The Muse


She stood across the busy New York intersection of 51st and Ave, staring at me.

Going through my hectic Friday, I would have never noticed her had she not been so remarkably beautiful. The male instinct made me glance again for a better look. Her long, ruby-golden hair glistened in the spring sunlight and her stylish sunglasses enhanced her stunning features.

I paused in mid-stride; was she staring back at me? She slid the sunglasses off her face and left me little doubt those penetrating, emerald eyes were returning my gaze. Her playful smile widened as I stared, and she began to cross as the traffic stopped for the light. My memory worked overtime as I searched in vain for some connection. I could not look away as she approached, curves moving sensuously beneath her thin, black silk skirt.

“Haven’t we met before?” Her curious voice was like soft, seductive music to my ears. Her face was close to mine to be heard over the noises of Manhattan, and her sweet breath was on my cheek.

“Uh,” I searched for something clever to say as I drew back just enough to study her face. “I wish we had,” I responded with a tentative grin. “I’m Kevin, or Kev.”

Her laugh was light, and her eyes twinkled. “Heather…guess we just have to make up for lost time.”

“Coffee?” It was the first offer that came to mind, and I hoped it was not too presumptuous. “I know this great lil place down the street that offers at least some shielding from this.” I gestured to the noonday bustle that can only come from the manic pace of life in the City. Heather took my arm, accepting my invitation and continued as we walked down the broad sidewalk.

“You seem so familiar, I swear we know each other from somewhere. Tell me about yourself: do you live in the City?” She had such conviction in her voice that I searched again for a connection as I told her briefly about myself.

Heather was attentive and genuine, and over an iced mocha I lost count of the times she amazed me. She listened with interest as I told her about my struggles as a writer. Being near her was simultaneously relaxing and intense; I have never been on such a high. She seemed to share in all my interests and made intriguing suggestions I would have to try. I learned she was an avid painter who was also in a slump, meeting her financial obligations with some modeling so she could spend most of her time laying the images from her mind out on the canvas.

“I am enjoying your company so much. Mind if we continue while we take a walk?” Heather suggested as we finished the coffee. All thoughts of my previous errands and plans were long forgotten. I was completely focused on her and could not have thought of anything more important.

She questioned me about recent writing projects, and fully empathized with my creative struggles. I lost track of the time, as we seemed to stroll aimlessly through the streets, oblivious to the madness of life around us.

“Would you like to see some of my art?” She asked abruptly, and when I paused, thrown off by the sudden change, she added, “My place is actually up in this building.”

“Oh. I’d love to.”

Heather seemed suddenly shy, as if she had offered to expose a part of her world that was not ready for scrutiny. But, she led me up with only a moment of hesitation.

Whatever my expectations may have been, they were utterly blown away by my first glance around her place. Her small flat was an artist’s dream. The walls were lined with paintings that were both emotionally intense and logically sophisticated.

“This is home.” Heather had a hint of nervousness in her voice as she dropped her keys on the nearby bar top and looked around her place as well, as if seeing it for the first time. She brought up the overhead track lighting to more clearly illuminate the decorated walls.

“All these yours?” My tone sounded subdued to my ears as I took in as much as I could.

“Yea, I go to galleries and shows to view others’ works, but I surround myself with my own.” She explained. “Helps me stay focused.”

The polished wood flooring was covered in key places by plush rugs of various warm colors. Slowly walking along the walls, I took a closer look at her displayed art. The wall clock ticked into the silence as I passed her couch and end table, strewn with magazines and a few books. An easel stood by the curtained window on the far side of the flat. Brushes, tubes of paint, half finished canvases, and other oddities were strewn about the padded window seat. Another easel was set up in the corner by her canopied bed. Even her small kitchenette at the front corner had paintings in it.

“What do you think?” She prompted when I had enough time to circle her small place.

“Heather.” I turned to look at her for the first time since entering her place. “These are brilliant.” A smile lit up her face, actually seemed to make the room brighter.

“I’m glad you think so.”

I felt compelled by my wonder to offer more. “Astonishing how much they move Escort Bayan Bahçeşehir me…inspiring.” And the second I said that word, the full truth of our meeting ran through me like electric current. “You are inspiring.”

