Every muscle in your body—and his—shakes as your laugh bellows out in the taxi. "That was great." You have to do that again! Harper certainly enjoyed it. You could tell, since she asked Him some questions—much to Jill’s annoyance. Maybe she’ll come back to you!
He gives you a hopeful look, his eyes bright, welcoming, and nonjudgmental. His smile, full lips stretched and swelling with reassurance. His whole face was blushing scarlet from the fun you both had tonight.
Hmmm, then again, Harper and Jill make a real nice couple. They had their own inside jokes already, and Jill seemed to listen to Harper whenever she needed to rant. Sometimes you would tune her out because of some little thing that happened to you that week.
You think you saw the driver look at you two funny, but you know what? Who cares!
At the End of the Month
Never has a sunset been more enjoyable than it is right now. The nice summer breeze combs through your hair. The smell of sea salt and champagne intermingles beautifully. The sand—rough but warm—cushions you both for the perfect view.
“These past couple of weeks have really been something,” you mumble, glancing over to him. His face is the portrait of confident serenity. To think, you started going out with him to get back at your Ex, now you hardly even think of Harpy! “To us.” You raise you glass and a gratifying clink echoes across the bay.
You moan like a cat in heat, your heartbeat syncing to every rhythmic thrust in this symphony of passion. Your erections squeak together like a metal guitar solo. You’re so hot, sweat dripping off of you and splashing onto Him. You both repeatedly gasp in unison for air, madly grinding into the bed so hard it could only be a matter of time until a crack ends the song. The scent of bedroom intimacy has long since overtaken any oxygen, but it doesn’t matter. He is your breath! The spell does its work. It enchants you by drowning out any other thought or voice except the one command to please Him!
“Eugh…" your eyes flutter open, the scent of musk flaring into your nostrils. You take in the familiar sight of your somewhat tidy room before turning in bed. Every muscle aches and sticks when you move, but eventually you turn all the way around to see… you.
You fucked a mirror! And it sucked!
“Euraaagh,” you groan out, turning around so fast you fall out of bed and onto the cooler carpet.
Way to go fuck yourself!
About the Creator
Full name: Monos Delainy Ophion Alba
Motto: Flip the mirror.
Favourite Genres: Horror/Suspense, Psychological Thriller, and Fantasy.
Singular they/their/them. I don’t mind male pronouns. I’m sort of Genderfluid, though I don't care for labels.
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