Roger Grayson - The Two-Way Mirror

"Well…" Muriel Brendell gasped. "I must say, Mr. Lewis, you come on rather dynamically. I-I hope your blueprints do as well…"

Jeff found a ready smile. He had to admit to himself that the 'so young, so vibrant' was an afterthought, but my God, she was a breathtaking woman. He felt like a schoolboy sitting there with his rolled up paltry plans in his lap… as if he'd come to collect for the daily paper delivery. And then, a grunt startled him.

"You'll have to be Lewis… Jeffrey Lewis," the big man said, thundering into the room and immediately dominating it. He stopped too close to Jeff's chair for him to stand, and thrust forth a mighty hand. "Brendell. Nathan Brendell."

"My pleasure, sir," Jeff managed, reaching up and clutching the huge hand.

"He isn't drinking, dear. Give the boy a drink."

"He declined, darling…"

"Nonsense. What d'you drink, Lewis?"

"Well… scotch… anything."

Nathan Brendell moved behind a bar and made drinks. "All right, boy, bring those plans over here and le's roll them out," he said, not looking up as he haphazardly poured into glasses.

Jeff started to leap, but Muriel Brendell hardly noticeable, extended, level hand caught his eye and slowed him. She wavered it up and down meaningfully, then winked… and that meaningfully, also, Jeff thought. He arose slowly, took his blueprints to the bar and casually rolled them out.

"Here, boy. Drink hearty," Nathan Brendell said, thrusting a glass into his hand and raising his own in toast. Muriel picked up her own. "Let's hope you've got something here. I'm getting sick and goddamned tired of looking."

Jeff stood back as the big man came around the bar and took a position above the unfurled sheets. His wife moved in beside him and he slipped an arm about her waist. What a waist, Jeff thought. He raised his drink and gulped a good portion of it. It was more than half scotch. He swallowed tightly with the jolt.

Brendell grunted mysteriously. His wife cooed. The big man threw one sheet aside and straightened out another, setting his glass upon the curled end.

"What the hell kind of den is this?" he snapped, spinning around suddenly.

Jeff moved in. "A personal den, Mr. Brendell. With the study and the library upstairs; it seemed important that a man like yourself have a personal room… a small room, really, where others feel unwanted unless invited."

He stared at Jeff a long moment, the idea registering. Slowly, he smiled. "Yes… yes, by God, you're right about that. A man needs a place doesn't he, Lewis? How about a bar… you got a bar figured in there?"

"Yes, sir," Jeff grinned. "What kind of den would it be without a bar?"

The big man's handsome face widened. He grinned… then, he laughed. "You're all right, Lewis. Maybe, you've got the hang of this thing after all."

Jeff returned his smile as he turned away, then he drank another sizable portion of his drink. Muriel Standard Brendell moved slowly about to face him.

"The dressing room in the master bedroom is too small," she said, not sharply, but without a smile.

Jeff cleared his throat. "I was a little worried about that myself," he lied. "But I've allowed an extra two feet on closet space which could easily be eliminated and encompassed in the dressing room, Mrs. Brendell. It's a matter of choice. Really, the closets are so large anyway…"

Muriel Brendell smiled beautifully. "I'm sure you'll work it out for me, Jeff," she said, with emphasis on his name. "I do so like a large dressing room…"

She turned away from him slowly and he gulped at his drink once more. It was hardly feasible to him that they were scrutinizing his plans this closely. He had sat in the luxurious living rooms of too many money-people lately, perhaps, listening to them butcher his dreams with their own absurd ideas of what a home should be. Of course, he hadn't had the opportunity to turn down any prospective builder either, but on some of the crucified plans, he would have before he'd have let his name be attached to them.

Nathan Brendell grunted once more. Suddenly, he picked up his drink and turned from the bar, a portion of Jeff's plans rolling off to the floor.

"I like them, Lewis. You seem to have a man's viewpoint in mind, but if I know my women, there is that certain feminine touch, too." He walked to a chair and dropped heavily into it. His wife picked up the rolled-up blueprint. "I'm a busy man. I work, I live, I play with exuberance. I've got to have that kind of home. My wife is more alive than I am. Leave your plans. We'll call you and let you know our decision."

Jeff nodded, even found a smile. How many times bad he heard that one? He drained his glass and stood.

"Nice meeting both of you," he said, shaking the big man's hand. "If… if you desire changes, they can be made," he said reluctantly.

"But you don't want to make them," said Nathan Brendell.

Jeff had to smile. "Pain is part of life, Mr. Brendell," he said.

He walked to the front door two steps ahead of Muriel Standard Brendell. Then he turned and reached out for her hand. She gave it to him.

"It was worth it just for this," he said, almost too dramatically.

She smiled. "You lovable liar," she half whispered. "I like your ruthless eyes, Jeff Lewis… If your promise is what I think it is… you've just built a house."

Jeff debated for a full ten seconds, then, leaned forward with pursed lips. She met him with her own.

"Bye bye," he said, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Bye," she whispered, running her hand along his arm until he left.

Nathan Brendell had taken a second look at the blueprints while his wife walked young Lewis to the door. He smiled to himself. He had caught the enthusiastic expression in her eye as she watched the boy and pretty well decided what was coming. Well, that was the secret of their successful marriage… understanding and broad-mindedness. They both enjoyed they own private little affairs, each often helping the other in setting up a seduction when the circumstances were too difficult for one to accomplish it alone. Cooperation had been the secret word, and wild, uninhibited sex the name of the game. The result… happiness… But this time, there was a seven-hundred-grand house involved, casting a somewhat different light on the whole scene.

He wasn't unimpressed In fact, the plans looked damned good, but he wanted to be sure. He wasn't that filthy rich. Two marriages had drained the hell out of his resources and he'd sworn never to marry again. Then, he'd met Muriel and discovered that he had found a human being more lusty than himself. God, what a woman she was, in or out of bed. Five glorious, fun-filled years, with never a dull moment and hardly an argument. He was fifty-two and she twenty years his junior, but once they got their clothes off they were like a couple of teenagers who had just discovered sex and couldn't get enough. It was never the old married routine of one servicing the other out of obligation… but a seduction with all the preliminaries and ecstatic surprises, heart and soul thrown into it. They loved and understood each other's lustful needs… a marriage based on non-possessiveness, and success fully so.

The house was for her, a monument to their happiness, a tribute to her being a whole and complete woman, but still he didn't intend to jump off half-cocked because his little lover-girl had come up with a sudden case of hot-pants for the architect. He'd listen… and here it came…

Muriel was smiling as she re-entered the room. Brendell watched the provocative sway to her round full hips as she approached his chair and stood in front of him, the scintillating explosions taking place in her dark eyes giving her away.

"I know," the big man said, smiling up at her. "It's written all over your face."