Her face was flush from the praise. “I could be your muse,” she giggled and crossed to her bed, sitting on the edge facing me. “Your inspiration.” Her tone was at once husky and full of desire. She inched up her skirt to expose her creamy thighs, deepest green eyes never leaving my face. Boldness can also be inspiring.

Without hesitating, I closed the distance and knelt in front of her. After staring into her eyes for a long moment, I bent to gently kiss her bare skin. Kissing open her knees, I slowly moved up the inside of her legs. She watched me intently, passion written clearly across her face. The contrast of her white satin panties beneath the midnight black skirt was not lost on me, and my hunger threatened to spiral out of control. Her legs eased apart, granting me access to her inner temple. When I reached the panties, I slowly moved the thin material out and to the side, revealing her moist treasure.

Heather lay back, opening herself completely to me. Her excited breathing turned into a soft moan of ecstasy as I caressed her trail of moisture with my tongue. Sliding her panties off her flawless legs, I followed the liquid desire into the folds that concealed her fire. Her breathing became panting as I gently circled her with my tongue and massaged her clitoris with my lips.

With two moistened fingers, I touched then entered her. I heard a quiet, erotic sound as they parted her infinitely soft lining. Her moan climbed an octave and I almost came in my pants like some frenzied teenager, my desire was so extreme. I tasted her bittersweet excitement as my tongue dipped to join my fingers, and I increased my efforts with exaggerated ease.

By now, Heather was trembling, whispering for more, for her promised release. As I continued to massage her with my mouth, I applied pressure to the ridges inside her with my buried fingers. The reaction was immediate. Her back arched and she let out a small cry of joy as her inner muscles spasmed around my fingers. I dared not move as her orgasm rushed through her, but almost immediately she tugged at my shoulders.

“Enter me,” she begged, and I finally released my tortured penis, sliding into her in one frenzied motion. I squeezed my eyes shut against the intensity that threatened to pull me under. Heather writhed below me, and I went as slow as I could, savoring every second of contact. Grasping my lower back, she urged me in deeper. I increased my tempo.

After a few strokes, she lowered one leg and rolled me under her without breaking the intimate connection. She sunk deep onto me and threw back her head, showcasing her small, aroused nipples that strained against the material. I reached up to move her dress straps off her shoulders, and she took over. With a shrug, the dress dropped from her chest, and she unhooked her bra, exposing two perfectly formed breasts. Cupping them lovingly in both her hands, she leaned forward, offering them to me while she continued to milk me with her insides.

“Explode inside me,” she breathed, panting from the pleasure and exertion. As I let go, she reached back and ran a finger between my legs. The universe condensed into that one moment. I threw back my head and strained up into her as the over-powering surges rushed through me.

To perfection, Heather slowed her movements to allow me to float down on a cloud before laying forward onto my heaving chest. My senses roared with acute awareness, every nerve ending in my body tingling with the joy of life. I felt her nipples, still hard against my skin, and her breath on my neck. I smelled the light, fresh scent of her hair as my pulse began to slow.

“Your muse,” Heather whispered, and I could feel her smile.


We parted with the promise to meet in the morning at her place. Morning jogs had never been my preference; I like exercising at night when my day’s activities were behind me. But my excitement at the thought of spending more time with Heather made all other preferences moot. As I stood in her doorway delaying my exit, I basked in an afterglow that made me feel uniquely lucky; the most fortunate man in all existence. She leaned over and favored me with a sweet, innocent kiss.

“Now go see if I have really inspired you,” she urged, and I bowed over her hand with a mock dignity that made her giggle.

The twenty-three block evening stroll to my apartment did nothing to diminish my euphoria. The feeling I was nurturing felt as if a long-time infatuation fantasy had been fulfilled. In fact, the extent of my infatuation with Heather might have frightened every realistic bone in my body had I not felt so secure with our discovered compatibilities. We were so alike in our attitudes, preferences and hobbies that the future held nothing İstanbul Escort but promise.

“I know this isn’t true,” I had observed as we lay together and talked, “but I feel as if we already know everything about each other ‘cept our phone numbers.” We had laughed at this, and she reached over the bed, digging in her purse to extract a card. ‘Heather Davis, Struggling Artist.’ And on it was her number.

