The Muse

by O'Brien, Meghan

  “But like I said before,” Erato moved the tray of food from the bed to the nightstand, then stretched out on what had become her side of the mattress, “I won’t leave until you ask me to.”

  “I’m not saying I want you to go.” Kate covered Erato’s bare foot with her hand. As angry as she was, she definitely wasn’t there yet. “I’m just trying to establish that I’m not your girlfriend. That you don’t think of yourself as mine, that you don’t envision a future in which we grow old and die together. Therefore, we aren’t in a monogamous sexual relationship, which means you have no right to decide who I see.” She waited for a reaction, but Erato didn’t give one. “Am I wrong?”

  “You’re correct that we aren’t in a monogamous sexual relationship.” Erato’s intense stare burned through her, unwavering. “But that’s irrelevant to the issue at hand, which is Olive’s potential negative impact on your book.”

  “Her potential negative impact?” Affronted by the assumption that she would so easily allow her interest in dating Olive to derail a project she clearly cared about, Kate’s frustration level ticked up. “My desire to see Olive again doesn’t equate to a negative impact. I’m not planning to shack up with her for the next month, deadline be damned. I’m talking about one dinner date, maybe two, which will have zero effect on my writing schedule. Trust me, the book will still get done.”

  “That you actually believe that is the best justification I can offer for what has to happen next.”

  That…didn’t sound good at all. Unsettled, Kate removed her hand from Erato’s foot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Two days ago you admitted to me that Olive could become a distraction. Now she has.”

  “But we haven’t even—”

  “Believe me, this thing with Olive will distract you…even if you don’t realize it yet.” Erato sat up straighter as her calm facade began to slip. “Do you really believe you’ll be able to leave things at one or two dinner dates? A few weeks apart might as well be a year when you’re in the wild, hot, passionate stage of new love. Even if you aren’t meeting in person, she will consume your thoughts. Can you honestly tell me you’ll be able to concentrate on Rose and Molly and their happily-ever-after if you’re busy daydreaming about the possibility of your own?”

  Kate had fallen in love once before. Erato wasn’t wrong. It was the most gut-wrenching, all-consuming experience life had to offer, and right now was the worst possible time for it to happen. But this was love, or it could be, and if that didn’t come before all else, then what was she even writing about? “So I should let her go, have my heart broken, and somehow try to write Rose and Molly a happy ending despite my own miserable, loveless life?”

  Erato clicked her tongue. “Your life is neither miserable nor loveless, so don’t be ridiculous.” Folding her arms over her chest, her frown brought to mind a petulant child. “You know, I’m only trying to keep the promise you asked me to make.”

  Too upset to recall specifics, Kate said, “I’m almost positive I never made you promise to forbid me from seeing Olive again. Or deny me a chance at happiness.”

  “Writing makes you happy.” For the first time since they’d met, Erato raised her voice. “My dear, the night before last you made me swear I would keep you focused on your art, whatever it took. Even if you called my methods into question, you said, or begged me to leave you alone, I was to vow that I would force you to see the book through to the end. Not even forty-eight hours later and you’re giving me grief about doing just that? Seriously?”

  The exasperated incredulity in Erato’s voice, reflected a thousandfold on her pretty face, triggered a rush of genuine shame. Embarrassment colored Kate’s cheeks and rendered her silent as she forced herself to calm down and analyze the current situation as objectively as possible. She had begged Erato to keep her on task. Less than forty-eight hours ago she had been so excited about her creative resurgence—and so committed in her newfound devotion to that Damn Book—she’d briefly considered not making a date with Olive at all. But Erato had insisted, literally insisted, even suggested that not seeing Olive again would prove to be an even bigger distraction than indulging in her favorite new addiction. Given that Erato seemed to read her mind ninety-nine percent of the time, hadn’t she anticipated that a second date with Olive might lead to the desire for a third? What did she think would happen? That Kate would lose interest? That Olive would? Or had she simply planned that icy, passive-aggressive wake-up call from the start, hoping to establish ownership and scare Olive away once she’d served her purpose?

