The Muse
Page 13
“Nice sweet lingering kisses.”
I indulged in the ride. “I’d love to feel your soft lips on mine.”
“Janie, honey, you are full of charm.”
I floated again. “Mmm. You are rolling my tummy.”
“I just love your tummy. It’s yummy.”
I placed my hand on my tummy and imagined her lips traveling around it. I closed my eyes to take in the heat. “You really know how to make me feel good.”
She continued. “I bet you’re very soft. I’d love to kiss your tummy. Just imagine my tongue on your navel.”
My vagina twitched. “Oh my goodness. Look who has the charms here. This thought will be with me the rest of this day.”
“I want it to be with you for the rest of the day and way into the night.”
I hugged myself, taking in this sweet journey. “Your tongue on my navel is an incredibly provocative image. It will definitely carry into my night.” My bold words spun around me in lovely pirouettes.
“And how would you like my tongue circling a little lower?”
I throbbed.
“How do you think I'd like that, hmm?”
“I think you'd love it.”
My whole body trembled in delightful ripples, insanely, incredibly wondrous ripples that warmed me to the core. I was practically cyber sexing with Eva Handel. “(wink).”
“You’re a sweetheart,” she wrote. “I hope I didn’t go too far. I can’t help myself. Your new picture is teasing me with that playful eye of yours.”
“I enjoyed it.” I exhaled then sent her a virtual kiss.
“Hey. Control your tongue. It tickles,” she wrote.
I could tickle her all night long. I didn’t want it to end. I also didn’t want to ruin a good thing by overstaying the welcome. My body flared, and I feared total explosion. “Take that tickle to bed with you and think of me, okay?” I flirted with attitude.
“Yeah, I’ll go ‘relax’ now,” she wrote. “Be in my arms, okay?”
“Absolutely, babe.” I logged off and sat on the edge of a breath too heavy to exhale.
I highly doubted her idea of ‘relax’ matched my typical idea of relax. I needed to rid my body of this energy before it imploded on me. I looked to my new bike and decided to try her out. I mounted her and started pedaling away. I pedaled fast, so fast that my crotch rubbed up against the seat. The faster I pedaled, the more it rubbed, and the more it started to alter my mind in striking ways. My legs shook, a warm tremble drizzled through me. I floated again, then I sped up, running towards this mounting island of pleasure that called out to me, beckoning me to come to it, teasing me, luring me with slippery force into its graceful, peaceful arms where the room disappeared and all that saved me from hitting the ground was this incredible rush of ecstasy unlike anything I’d ever experienced. My whole body convulsed into a fit of shakes and trembles, I hinged on the edge of the seat dreaming of Eva and sharing this nirvana moment with her in my arms, clinging to her life force, becoming one with her, then slowly, falling like a feather against her soft skin, into her spirit where love light and peace swaddled me into the deepest relaxation I’d ever entered. I fell against the bike, hunched over it panting like I’d just ran to New York City and back on one lungful of air.
No romance book I ever read could’ve prepared me for this hallucinogenic freedom, a freedom that swept away all worry, all sadness, and all guilt from myself.
Chapter Ten
I lied in bed for hours, tossing myself around like a leaf in the wind. I cradled my arms around myself, imagining Eva wrapped up in them. We tangled, rolled, kissed, hugged, and stared deeply into each other’s eyes until I could no longer control my urge to get back on that bike again and release the pressure building in me, swelling that area between my legs that craved Eva’s soft lips.
I rose, vibrating. I wanted to reach that sweet spot again, just stare into its illustrious light and enter headfirst. So much energy swirled inside; it seemed a shame to waste it in quick release. So, I did what any good writer would do. I embraced it, fired up my laptop, and poured it onto the screen where I could later read it again and again and land right back in this sugary nirvana where colors shined like prisms dancing in the sunlight, plants smelled like forests after a spring rain, and the air buzzed with the echo of a thousand tree frogs deep in song.
With fingers perched over my keyboard, and my eyes planted on a picture of a tree-lined, sunlit path touting that success was a journey and not a destination, I strolled into a story about two women who met online and then wandered down this beautiful path towards each other, in search of tangible love not bound by the confinements of Internet connections and firewalls.
I closed my eyes and pictured Eva standing before me at work, her hair cascading down past her shoulders, tickling the edge of where her nipples peeked through her white, silky shirt. I imagined her teasing me by twirling a piece of her hair, her other fingers seductively brushing the sides of her breast as she did, her eyes intent, penetrating me, seducing me to come closer to her, to taste her lips, her tongue. I froze, too afraid to engage, to step closer, to latch onto this moment where our worlds collided and forced us together in an awkward moment when I, the shy girl, didn’t have a clue how to even move in for a kiss.
Saving me, my mind pulled Eva away from me and I stood alone in my cubicle.