Smiling a secret smile, I remembered the moment. I had given my mobile number on the back of another card and titled myself, ‘Struggling Writer, Dreamchaser.’ She had vowed to help me remedy that.

I wondered if I would be too distracted with the fresh memories and the inevitable daydreams, but I soon discovered she had the opposite effect on me. As promised, I sat down the minute I got home and began to write. I was quickly immersed in my work with surprisingly clear focus. My imagination was on fire, and the perfect words flew from pen to paper. The more phrases fit smoothly into place, the more I zoned into my created world. It was like a drug. I was high on each literary success, yet I remained focused until my hand cramps forced me to stop.

I had just blown through seventeen pages, pushing past the writing block that had plagued me for weeks. Not to be thwarted, I grabbed my small recorder and continued to lay out my thoughts. Two more chapters had been detailed by the time I set the recorder down with a tired grin. Knowing she’d be up, I grabbed the phone.

“You know,” I mused when Heather answered, “I keep pinching myself.” She laughed at my playful tone. “I am not waking yet, so I had to call and make sure this was real.”

“Had a good session, I take it?”

“Oh yea! Your influence was magical. How about you?”

“Hmm, not much better than my past month’s efforts combined,” she teased.

“Good for us,” I cheered, and then in a more serious tone, I asked if we could possibly maintain this level of inspiration.

“I don’t know, Kev, we’ll have to check your stamina tomorrow… The jogging, I mean.”

“Ha! I better get some sleep then.”

“Yes, yes you better. See you bright and early.”

“Night, Heather.” I hung up the phone, realizing I must have a goofy grin pasted on my face.


That ‘bright and early’ came way too soon, but the instant I remembered why the annoying alarm was waking me, I stopped frowning. Dressing quickly in a gray sweatshirt and black shorts, I jogged most of the way to Heather’s.

“Hey, no fair starting without me!” She pretended to be hurt when she saw my sweaty neckline, and I could only grin. She leaned into me to steal a quick but promising kiss before turning to lock her door. She tasted faintly of vanilla, and I appraised her from behind. She was wearing slick blue jogging shorts with a matching windbreaker and gray elastic cyclist shorts underneath to highlight her toned legs. All in all, with her golden hair tied back in a ponytail and her shiny white running shoes, she looked far more serious about her exercise than I did.

We talked companionably during the workout, mostly discussing the success of last night and our current ideas. I savored every moment, every step, as I turned to watch her exquisite profile and bobbing ponytail.

Before long, we were back outside her building, and she was doing cool-down stretches on her steps, to the delight of passing males.

“That was the two mile loop that I try to do at least four times a week.”

“Very nice,” I commented as I watched her stretch. “It was definitely the shortest two miles I have ever ran.”

“I’ve measured it in a taxi,” she replied, misunderstanding my intent.

“Oh, I’m sure it was two miles; just didn’t feel that long in your company.”

Heather turned to gaze at me with a sly half-grin. “Don’t think our workout is over, Mr. Two-miles-is-too-short.”

Back in her flat, she turned on the water in the shower of her small bathroom and peeled off her clothes as she walked to where I stood. Her creamy skin glistened in the morning light. She stood before me, proud and fantastically naked.

“You like what you see,” Heather purred as she watched my eyes devour her. “Care to help me wash?” I could only nod, and she slowly turned to walk into the bathroom, giving me the most amazing view of her body.

We kissed deeply and passionately for the first time as the water poured over our bodies. Pert nipples pressing into my chest as urgently as my erection pressed into her belly. Rather than allowing the tide of passion to bring us any closer together, she reached to the side and handed me the soap. Her eyes told me what she wanted.

Heather then turned her back to me and placed her hands against the shower walls as if bracing for a search. With dream-like motions, a search is exactly what I performed. Beginning with the nape of her neck, my soap-slicked hands searched for every pleasure spot on her body. I gently caressed and massaged every curve Escort İstanbul and crevice, urged on by her frequent sighs of bliss.

