020

Reflection

Mirrors are such fickle things. Their headquarters in Italy is abundant with them, some spanning entire rooms, floor to ceiling, so that a single chandelier will set a room on fire in a ring of flame.

Stephen prefers to avoid his own reflection. He's never sure what he'll see, and what's there is never quite what he expects.

But there is one mirror, positioned horizontally above a king-sized, four-poster bed in the guest quarters of the west wing, that he enjoys very much for what he sees reflected—-Bry, sitting astride with head thrown back, thighs flexing as he bears down on Stephen. And himself, arching beneath the young boss, eyes aglow.