She snuggled closer and her hand worked its way up his thigh.

“I don’t believe this,” Pitt murmured in awe.

“Felicia hinted it was sexy, but I had no idea.”

Pitt and Loren stood ankle deep in a crimson carpet, staring in fascination at a room whose four walls and ceilings were solidly paneled with gold-tinted mirrors. The only piece of furniture was a large circular bed raised on a platform and covered with red satin sheets. Illumination came from four spotlights embedded in the corners of the ceiling, emitting a soft blue light.

Loren stepped over to the raised bed and touched its gleaming pillows

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reverently, as though they were exquisite art objects. Pitt studied her reflection, multiplied into infinity, for several moments, and then he walked up behind her and deftly stripped off her clothes.

“Don’t move,” he said. “I want my eyes to devour a thousand naked Loren Smiths.”

Her face flushed dark, her eyes riveted to the unending images of herself in the mirrors. “Lord,” she whispered, “I feel as though I’m performing in front of a crowd.” Then she tensed and said something blurred and murmurous as Pitt bent down and flicked his tongue in her navel.

The telephone’s muted ring summoned Frederick Daggat from a sound sleep. Beside him Felicia moaned softly, rolled over, and continued sleeping. He groped for his wristwatch on the bedstand and focused his eyes on its luminous dial. It read four o’clock. He picked up the receiver.

“This is Daggat.”

“Sam Jackson. I have the pictures.” ~

“Any problems?”

“A breeze. You were right. I didn’t have to shoot with infrared. They left the lights on. Can’t say as I blame them-the room mirrored from top to bottom and all. High-speed film should bring out all the details you asked for. They put on quite a show. Too bad we didn’t tape it.”

“They didn’t suspect?”

“How could they know one of the mirrored panels was two way? They were too busy to notice anything short of an earthquake. Just to play safe, I used a special noiseless camera.”

“When can I expect to see the results?”

“By eight in the morning, if it’s a dire emergency. I could use some sack time, though. Wait till early evening and I promise you eight-by-ten glossy prints fit for a gallery exhibit.”

“Take your time and do it right,” said Daggat. “I want every detail highlighted.”

“You can count on it,” Jackson said. “By the way, who’s the foxy lady? She’s a real tiger.”

“That doesn’t concern you, Jackson. Call me when you’re ready. And remember, I’m only interested in the artistic positions.”

“I get the message. Good night, Congressman.”

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