The Muse

by O'Brien, Meghan

  Olive was clearly impatient. “Where did you meet her? Did your publisher hook you two up?”

  “No, she just…showed up one day. On my doorstep, literally—with groceries.”

  “And you just invited her in? A complete stranger?” Olive tilted her head, clearly skeptical about her decision-making. “Because of the groceries or her tits?”

  Blushing, Kate said, “I didn’t exactly invite her in.” Though she knew she deserved a firm chiding, she still wanted to defend herself in response to Olive’s judgmental tone. For a woman who’d just been abducted in broad daylight, she had a lot of nerve criticizing other people’s efforts to escape Erato’s otherworldly influence. “She just sort of came in. And she said…” Here was the part that would make them both sound like lunatics. Resolved to get it over with quickly, Kate mumbled, “She said she was my muse.”

  When Olive didn’t respond right away, Kate assumed she hadn’t heard what she’d said—which was probably for the best. But then Olive confirmed her crystal-clear understanding. “So she wasn’t fucking with me at the bar? When she said she was flattered I’d heard of her, after I recognized her name from Greek mythology?” Kate shook her head, and Olive said, “She thinks she’s actually a real muse.”

  “Yes.”

  Olive blinked. “And you…believed her?”

  Kate shook her head, then shrugged. “Let’s just say I was skeptical. But…I don’t know. She was so beautiful and charismatic, and she almost immediately propositioned me with hot, anonymous sex, which definitely clouded my judgment—”

  “You let a strange woman talk her way into your apartment, where you then allowed her to bed you. Got it.”

  Kate fell silent, hating the way Olive could make her feel so small with just a few words. She already felt stupid about allowing Erato into her life. She didn’t need agreement from a woman she could still so easily love. “It sounds ridiculous, I know. While I definitely wasn’t buying the muse story, I was extremely lonely. So yeah, I did something impulsive. She said that ‘making love’ would help get my creative juices flowing, and after almost two years of celibacy, I thought she might be right. It was insane, and out of character, and I still can’t believe I went through with it, but yeah, I took her up to my bedroom and we slept together. Later that night she asked me to tell her the first sexual fantasy of mine that came to mind, and I said a threesome, and then all of a sudden she’s got me at this club—”

  “Where you met me.” Olive’s jaw tightened. “So that story about Erato being your editor, or your writing coach, or whatever…that was bullshit. You’d only just met her that same day. She was calling herself a Greek-fucking-muse, but you were okay with getting me sexually involved with a mentally ill person, because she told you it would help your writing.”

  “I don’t think she’s actually dangerous,” Kate said weakly.

  “You didn’t see her in that parking garage.” Rather than belabor the point, Olive exhaled. Then she scrubbed her face with her hands. “Look…I’m sorry.”

  Kate shook her head. “You have no reason to be. You’re the innocent party here.”

  “That’s the thing.” Olive looked around the office for the first time, as though finally taking notice of their surroundings. “I have a feeling you are, too—an innocent party. I mean, look, accepting Erato’s sudden presence in your life was clearly a lapse in judgment. But then again, it’s not like I didn’t sleep with someone I’d just met that very same day, so…” She looked suddenly exhausted as she shuffled over to the futon across from Kate’s desk and sank down to sit on its edge. “Two someones, actually, including a woman with an unusual name who gave me kind of a weird vibe.” She shot Kate an embarrassed, begrudging almost-smile. “Yet I ignored that vibe because she was really very sexy, and I was horny, and I’d sworn to myself that I was going to check at least one item off my stupid bucket list—but most importantly, because I really wanted to fuck her friend. Which is all a long-winded way to say I’m sorry for taking out my anger at Erato on you, because I’d be a hypocrite not to acknowledge that sometimes desire can override good judgment.”