  As her ire rose again, Kate forced herself to calm down. The more upset she became, the more she would bolster Erato’s belief that Olive was somehow bad for her creativity. She needed to approach this disagreement as logically as possible.

  Taking a breath to level out her emotions, she said, “You’re right. I asked you not to let me get distracted. And yes, I was worried that inviting Olive back into my life might hurt my ability to meet this deadline. But I was questioning whether she could accept the demands writing makes on my life when the other women I’ve dated never seemed able to. Now that I’ve spoken to her, I’m not concerned anymore. She wants to meet me for dinner tomorrow—one hour, two at the very most—so we can talk, but beyond that, she understands that right now the book takes priority. She said that after tomorrow, she’ll be happy to wait until you’ve given me permission to contact her again. If that’s not until next month when I’m done with the book, then…” She wasn’t really okay with that idea and was apparently unable to pretend that she was. “I hope you don’t make us wait that long.”

  Erato huffed. “Absolutely not.”

  Kate tried to decide whether to be happy or upset about the vague answer for only a few seconds before asking for clarification. “Absolutely not what?”

  “You’re not meeting Olive for dinner tomorrow. Absolutely not. I forbid it.”

  She was really starting to lose patience with Erato’s authoritative nonsense. “Actually, I am. I don’t care what I made you promise—you’re way out of line. One dinner is harmless and the least she deserves from me, especially after the way you behaved toward her this morning.”

  “After the way I behaved?” Getting up onto her knees, Erato suddenly towered over Kate, shockingly intimidating swept up in her righteous fury. “You’re the one who’s getting pissy with me for doing exactly as you asked—you wanted me to protect you from yourself, to act in your best interests, to not let you stray from the path you were on. Do you honestly think that falling in love won’t hinder your progress on this book? As an author and therefore a student of human nature, you can’t possibly believe that limiting yourself to one dinner date will insulate you from the emotional turmoil of wondering where Olive is, what she’s doing, what she’s thinking, and when you’ll be able to touch her again. Do you?”

  “And what about the emotional turmoil of blowing off a woman I really care about? Aren’t you worried about the negative impact that will have on my writing?” She took a moment to consider how she would feel if Erato actually prevented her from seeing Olive again. The utter despair that accompanied the thought didn’t bode well for the creativity Erato claimed to want to foster. “Believe me, issuing this kind of ultimatum won’t achieve the desired effect. If you’re such an expert on human nature, you’d realize that a broken heart is worse for my creativity than a mildly distracted one.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s just not true.” Erato’s tone left no room for argument. “That your distraction would be mild, I mean, or that temporary heartache is the more impossible obstacle for you to overcome right now.” She planted her hands on her hips, making Kate feel very much like a scolded child. “At this point we’re in damage-control mode. I should have seen how dangerous Olive was from the very beginning, and I never should have allowed her to be used as an incentive more than once. That was my failure, and I apologize profusely for going down this road in the first place. It’s not l
ike you didn’t try to warn me—you were afraid that seeing Olive again would derail you, yet I foolishly believed that what the book really needed was for you to scratch that itch once and for all. You’d assured me you wanted to keep things casual, that your writing was your top priority…and I believed you.” She exhaled, then sat back with a sweet smile. “Look, I’m not saying you can’t date her. I’m just telling you that you can’t see or talk to her again until you’ve finished a first draft you feel comfortable submitting to your publisher. That’s all.”

  Kate searched her memory for her current word count, then extrapolated from there. “But that’ll take me two and a half weeks, minimum!” And that was assuming she could write at the same pace she’d maintained for the past week without faltering—which seemed unlikely, considering how badly emotional turmoil tended to affect her ability to work and how burnt out she would be if she kept up this pace much longer. Even if she managed to finish the draft quickly, she was a perfectionist when it came to preparing her manuscripts for submission. She would almost certainly need the full month she had left to bring the story up to her standards.

