She let herself into the apartment.
It was still fully furnished, and the Jeffersons had left most of their personal possessions there. At the time it had seemed, to Jeannie, that they were uncertain about managing the motel and did not want to burn any bridges behind them. Now she guessed that was not the case, at all. Rather, they were probably only intending to manage the motel for a short time until they had got their kinky spying desires satisfied.
Jeannie went to her own room and began to go through her drawers and closets, looking for her sexiest garments. Soon she became annoyed and frustrated. Most of her things were not very sexy at all. She had been a bit of a tomboy up until the year before, dressing mostly in jeans and sports clothes. Although a pair of tight-fitting jeans was certainly sexy molded to her trim hips and firm ass and tucked into a vee at her plump crotch, that was not the sort of garment she had in mind.
She toyed with the idea of greeting Ronny at the door, stark naked. But she figured that would be going a bit too far. It might shock the boy so much, his prick would go limp.
She took her maid's uniform off, but she still hadn't decided what to put on in its place.
If only I had a real sexy nightie! She thought.
That was it!
Jeannie grinned at the sudden thought. Her mother had a whole lot of sexy negligees and nighties and shortie pajamas. Maybe she had left some of the stuff there.
Jeannie left her own room and went next door to her parent's former bedroom. She looked in the dresser, and sure enough, she found a very appropriate black negligee. It was sheer and semi-transparent. It was just what she'd had in mind. She tried it on, and it fit her perfectly! She could hardly wait to see Ronny's face when she opened the door, wearing that slinky negligee with nothing on under it. The very thought of his expression thrilled her, causing her nipples to stiffen and her pussy to start to really steam.
She wanted to look in the mirror to see if she really looked as wanton as she felt.
She started to go back to her own room then figured there was no point in that, because her mother had a looking glass exactly like her own, fitted on the wall. For some reason, Jeannie recalled, that looking glass had always been curtained, as if it were a window. She had never thought anything of it.
She supposed it was curtained that way to give the illusion of space, of a wall that looked out over open spaces instead of the interior wail of a city apartment.
Jeannie moved to that curtained mirror.
She drew the curtains back and smiled at her reflection – and then she frowned as she realized that there was no reflection in the glass at which she could smile.
She stepped closer.
The roam was reflected, all right – but her own image was not there! A chill ran up her spine. She thought of all the horror movies that she had seen.
Had she somehow turned into a vampire that cast no reflection in a looking glass?
But that was silly.
She had a yearning to drink some cum, certainly – but she had no desire whatsoever to drink blood.
It was a total mystery. Why would the minor reflect the room and not her face? But then she saw that the room was not quite right, either. She looked behind her. Yes, the closet door was closed. She looked at the mirror again. In the reflection, that closet door was open, and she could see clothing hanging up. Jeannie began to get really frightened. Was she losing her mind or was the apartment haunted?
Slowly the truth dawned on the girl.
It was not a reflection at all – she was looking right through the looking glass, into her own room! That was her closet, standing open as she'd left it a few minutes before. The implications of this discovery did not strike her immediately.
Her first thought was that this solved the puzzle of why the mirror should be always covered by curtains, like the window that it was.
But the view from that window – Jeannie froze in shock.
That view was of her bedroom!
It looked into her room at exactly the same place where her own mirror was fitted in the wall – it was, in fact, not a proper window at all, but the other side of Jeannie's mirror.
It was a two-way mirror!
The girl thought of those spy holes bored through the wall of the motel room and the terrible truth dawned on her.
She staggered to the bed and sat down, not sure if she should scream or sob, if she should be furious or mortified. Her own parents had spied on her in the privacy of her own bedroom? Was there no limit to their wicked perversion, their dark deviation?
How many times had she lain on her bed, legs spread, finger fucking herself? Countless times! And how many times had her mother or father been watching her do it?
Why, she had often stood right in front of her mirror, gazing at her image as she rubbed her cunt to a froth!
She blushed bright red with shame. But then it dawned on her that she had no reason to be embarrassed – that it was her wicked, perverted parents who had cause for shame. All girls finger fucked themselves. Everyone knew that. But it was a rare patent who secretly watched them do it. Thinking that way, Jeannie's righteous anger overcame her embarrassment.
She was going to get even with them! She might accuse them of being the filthy voyeurs that they were. She might even tell her mother what she'd seen through the spy hole or tell her father!
The girl was so angry that she forgot why she had come to the apartment.
But then the doorbell rang.
And Jeannie remembered.
She was still determined to get revenge on her mother and father – but she had other things to attend to first.
CHAPTER SIX
Jeannie ran into her own bedroom and looked into the other side of the one way mirror. The doorbell sounded again, as if her caller was impatient. The girl turned slowly, gazing at her reflection from all angles, and then, satisfied that she looked as enticing as possible, she went to the door.
When Ronny saw Jeannie wearing the semi-transparent negligee, his eyes popped out, and the front of his trousers tightened. Jeannie leaned against the open door, smiling dreamily for a moment. Then she stepped aside and ushered the lad in, noting as he passed, how the crotch of his pants was distended.
She took him down the hall, thinking it might be best to go into the living roam instead of the bedroom. She didn't want to be too obvious about it – not at the very start. It might be fun to tease the horny boy for a little while – not a long while, however, for she would be teasing herself at the same time, cock-hungry as she was.
Her bedroom door was open.
Ronny shot a look at her bed as he went past, but he still expected no more than a hand job.
He stood in the front room, looking around uncertainly. Jeannie sat on the leather couch and patted the cushion beside her. Ronny eagerly joined her, excited and almost blushing.
"Want a Coke or something?" she asked.
She wasn't at all sure if there was anything like that still in the vacated apartment, but she didn't think that Ronny would be interested in a Coke, anyhow.
He shook his head.
Jeannie giggled mysteriously.
"I don't, either," she said. "I'm awful thirsty, but I don't feel like anything sweet – I'll have a nice warm drink in a little while."
Ronny eyed her, wondering why she was looking so impish about a cup of hot chocolate or Ovaltine or something.
"Well, then – want to kiss me?" she asked brazenly.
Ronny was surprised. He'd had to really work at it the last time they had necked, before he had got her all hot and bothered. She seemed to have changed.