“It has to be hard for you…”

The words echoed in Mike Reive’s mind as he looked at the glossy images of the woman in the black and magenta  striped lycra bodysuit. There was no real pattern to the suit, it was more like camouflage, patterns designed to break up the shape of a person…

But nothing could break up this woman’s shape.

Toned and fit, the fabric clung to her as tight as a second skin, and it was shaped to her impressive curves. Shapely legs and a bubble butt stood out, but not as much as her chest. He wasn’t being paid to ogle the mysterious woman, whose face was covered by a black mask that went over her cheeks and nose, and while it revealed her mouth it also went up to her hairline, with spirals pf magenta streaking out around the eyes, but her breasts…

Her astoundingly ample breasts simply jutted out and stood prominently. More so as the body suit was shaped to emphasis them, both in the cut, and the fact it had a… the only way he could describe it was a boob window… a section of fabric removed to show off her impressive, deep cleavage, and a fair bit of her breasts… her tits commanded anyone and everyone’s attention.

As he stared at one image of her, one that seemed like she was posing for him, his eyes blurred and he started to see a pattern in the stripes, concentric spirals that seemed to weave together and move, an optical illusion of black and magenta twisting and turning, pulling his gaze back to those breasts… breasts that needed no help commanding the eye.

“It has to be hard for you,” the woman’s voice was soft and compassionate, and more sincere than he would have ever guessed from a stranger, “looking into everyone’s secrets, having everyone lie to you.”

The woman in the body suite was a blonde, a luxurious platinum blonde, hair so blonde it was nearly white, with sapphire blue eyes that sparkled with their own obvious radiance. Knee high, flat soled black leather boots, and a black belt and leather harness adorned with small pouches also helped to shape her amazing body, and he’d had to use a film camera to get reliable images of her, as something about her made digital imagery fuzzy and blurry.

Digital security footage and still images were pixelated, and black splotches, like sun spots, obstructed parts of her, and the rest of the images and footage.

It was obvious that she had some kind of disruption field, but film was dead, and the city wasn’t going to go analogue overnight to try and capture one costumed villaness’s likeness.

He’d had to sleep in his car, one ear glued to the police scanner, waiting for her next sighting, and as much as his old instincts to try and help his former fellow officers had tugged at him, he’d stayed far back, used a long lens for his old film camera, and that led to him combing over the best images of the woman people were calling ‘The Mirage’ anyone had captured to that point.

“It must be hard for you,” the woman’s voice was delicate and considered, soft and understanding. “Looking into everyone’s secrets, having everyone lie to you, and living in a world of deceit. It must make it so hard for you to trust anyone, but you can trust me.”

It hadn’t been The Mirage who’d said those words to him, no he’d never met the masked bank robber who seemed to also have the power to turn people into her willing puppets, or zombies, or brainwashed followers, but those words had started this job, and those words had stayed with him.

On her most recent outing, The Mirage’s henchmen… and henchwomen… henchpeople… goons… he settled on goons… 

Her goons, willing or not, he didn’t know or care which, had done what they always did, led the way as she walked into the bank, zapped the people in there with whatever mind powers she had, then walked out, flanked by the goons that her carried her ill gotten gains.

They also carried guns, lots of guns, but not one had been shot by them yet, and so far, no costumed hero had crossed her path.

It was brazen, more brazen and reckless than it had to be, he assumed, especially in a city with more than a few costumed heroes, even more malignant costumed villains, and police that had enough of it all. He should know, he’d been one of those tired out cops, and he’d left the force to become a private detective because it seemed like no matter what, he’d always ended up on the wrong side of justice.

Now, making his pay by digging in the dirt, he knew it wasn’t a question of right and wrong, it was a question of wrong AND rich… and in the years he’d spent digging in their dirt, he’d done more good  and made a great deal more money than he did behind a badge.

No, the mean streets and glitzy high rises of the city didn’t make sense, but he’d moved from making cents to making dollars a long time ago, and now he was making them the right way.

“I’ve heard wonderful things about you Detective,” Kitty Von Dahlia was a dame. 