I scanned the room and noticed Katie standing off near a floor plant snickering, curling up her big lips, and enjoying my defeat. Suddenly, the ground sucked me in like quicksand, pulling at my pants and pulling them down to my knees, leaving me stranded above the ground in just my red undies. The entire office got a kick out of this and started pointing and telling me my skin had turned redder than the undies. That’s when I dove. I dove into the ground and it took me in, caging me hostage under the fibrous carpeting where no one could see me, but I could see all of them. They laughed and hit their legs in obvious hysterics. Eva stared at the ground where I’d been standing, her face turning down, her eyes glazing over, her hand resting on her slender hip with a face that said, ‘Her? My sweet CarefreeJanie is plain Jane? Are you kidding me?’
I opened my eyes and all flutters had long disappeared, replaced by a gnawing that ripped at my insides, leaving me restless and sad and yearning for that one thing I knew at that moment I’d never have – the gift of love, of touch, of something as simple and wondrous as a first kiss.
With a melancholy tune playing on my heart, I began writing a far different story than I set out to write. The lead character, afraid to show her true self, hid under a visor and wore long sleeves to hide her scars. After years of writing back and forth, she finally agreed to meet her cyber lover in person after learning her lover would marry another the very next day.
She skirted around the bend in the road and stopped when she saw her lover sitting idle in the middle of the road cross-legged, head cocked to the side, a smile prettier than any rainbow lighting up her face. The shy girl with scars running up and down her body forgot all time and place and ran to her with arms outstretched, tears stinging her eyes, and landed in front of her lover’s shiny spirit. The wind picked up as she stood before the woman she loved and off flew her visor, exposing her scars and opening up a lifetime of vulnerabilities. Her hands flew to her face and her sleeves rolled up her forearms further exposing the ugly parts of her she had carefully hidden all of her life in the dark corners of her apartment overlooking the waterfront.
Her lover, pushing herself up off the ground in one strong leap, stood before her like an angel shining her light from within onto her. Love danced on her golden face and sparkled like diamonds on the spokes of her eyes. She reached out with strength and pulled her into her warm embrace, shouldering all of her hidden pain, willing for her to shed it at their feet.
Fearing nothing in the light of her girlfriend, she lowered her hands from her scars, rolled up her sleeves further and exposed herself in new light to the girl she waited too long to embrace.
With no time to spare, the girl hopped up from her bed and prayed her vanity hadn’t caused her to be too late to embrace the one person in this world that mattered – her cyber lover who was about to get married to a man she didn’t love all because the girl with scars too deep failed to trust her or anyone.
I stopped typing. I reread my passage and an emptiness so loud deafened me to all else going on around me.
I no longer felt like screwing myself on a bike.
# #
“I dreamt about you last night,” Eva wrote.
I couldn’t type back a response just then. I needed coffee and time to absorb the loss I still carried with me since three a.m. This whole bantering thing had spun out of control. It could destroy me if I didn’t play carefully. Had I avoided pain and humiliation all my adult life only to throw myself in front of it willingly? What did I think was going to happen here? I didn’t know how to be that girl who could walk into a room and light it up and garner the attention of someone real like Eva.
I had to hand it to myself though. I did a remarkable job crafting CarefreeJanie. I showed up cute, spunky and full of life. I much preferred being her. In fact, on Twitter I racked up the followers. People from different countries that followed Eva started following me. Eva had over two thousand followers. I neared two hundred and got pretty excited about that. Two hundred people cared what CarefreeJanie had to say?
I started to build up CarefreeJanie by retweeting Eva’s quotes that she’d send out daily to me and to a good hundred or so other followers who happened to be in the film industry. She managed to grab the attention of a few actors and actresses each day. I knew this because I dove right into stalker mode soon after we hooked up online. They’d say something pleasant back to her about her quote and she’d offer them a wink or a smile. Lately, especially that morning, her breadcrumb trail of winks started to annoy me. I wanted her winks to myself. Yet, she tossed them to pretty actresses and good-looking actors like she tossed out hard candy at a parade. They, not unlike me, probably got a little excited because they’d flirt back a reply and she’d banter along with them. One girl started to ignite my jealous twitch when she started using pet names with her like ‘cutie pie’ and ‘sweetness.’
Instead of replying to her message right away, I decided to stalk more. I went onto her Facebook profile and read through her timeline and interactions. That same girl kept liking everything Eva posted even if she said something silly like ‘It’s raining, and I forgot my umbrella in the car again.’ I clicked on the girl’s profile and accessed an alarming amount of information. She wanted the world to know exactly what she did with her life. I read all about her, about how she loved basketball and rollerblading on the pier and shrimp fried in beer batter. She loved Notre Dame football and adored live theatre and especially her girlfriend Eva Handel, whom she’d been devoted to for the past five years.
Girlfriend.
My heart bucked. My throat dried up. My blood turned thick as oil. Who was this bitch and why hadn’t my Eva told me about a girlfriend?
I read more. She graduated from University of Maryland University College with a master’s degree in computer engineering and moved to Boston to pursue a position at a tech firm. She loved to visit New York City, where she enjoyed meeting up with her girlfriend to watch her act in plays. She wrote a small tribute to her saying Eva was her teacher and mentor and the reason she smiled and loved life.