  Despite the awfulness of the situation and her lingering uncertainty that Olive could ever truly forgive her for bringing Erato into her life, Kate’s heart soared. But it wasn’t as though she was free from blame. “I appreciate you saying so, but it was selfish for me to involve you in any of this. The mutual decision-making of that first night aside, I chose to pursue you after we ran into each other at the farmers’ market that day, even though I knew I had this major complication in my life. Erato warned me from the beginning that I didn’t have time to date while I was finishing the book, and definitely not to fall in love—”

  “Were you?” Olive finally made and held eye contact. She almost seemed to be holding her breath. “Falling in love?”

  She had no pride left, and nothing to lose. “I think I might have been, yeah.” Unable to read Olive’s reaction, Kate looked down at the floor, embarrassed by the sight of her bare toes staring back up at her. Why hadn’t she at least worn socks? “I know we’d barely spent any time alone together, but…I was looking forward to finding out if what I was feeling was real.”

  “That’s why I wanted us to have dinner together,” Olive said quietly. “So I could figure out what I was feeling—and if it was mutual.”

  “It was.” Gathering her courage, Kate finally lifted her face. “It is.” Worried that her confession might be taken as presumption, she explained. “My feelings for you haven’t changed, although I completely understand if you don’t return them.”

  Olive’s eyes welled with tears, and she cursed under her breath as she carefully wiped them away. “It’s not like I’ve forgotten our connection. How easy it is to talk to you, how perfect your body feels against mine.”

  Kate tried not to shiver at the mental imagery that Olive’s suggestive words triggered. She’d spent days pining for this woman she thought she’d lost forever. To be locked in the same room with her, close enough to smell her distinctive scent, was enough to launch her into complete sensory overload. She didn’t want to get carried away and make a fool of herself, even if that was her new specialty in life. She needed to help Olive out of their current predicament, she decided, forcibly turning her mind away from increasingly lurid fantasies and toward the goal of redemption. “Do you have your cell phone?”

  Olive shook her head. “She took it when my wrists were bound. I tried to grab it from her when she cut the zip ties in the hallway, but I’m not sure she even had it on her anymore. I don’t know where it is.”

  Kate sighed. “I know how that goes.” Because it was the only option, she marched resolutely to the window. “I’ll escape and go for help. You can come with me, of course, but there is a slightly treacherous drop—” She attempted to open the window and failed. She tugged harder, afraid she was simply growing weak from her time in captivity, then realized that Erato—that horrible, awful demon’s spawn—had somehow rigged the window to no longer open.

  “Fuck!” Kate roared, then kicked the wall below the sill hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Instantly regretting her outburst and the additional pain it had caused, she sank onto the floor and squeezed her toes in her fist. “She must have sealed it shut after the day I escaped to go see you at the farmers’ market.” Defeated, she hung her head in shame. “I don’t know how else to get you out of here. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey.” Olive’s voice was soft. Tender. The sweet sound brought fresh tears to Kate’s eyes. “Don’t worry about that right now. Why don’t you come here and sit with me instead?”

  Too embarrassed and sore to move, Kate shook her head. “You don’t have to be nice to me.”

  “How would that make this any easier on either of us?”

  Kate managed a miserable shrug. “I don’t know.” She took a shaky breath. “I just can’t believe she did this to you.”

  “I can’t believe she did this to either of us.” Olive
paused. “So did she actually help you to write? Beyond simply locking you in a room and forcing you to work, I mean?”

  “Believe it or not, yes. But I didn’t start writing until the morning after the first night we spent with you, so technically I suppose you could have been part of my inspiration all along.” Although there might be some truth to her new pet theory, she also didn’t want to underplay Erato’s very real influence on her life. Olive had to understand that Erato had provided her with an actual service beyond sex, that she had a valid and not-altogether-dishonorable reason for keeping Erato around at first.

  “Don’t get me wrong. Erato is absolutely muse-like, if not an actual muse. She shattered over eighteen months of well-entrenched writer’s block within the first twenty-four hours. Time and again when I’ve been stuck or lost motivation, just being in the same room with her has helped get me going again. I don’t know how she does it, but she can help me let go of everything else and lose myself in my work. Or at least she did before she cut me off from the world—you, in particular.” Staring hard at the floor, she said, “After that, most of my motivation has come from her promise to leave once I finish the book. Even now her presence still has some beneficial effect on me. It may be the only reason I’ve been able to keep writing at all.”