She might have been a literal one, or an equivalent in some Eastern European country based on the name, but as she stood there in his office, dressed in funerary black, with her veil still covering her face, obscuring her soft, soulful doe eyes, her round cheeks, and slight, upturned nose, she was every part the kind of dame he’d hoped would walk into his office.

Even her copper highlighted auburn hair, which went down her back in long, loose curls, was something out of his dreams.

She was wearing a black skirt that went just past the knees, black nylons, and high heels with those red soles that rich women wore, and they weren’t so high as to make her look gaudy at a funeral, but not so short as to not make her stand taller… while flattering her legs and lifting her ass.

He couldn’t have helped noticing all of it, not because he’d been looking, but because it had been in his face.

After he’d met her downstairs, she’d walked up the stairs to his office in front of him, and he’d thought maybe she’d given him the view on purpose.

“People say you’re a serious man, and you have a sharp mind and an even sharper eye. They say you were too good at your job to stay on the police, and I can believe that…” her lips were red, her cheeks were rosy, and as a whole her makeup was subtle enough, like her heels, along with the veil, to not seem garish at a cemetery, “...if that’s true. I just hope it is, because…”

In another time, she would have likely pulled out a cigarette from her purse, or he might have offered her one, instead, she lifted her veil and took a sip from the can of sparkling water he’d offered her, and he wondered what kind of drink was “her” drink.

“Because my sister is a mess, not from the loss of her idiot husband, but because he seems to have been even more of an idiot than any of us knew. That’s why I’m here Mr. Reive,” instead of cigarettes she took an envelope out of her purse that was thick with bills and put it on his desk, “I want to know the truth about him, so I can save my sister from it… or rub her face in it, especially if she’s a part of it.”

He laughed, she smiled, and batted her eyelashes at him as he stared into those soft, deep, dark eyes, eyes that held him still, eyes that searched his soul and captivated him.

Then she said those words to him, words about trust, words about lies, and deceit, words he’d always thought, feelings he never articulated, things he’d always wanted to hear, but never hoped for.

“It must be hard for you, looking into everyone’s secrets, having everyone lie to you, and living in a world of deceit.” She smiled at him and her eyes bore deep into his, sparkling with some trick of the light in his office “It must make it so hard for you to trust anyone, but you can trust me.”

She stayed looking deep into his eyes, and there was something there in her smile, something like a question. It felt like maybe she was waiting for him to say something… something specific, and he felt the warmth and heat of her charms in her sparkling, beautiful eyes, eyes that were bright behind her veil that she had lowered again, eyes that had made her words all the sweeter.

She looked briefly at his desk, briefly at the envelope, and he smiled and laughed as he took it and put it in his desk, “I’m certain I can, after all,” she looked puzzled for a second, “we haven’t even talked about price, or terms, so really, I think I should be telling you to trust me not to cheat you or overcharge you.”

The light in her eyes flickered and changed, whatever reflection they were catching, had changed, and she laughed. It was a deep, and surprised laugh, and the artifice of her charm fell away as a wide smile stretched across those soft lips. “You surprise me, Mr. Reive, or should I call you Detective? I’d think a man like you wouldn’t think of a large stack of cash as anything past a retainer.”

“Well,” he looked away from her, and out his window at his unimpressive view. For some reason he felt the need to look away from her, and from those eyes. “If I bill for what you pay me, then things stay clean and tidy, clean and clear expectations, right?”

“Yes…” the word hung there, and she sounded like maybe she’d lost her bearings, or lost her place in the script. “That’s what this is all about, keeping track of everything, nice and tidy.”

Contacts on the force passed interviews and interrogations about The Mirage’s victims and identified goons on to him. It didn’t matter which was which or who was who, they all said the same thing. All they could remember was a warm, happy feeling, and the deep desire to just do whatever she told them… but they couldn’t remember who she was, or what she looked like. Even when they saw themselves on blotchy, sun spotted video, they couldn’t believe what they saw.

“My dearly departed,” the sarcasm in her voice made him smile as he imagined this dead man as nothing more than a greedy buffoon, “brother in law was connected with any number of, if not financial crimes, than at least financial misdealings, putting our family’s security and wealth in danger, and practicing a degree of malfeasance that needs to be addressed both for our reputation and…”

Her voice had changed. There was something subtle in it, something he felt more than heard, and he was suddenly held more rapt by the sound of ehr voice than by her words… but he still hung on them…

“Justice.”

