Playing with My Muse
Good morning all! Here is the beginning of May's story. Let's see where we can take it! I can hardly wait to see what you all come up with:flowers:
He thrust his pulsating manhood into her waiting flesh.
Seriously? That’s the best he can come up with, Xena thought as she read the work in front of her. “I’m really slacking on my job,” she realized.
She glanced to the bed where her charge slept. His beautiful chestnut hair was ruffled with sleep. “Davis,” she whispered. His name tasted like the most exquisite chocolate as she said it.
Davis Sloane moaned slightly as he rolled into a different sleeping position.
Xena turned back to his latest romance novel. She looked to the sky and cursed her mother, the woman who thought it would be hilarious to make her daughter the muse to a male romance writer.
“Maybe this can be fixed,” Xena said as she scrolled through the work Davis had done that day. She would have to hurry so that he didn’t wake and find her at his computer, correcting the grievous errors he’d made.
But the more she looked at the words in front of her, the more she realised it was going to take some time to make this book ready for any round of edits, let alone ready to publish.
Then again, the way Xena saw things maybe it was a good thing if David woke up. Perhaps he'd find some inspiration by seeing her since his writing had been lacking for some time. He'd been missing deadline after deadline, and if he didn't get his act together his publishing company would soon fire him, Xena thought, as she brushed her fingers over the keys with barely a whisper so that the tapping sound didn't awaken the handsome man currently sleeping just a few short steps away.
Shortly upon starting to fix the many faults to his latest story, the words blurred. Some not even making sense to her at first.
But soon enough, Xena realised he was telling a real life story. Maybe something he'd heard or experienced, though if her charge had experienced it he didn't know how to express it because it didn't sound personal at all. She shrugged, thinking how would she know if it was personal for David or not. It wasn't as if she'd ever experienced anything like it either. Because if she had she would have died a happy woman since it seemed the hero of the story loved his woman very much.
Just as Xena was fixing yet another of her charge's mistakes, she hesitated when she heard the expensive silk sheets rustling behind her. For a moment, she didn't know whether to look behind her or not. Had David awakened having sensed an intruder at his computer?
However, she soon had her answer when she heard the gruff voice of her charge say, "What in the world do you think you're doing?"
Xena struggled to find her voice. Davis had the most amazing green eyes. She felt as if she were staring into the deepest depths of the pool her mother kept in The Land of Gods.
"I hate to repeat myself," he said, his voice husky with sleep.
"I'm fixing your story," she said softly.
"My story is perfect, thank you very much. Besides, who the hell are you? How did you get in here?"
"My name is Xena and I'm a muse."
"A muse? You have got to be kidding me. If you're a muse, I'm George Clooney."
Xena chuckled, "No, you're Davis Sloane, romance writer."
Davis rubbed his eyes and studied the voluptuous woman sitting at his computer. Was it possible she was telling the truth? Her auburn hair was alight as the sun hit her. Her crystalline blue eyes were lined with the thickest lashes. And that mouth, oh gods, he could come up with all sorts of things for her to do with that mouth.
"Okay, I'll bite. Your name is Xena and you are my muse. Why are you here?"
"I'm here to inspire you. Your stories lately have lacked a particular...shall we say, passion?"
Davis arched his eyebrow and looked at this beautiful woman, all sorts of passionate things playing through his mind.
Yet for some reason, he couldn't express those passionate things. It was as if his brain was in total meltdown, and he didn't know how to recover from it.
And it had been the way for as many months as Xena had said. He'd missed several deadlines because the words weren't coming as easily to him as they had in the past. All because of the death of a loved one. He missed her so much, it was as if he couldn't breath.
However, just looking at Xena gave him something to look forward to -- a second chance at happiness.
"And just how are you going to inspire me?" David asked, with a touch of huskiness in his voice. "Are you going to offer to show me some sugar?"
"Maybe. Then again maybe not." David's gaze roamed over her, and she couldn't help but bait him because she wanted him to want her like no other. "But I can assure you that if I allow you to touch me in an intimate way that I'll prove I'm not as sweet as the heroines in your book."
Xena's voice dropped to an octave, almost purring the words to inspire him to take her up on her offer.
Davis stood and walked toward Xena.
"Uh-uh, stud," she purred. "We've got some work to do first. You have got to fix this story."
Davis blinked as he stared at her ethereal beauty. "I don't know if I can," he admitted.
Xena smiled as her brain formulated a plan.
Davis notice her eyes twinkled as she tapped her fingernail against her front teeth. The blood flowed from his brain as he began to watch her lips move. Her lips were cherry-red and glistened as she ran her tongue over them.
Xena was describing her plan, but she got the impression Davis hadn't heard a word she said. "Hey!" she said, snapping her fingers in front of his face.
Davis blinked a couple of times, "I'm sorry. Were you saying something?"
Xena put her hands on her hips. "I have a plan to help you fix this epic mess of a story."
Davis was doubtful, but he had to listen to what she had to say. "Alright, let's hear it."
Xena took a deep breath, "For every thing you fix properly, I will remove a piece of my clothing. The trick is you have to fix it to my satisfaction."
Davis smiled wickedly, "And what happens after all of your clothes are removed?"
Xena whispered in his ear, "You're the writer. Figure it out."
Davis pulled out his chair and sat down in front of his computer, typing as if his life depended on it.