passion that was trapped inside her had combined with the aching loneliness to form a searing account of a woman on a quest for emotional intimacy and physical release. The tale had literally cascaded out of her a year and a half earlier. The book had been published a month ago.
The critics had, generally speaking, responded very favorably to The Mirror . Only Cleo knew that none of them had really understood it. They had thought the book was a work of autoeroticism; that the female narrator was locked in a fantasy of startling intimacy with the masculine elements of her own nature.
They did not comprehend the significance of the man in the mirror.
Writing The Mirror had been a cathartic experience for Cleo. It had also taught her that she wanted to keep on writing, although she knew she would never again need to write a book like The Mirror .
“I wish I could explain this to you,” she said quietly. “ The Mirror was a one-of-a-kind thing for me.”
“I should hope so. I read some of that stuff last night. I couldn't believe you'd written it. You wouldn't even go to bed with me.” He shot her a fulminating look. “Just as well, I guess. I'd never have been able to compete with the fantasy in that damned book. No man could. That woman in the book is making love to herself. She doesn't need a man, does she?”
“Nolan, you don't understand.”
“Sure I do. Now I know why you wouldn't sleep with me. It wasn't because you were so damned pure, was it? It was because you've decided no mere male can give you what you can get from your own imagination and a good vibrator.”
“Stop it right now.” Cleo took a step back. “I don't want to hear another word about this. I told you, you don't understand.”
“I understand what that book could have done to my chances for getting elected to the state legislature next fall. It would have turned me into a laughingstock in the press.”
Cleo had had enough. “Relax. You're saved. As far as I'm concerned, we never have to see each other again unless our shopping carts collide in the aisles of the grocery store.”
“Damn it, Cleo, I didn't mean to have it end this way. It's just that I was really getting serious about our relationship.”
“Don't worry. You've had the good sense to break things off before I could do any damage to your brilliant political career.”
“It wasn't just that,” he muttered. “I liked you, Cleo. I mean, I really liked you.”
Cleo sighed. “I liked you too, Nolan. Believe it or not, I still do. Heck, I'll probably even vote for you when you run for office next fall.”
“Thanks.” He suddenly seemed at a loss for words. “Look, I won't say anything about that book to anyone else.”
“I'd appreciate that.”
“Well, I guess that's that, then. No hard feelings, huh?”
“Sure. Right. No hard feelings.” Cleo turned around and started toward her car. Halfway there, a thought struck her. She turned back. “There's just one thing I'd like to know.”
“What's that?”
“How did you find out about The Mirror ?”
His mouth thinned. “Someone left it in my mailbox along with a note.”
A chill went through Cleo. “A note?”
“Yeah. I left it in the book.”
Cleo nodded and walked on to her car. She opened the door and got inside. For a moment she sat behind the wheel, watching as Nolan started up his Jeep and took off down the narrow road toward town.
When the other vehicle was out of sight, Cleo slowly opened the paper sack. She gazed at the cover of The Mirror for a long time, and then she opened the book and took out the folded sheet of paper inside. The note was brief and to the point.
The Queen of the Nile is The Queen of Filth. A man with an important future ahead of him cannot afford to be seen with a whore.
The tone of the note was uncomfortably familiar. It bore a remarkable resemblance to the anonymous letter Cleo had received last month.
After the initial shock of receiving it, Cleo had dismissed
The critics had, generally speaking, responded very favorably to The Mirror . Only Cleo knew that none of them had really understood it. They had thought the book was a work of autoeroticism; that the female narrator was locked in a fantasy of startling intimacy with the masculine elements of her own nature.
They did not comprehend the significance of the man in the mirror.
Writing The Mirror had been a cathartic experience for Cleo. It had also taught her that she wanted to keep on writing, although she knew she would never again need to write a book like The Mirror .
“I wish I could explain this to you,” she said quietly. “ The Mirror was a one-of-a-kind thing for me.”
“I should hope so. I read some of that stuff last night. I couldn't believe you'd written it. You wouldn't even go to bed with me.” He shot her a fulminating look. “Just as well, I guess. I'd never have been able to compete with the fantasy in that damned book. No man could. That woman in the book is making love to herself. She doesn't need a man, does she?”
“Nolan, you don't understand.”
“Sure I do. Now I know why you wouldn't sleep with me. It wasn't because you were so damned pure, was it? It was because you've decided no mere male can give you what you can get from your own imagination and a good vibrator.”
“Stop it right now.” Cleo took a step back. “I don't want to hear another word about this. I told you, you don't understand.”
“I understand what that book could have done to my chances for getting elected to the state legislature next fall. It would have turned me into a laughingstock in the press.”
Cleo had had enough. “Relax. You're saved. As far as I'm concerned, we never have to see each other again unless our shopping carts collide in the aisles of the grocery store.”
“Damn it, Cleo, I didn't mean to have it end this way. It's just that I was really getting serious about our relationship.”
“Don't worry. You've had the good sense to break things off before I could do any damage to your brilliant political career.”
“It wasn't just that,” he muttered. “I liked you, Cleo. I mean, I really liked you.”
Cleo sighed. “I liked you too, Nolan. Believe it or not, I still do. Heck, I'll probably even vote for you when you run for office next fall.”
“Thanks.” He suddenly seemed at a loss for words. “Look, I won't say anything about that book to anyone else.”
“I'd appreciate that.”
“Well, I guess that's that, then. No hard feelings, huh?”
“Sure. Right. No hard feelings.” Cleo turned around and started toward her car. Halfway there, a thought struck her. She turned back. “There's just one thing I'd like to know.”
“What's that?”
“How did you find out about The Mirror ?”
His mouth thinned. “Someone left it in my mailbox along with a note.”
A chill went through Cleo. “A note?”
“Yeah. I left it in the book.”
Cleo nodded and walked on to her car. She opened the door and got inside. For a moment she sat behind the wheel, watching as Nolan started up his Jeep and took off down the narrow road toward town.
When the other vehicle was out of sight, Cleo slowly opened the paper sack. She gazed at the cover of The Mirror for a long time, and then she opened the book and took out the folded sheet of paper inside. The note was brief and to the point.
The Queen of the Nile is The Queen of Filth. A man with an important future ahead of him cannot afford to be seen with a whore.
The tone of the note was uncomfortably familiar. It bore a remarkable resemblance to the anonymous letter Cleo had received last month.
After the initial shock of receiving it, Cleo had dismissed
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