The word broke the spell, and he laughed.

“Sure.” he looked back at her and she wore a bemused smile, “if you want me to trust you, and I think I can, don’t play to my ego, or my morals, or…” Her soft eyes sparkled and whatever annoyance he had at her games, her understandable and predictable social maneuvering and charming, fell away, “...just trust me if you want me to trust you.”

She squinted at him, ever so slightly, then laughed again, that same, deep, full and surprised laugh, “Let me give you the rest of the details…”

“This is The Mirage.”

He put the manilla folder of photos and police reports on the table, on her table, and waited for her to look up from them. She was wearing a red satin blouse that was buttoned down, and tied at the bottom, and black slacks that matched the thick black frames of her glasses. Her hair was piled up, and her tits were on display much more so than the first time. 

They were especially visible as he looked down at her as she sat at the table in the small, comfortable apartment she’d asked him to meet her at.

It was obviously a second, or third home, a place in the city for her, or her family, though the details of the Von Dahlia family were… sparse… even with his connections and the realities of the modern world.

“Superhuman, mind controller, real name unknown, extent of powers unknown, has some kind of magnetic distortion field that prevents digital imagery, and most likely the cause of your deceased brother in law’s…” he smiled at her as she looked up at him, her glasses sliding down her nose as she did, “malfeasance.”

She scoffed, not so much in disdain, but in incredulity.

“And possibly also, his…” he looked deep into her eyes, “death…”

“But,” her eyes sparkled again, a light from inside her deep, soft, dark eyes, “how?”

“The…” the light in her eyes held him as he tried to think of what he was in the midst of saying. He couldn’t find the words that were on the tip of his tongue, and he smiled at her, looking down at her beautiful face, and her soft, heaving breasts. ‘The… uh…”

The light in her eyes, the sparkle, the reflection, seemed to start to shift, and he stared, transfixed by… she pushed her glasses up, and stood up, and he blinked. “How did you find this connection?”

“We know The Mirage robs banks, that’s the obvious thing she does, but she has also infiltrated the minds of people in the financial industry, and the minds of witnesses and victims for those robberies.” 

It was so easy to talk to her, to tell her everything, where once the words had been just out of reach, he couldn’t stop himself now. “Your brother in law, either by happenstance or by arrangement, was present at one of the earliest robberies that she committed, before she started wearing the outfit. Police reports matching her MO have gone back over two years, and the first string of targets are all directly linked to the institution that employed him until…”

Her glasses had slid down her nose, and she’d looked up at him over the lens, and the light in her eyes, in her beautiful, soft, deep, dark eyes caught him, and he blinked again… and she smiled, and as she looked deep into his eyes, her eyes sparkling in the light, the light that seemed to shimmer, he shook his head and continued.

“Well, until his death. It looks like he communicated details of cash deliveries to The Mirage, while also performing more elaborate forms of theft, giving her, or her goons, access to accounts, and using his position to, well, do the things that have concerned you, things that drew his behaviors to your attention. And since the long term effects of mind control, and mind powers, and the extent of her influence on him is unknown, there's reason to believe his increased drinking, and his accident were the result of a psychotic break.”

She’d pushed her glasses back up, “I see. So he was mind controlled by a supervillain. Did you discover anything else?”

 CXZ“Nothing of note. He’s just another victim of super-powered chaos, and I’m sorry about your loss.”

“Detective,” she took her glasses off, folded them, and put them on the desk, then put a hand to her breast as she looked into his eyes, “Are you sure you didn’t find anything else out?”

He looked her dead in the eye, ready to say no, even though he’d found loose ends and inconsistencies, and had hunches, but as he stared into her eyes, that sparkle, that light in her eyes shimmered, and started to swirl. The light, the sparkle, became a soft, shimmering, swirling spiral that pulled him into the center of her eyes, deep into her pupils.

He stood there, transfixed.

“That’s right Detective, you can trust me,” he knew something was wrong, something was confused, and he was feeling disoriented. “You know I understand how hard this can be on you, and you do want to keep things nice and tidy, don’t you?”

