It wasn't the reflection that counted. It was what was inside my brain. What was in there that I could not see? What memories of dreams were stored in... those cells that I had never been permitted to remember?Once in New York City I had gone to see the ballet. A particular prima ballerina had done a dance so exquisitely well it had sent chills up and down my spine. I had turned my head at that moment and had noticed the person seated on my right, a young girl of about sixteen, had been similarly. They asked me if I worked for the company? I said no that my wife did. They glanced around and asked where she was? I made up a story about her stepping outside to use the phone. We sat there for at least thirty minutes. The lady asked if I thought everything was OK that my wife had been gone for a long time. I said I'm sure my wife is just fine and that if anything where wrong she would come get me. Another twenty minutes pasted and I could tell that they where starting to wonder if I was. "The car was suddenly filled with peals of delightful laughter."You're funny," she said. "But you're honest about it and I like that." Her hand was on my thigh and my heart was going a thousand miles an hour.I was thinking, 'Where can I take her if she wants to fuck?" Oh, my name is Melva," and she offered her hand."James, James Farrell," I countered accepting her hand, but keeping my eyes on the road. It was clear and I stole a glimpse of her. She was still fantastic - and the most beautiful. " "That's right little one, they may. But I want you naked here, now.You want to please me don't you?" "Yes. Yes." I murmured as her fingers undid my bra and both thatand my blouse fell to the floor. Her fingers took my tits. Her hands took possessionof me. She squeezed and caressed. Her fingers teased and pulled my nipplesuntil I was lost in pleasure. I pressed my naked back against her softnessand eventually I felt her she unfastened my shorts and they slid down my legs. "This is the last.