  It was one thing not to see Olive for that long, but to not talk to her, either? The whole point of the dinner date had been to discuss their feelings and process all that had happened so far. Olive was clearly shaken by her feelings and insecure about Kate’s intentions. One hour at a Mexican restaurant wasn’t likely to assuage all her fears about starting a relationship with an eccentric author like her, but it was the least Olive deserved.

  Yet Erato wanted her to wait three weeks? Kate snorted. “She won’t want to date me if I disappear that long.”

  “Then it wasn’t meant to be.”

  Aghast, Kate got up onto her knees. “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “None of this is easy for me.” Erato scooted backward until her back was pressed against the headboard. She stretched her long legs out in front of her, then motioned Kate closer. “Now come over here and let’s cuddle this out. I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

  Kate didn’t move. “I am angry. I don’t want to have to choose between you and Olive. I really don’t.”

  “The choice isn’t between Olive and me, my darling, and besides, you’ve already made your decision.” Erato’s smile turned seductive, her hand fluttering to her chest only to run down the valley between her breasts. “And I made a promise to you, which I intend to keep. Just as I assured you I would.” Her gaze drifted away from Kate’s face to the juncture of her thighs, reminding her of her state of undress. Erato licked her lips, and when she spoke again, her voice was deeper. “Now why don’t you come over here so we can get back on good terms?”

  Kate actually considered going to her. Her body twitched as though compelled by a supernatural force, before her logical mind took over. “No. You’re not going to appease me with sex. Not about this.”

  Erato released a long-suffering sigh. “Suit yourself.” The hand that had come to rest over her stomach slid down between her legs, where she rubbed the crotch of her lingerie with gentle, confident fingers. “When you’re ready to resume our physical relationship, let me know. Until then, I’m quite good at taking care of myself.”

  Kate tried not to look. She really tried—but it wasn’t until Erato slipped her fingers beneath the elastic band of her panties that she was finally able to redirect her attention out the window. Despite the purely sexual—and admittedly enticing—display in front of her, Kate focused on only one objective: texting Olive to confirm their date before Erato could somehow manage to stop her. She stood up, ignoring the breathy moan behind her, and walked to her nightstand to get her phone. It wasn’t on the charger, which didn’t shock her. Last night hadn’t followed her typical nighttime routine, to say the least. She checked the pockets of the jeans she’d worn for her date, then went downstairs to search the kitchen and living room. After a frustrating hunt, she tossed on a T-shirt and pajama pants, grabbed the keys to her truck, and went outside to check there. When she came up empty once again, her suspicions immediately turned to the woman currently masturbating in her bed.

  She stomped back upstairs, telling herself she wouldn’t get angry or make accusations, and would deal with the situation with the maturity and calm strength of character she needed in order to prove that her feelings for Olive weren’t upsetting her sensibilities. Although she was prepared to interrupt a serious attempt at self-pleasuring when she returned to the bedroom, she still felt mildly taken aback at the sight that greeted her: Erato, lingerie strategically askew, lying in the center of the mattress with her hand between her legs and her back arched in pleasure. It was as though she’d walked into the middle of a scene from one of her stories, unrealistically beautiful heroine and all. The desire to join the woman on her bed was tangible, nearly melting away her fury despite her best attempts to hang on to the justified emotion.

  Erato’s vibrant blue eyes opened, full of affectionate longing. “I’m so close, Kate.” She angled her wrist and penetrated herself with a slim finger, tilting her knee to the side to give Kate a better view. “Even if you don’t want to touch me, will you stay with me while I come?” Her body shuddered, causing her breasts to jiggle appealingly. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll help get your creative juices flowing.”

