His Muse

by Twyla Turner

  Raquel is happily dating an older man she met and is officially exclusive. Tiffani and Jean Michel married six months ago. A small, intimate ceremony on the beach with the Mediterranean as their backdrop. All the ladies from my first tour came back to be in the wedding. And Pierre and Nicole are happily married with a beautiful baby boy, Noah.

  It was then that Raquel and Tiffani got to see the way Etienne responds to children. It was then that they finally understood why I’ve been so adamant about finding someone for him. The light in his eyes when he holds baby Noah. The way he talks to him and plays with him. How he always offers to feed him or even change his diaper without flinching. How he holds onto him just a little bit longer as the baby sleeps peacefully on his chest. Not wanting to give him up when it’s time for Pierre and Nicole to leave. They saw, just like I did that being a father was in his DNA.

  Tiffani and Raquel haven’t questioned me since. They’ve even brought around a new woman or two every now and again to see if he’d bite. But it’s never worked. None of them have been right. Until now.

  Like in slow motion, a warm breeze coming off the Mediterranean ruffles the pages of my planner as I plot the itinerary for my first tour of the year. I lift my face to the sun, having found its way around the umbrella protecting my café table. My eyes land on a woman walking towards the restaurant, and the sight of her hits me squarely in the chest.

  It’s her.

  She looks to be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. Her skin is a light golden brown. Like she is kissed by the sun. She’s not slender, and she’s not heavy, but a perfect in between under her bohemian style sundress. Her dark hair is in dreadlocks that fall to her lower back. Gold cuffs and Cowrie shells adorn her locks sporadically. She has a ring on every finger. Necklaces of different lengths hang from her neck. Wooden and silver bracelets cover her wrists. As if she’s wearing all of her possessions at once.

  As she walks into the café and I can see her more closely, her face is stunning. The embodiment of femininity. Large hazel eyes, a cute little pierced nose, and full pink lips. She’s beautiful. And I know in an instant that she’s the one.

  I feel elated and deflated all at the same time.

  Her melodic voice drifts over to me as she talks with the host in broken French. She’s American. And it sounds like she’s lost.

  “Miss,” I call out before I can change my mind. She turns to look at me. “I can help you.”

  She smiles with relief before walking over.

  I stand when she reaches my table. “Hi, I’m Taryn.”

  I hold out my hand, and she takes it gratefully. As we shake hands, goosebumps raise along my arm.

  “Hello, I’m Vanessa. But people call me Van.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Van.” I point to a chair. “Have a seat.”

  “You too, Taryn. You have no idea how much.” She says as she sits. “I must admit my French is terrible and far fewer people speak English in Nice than they do in Paris. It’s great to hear a familiar accent.”

  “So, what brings you to Nice? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Oh, no.” She waves away my concern. “I’m an open book. I don’t mind at all.”

  She leans back and expels an exhausted breath.

  “Well, where to begin? I was with a man for seven years. We were complete opposites. He was all business suits, boardroom meetings, and dinner parties. And I’m a jack-of-all-trades. I’m a writer, sculptor, jewelry maker, or anything that has to do with the arts.”

  “Really?” I lean forward.

  “Yep.” She nods. “So anyway, we were totally mismatched, but I think that’s what appealed to us at first. But it wasn’t meant to last. Plus, I wanted kids, and he was never ready.”

  With every word she speaks, the more I find she’s a perfect fit for Etienne.

  “So, I finally ended it with him and decided when I turned thirty a few months ago that if my life wasn’t going the way I wanted it to at this point in my life, then I’d embrace my unconventional life. I decided to become a gypsy and move to wherever spoke to me. Paris spoke to me for a little while. Now, Nice has spoken to me. If I can find the apartment, I’m looking to rent.”

  “Well, I can help with that. I can also introduce you to some really great people to make life less lonely.”

  One person in particular.

