The Muse (13 page)

“Of course.” Erato crossed her legs and watched Kate eat with limpid eyes. “For example, sometimes I overstep when it comes to first drafts. I apologize for peeking. My only intention was to check your word count, although I must admit I
did
read a sentence or two. I hope you can forgive me.”

Sheepish, Kate said, “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was, to you.” Erato offered her an apologetic smile. “That’s your book. Your baby. I shouldn’t have even approached it without your permission.”

No one had ever demonstrated so much respect for her work and her process before. Warmed by her sensitivity, Kate reached across the desk and squeezed Erato’s hand. “If the book is my baby, you’re basically the midwife. Right? So it’s cool. Honestly.” She meant it. Somehow, Erato had earned a trust she’d extended to very few people, if any—both in her writing life and otherwise.

“Still, I won’t read another word without your explicit permission.”

“Thank you.” Kate chewed a bite of pancake, finally slowing down. She speared another bite and offered it to Erato. “Did you already eat?”

Erato leaned forward and took the square of pancake between her teeth. “A little.”

Not sure she believed her, Kate said, “Have more.” She fed Erato almost half a pancake, bite by bite. Erato waved away the last forkful, so Kate ate it instead. Then she pushed the plate aside and sat back in the office chair, taking her first deep, relaxing breath of the morning.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Erato gestured at the bright blue sky outside her window. “You’re welcome to keep writing, but if you’re ready for a break, we could go on a little field trip. Get some fresh air.”

Stunned that her harsh taskmistress would sanction time off—when she’d only had a couple of really productive sessions so far—Kate shook her head. “No, I’m still in a good space to write. I should keep it going as long as I can.”

Beaming, Erato rolled her chair forward so that her knees fit between Kate’s spread legs. She caught both of Kate’s hands and squeezed. “Just a few days ago did you ever imagine you’d be saying that?”

“No.” Kate snorted at how true that was. “No, a few days ago I was convinced that all my other novels were flukes. I wondered whether I should quit my writing career.”

Erato seemed genuinely horrified. “What? No!”

Kate laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ve backed away from the ledge.”

“Good.” A shudder ran through Erato’s body, causing her breasts to jiggle in an extremely appealing way. “Nothing is more tragic than a writer who neglects that inner need to create. Even when it’s not easy. Even when it hurts.”

“Well, it’s easy to agree with you now that the words are flowing.” Kate fell silent. Then, seeing the way Erato’s brow remained furrowed, she kissed her forehead. “I don’t think I could ever
honestly
quit, no matter how much I may feel like it at times. I’ve never
not
written. Even when I was a little girl.”

“That’s because you’re a writer.”

Kate nodded. “I know.” Sometimes it was easy to doubt that. When she listened to her harshest critics—external and internal—and when the words didn’t come, she occasionally felt like she was fooling herself to believe she could earn an honest living as a writer. Right now she was on a sabbatical from work, one that had taken her ten years and many published books to save up to afford. Part of her acknowledged that a major source of her writer’s block was likely her fear of failing this test of living wholly off her creative efforts. It had been her life’s ambition to chuck her full-time marketing job and make a real go of being an author. Just last week, she’d seriously considered surrendering that dream for the safety and security of a regular paycheck.

Now, with Erato by her side, she was ready to do whatever it took to see her childhood dreams realized. Kissing Erato again, she said, “
Thank you
. Seriously.” She wrapped Erato in a warm, entirely nonsexual hug, overcome with gratitude. How close she’d come to just giving up. She’d like to think she would have rallied eventually, but how much more time would she have wasted? Erato had rescued her in the truest sense of the word.

Pushing a hand under her tank top to rub her bare back, Erato held her close. “Don’t thank me until the book is done.”

Kate battled a mild wave of panic as she wondered what would happen then. Would Erato simply disappear from her life just as quickly as she’d swooped in? On to the next author? Even though she could hardly begrudge another lost writer the opportunity to be saved, just the thought of being left alone without her muse was enough to dampen her mood and put her off the idea of going back to her story. Why, when it would only hasten Erato’s inevitable departure?

“Hey.” Strong fingers seized her chin, forcing her to stare into vivid blue eyes. “I’m here as long as you need me. All right?”