As the water carried away the soap, I leaned in and brushed my lips across the skin of her shoulder and up to the back of her neck. She bent her head to surrender her neck to me, guiding one of my hands back to her chest. I rubbed the muscles beneath her breasts in light, circular movements before focusing on the hard pebble at the tips.

My other hand traveled like a feather down her side and across her waist. Stomach muscles fluttered as I found ticklish spots; her pelvis moved toward my teasing fingertips, as they played in tiny circles in the soft curls. Her stance widened further in a silent plea to be touched.

I resisted. My lower hand continued its slow descent down the front of her thigh and back up the inside. With a moan, Heather arched her back into me and found me rigid, pressing me into her perfect roundness. I pulled away in an instant, fearing I’d lose control.

Instead, I kissed my way down her back as I knelt behind her. She leaned against the front wall, letting the water bounce down her back and off my face. Showering her flesh with kisses, I moved sluggishly to her up-thrust privates. She went to her tiptoes in an attempt to move my mouth onto her. I felt the heat of her urgency, but artfully avoided all but the very back of her entrance.

“You devil,” Heather expelled her breath, “kiss me before you make me insane!” Who was I to deny her any longer? I set her free with one long swipe of my tongue, and she nearly growled with the release of tension as she pressed hard against my face. My tongue darted and twirled along her entire depth. I ground my face into her, feasting on her desire, which formed an intoxicating oil-water texture in my mouth.

To my surprise, Heather pushed me back against the wall while she whirled and attacked me like a woman possessed. She knelt over me, engulfing my penis in a frenzy. While one hand held me down, her other rubbed over my legs and straining stomach urgently before going between my legs to cup me.

With a gasp, I leaned my head back against the shower wall and arched toward her, squeezing my eyes shut. If it was possible, she increased her wondrous pace. I strained against her hands, and I knew beyond a doubt that I was being rushed toward the edge. I could not last long unless I drew her away, but her restraining hands told me to stay where I was, that she wanted complete control.

As she hurled me over the cliff of ecstasy I clenched my teeth with a high-pitched groan, throbbing into her hungry mouth with every ounce of power in me.

Heather finished the last gentle strokes as I shivered through the completion of my orgasm. She helped me to my feet, but put up a staying hand as I moved to embrace her.

“We must hurry,” she explained with an urgent look. “You must finish what you started.”

I had recovered enough by then to give her a devious grin and a questioning raise of my eyebrow. Almost roughly, she grabbed the soap, and I let myself be hurriedly scrubbed. Then she nudged me toward the water while she stepped out to get towels. Even at gunpoint, I could not have erased my grin, and I quickly rinsed.

Heather already had her hair wrapped in a towel and another wrapped around her body under her arms. She pulled me from the shower, ran a towel over me, and led me by the hand to her bed. Flopping onto the bed, she parted her slim legs and urgently pulled me down to her.

“Oh no you don’t,” she laughed as I kissed her stomach, and she forced my head down between her legs. I would have laughed at her unwillingness to let me tease her again, but I was too busy. As I lovingly caressed her sex, I marveled at this woman’s ability to give and take in equal, confident parts.

I slipped a finger inside her as I rolled her clitoris around with my tongue and was rewarded with a satisfied sigh. I slid my remaining hand under her for support as she arched up to meet my mouth, coming out of her towels. She moved so much now that I merely had to hold my lips and tongue rigid as she danced against my face.

Needing more leverage to answer the explosion building in her, she rolled me onto my back and set her knees to each side of my shoulder. She leaned back to expose herself once again, and I just had time to dip my tongue into her before she pressed down. I felt a few quick shudders as my mouth encompassed her, then she was off to the races again.

The pressure on my face was firm as her movements quickened. I wrapped my hands around her upper thighs and caressed her waist as her pace became frantic. Suddenly, she arched her back, tossing her head and emitting the sexiest, most satisfied moan I have ever heard.

Heather collapsed on the bed beside me and panted, “thank you thank you thank you!” Smiling, I leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her small triangle of hair and another on her heaving belly. She hugged me to her, and I was infatuated in some deep way I could not fathom. At that moment, I know my heart had left my chest. It was now hers.


Over sandwiches, we agreed to part and continue our creative rush of the previous night. Then, we would reward ourselves with a nice dinner on the town if we were successful.

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