Mrs. D's Mirrored Playroom - Erotic Novel - Sand Wayne - ebook
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A Vintage Erotic Novel Involving a Sexy and Seductive Girl, Full of Sexual Adventures, Surprises and Twists.

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Mrs. D's Mirrored Playroom

CHAPTER ONEGlen Stokes came over on Sunday afternoon. Sundae was relieved, glad he'd finally returned from his business trip. She'd called his office three times. Maybe, she thought anxiously as she watched him light a cigar, he could tell her something about her mother. The note she had found was still on the coffee table, scrawled hurriedly. In spite of her mother's reassuring words, Sundae was frightened. She picked up the sheet of paper and handed it to Glen. "I'm so glad you came. I've been worried half out of my mind, Glen."He read it quickly, put it down and looked at Sundae over the top of his reading glasses. "When did you get this?""Friday. When I came home from Vassar for the spring break.""I got one too." Glen took off his reading glasses and put them in his pocket. "Christ. I wish to hell I hadn't been in Chicago. Maybe I could have talked her out of doing this fool thing.""Then you don't know any more than I do." The hope that had blossomed in the young girl's heard slowly died."I know a little more," Glen replied thoughtfully. He seemed nervous, cracking his knuckles as he looked out the window, a bleak expression in his eyes. A group of boys were playing baseball on the street. Glen seemed to be trying to make up his mind about something. With a sigh, he turned his face around to Sundae and spoke to her gently. "No use in my beating about the bush. You'll know about it sooner or later. Your mother has been taking money from the bank. She's been doing it for about two years. She left because the books are being audited."Sundae's world spun for a few seconds while her thoughts flew. Her mother? Marie Du Valeur Chevalier? Graduate of a fine university, daughter of a family capable of tracing their aristocratic ancestry back to the time of the French and Indian War? Impossible! "But why?" Sundae looked at the man her mother had been seeing for several years. "Why would she do such a thing?"Glen's nice friendly-puppy face was suddenly not so friendly. "Because of you," he said harshly. "Jesus. She wasn't satisfied to let you go to a public high school like anybody else. Oh, hell no. You had to go to a fancy finishing school. And your expensive foreign car. This place...." He flung his arms out, taking in the lavish furnishings, the 'correct' address, all the things Marie Chevalier had felt necessary to lavish upon Sundae, her only child."But I didn't need to go to an expensive school if she couldn't afford it. I didn't have to have a new car every year, three fur coats, trips to Mexico and Paris. Glen, I always thought we had plenty of money!"Glen sighed. "It isn't your fault, Sundae. She's got this thing-Who knows why people are the way they are? It doesn't matter, anyway. She felt she had to give you these things for reasons of her own. I knew she was running out of money a couple of years ago. We argued. I told her it wouldn't be the end of the world for you if you had to live somewhere other than the most exclusive residential district in Atlanta. I tried to make her understand that most kids grow up and turn out okay with or without what she referred to as 'the advantages.' But you know how stubborn she is. And she had a pretty damned good argument. She said if I'd ever had kids of my own I'd understand. She had me there. But I did say I'd managed pretty well with my own life. Jesus. I didn't even graduate from high school! Right now, things are rough as a cob all over the country. I sunk everything I had in a new branch office. If I had known about this, I'd have given her the money. Well, hell. Too late now. You know, I kind of thought your mother trusted me a little. I haven't been pushing her-God knows I can't compare with Charles Chevalier. If your father were living, I'd stand a better chance, you know? I mean if they were divorced. But like so many people, your mother has tended to make him into some kind of saint after his death. Not that I'm knocking your father, Sundae. You know what I mean. He was a big time operator, old family and all, and I'm just a little old boy from Texas. But if she'd just trusted me, confided in me! Christ, I'd have given her the damned money.""Did she say where she was going? In the letter she left for you, I mean." Sundae's eyes clouded over. In the note her mother had left on the coffee table, she'd merely-said she had to leave, that she'd try and write soon."Yes, she did. A long time ago, I gave her the key to a little place I've got in Nevada. It isn't much, but she can live there. She plans to go to work in one of the gambling casinos in Las Vegas. I figured on driving out there. You want to go along? Maybe the two of us can talk