The Muse

Part Five

After a long, slow boil banquet, developing into a primitive rite of carnal lust, our lovemaking was inspired that night, reflecting the beauty and intense obsession of those sketches I'd done. We lay there together on my living room floor, our bodies drenched in sweat, staring at the ceiling. I looked over at Josie and she had never looked better.

She was glowing, her pale skin radiating warmth and otherworldliness, her petite breasts pointed upwards, defying the laws of gravity. Her hair fell on the carpet in curls and her legs were spread ever so slightly, in a way only a woman who had been fucked by someone who loves her deeply would lie.

She looked like an Edvard Munch creation, and again, I wished I had my sketchbook handy. I'd remember the image for later, but the feeling might be lost. Our fingers intertwined.

"That won't be easily summarized," Josie said, turning over and reaching for my coat pocket to retrieve a cigarette. "Can I smoke in here?" she asked, a cigarette draped from her mouth like a French New Wave actress. I shrugged, sure.

"I didn't think you really smoked," I said, as she'd only ever done so with me.

"I don't. But when a woman has been taken like that... she needs something to bring herself back to her body," she explained, and it made sense. She lit up, took a drag and passed it to me.

"I'm trying to quit, actually," I mentioned.

"Let's make this your last packet, then, babe," she said. "You can focus your obsession, desire and physical cravings on your girlfriend."

I passed the cigarette back to her. She was right, I was completely distracted by her. Any minor withdrawal I felt was combated with a few puffs from Josie's vape pen, but soon enough, I never thought about tobacco again.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" I asked Josie.

"Lay around, screw, sleep, eat, sketch, screw," is that OK?" she replied lazily.

"You said screw twice."

"I like screwing," she said and we both laughed as our pulses began to return to normal. Josie tipped the cigarette ash into her open palm.

"It feels like our last day," I said.

"Yes, for this long weekend," but there will be others. Many, many others," she said, the smoke gathering around her in a picturesque fashion.

"I do have one errand I need to run, though. You can stay here and chill if you don't want to leave the apartment," I suggested.

"And spend one second away from you?" she said. "Not likely." She turned on her side towards me, finishing the cigarette. She got up, walked across the room and put it under the running water. Her slender nude body was a rare vision to behold, accentuated by my perspective from the floor.

She stood in the kitchen against the cabinets, looking at ease in her own skin, the sunlight from my large windows enveloping her, the only thing disturbing the gentle lines and curves was her black tumbling hair and soft, subtle dash of pubes guarding her magical box. I watched her.

"You know, Mike. I never would have stood like this without clothes on before you. Even if I was on my own, even if I was in my own bedroom with the door locked," she said, then looked at me and lifted one of her feet so that it rested on her knee. Even though we'd just made love a short time ago, this silent gesture of invitation caused a surge of electricity to course through me and I felt unbridled passion for her again.

I stood up and moved towards her. Her eyes were on me and she welcomed me into her arms as I stood before her. I felt her legs part for me, her tuft of hair and her wetness. My desire manifested in the form of a giant penis seeking to spread its seed in the fertile land of my lover's belly. She picked her ass up and sat on the counter, placing herself perfectly to be penetrated.

"I thought you needed an hour to recharge," Josie said excitedly as I entered her. It was a quick but intense fuck, unexpected and spontaneous. It didn't take me long to come inside her as our pleasure mixed in sensuality, welcoming and love. I felt Josie's body twitch and spasm as we experienced what many people considered a myth, the simultaneous orgasm.

I pulled out and held her around her tiny waist as I caught my breath. She hopped down from the counter and wrapped herself around me. "I belong to you," she said.

I looked at her. "We came together," I noted.

"Just like every other time you've come inside me," she said. "Then again, I think I'm just in one long orgasmic state when we're together. I wonder if I could bring myself to climax just by looking at you and feeling you near," she went on, fancifully. We kissed sweetly.

"Shower?" I suggested. She nodded and took my hand. We washed all the lust and sweat and sex and sin off our bodies and felt reborn, then went to bed for the night.