She hesitated only momentarily before asking, “What if I always need you?”

Erato chuckled, then kissed her soundly on the lips. “My darling, you won’t. I assure you.”

Kate wished she could believe her, but writing was
easy
with Erato.
Life
was easy. How would she ever
not
need this, when everything had been so difficult before? “I’m pretty sure I’ll always
want
you.”

Erato’s smile showed her pretty white teeth. “You might be surprised.”

Unable to ignore her very real anxiety at the prospect of being abandoned by her muse—and therefore, potentially, her creativity—Kate silently vowed to put the brakes on her progress just a little. The
tiniest
bit. She didn’t have a lot of leeway, considering her hard deadline, but she didn’t want to let Erato off the hook any earlier than necessary. “We’ll see.”

“Hey.” Looping her arms around Kate’s neck, Erato shifted off her chair onto Kate’s lap. She gave Kate a gentle kiss on the lips, then the tip of her nose. Soberly, Erato drew back and placed her hand over Kate’s heart while she stared into her eyes. “Listen to me. I promise—
promise—
I won’t leave until you ask me to. Deal? Even if that means I’m your bedmate for the next five years.”

“That’s a pretty big promise,” Kate murmured. Indeed, the enormity of what Erato was offering stunned her. She didn’t quite believe it. “You don’t need to say that.”

“I’m happy to say it—and mean it—because I’m confident you won’t take me up on it. Eventually, you
will
decide that you don’t need me anymore.”

Kate wondered how Erato would feel if she proved her wrong. Would she turn bitter and resentful about being held captive by an overly needy basket case? What if Kate ruined her forever? “You hope I will.” Unhappily aware of how vulnerable the confession would make her feel, she admitted, “Nobody has ever understood me or validated my work the way that you do. You make me feel good—in every conceivable way. You ask for nothing in return. Right or wrong, I plan to take everything you offer for as long as you offer it. I can’t see a reason to stop.”

Erato shifted on her lap, straddling her with a leg on either side of her thighs. Slipping her hands inside the back of Kate’s tank top, she said, “You can’t see a reason
now
.” She rocked her hips against Kate’s abdomen, subtle enough that Kate could ignore it if she were really serious about going back to work, which she wasn’t anymore. “Later, you might.”

Kate was done arguing the point. For now, she needed Erato. Like,
needed
her. She moved her hand between Erato’s thighs, tickling her fingernails over the damp crotch of her panties. “Speaking of taking everything you offer…”

Erato tilted her hips and rubbed herself against Kate’s hand. “Start with this.”

The rest of the week, and then the week after, went by in much the same way. Kate woke up at a reasonable time every morning, always ready to write, and she would go sit at her desk and type and eat the breakfast Erato always managed to serve at exactly the right moment, precisely when she was ready to think about food. She took breaks only to shower, use the bathroom, eat, have sex, and—a few times, at Erato’s behest—take short walks around the neighborhood to get some fresh air. The result of her laser focus was undeniable. Her word count soared. The outline she hadn’t been able to bring herself to put together was nearly complete, with only the very ending of the story still fuzzy in her mind. She’d even answered an email from her publisher without having an anxiety attack, confident that slowly but surely, this Damn Book was getting written.

That’s why when she woke up on a Saturday morning with a total lack of desire to go to her laptop, she began to worry. “Something’s wrong. I was on fire!” Seeing that Erato, who sat naked in bed beside her wrapped loosely in a sheet, seemed unconcerned, Kate tried to explain. “Before I fell asleep last night, all I could think about was waking up today and writing this scene between Rose and her mother. Dialogue was running through my head. I
knew
I should’ve gotten up and written it down. It was
perfect,
and now…” She gestured at herself, nude and lazy in bed. “Nothing.”

Erato patted her hip. “You nearly tripled your word count in less than two weeks. Celebrate that, and relax.”

Kate grumbled under her breath. At Erato’s head tilt, she repeated, “I don’t want to relax.”

“Unfortunately, that’s exactly what you need to do.” Nodding decisively, Erato dropped the sheet and climbed out of bed. Kate was so distracted by the sight of her body—and her memories of all the nasty things she’d done to it the night before—that Erato easily caught her off guard, grabbing her hand and dragging her toward the edge of the bed. “Come on. We’re going out. It’s field-trip day!”