some sense into her head.""I'll let you know later, Glen. When do you plan to leave?""Tomorrow." Glen stood up. "A hell of a note, isn't it? If only" I hadn't made that trip to Chicago, maybe I could have kept her from doing this thing. She doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of making the kind of money she needs on the tables out there. Why, those bastards aren't in the business to give money away. I could at least have gotten her a decent lawyer. She wouldn't have gone to jail. I mean, it isn't as though Marie were an habitual criminal. This way, she'll go to Las Vegas, get work under an assumed name, and sooner or later she'll get fired. She doesn't know how they are in the gambling industry. They have to very careful about checking references and things. I just don't know, Sundae-."The girl interrupted. "How much money did she-take?""Fifteen thousand dollars. At least that was what she said in the letter she left me.""If she paid the money back, would it be alright, do you think?""Probably. Banks aren't terribly interested in putting people behind bars. If they can get the money back where it belongs, they'll probably not push for more than a token charge. Restitution is what they want, more than anything else. But with her going off on a tangent like this-it won't be long before someone will be out here with a warrant for her arrest. I'm going to go see if I can raise some money." Glen stood up and walked over to the chair where Sundae was sitting. He gave her a fatherly pat on the shoulder. Although she appreciated the gesture, it made Sundae want to break into wild sobs.It was getting dark outside when Sundae finally put down the classified section of the Sunday paper. She went into the kitchen and made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. When she sat down at the table to eat it, she looked at the list she had made of available jobs. One by one, she checked most of them off, realizing she had been dreaming when she'd written down things like Secretary, experienced, and Cocktail waitress, must have experience. She had never worked a day in her life. Besides, the waitress job had clearly stated that she had to be twenty-one. Sundae was eighteen. The high school she had attended did not offer a secretarial course. She couldn't even type, she thought ruefully. There wasn't much left on her list. Somebody wanted a live-in baby sitter for a fatherless home. Five children. Sundae didn't know much about children. She was an only child. The pay was thirty-five dollars a week, plus room and board. A restaurant was hiring food waitresses, experience not necessary. Salary was listed as minimum. She didn't know what the minimum wage was, but she was sure it wouldn't go far toward helping to pay back her mother's debt. Fifteen thousand dollars seemed a tremendous about of money. She could sell her car-except no, she couldn't do that, either. Since she was underage, her mother had the title. Besides, it would bring only a couple of thousand.At ten o'clock she called Glen Stokes. "I'm not going with you to Nevada. I'm going to get a job." She was in her bedroom, speaking over her own private telephone."What the hell can you do, Sundae?""There's a job offered in a photographic studio," she lied. She could see her face, reflected in the mirror over the dresser. Even though her stomach muscles tightened when she thought about the job she was going to take, she knew she was going to do it-providing she passed the test. Seeing her face in the mirror gave her confidence in her ability to pass the test. "You tell Mother I'm fine. I just want to make my own way, that's all.""Maybe it's just as well. Of course, it's Sunday, but even so, I don't think I'm going to be able to raise any fifteen thousand dollars right away. Money is tight everywhere. I've talked to several people who have tried to get loans. I suppose the job you're taking is here in Atlanta?""Sure. Where else?" Another lie, but it didn't matter, she felt.Glen said he'd be in touch. Sundae hung up and stripped out of her clothes. Looking at her figure appraisingly, she nodded her head as she put both hands under her mellow breasts. It had been nothing but chance that she had seen the display ad. It hadn't been with the rest of the classifieds. She'd been about to turn the page when she'd felt her eyes pulled down to the lower right hand margin and seen it, bold and black and white:GIRLS! MODELS, MODELS, MODELS, MODELS, GIRLS! Make big money modeling for small but financially stable motion picture industry. Girls, eighteen to thirty, must be well-endowed and better than average looking. If you need to make an enormous amount of money and if you are broadminded and willing to work long, hard hours, call Rex Davitts, day or night, collect.It was a San Francisco listing. Before she lost her courage, Sundae put the call through.The man's voice had been warm, vibrant and professional sounding. He had chatted a