  “I would really like that.”

  ~~~

  I lean against the doorway to Etienne’s class a couple hours later. The room is empty except for him. He’s cleaning up to prepare for his first class tomorrow. I stay quiet so that I can watch him for a few uninterrupted moments.

  He moves confidently, gracefully. As if he knows himself and his body well, and unburdened by what anyone thinks of him.

  A paint-stained hand brushes his hair back behind his ear. His pink tongue peeks out to wet his plump bottom lip. A hand that has held mine, caressed my face, stroked my breast, tapped my clit. A tongue that has tasted mine, flicked my nipple, circled my clit. A mind that has kept mine engaged. A heart that stole mine the moment I looked into those intense green eyes.

  Can I really let all that go?

  Damn, I really don’t want to. But it’s time. I have no choice. I will lose him anyway, so it’s better to let him go now. On my own terms. Knowing that still doesn’t take away the ache in my heart.

  My vision blurs, and I quickly wipe away the tears. Etienne finally senses my presence and turns towards the door. His smile is absolutely stunning and punches me in the gut.

  “Hey, how long have you been standing there?” He comes towards me.

  “Just a few minutes.” I push off the doorway and meet him in the middle of the class.

  Etienne wraps me up within the circle of his strong, warm arms. I memorize the feeling as I rest the side of my face against his solid chest. His heart thumps softly, and I close my eyes listening to the sound. More profound than any strain of music.

  “Is everything okay?” He kisses the top of my head and his breath ruffles my curls.

  “Everything is perfect,” I answer thickly.

  “It is now that you are here.” He squeezes me tighter.

  “Are you ready for your exhibition next week?”

  “Almost. I have a few paintings to finish up, and I’ll be ready. If a certain beautiful lady does not distract me all week.”

  “Who me?” I ask innocently.

  “Oui, who else?”

  “Well, I will try to be on my best behavior. But first…”

  I take his hand and pull him towards the raised dais in the front of the room. A table with a sheet covering it stands in the middle. I pull myself up and onto it. My long cream-colored dress has a row of easy access buttons running from neckline to hem. I unbutton the bottom buttons up to my thigh as Etienne watches me intently. I cross my exposed legs and lay my hands flat behind me as I lean back casually.

  “I’ve been bad, Mr. Lemaire. How ever will you punish me?”

  “I’ve got some ideas.” He strokes his goatee thoughtfully.

  He turns and quickly strides over to the door. He closes it, turns the lock, and pulls down the shade to block the window. He walks slowly back to me. As if he’s stalking me. I uncross my legs and spread them wide.

  “How about dessert before dinner?” I smirk at him.

  “I think you read my mind.”

  Chapter 25

  We made love several times throughout the week leading up to his exhibition. During the times we were apart, I spent time with Vanessa. I introduced her to the girls, and like me, they too knew that she was the one. She has a free spirit and kind heart. The exact kind of woman I’d be willing to let Etienne go for.

  Tomorrow night, I’ve invited her to Raquel’s art gallery for the exhibition. Tomorrow night is the night that I give up the love of my life. So tonight, I will cherish the last few hours I have with him.

  Throughout the week, I searched and bought items to fix a traditional American soul
food meal for him. Fried chicken, black-eyed peas, greens, and baked mac and cheese. And I finished off the meal with peach cobbler.

  “Mon Dieu! I think you are trying to kill me.” Etienne leans back after eating his last bite of cobbler.

  “Why do you think I rarely cook like this? I moved to France to lose weight. Although, the pastries ruined my plans.” I laugh.

  “You are perfect, mon amour.”

  “Mmm…” I hum noncommittally. “That’s debatable.”

  “Eyes of the beholder, remember?” He points to himself. “And I behold perfection. Now, let me digest this food a little so I can show just how perfect I find you.”

  He rubs his flat stomach and groans.

  Soft music is playing in the background, and one of my favorite artist’s voice fills the room. The seductive rhythm of Cherish the Day by Sade wraps around us.

  “Dance with me?” I stand and hold out my hand.