  Their long silence seemed to stretch into weeks, then months. Kate had nearly convinced herself that the last five minutes had been a hallucination and she was in fact alone in the room, when Olive suddenly murmured, “Kate, please come here.”

  Using every ounce of courage she possessed, she slowly stood up, turned, and walked to the futon. She kept her gaze averted as Olive moved over slightly, giving her ample room to sit at her side. Kate made sure to leave at least a foot of empty space between their thighs. She clasped her hands on her knees and stared at her laptop, swept away by a powerful wave of bittersweet longing. Right now she’d give almost anything to escape into Rose and Molly’s world, where at least she could solve problems and deliver happy endings to the people she cared about. Miserably, she whispered, “This is so fucked up.”

  “Yes,” Olive said in a quiet voice. She curled her fingers around Kate’s wrist, pulling one hand free and tentatively lacing their fingers together. “But at least we’re together.”

  Kate’s vision blurred before she could attempt to suppress her visceral response to the simple touch. She’d never expected to be anywhere close to this intimate with Olive again. Not trusting herself to speak, she gave Olive’s hand a gentle squeeze. Olive’s other hand found her chin, urging her to turn and make eye contact. She couldn’t. She didn’t feel worthy. Trying to explain, Kate rasped, “You deserve better.”

  “So do you.” Rather than continue to entice Kate to come to her, Olive angled herself so she could drop a kiss on the corner of Kate’s mouth. “I’m trying to forgive you, dummy. Let me.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do. I just don’t know why.”

  “Because I’m tired of feeling hurt and angry, especially since it turns out that I’ve wasted a stupid amount of emotional effort being upset with the wrong person.” Olive raised Kate’s hand to her lips, kissing each individual knuckle. “I realize now what you were up against with Erato, and how our lapse in communication happened, and how you’ve likely never had any control when it comes to that woman. I understand. And honestly, I’m relieved. To know that what happened between us wasn’t about me—or even about you. It’s like I can breathe again for the first time in weeks.”

  Kate turned, a move that put her mouth mere inches away from Olive’s. “I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I was devastated when she wouldn’t let me call. We argued…I tried. I swear.”

  Olive nodded, her large, expressive eyes shiny with tears. “I believe you.”

  It wasn’t exactly I trust you, but it was a lot more than she’d ever hoped to hear. A tangible weight lifted, lightening her mood for the first time since their last date. Kate managed a genuine smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  Olive shot her a look of desperation before grabbing a fistful of her camisole and pulling her forward until their mouths touched. “Now kiss me,” she murmured. “Please.”

  Worthy or not, Kate had never felt anything as right as Olive’s lips against hers. She groaned as the tight control she’d been holding over her body melted away. Without thinking, she scooted closer to Olive while simultaneously gathering her into a heated embrace. Their bodies fit together as easily as ever, and to Kate’s relief, both the intimacy and the sense of connection she’d always felt with Olive was still there, strong and true. At least for her. Worried that the feelings of reconnection might be one-sided, Kate broke away from their all-too-brief kiss after considerable effort. She steeled her nerve and searched Olive’s face for the truth, scared what she might find.

  Olive shook her head as she chased Kate’s mouth with her own in a playful attempt to resume their kiss. “Stop me if you don’t want to do this, but let me be clear. I do.” She pressed Kate back onto the futon, then climbed on top of her so that the entire length of their bodies was pressed together. Gazing down at her kindly, Olive said, “Do you?”

  The last time Kate had felt this nervous beneath a woman, she’d been a twenty-year-old virgin. Why she would feel that way at a not-so-innocent thirty-four years old, and with a woman she’d already fucked a handful of times, she had no clue. But she did, and it made her blush. Aware that Olive was waiting for her enthusiastic consent, Kate nodded. “Yes, of course. But I just…my head’s spinning.”