while and then they had discussed business."I suppose you understand what kind of movies we're making?""Yes." And she had thought, Well, I wasn't born yesterday."How about giving me your vital statistics.""Thirty-eight, twenty-two, thirty-four," she'd answered."Color of hair?""Blonde.""Natural, or bleached?""Natural. It isn't a bright blonde. It's more of an-""Never mind, honey. What kind of a face have you got?""Square cheek bones. I mean, a square face, with high cheek bones. Pointed chin, nose a little on the smallish side, eyes are brown. Not dark brown. Sometimes they're more hazel, I guess.""Yeah. Well, listen. You're sure you're eighteen? You sound very young. You have to be eighteen or over.""I've got my birth certif-""Any acne, bad teeth, anything that wouldn't look good under harsh lights, baby?""No, really I'm quite-" She hesitated. She'd been told she was beautiful, but she felt a little shy about saying it to a stranger."How about a photograph? Have you got one you could send right away? If you look like you'll do, we'll send you plane fare.""Mr. Davitts, I'm desperate for money. I have enough for my plane fare to San Francisco, and I have enough faith in my physical assets to take a chance on spending the money for transportation. I need to make a lot of money, and I need to make it right away. The only thing is, I don't have much acting experience. The only thing I've done is school plays, that sort of thing.""Don't worry about that, honey. If you look sexy, that's all that counts. You won't have to act much anyway. Now, I'll tell you what you do. Hop on the first plane you can get to San Francisco. If we think we can put you to work, we'll refund the plane fare. How's that?""Alright." Her heart had been hammering. She thought she had an idea of what he meant when he said she wouldn't have to act much. It would be posing in the nude, probably. She would just have to make up her mind to do it. In an almost whisper, she asked, "Mr. Davitts, would you mind telling me how much this work will pay?""A hundred dollars a day for most of the stuff you'll be making. Of course, there are special deals where you can make as high as twice that."It was difficult to figure rapidly in her head, but common sense told her it wouldn't take long to clean up her mother's debt, especially if she lived frugally. She told Rex Davitts she would be there Monday. He told her to take a cab to the offices and gave her the address.When Sundae hung up the telephone, she did some rapid figuring. If she could talk her mother into selling the car, she could raise about two thousand. The elegant furnishings of the house should bring at least five thousand. So suppose she made five hundred a week. That would amount to ten thousand in twenty weeks. Counting what she would need to live on, it would be enough to keep her mother out of jail-providing the authorities didn't find out she was in Las Vegas. Maybe if she wrote a letter to the bank where her mother had worked for the past eleven years-if she explained to them that she would pay them back the money, maybe they'd not do anything to her mother. And if she left the car, told them she would see to it they got permission to sell it from her mother, that ought to keep them from lowering the boom right away. Then if she told them the same thing about the furniture, they should be happy to wait for the balance of the money. At least, that was what she wanted to think. There would be complications, of course. For instance, she would have to keep Marie from knowing what she was doing. She knew her mother would probably die if she learned her daughter was posing in the nude. But she could get one of those post office boxes where they forwarded mail. Tell her mother she was in New York or somewhere. Twenty weeks. Only a little while, when she considered it. Right then, Sundae was willing to believe she would try anything.Before she went to bed, she wrote the letter to the bank. Then she made her reservations for San Francisco. The flight would leave in the morning at nine. She wanted to be well out of the house before then. She just didn't know what she would do if policemen came to the house with a warrant for her mother's arrest. Somewhere, she'd read that as long as a person was not in receipt of the warrant, the law could do nothing about making an arrest. She hoped it was true, and wasn't something she had read in a not-well-researched murder mystery or something.The alarm was set for four-thirty. She knew she would have to be out of the house before seven, but she could make it. It would be too embarrassing to have the policemen come while she was still there. But the auditors probably wouldn't come to work until nine o'clock, and then they'd find her mother's letter, confessing she had embezzled all that money. Just to be on the safe side, she set the clock radio so it would also start playing at four-thirty. Although she doubted she'd sleep, the pages of the