“Ms. Von Dahlia,” he tried to look away, “your eyes are…”

His words weren’t coming to him, he was struggling to think, “Yes Detective, just look deep into my eyes now, and relax with me. You can finally let your guard down, you can finally unburden yourself. You’ve looked into so much for me, you’ve seen so much recently, now just look into my eyes, just my eyes, and discover how easy it is. You can just look deep into my eyes and let them guide you, like finding a light in the dark… can you see the light now?”

“What are you doing…” he could see the light, he could see the shimmering, spiral of light in her eyes… “to… to…”

“I can see in your eyes that you can see the light now, and now that you see the light, you must be able to see the darkness now too, swirling and spiraling…”

Her pupils seemed to expand until her eyes were pitch black orbs filled with soft, spiraling white light. Twisting and turning in her eyes, he stared deeper and deeper into the spirals.

“That’s it, just lose yourself in my eyes Detective, you live your life finding things, looking into things, now you can just lose yourself, you can finally relax and lose yourself in my eyes, lose yourself in the sound of my voice, and trust me. You want to trust me, and I’ve earned you trust, haven’t I…”

“You… you paid me…” the words came out, and those black and white spirals that were her eyes were pulling on every thread in his mind. He was trying to say more than that, that her payment only bought so much, and he had interrupted her, maybe because it seemed like a question, maybe because he was pushing back against whatever was happening…

“And now you’re doing just what I hired you for, keeping everything neat and tidy, and you see that in my eyes, deeper and deeper into my eyes, isn’t that right? Aren’t you just doing what I hired you for, doing what I told you to? And you want to do a good job, don’t you? And you need to do what you were hired for, don’t you?”

Yes, she’d hired him. Yes, this was…

“Mirage.”

The spiraling eyes pulled on the threads, and he pushed back on her question to let something else out, something that needed to be said.

“What about her?” She was closer to him now, and all he could see was her eyes. “Do you know who she is?”

He didn’t. 

When she asked, he wanted to say no. He felt like he was being swept up in a current, being spun around and around from the inside out as he stared into those spiraling eyes, but he fought against it… 

Against her,

“No… unless… are… are you?” He was curious, not accusatory. The question, his question as an answer to hers, just came out. It was what he wanted to say, it was him swimming against the current, but by answering her, he felt himself letting go and being drawn back in.

“Do I look like this Mirage woman, Detective? You have a sharp mind and a keen eye, obviously I don’t look anything like her, so how could I be her? Unless, did you find something that would…” She put a hand on his chest, and another hand around his wrist, softening her voice even more, “implicate me as The Mirage?”

He stood there, feeling his mind struggling against the soft, compelling sound of her voice, trying to look away from the whirlpools in her eyes pulling him back under the harder he tried to look away.

“You trust me,” he was trying to break his gaze from her, and the harder he tried, the softer her voice became, and the more compelling her eyes became.

There was something electric in her touch too, something erotic and intoxicating, something that felt like more than a simple touch.

“You work for me,” she put both hands around his neck and held him, closer than before, and he felt something else, not quite a scent, but something in the air, an energy almost. It was emanating from her and her touch, and it felt like it was soaking into his skin, like she was soaking into him through his pores.

“You can tell me,” his eyelids were getting heavy and started to flutter, and she pressed herself up to him, pushing her large, soft tits against his chest as the spirals became the only thing he could see, even when his eyes closed.

She was surrounding him, engulfing him, pulling him deeper into her voice and her warmth… and she was sinking deeper into him, like her words were in his bloodstream, like her voice was in his heartbeat.

“I’m obviously not The Mirage, so you can tell me what you found. this is just the job, you can do your job and tell me. Just look at me, I don’t look anything like her, neither does my sister.” 

She touched his face while she held the back of his neck, and when he opened his eyes, he saw her, the red haired, dark eyed, buxom and beautiful woman who hired him, and no, more than his eyes told him, no she looked nothing… NOTHING like The Mirage.

The obvious and clear observation filled him with a sense of euphoria, and his sharp mind was getting dull at the edges.  

“You want to keep things nice and tidy, you want to confide in me, and you need to do a good job for me, don’t you?”

