Across from him, between the living room and the bedroom, was a narrow door, which Roger subconsciously assumed was for a closet. It was – in a way. A special closet in which a man sat in darkness, between two windows, both two-way mirrors. On the living room side the mirror was an ornate framed decorative piece which matched a credenza and small table next to it. The man, named Harry Saunders, was not looking out into the living room through the two-way glass; he was busily watching through the other mirror, into the bedroom. On the bedroom side the glass was the dresser mirror, canted at a slight angle so that it overlooked the full expanse of the double bed. The man was moistening his parched lips and trying to stop the heavy sound of his breathing, for in the clear glass was the lovely and lust-enticing sight of Kim Copeland dropping her simple blue sheath on the floor. He felt a jerk in his pants as his cock began to throb with desire, and kept his beady eyes leveled on her beautiful body as she moved slowly around the bedroom, fully aware he was there, for she had hired him and put him in the closet and told him to be ready with his camera for another job of blackmail. He'd done this kind of work for her and some of her other whore friends before, and did it well – his fee was moderate, and all he asked was the added bonus of fucking them when the sucker left. His testicles ached with the lewd thought that in a couple of hours he was going to possess that desirable, soft young cunt as he had many times in the past. She was one piece of ass he had never grown tired of!

Saunders felt another slight jump under his pants, his prick hardening as Kim turned from the mirror and bent over to pick up her dress from the floor.