Chapter 5

She sat so straight in the big chair that her legs couldn't quite reach the floor. She unrolled the white stockings and placed one on the seat next to her, keeping her eyes fixed all the while on her image in the mirror. When she raised her leg to begin to roll the stocking over her clean little toes, she laughed to see the golden hair glinting through the slit between her thighs.

"My goodness, you're getting so grown-up!" she exclaimed, and spread her legs wider so that she could get a good angle for pulling the flimsy stocking up, up over her elegant arch and delicious ankle-such delicate bones, look at the shadows they make-and then, slower, over the tingling skin along the inside of her calf. She stretched her leg out in front of her again, to smooth the stocking over her taut thigh. To do this, it was necessary to pull the hem of the prim white dress over her woman's hips. The mirror seemed to sigh with delight at the fine curve of her milk-white skin where her bikini had hidden it from the sun. Catharine fastened the stocking by turning its hem once or twice against the fleshy part of her thigh. Then, still staring into the glass, she began the same slow process with the other stocking.

A voice said, quite loudly in her ear, "How beautiful you are," and she thought for a moment there was someone else in her attic.

"I really shouldn't be here. What if Daddy should come up?" she whispered to the mirror. Guilty twinges made delicious shivers down her back. She rubbed herself against the worn leather of her daddy's big chair.

She crossed her white legs and admired themthis way and that way, together and far, far apart. She got up from the chair and reached for her silver hairbrush on the dressing table. For a long time, she sat brushing her hair, crossing and uncrossing her legs, peeking at the place that should have been covered by panties. But she was a naughty girl, and the sensation of not covering herself there was her own secret. No one would ever know.

Her breathing began to sound more like panting, and as she leaned first toward and then away from the mirror, she distinctly heard the echoes of her own sounds coming back at her. It was truly as if another person were there, admiring and loving and caressing her, making love to Catharine as Catharine deserved.

"Look at my breasts," she said in wonder. "How big they are gettingl Look, look!"

She unbuttoned the top of the dress and freed her straining tits from the tight bodice. Each full breast in turn, the flesh tender and sweet against the touch of her fingertip. She traced their outlines, slowly circling the pale veins, the rose-colored nipples, then gently hugging their ripeness with her cupped hand, beginning to delight herself as only she knew how.

"Everyone wants to touch them, but they're mine. Mine."

"Mine," the mirror agreed in a voice of its own.

"How wet I am. I'm going to spoil my party dress if I don't hold myself down there, catch the dew in my fingers. Yes, see that, how beautiful it is ... it's mine ... I can touch it ... I'm the only one...."

Her breath came hard and heavy now, faster and mixed with shivers and sighs, mingled with the feedback from her image in the mirror. Both Catharines moved their hands and their bodies urgently now, both voices panted in unison: "You're everything, Catharine ... everything ... there's no one else in the whole wide world like you, so beautiful ... look at you, how I love to look at you ... my life, my life ... oh, I can't stand it...."

Her delirium mounting, her flesh burning with fever, her fingers plunging into the soft moist cave where all sensation lay, her eyes fixed on her reflection, Catharine did not see the faint glow that appeared in the glass and pulsated along with her until it separated into fiery animal eyes staring as if to devour her. They were green, the green of emeralds, of deep sea secrets and of reptiles that lie in wait concealed in the lesser greens of the jungle. The eyes faded away as Catharine arched even closer to her mirror. Her knees touched the oval frame on both sides. Her head was tossed back against the back of her daddy's chair.

"Fill me ... fill me ... I want you to fill me ... inside..." she gasped.

Two green arms slithered through the silvery surface of the mirror toward Catharine. They were long and slender, like snakes. The fingers moved in rhythm with Catharine's own. The nails were long and shining as if newly manicured. On each finger, as it moved hypnotically to caress her, a sparkling jewel glittered against the luscious slime of the green skin. The hands touched her thighs. She shivered with pleasure and desire stronger than she had ever known. They moved worshipfully, tenderly, lovingly, sensitively up, up, and up to mingle with her own feverish fingers. They touched and probed and moved inside her at last. They filled her, and her pounding cunt responded with throbs and spasms unlike any she had ever experienced or imagined.

Whoever he was, he was a master. The hands almost levitated Catharine's body above the chair. She wanted to scream, but the pleasure was so exquisite, so overpowering, that it was only her breathing and her deep throaty moan of release that came forth. The room swam in colors.

When she drifted slowly back to consciousness, she was almost able to convince herself that she had imagined it. But she knew she had never been able to give herself such ecstasy before.

Whoever he was, she knew she would have him again.