book she was reading began to blur, the words running into each other senselessly, after she'd been in bed fifteen minutes.At about the same time that Sundae Chevalier was drifting into sleep, Rex Davitts was impatiently dialing the telephone in his posh apartment. He started talking the minute the phone was answered on the other end. "Julian, for Christ sakes. Where the hell have you been?"Julian Corbin frowned. He didn't like to have the junior member of the firm take that executive tone with him. "Out," he said shortly."I've been trying to get you all evening. Listen. Some little broad from Atlanta saw the ad. She called. She's coming in sometime after noon tomorrow. I'm going to be shooting in the Tahoe area. So see to it that she doesn't get scared shitless and turn tail and run, will you? That is, if she's got what it takes body-wise. She said she was desperate for scratch, and after she gets used to making fuck pictures she'll probably groove on it just like most of them do. But don't let her get away like you did that nice looking little chickie from San Diego last week.""Rex, goddamn it, I tell you, you're going to have to stop making these snap judgments over the fucking telephone!" Julian Corbin was livid with rage. He was standing in back of his desk at home, scratching his balls. His pale blue eyes bulged with anger. "You're going to break us yet. Just because a broad gives you a fantastic set of measurements, right away you start to jack-off. You promise them the fucking moon! I suppose you said we'd refund the plane ticket, too.""Only if she fits our needs, Julian. And I don't jack-off."Somewhat mollified, Julian stopped scratching his balls and reached for his martini. "Well, I hope she hasn't got monkey tits and a fat belly. How the hell old is she, anyway?""Eighteen.""No shit? That young, huh. What's her oid lady think about this business of her making fuck pictures?""She didn't say anything about having a mother. For somebody in this business, Julian, you sure have some odd-ball Victorian-type morals. You know what I picked up on her over the phone? I got the distinct vibes she's a virgin.""Horse shit. There aren't any such things any more." Julian gave a vile-sounding laugh. "You and your mental telepathy shit. I bet you wouldn't know if your own wife was out hustling her ass. If you had a wife.""We'll see," said Davitts. "But imagine making a picture of a young girl getting it when she's never had it before. Maybe we could make it an educational film, huh, Jule? Christ, I get a hard-on just thinking about it. But be nice to this little Chickus Atlantus, you hear? Lay off the dirty ole man bit for awhile, okay?""Horse shit," said Julian. He hung up the telephone.It was fifteen minutes after two on Monday when Sundae walked into the plushly carpeted offices of Wildwood Pictures, Inc. She smiled shyly at the receptionist. Right then she felt much better about what she was doing. The name of the company was reassuring. Wildwood made her think of woods and streams, of birds and babbling brooks. They probably made nice little motion pictures about nature, she was sure. And the elderly woman who smiled at her benignly from behind the desk certainly would not take part in something obscene. No, she had worried for nothing. Had those bad dreams during the night just out of fear."I'm Sundae Chevalier," she said with her best finishing-school smile. "I have an appointment."The motherly-looking woman stood up. Her smile deepened. "Right this way, Miss Chevalier." She opened a door that led into a wide room, nice and bright and airy. A bald-headed man sat behind a cluttered desk. He looked friendly too. He put his hand out and his smile widened as he gazed into Sundae's lovely face.CHAPTER TWOSundae was not absolutely innocent. She had dated boys that her mother considered 'suitable' for someone of her daughter's background. She had done a little heavy petting, she'd smoked a total of three joints, and she'd read several novels that she knew her mother would consider pornographic, which was why she had left the novels at the homes of her friends. In her eternal quest for the 'right' schools and summer camps for her daughter, Marie Chevalier had made a few mistakes. At eighteen, Sundae had been exposed to her first contact with lesbianism. It had taken place at an exclusive little place in Wisconsin. Most of the girls were older than Sundae by a year or two, and several of them had attended camp at least once before in the secluded, woodsy area. The place had been highly recommended as 'progressive,' which had led Sundae's mother to believe there would be plenty of horseback riding, lectures of an intellectual type, and study, groups that would broaden her daughter's mind without thwarting her or oppressing her imagination or creativity.What actually happened did broaden Sundae's mind. It also reamed out her delightful little pussy, which made it possible for her to use tampons. Fingers