He pushed his hips against hers and let out a little moan as she smiled and massaged the back of his head. He took a deep breath and she caressed his face as relaxation and warm, sensual pleasure hummed through his body and mind.

He twitched.

…except, maybe The Mirage was…

Like a reflex, part of his brain had spasmed the idea into the front of his mind. He was going to say it out loud, not because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t think straight inside his head. But before he could say anything, he felt the soft caress of her fingers down his cheek.

“Just look deep into my eyes, deeper and deeper into my eyes, and follow the light through the dark, and tell me what you think, and what you know. Tell me what you discovered, and trust me the way I trust you. You have my secrets and my money, you can trust me with your thoughts.”

He wanted to tell her.

Her voice was pulling at his words, at the core of his thoughts, but he was still a secretive man, and not prone to sharing theories before they were provable.

“It would make me so happy to hear your thoughts. You would make me so happy sharing your mind with me, and I think…” she leaned in close and whispered in his ear “you would enjoy sharing that trust with me too.”

Involuntarily, or instinctively, maybe just compulsively, he put his hands on his hips and held her as she stared up into his eyes.

The swirling, spiraling light and dark pulled on him, pulling his words free from his cares, and his well honed sense of reserve and resolve.

“Maybe The Mirage is an illusion or she can change her appearance, or distort it, and maybe you’re actually her, because she has mind control powers and you’re doing…”

She stroked his cheek again and his eyes closed, only to see the black and white spirals behind his eyelids. 

“But you didn’t find any evidence? You didn’t find any connections or implications in your research, and investigation?” 

He was floating, on the edge of sleep, on the edge of dreams, but as much as he was being pulled down, he was still resisting, still thrashing about inside, refusing to be wholly submerged.

She whispered in his ear, “Tell me the truth.”

“No,” it was easy to tell the truth, “no, it was just a theory based on tonight.”

“Oh,” she laughed, “Detective, open your eyes and look at me.” The spirals faded from her eyes, but he still stared deep into them, “what else are you thinking? What else did you discover?”

“You’re… doing things to me… hypnotizing me…” his eyes were half-closed, “and… I couldn’t find anything out about you, your sister, or your family. You’re hiding something from me… I don’t care what it is, unless it’s what you told me to find… but you’re hiding things from me…”

“If I were hiding something from you, you would have found it, and if I were hypnotizing you, you’d be able to resist it. You’re too strong willed, and too sharp to be manipulated, or misled. Nothing’s happened tonight, I’m not hypnotizing you, we’re just talking, and it’s getting very late, and you’re very tired. Nothing unusual has happened tonight…”

It was very late.

He was getting very tired.

“You’ve worked so hard.”

He’d worked so hard.

“And you’re so used to secrets and lies, so used to mistrust and dishonesty. You just need to let yourself trust me. I know it’s hard for you, but you can just let yourself trust me, because I do know how hard it is, especially in your world. But I trust you… completely… and I’d like to hire you again, because you’ve done such a good job. So if you’d like to continue working for me, you can just accept that we had a perfectly normal conversation where you debriefed me about your work so far.”

Whatever was pulling on his mind, trying to pull him under, or guide him and influence him, whatever it was, was gone. Now, his mind had to make a choice, and it chose the pragmatism of more work and another large payday.

“Tell me nothing happened tonight, and that we had a regular conversation about work. Tell me the only thing that happened was you debriefing me.”

“Tonight was a normal night, nothing happened.” The words came out of that same pragmatic place, and as they spoke them, they became true. 

As Mike walked out of the apartment, his memories rewrote themselves into believing that nothing unusual had happened, and that she would come to his office on Monday about the next job.

He didn’t see her sigh with exhaustion and slump down into one of the chairs by the table, nor did he see her start to sweat profusely, but as he stood on the other side of the door he did feel a strange, warm, magnetic pull, like something in the air was trying to pull him back into the room.

It was something tantalizing, something sensual and undeniable that he felt lighting up his nervous system… something undeniably erotic. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and forced himself to keep walking, because he knew if turned around and walked back in, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her.

And with every step he took, he had the feeling, the sixth sense, that if he did go back inside and take her in his arms, that would have been exactly what she wanted too.