  Etienne takes it without hesitation. He stands and pulls me into his embrace. I fight against the knot that has been in my throat all week as we sway to the music in the middle of my kitchen. I press a kiss to the spot on his chest just above his heart. I raise my face to look up at him with glassy eyes. A soft smile touches his lips before he captures mine. I deepen the kiss as my emotions take over me. My fingers clutch his shirt in desperation.

  I can tell that my urgency confuses him as he pulls back and searches my eyes. Something he sees there must give him a hint as to what’s on the horizon because he grasps my face just as desperately and kisses me hard. An unexpected sob bursts through my lips as I bury my hands in his hair and pull him closer to me.

  “What is it? What’s wrong, Ryn?” He pants as he pulls away from me.

  “Nothing.” I shake my head and pull him back to me, even as tears spill down my face.

  His tongue tastes the tears on my lips. I climb up his body, and he lifts me up. My legs wrap around him, and he walks me into my bedroom. He sets me down in front of my bed, and I turn giving him my back. His fingers slowly slide down the zipper on my dress, and it falls to the floor around my feet. I turn back to him, grasping the bottom of his t-shirt and help him pull it over his head. He unclasps my bra, releasing my breasts as I undo his jeans, sliding my hand inside. I wrap my fingers around his erection and stroke him gently. His head falls back, and I kiss his exposed neck as he groans. The vibrations tickle my lips.

  The rest of our clothing is stripped away quickly. On my knees, in front of him as I pull away his jeans and boxers, I lean forward and taste the precum seeping from the tip of his cock. Etienne gasps before pulling away.

  “No. I want to taste you.”

  He lays me on the bed, and I slide to the middle. He crawls up between my legs, and I fall back as he kisses down my thigh. I realize it will be the last time I feel his tongue on me. I close my eyes to the tears, but they find their way out anyway and leak down my temples into my ears.

  His warm, wet tongue finds me equally warm and wet. He sucks softly at my clit, hardening the little nub further. I rock my hips against his mouth as tiny gasps escape my lips. He gives me more attention than usual. Like he’s trying to remind me how good it can be.

  He nips at my labia. He tastes me, fucking me with his tongue. He laps back up to my clit, saturating it with my arousal and his saliva. He gives me small, quick flicks and then swirls around it, just like I like. He knows my triggers and uses them to his advantage.

  I writhe beneath his talented mouth as the tension in my belly builds. His tongue finds that spot just above my clit that is guaranteed to send me over the edge every time. I buck wildly against his mouth as stars explode behind my eyelids.

  “Etienne!” I scream as my hands bury themselves in his hair, holding him close as I roll my hips to meet his tongue.

  I finally release him, and his head rises with a gasp for air. He crawls up over me. His cock rests comfortably against my sex as he hovers above me. He rocks back and forth, coating his shaft with my feminine cum. I shudder as the ridge of his head caresses my hyper-sensitive clit. Etienne lowers himself and kisses me, sharing the taste of my pussy with me.

  The tip of his hard length finds and dips shallowly into my entrance. I reach frantically for his ass and pull him in deeper. That first initial stroke sends my back arching off the bed. Etienne lifts me up and sits crossed-legged in the middle of the bed with me sitting in his lap. The position is intimate. Our arms around each other. Face to face. Watching each other’s every reaction.

  He helps me rise and fall over him, my internal walls squeezing and flexing around him. His jade green eyes absorb me. His heart clearly there. Naked and open.

  My bottom lip trembles. Fresh tears hit my cheeks. I clutch his beautiful face and kiss him hard. My lips move to his cheeks, his chin, eyes, and forehead. I let the strands of his silky wheat-colored hair slide through my finger, savoring the feel of it. Next, my fingertips trace his face. His features come in and out of focus as I blink through my tears.

  We rock towards each other, savoring every sensation. He doesn’t ask again why I’m so upset, he just holds me close. Our climaxes build slowly. When they finally crash down on us, our foreheads press together as we pant against each other’s trembling lips. And I finally break.