and tongues were the order of the day; but nothing really traumatic took place and Sundae had been everlastingly grateful for the experience. She had been sure she would have been forced to use old-fashioned sanitary napkins had it not been for the time she spent at Sunnyslope Acres in the heart of the Wisconsin woods. The time she spent at camp did leave her with the impression that girls were far better than boys when it came to making her feel good. It took her a couple of years to learn that that idea was ridiculous. It was, however, her natural inclination to be excited in the presence of boys, and after she had learned that pimply-faced youths could also push the proper button and make her little girl's clit froth and hum eagerly, then jet off into delight, she soon changed her mind.Nevertheless Sundae's sexual experience had been limited. Except for a few sessions of heavy petting, Sundae knew little about the ins and outs of actual intercourse. In the first place, she had a healthy horror of getting herself pregnant. Because she was unusually sheltered, such conveniences as The Pill were not easily available. She was also subjected to frequent lectures from her mother on the importance of keeping one's self chaste until one was safely married. Coupled with the fact that Sundae was conditioned to a lifetime of respect for her austere, but loving, mother, was the inavaiiability of boys. In spite of stories of boys climbing in the windows of girls' dorms, no such thing had ever happened to Sundae. It wasn't that she didn't dream about it, hope and pray that it would happen, either. Except when she was preoccupied with school work, she constantly thought about boys, about "making out,""getting it,""doing it," and even getting married.When she masturbated she held in her mind an image of a youthful Knight in Shining Spitfire who would come to carry her off and fuck hell out of her in some secluded glen. She had seen one in the town where the girls' school was located. His Triumph was the color of gold and his hair was dark. Once their eyes had met and locked while she had been standing in line to attend a movie. For a long time afterward, Sundae had frantically massaged her clitoris and pretended it was The Boy. Those who had gone rather far with her had not appealed to her enough for her to allow them to go past that one point where Sundae drew the line. Hesitantly, she had worked up enough courage to pump her hand up and down on a few cocks and once a strong young man had gone off between her legs while he was attempting to get it in. This had occurred after a football game. Sundae and the boy were in the back seat of her car. That constituted her total experiences with members of the opposite sex. When she was at home in Atlanta, she remained in the house unless she went somewhere with her mother. Sometimes Glen Stokes accompanied mother and daughter to symphony concerts, motion pictures that Marie felt were suitable for a girl of Sundae's tender years, or to dinner. Now and then Sundae wondered if there was anything sexual between her mother and Glen Stokes, but usually she didn't think about it. Her mother often told her it was necessary to have an escort on the scene and Glen was harmless. Even Sundae had known that two women alone needed an escort now and then. Besides, she couldn't quite relate a situation wherein her elegant mother naked and in the arms of her own father, whom she could barely remember. There had even been times when she had wondered if she had been adopted, or if her mother had been the vessel for an immaculate conception, or conceived her through artificial insemination. Because Marie Chevalier, while possessing a beautiful face and a perfect body, did not lend credence to thoughts of animal lust and greed. People said she was as cold as an iceberg.The bald-headed man behind the cluttered desk stood up. Sundae was vastly relieved at his friendly, honest and open smile. "Sit down, sit down," he said as he gestured toward a deep leather chair. "You're Sundae Chevalier, aren't you?""Yes." She smiled, showing him a set of beautifully cared for teeth.He thought, "What tits!" And felt his prick begin to lurch upwards. Something told him to go slowly, so he didn't say anything to her about the tits. "Is that your real name? Sundae?""Yes. You spell it with 'a-e' at the end rather than y.""How did you happen to come by an unusual name like that?" He was conscious of her finishing-school diction."It is a family name." She drew herself up a little, giving him the impression of family pride. "You've heard of the famous Sundae Du Valeur of Atlanta, who carried rebel messages during the War Between the States?""Oh, yes-yes indeed." Julian Corbin had barely heard of Atlanta. He apologized for not introducing himself and she said something about talking to a man named Davitts yesterday on the telephone.Corbin assured her that Rex Davitts was his junior partner and saw