All feeling evaded me. I could no longer swallow. My head buzzed. My temples pulsed. Alarms in all bodily systems flared to tsunami warning levels. The ground may as well have eaten me up and swallowed me whole because I no longer wanted to be a part of this ride, this life, this existence. I just wanted to shut my eyes and pretend I never landed on Eva’s mismatched shoes, never imagined her adoring smile from afar, never tweeted to her about Old Bay seasoning, never tangled myself up into a web that grabbed me and strangled the life from my cells like a mad tornado sucking all fixtures from a house.
I tortured myself further. I trekked into her pictures and saw several of them holding hands. I searched recent pictures and could find none of them together. I saw this gorgeous, blonde girl with hair as smooth as glass and a size two body with style and grace and sex appeal. In her cover photo, she leaned against a red sports car wearing a set of Ray Bans. She looked like a freaking sunglasses model.
I wanted to throw up.
I retraced my steps back to Eva’s profile and scanned to find more information on this chick named Sara. Nothing. I could find nothing on Eva’s profile that connected the two other than Sara’s incessant, compulsive need to ‘like’ everything Eva posted. Eva’s status said single. Her pictures showed no signs.
I reread her message to me. Was this the norm? Flirt online where your lover won’t catch you? Were they lovers? Was she taking me on a fake ride to see how far she could get me to go?
Was she just a big fake like me? Did we cancel each other’s fakeness out and that made it okay for us to mingle and flirt? I savored my secrets, she savored hers. Two wrongs making a right?
I needed to understand this in full detail.
I would bait her. I logged into Messenger. “What did you dream about?”
“You and I were acting in a short film together. One that you wrote. I stood before you as a professor and you sat as my pretty, flirty student.”
And just like rainwater, her words and her charm washed away my envy and lifted me up to higher ground once again where I no longer wanted to punch something. The girl could’ve just had a crush on my Eva. Who wouldn’t? Eva didn’t commit a crime here. “Maybe one day I’ll surprise you and write something for you.”
“I love surprises.”
“I bet there’s a lot you love,” I wrote. “I want to know more about you.”
“Like?”
“Like how did you get involved in acting?”
“I played the Good Witch of the North in The Wizard of Oz when I was in second grade. That’s when I got the itch.”
“You must’ve been adorable.”
We continued to message back and forth for two hours. I fed her question after question and enjoyed learning all about Eva Handel’s passions and silly fears. She would volley me a question, and I pointed her away with the skill of an Aikido master, focusing her right back to herself. Eventually, she stopped me and begged me to tell her something personal about myself.
“I hate talking about myself.”
“It’s weird because most people like it.”
“I’d rather let my story unfold naturally.”
“Well at least talk to me about your writing. Have you written me another sweet story yet?”
“I wrote one last night. It’s not sweet, though. It’s sort of sad.” I hung my vulnerability on the line like I would a set of wet towels. Progress?
“Good writing needs to be honest. Sadness is part of life. I want to read it.”
“I’ll send it to you.” I wanted the attention off of me and back on her. “So tell me more about other good things happening in your life.” I hoped she’d take the bait and offer something up about this girl.
“Well, my company just offered me an incredible opportunity. I’m going to be the spokesperson for them. I’ll be the face of Martin Sporting Goods in a series of public service announcements.”
“Wow,” I wrote, sounding markedly surprised. “That sounds fantastic.”
“I’ll be filmed right here in a film s
tudio. I get a wardrobe allowance. I get national coverage in commercials.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
“My aunt and uncle are thrilled. I’m finally going to be able to pay them off for when they bailed me out of a bad house deal.”
“Oh? What did you do? Buy when the market climbed too high?”
“Sort of. I went through an ugly divorce when I was nineteen. We had to sell low and we still owed money. My aunt and uncle bailed us out so we could sell it and make a clean break.”
Girlfriend? Divorce? What next? Fuck the mysterious and discovery phase. My heart couldn’t take anymore. “You were married?”
“Just for a very short time. I married my high school boyfriend. It ended ugly. We never should’ve gotten married. I realize now that I only did because he was a way out. Thankfully, it’s behind both of us now.”
I wanted to know her story. Was Handel even her real last name? Why was it ugly? How could anything with her be ugly? “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Of course, honey.”
“Are you dating anyone? And, if you are, you don’t have to hide it.”
“Are you?” she asked.
I chuckled on this one. If she only knew. “No.”
“I’ve had this on-again, off-again, relationship with this girl for several years. Right now, we’re off.”
“What’s her name?”
“Her name is Sara. She’s just really jealous and possessive.”
“How so?”
“She doesn’t want me to act because she doesn’t want anyone else near me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No, honey. It’s not. I don’t want to hurt her, but this is my dream.”
“I’d never do that to you.”
“I adore you,” she wrote.
“I think I adore you more.”
# #
The next night after work I couldn’t resist. I combed through her Facebook profile again searching for some clues about an ex-husband. That girl appeared again, liking everything Eva posted. Eva still had yet to like any of hers.