  My body is wracked with sobs. I can barely breathe as they choke me. Etienne lays me down, pulls back the covers and crawls under them beside me. He pulls me close, just under his chin. His hands stroke soothingly against my naked back. Hushing sounds emit from his throat as he tries to calm me down.

  “Why does it feel like that was the last time we will make love?”

  I don’t answer. I just hold him tighter.

  Time passes. My tears subside, though my sadness does not. It only deepens with every second the end draws near. His breath is deep and steady. His chest rising and falling gently against my face. The signs of a sated, sleeping man. Before my own weary eyes close, I say the words I’ve never been able to say to him out loud.

  “Je t'aimerai pour toujours,” I whisper against his heart. I will love you forever.

  His arms tighten around me.

  “Et toujours,” he whispers back. And always.

  He hadn’t been asleep. He heard every word. And now he knows.

  Chapter 26

  I choose a simple black cocktail dress. It seems appropriate since I am in mourning. I leave my curls as is, but add a side part and smooth down the front and sides. My makeup is minimal.

  I look nice enough to fit the part. But not fancy enough to stand out.

  The air outside is balmy and damp. The stars covered by ominous clouds. Mirroring my mood. I can smell the rain coming as I step outside.

  A taxi takes me to Vanessa’s flat. I’d told her that I wouldn’t let her walk into the gallery alone. I’d been there before. It’s nerve-wracking.

  She steps out of the building, and I smile softly. She’s lovely. She’s in a pretty white dress that falls to her ankles and hugs her lush curves. The neckline plunges dramatically but is still classy. Her locks are pulled up into a large bun on top of her head with a few long locks adorned with jewels, hanging down her back and down one side of her face. Her makeup is fresh and minimal as well. Mascara, glowing high cheekbones, and glossy lips. Stunning chandelier earrings sparkle and sway as she slides onto the seat next to me.

  “You look gorgeous!” I say honestly.

  “Thanks! So, do you!” She smiles brightly as the car pulls off down the road.

  “Oh, I do alright.” I wink at her. “I love your earrings. Did you make them?”

  “Yes! Do you really like them?”

  “They’re beautiful. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of people at this event who will be willing to buy up your jewelry. Raquel has a way of boosting the careers of artists.”

  “Fantastic! Most of my living and travel funds come from selling my jewelry and sculptures. It would help a lot.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ve got you.”

 
It only takes ten minutes before our taxi pulls up to the gallery. My heart pounds as we exit the car. Just like the very first time, but for different reasons. We walk into the gallery and eyes immediately move to Vanessa. She doesn’t notice. Her eyes are fixed on Etienne’s paintings hanging on the walls.

  “Wow! This artist is amazing!” She breathes.

  “He is.”

  A lot of the paintings are of a faceless woman in different stages of her life. Me. The exhibition is titled “Ryn.”

  “Is…is this you?” She asks in awe.

  “Yeah. I was his muse for a time.” I let the rest of the sentence hang in the air. “But now that time has come to an end.”

  “Ladies!” Raquel calls out as she and Tiffani walk forward. “I’m so glad you made it, Van.”

  “Glad to be here. The artwork is incredible.”

  “Then you’ll have to meet the artist.” Raquel looks to me for approval, and I nod.

  We turn towards a familiar face in the crowd. Tiffani smooths a soothing hand down my back. I swallow hard.

  As the four of us walk forward, Etienne catches our movement and turns. Vanessa’s feet falter slightly. She blinks at him in wonder. I look back at him, and his eyes are glued to her as well. The attraction is evident and swift. And it punches me in the gut.

  Fuuuck! It sucks to be right.

  We finally reach him, and he finally notices me. He kisses my cheeks softly. I don’t miss the fact that he didn’t greet me with his usual warm kiss on the lips. I smile stiffly up at him.

  “Etienne, I’d like to introduce you to Vanessa Martin.” I begin. “Vanessa, this is the artist, Etienne Lemaire.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Vanessa.” Etienne leans over her hand and kisses it softly.

  She flushes with pleasure.

  “It’s nice to meet you too. Your work is fantastic!”