her settle herself a little easier in the chair."They are a very proud old Southern family, the Du Valeurs," she ,was continuing. "My first name is Marie, but my mother has that name, and after a while they started using my second name. To avoid confusion, you know."Corbin was thinking things like hot French vanilla ice cream Sundae, with strawberry nipples on the ice cream cones. And thing like what an ass-ass-ass! And, Baby, I'd sure like to nibble on those nimmies of yours. But he kept his face bland and said, "I suppose you know the nature of the films we make.""Nudes?" She felt very worldly, saying the word like that, right out in the open."Ahhhh, yes." He put his hands together on the desk, studying the tips of his fingers. "Now, of course-ah, you certainly look as if you qualify in every respect. But you understand there are some people who don't photograph well. In your case, I doubt it very much, because your particular kind of beauty will undoubtedly come across on film just as it does in person. But I have arranged a little screen test for this afternoon, ahh, you aren't too tired, are you?" His balls were aching. He wanted to reach down there and massage them a little. Wanted to unzip his pants and take out his dong. Right then he felt sure if he stood up he'd need a wheelbarrow to carry it around in. Christ, what a sex-pot! And Davitts, that silly bastard, had said he'd thought she'd be a virgin. What an asshole, Davitts. Always looking for a virgin. Always believing he'd find one some day. Julian could tell by looking at this boiling little cunt that she'd probably been finger-fucking since she was capable of finding her twat, way back when she'd been a baby in her cradle. As far as fucking was concerned, she was no doubt the world's champion humper, head and all. Julian had his own ideas about girls from fine old Southern families, especially girls who had gone to finishing schools and learned to talk properly. He was getting carried away along those lines, thinking about grabbing her and flinging her over the top of the desk, when she spoke again. Her words shocked him into momentary silence."I was thinking on the plane about how I'd feel, disrobing in front of a camera. And the man who will operate it.""Uuh?" Julian's startled eyes did a double-take. Could he be wrong? She'd used the word 'disrobed.' Shit. Shit, now goddamn it, she was putting him on, he thought uneasily."But after all, the human body is a thing of beauty. And we shouldn't be ashamed of it, should we?""Certainly not.""And as long as everything is done in good taste, I'm sure I'll be able to-do it. Take my clothes off, I mean. You see, I haven't had much experience in that sort of thing.""Good taste. Yeah." He was thinking about her pussy. Next to getting his cock sucked, Julian liked nothing better than the taste of pussy."People are getting away from the old concepts of nudity. We no longer think of it as being immoral. Why, even the Greeks made lovely statues of the human body," Sundae was saying. Dimly, Julian was beginning to understand that the Chickus Atlantus was maybe trying to talk herself into taking her clothes off in public. He was not without perception, even when his rod was blazing away down there inside his pants, trying to eat a hole in the material. He detected a certain nervousness about her that was felt more than it was apparent. He detected a fine mist of perspiration above her upper lip and a certain frightened expression in those incredible eyes that made him haul up a little. And he thought with a part of his mind, Could she really be one? Could she honest-to-God be a virgin? If so, she could make them a million fucking dollars ... Through his mind began to pass all the different ways they could handle it. Rape, maybe. That was always good. No, too crude. Maybe they could really branch out, get out of the grinding pubic-hair, grunting, groaning porny films and come out with something actually beautiful. Of course it would damned near kill him to have to admit Rex had been right about those vibrations he said he'd picked up over the telephone about this Sundae....But what the hell! He hitched forward a little in his chair and asked her if she felt like making the test right now.Again that frightened expression flickered for an instant in the depths of her amber colored eyes. Or were they green? Julian couldn't tell for sure. They seemed to change color with her emotions. But she gave him a wan smile and said she would be delighted to make the screen test right away."The-um, studio is on the ninth floor," he said softly. "If you'll just go out in the hall and take the elevator up, I'll join you in a few seconds. You'll find the dressing room to the left, just as you go through the door."Sundae turned around and gave him a frightened look. "What shall I wear? I meanr do you want me to leave the dress I'm wearing on, or is there another outfit of some kind that you want me to put on?"