She only barely resisted the urge to groan out loud. Making her body as heavy as possible, she resisted being forced onto her feet. “Look, Erato, here’s the thing. I’m kind of…an introvert.”

Amused laughter met her confession. “You don’t say?”

Kate rolled her eyes. She didn’t particularly appreciate feeling like the butt of the joke. “Going out doesn’t recharge me. It drains me.”

“Going out wasn’t so bad the other night.” Softening, Erato stopped trying to pull her to her feet. “Kate, you need sunshine. And fresh air. But most importantly, you need a change of scenery. It doesn’t have to be anything interactive, but you
do
need to pull back the curtain and remind yourself there’s an entire real world outside these walls. It’s good to visit it occasionally.”

The problems her characters faced, albeit serious and realistic, were constrained to the limits of her plot and were nearly always resolved by the end of the book. If not resolved, they were mitigated by the love of a good woman. “I know…but
my
world is so much simpler.”

“Even so, you can draw inspiration from even the simplest road trip.” Erato tugged on her hand, gently. “You have before.”

Kate remembered giving an interview once in which she’d attributed the inspiration for her first novel to her thoughts while on a road trip with her college girlfriend. She wondered if Erato had listened to it or if this was one of those things she just seemed to know. “You’re right.” She started to crawl out of bed, then stopped. “I’m not up for an actual
road trip
though.”

“Don’t worry,” Erato said. “This is a brief journey out of the apartment and nothing else. We’ll be back in a few hours, and I’m willing to bet you’ll come home ready to write.”

Kate sure hoped that was true. Erato hadn’t given her a reason to doubt her yet.

*

Once they’d driven about a mile away from the apartment, Kate had to concede the wisdom of Erato’s plan. “You were right. This is nice.”

The sun was shining—thankfully not into her eyes—and her favorite Fleetwood Mac song blared from the radio. Puffy white clouds dotted the vibrant blue sky, creating an afternoon so gorgeous it belonged in a painting. To top it all off, Erato sat beside her looking absolutely breathtaking in a lavender sundress that showed off her toned legs, and holding her hand tightly. The combination of the good weather, the even better company, and the low timbre of Erato’s melodious voice as she sang along happily with Stevie Nicks filled Kate with a sense of absolute well-being. Nice was an understatement.

Pausing to reply only after she’d finished the chorus, Erato chirped, “Remember: your muse knows best.”

Without a destination in mind, Kate decided to drive through the more scenic areas around town. She sang the next verse with Erato, happy to see the excited smile that elicited from her companion. One song led to another, then another, and then all of a sudden Kate realized she’d driven them right into the heart of the town square, where the weekend farmer’s market was in full swing. Despite the bustling crowd, Kate actually felt a tug of desire to find a parking spot and check out the local fare. She rarely thought about coming down here, even though she always enjoyed it when she did. And she wouldn’t mind having fresh fruit for her writing breaks over the next few days. She also remembered that the last time she’d ventured out to the farmer’s market, a baker had been selling focaccia. Her stomach growled at the memory.

Erato chuckled dryly. “Should I take that to mean the pancakes didn’t stick?”

“It’s not that.” Kate drove deeper into the throng of vehicles jostling for parking. “I was just reminiscing about a particularly good focaccia with red peppers and onions that I bought from a local baker here last summer. I wonder if he still has a stall.”

“I’ll cross my fingers.” Erato gestured to their left. “There’s a spot over there if you turn right now.”

Kate reacted immediately, gratified when she slid into a recently vacated opening mere seconds before another car entered the row behind them. “Good looking out, parking pirate.”

Erato’s smile was warm but confused. “I don’t know what that means.”

Tickled not to be the befuddled one for once, Kate squeezed Erato’s bare knee and gave her an affectionate kiss. “And that’s okay.” She opened the driver’s side door and got out, rising on her tiptoes to stretch her calves. Truthfully, it felt good to be out and about. People-watching seemed particularly appealing. She smiled at two women who walked by hand in hand. They both slowed to stare at Erato as she climbed out of the car, then brought their heads together to whisper and giggle under their breath. She had no doubt that her muse had just starred in the couple’s spontaneous, mutual sexual fantasy, a thought that thrilled her.