  Rather than reinitiate their kissing, Olive moved a lock of barely brushed, shower-dampened hair away from Kate’s forehead. “Then maybe we should talk some more.”

  That wasn’t exactly Kate’s first choice. “It’s just that I don’t know how…” She paused, corralling her scattered thoughts. Totally unbalanced by her close proximity to everything she’d wanted for too many torture-filled days to count, she struggled to translate her confusion into a collection of words that Olive would understand. “You said you couldn’t trust me.”

  Recognition flared in Olive’s eyes. “Yes, but I didn’t have all the relevant information.” Olive traced a fingertip over one of her eyebrows, then the other, further disrupting her ability to think. “Now that I do, why don’t we agree to go back to trusting each other until one of us gives the other a reason not to?”

  As a first, tentative act of trust, Kate raised her hand and traced Olive’s delicate jawline with the back of her fingers. “Okay. I’d like that.”

  “Good.” Olive shifted her lower body, then smiled—almost smugly—when Kate bit back a whimper. “Now may I kiss you again? Because I really, really want to.”

  She couldn’t think of a single reason to say no. So she didn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Kate had no idea how long they kissed—just kissed, like teenagers, though intensely enough that Olive’s glasses had to be set aside—before a hand landed on her breast, electrifying her with a firm squeeze. Her body reacted instantly, the slick wetness soaking her pajama shorts and probably Olive’s tailored linen slacks, as well. Every instinct she had urged her to tear off Olive’s clothes, then her own, so they could consummate their reunion. But they had just one problem, serious enough that she managed to push Olive away right before their heavy petting approached Kate’s personal red zone. “Wait.”

  Olive rested her forehead on Kate’s shoulder and took deep breaths. “Of course,” she murmured, moving her hand from Kate’s breast to her hip. “Too fast?”

  “Under normal circumstances, not at all.” Kate waited until Olive had lifted her head before nodding at the door. “But she could walk in any time. Hell, for all I know she could even be filming us.”

  Olive glanced over at the door as though evaluating it as well as their adversary. “She’d do that? Record us?”

  “I have no idea what she’s capable of. If she thought she could use a video as blackmail to force my word count higher, maybe.�
� Unsettled by her paranoia, Kate propped herself up on her elbows and surveyed the room. She didn’t see anything out of place or suspicious-looking, but these days cameras were tiny, and Erato had already managed to weld her window closed without her noticing. “Maybe we should wait.” She didn’t want to suggest it but felt almost unethical not doing so. Making love would leave them vulnerable in more ways than one and expose Olive to potential future harm. “We’ll have enough time for that once we get out of here, right?”

  Rather than the hurt she feared seeing, frustration and then sadness passed across Olive’s face. In a tremulous voice, she whispered, “Not necessarily, no.” Kate realized her faux pas immediately, but before she had a chance to rephrase, Olive continued. “Nobody has enough time, even when it feels like you do. Jasmine had no idea that morning when we woke up that it would be her last time to do that, her last time for everything. My mother, too. She and my father were scheduled to depart for their first Alaskan cruise a week and a half after the accident. Something they’d wanted to do since I was little. They had plans, and it didn’t matter at all. It doesn’t matter.” Olive placed her hand over Kate’s heart, the gentle touch soothing her in the aftermath of the jarring speech. “I don’t want that woman to steal any more of our precious time together than she already has. Do you?”

  Despite the sincerity of her plea, Kate still wasn’t entirely comfortable letting Olive risk the potential consequences of a sexual encounter while in captivity—even if she had masturbated to prison- and hostage-themed fantasies more times than she cared to admit. Caught between chivalry, good sense, and unabashed arousal, Kate whispered, “You’re sure?”

  Olive seemed absolutely determined. “If she walks in while we’re in the middle of fucking, I say we disentangle as quickly as possible and jump her tag-team style. Surely we can overpower her—or escape, at the very least. She’ll never see us coming. And if she does, hopefully our nudity will distract her.”