  A few weeks ago, she would have been skeptical about such a claim. Now she had no doubt that if she gave herself over to Erato’s special brand of sex magic, she would almost certainly walk away inspired. Perhaps she would even forget that she wanted to text Olive, let alone meet her for dinner. Kate shook her head, resolved not to let that happen. It wasn’t fair to Olive, to say the least, and would no doubt humiliate her after she’d gathered the courage to bare her soul in the immediate aftermath of Erato’s rude dismissal. Keeping Olive—her smile, her warm eyes, her curvaceous, responsive body—firmly in mind, Kate wrestled with her brain to focus on the task at hand.

  “Have you seen my cell phone?”

  Erato stopped fingering herself immediately and, with a frustrated sigh, slipped out of her vagina, then her lingerie. She arranged the material over her crotch so that she was covered, as though girding herself for battle. Then she offered Kate an infuriatingly calm smile. “It’s in a secure location.”

  “Give me my phone.” Kate waited to see if the words had landed with the weight she’d intended, then held out her hand, palm up. “Now, please.”

  “I’m sorry, but no.” Erato sat up. “We’ve played this game before, Kate. You know how it goes.”

  “That was different. This time she’s expecting me to text her. If I don’t, she’ll think I’ve blown her off.”

  Erato’s expression was patient and tender, which only stoked Kate’s anger. “You can explain what happened once you finish the first draft.”

  Her resolve not to lash out slipped. “You’re a smart woman, Erato. What don’t you understand here? We’re not in an exclusive romantic relationship, I’m only asking for the chance to spend an hour with Olive before the damn book is finished, and you sure as fuck don’t pay my wireless bill, so you have no goddamn right to hold my phone hostage. I went along with it last time because your rules were somewhat reasonable. Now they aren’t, so I’m done playing.” She stopped, took a breath, and lowered her volume slightly. “Don’t punish me for something I haven’t even done. Let me take Olive to dinner tomorrow night, and if my writing falters in any way because of it…well, I’ll accept that you were right and stop questioning your directives, once and for all.”

  Erato looked almost pained. “Must you make this so difficult?”

  Sensing that they were at an impasse, Kate growled in frustration. She raked her fingers through her hair and pulled, welcoming the stinging pain and the way it released some of the pressure building within her chest. She didn’t want to ask Erato to leave, but if pushed hard enough, she would do it. She really would. Maybe. “Must you?”

  “I’m doing exactly what you begged me to do, and nothing more.” S
ighing, Erato got up off the bed and walked to the closet, where she’d hung the handful of dresses she’d brought with her. Kate caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirrored door as she stripped off the lingerie and reached for a flowing blue garment that contrasted nicely with her olive skin and made her eyes look even more brilliant than usual. “Once the book is finished, you’re free to ask me to leave, to disagree with the way I went about keeping you focused, and to hate me forever if things with Olive don’t work out. Until then, I suggest that you put your energy into finishing the book instead of being upset with me.”

  Kate stood with her hands fisted at her sides. She literally had no idea what to do. She refused to give up on the idea of contacting Olive, if only so she could confess that Erato had decided to forbid her from dating until she’d produced a submission-ready manuscript. Like that would go over well. Still, it would be better than nothing—which was a pretty terrible thing for Erato to expect her to offer. Unfortunately, it was clear that Erato wouldn’t change her mind based on whatever arguments, promises, or threats Kate came up with. She couldn’t possibly finish the book before Olive’s feelings were hurt from the lack of contact on her end, but maybe Erato would be willing to compromise?

  Clearing her throat, Kate watched Erato in the mirror as she adjusted the hem of her dress. “How about I prove to you that I’m still not distracted? My feelings for Olive—which did not just develop last night—haven’t prevented me from making progress yet. There’s no reason to believe that one dinner date will change that—or at the very least, a few text messages to explain why dinner has to wait. If I spend all day and the better part of tonight writing, would that convince you there’s no harm in letting me at least have a conversation with Olive to explain your point of view?”

  Erato stepped out of the closet, ready for the runway. “I’d love for you to accomplish a lot today. The Olive situation has definitely rattled you, and it would certainly make me feel better if you’re able to write through this.”