Josie caught up on her texting, but I was too removed from reality to care about any messages I might have.

"The girls want an update," she said.

"You could lie and say we didn't have sex today," I suggested.

"Well, I already filled them in on how you filled me in this morning," she said. "And about the pictures and the mall and everything. Let's see..." she said as if recalling the step by step events of tonight.

There had been a lot, including some cunnilingus on the fire escape, candle wax and screwing by an open window. I remembered her cries of lustful surrender echoing through the street below and into the evening air. This is not the kind of thing people did if they were themselves.

"We become other people when we fuck," Josie observed as if stealing the thoughts directly out of my head.

"I was thinking the same thing, with the fire escape and open window," I said.

"You possess me and my other self departs. It's like I'm witnessing myself being made love to from a distance sometimes, but all my senses feel everything, completely. It's like a trip, I would imagine. You ever done LSD?"

"Oh yes, in college and a few times since. I was never into partying or what other people considered fun, though. It was more about exploration and expansion. And listening to the Beatles," I laughed and Josie smiled. "The pied pipers of the first ever global youth movement," I pondered in awe. "Anyway, it's actually quite a lot like this weekend."

"OK, done," Josie said after a while. "This one got pretty Fellini-esque," she said.

"How the fuck do you know about Fellini?" I said, quite amazed at this girl.

"You mentioned him once or twice, and like everything you ever said to me, I made a note of it and looked it up later. I even know about Franz Kafka, Hildegarde Von Bingen, Syd Barrett, Anaïs Nin, the Venerable Bede, um... the Marquis De Sade, Aleister Crowley, Robert Johnson and what Machiavellianism means," she said with a laugh.

I just shook my head in disbelief as she handed me her phone.

The message to Jessica and Julie read: 'mutual massage, ball squeeze and cock denial. doggy cunny and ass play, curled angel, doggy fuck then doggy fuck laying down - his hand on my back and neck, ass in air. Submissive. Slow cowgirl, then reverse on floor. Dominant. Kitchen - grip, mish, eagle. Back of couch bent over from behind, candle wax on tits and belly at my insistence, pussy licking outside on fire escape, seated fuck on the window sill, window open. Neighbors probably called police. Perch. Crouching tiger, hidden dragon, finished with loving eye-to-eye magic mountain and something else the Kama Sutra never thought of. One hour long orgasm for me. Cum on my belly and curlies for my boy. Brief respite and a smoke. Fucked hard against counter in kitchen, impregnated goddess.'

"Wow," I said. That really does sound pretty great," I said. "We did all that? There are names for all those?"

"Yes, I looked them up. The internet is a resource."

"Most of this was spontaneous. I didn't realize we were actually ticking boxes," I said.

"You can tickle my box anytime, lover," Josie purred and cuddled up to me. I looked over at the clock. it was only ten but time had lost all meaning today.

Her phone 'pinged'. It was Jessica: '3 minute lackluster missionary, no orgasm for me 3/10', then Julie chimed in: 'no sex in a week. Flicked bean: actually pretty good 7/10.'

We both chuckled.

"It won't always be this way, Josie. I would die if we kept up this intensity and being this prolific," I said.

"I know, it's the nature of things," she said sagely.

"What the hell is 'curled angel', anyway?" I asked after a minute and we both laughed out loud.

We didn't do it again that night as I felt drained, but I did eat her pussy under the blankets as she tried to read Pride And Prejudice. Even if I'd reached my limit in my ability to fuck, my desire for her was infinite.

It was late Monday morning. Josie stood in the kitchen in an old oversized shirt of mine, entirely unbuttoned; cleavage, snatch and ass were wild and free. I encircled her in my arms from behind as she prepared some breakfast for us.

"This reminds me of the robe you wore in the kitchen that time," I said.

"Oh yes, during my subtle phase," she said, leaning her head back and kissing me. "Jessica insisted that if I wanted you to be the one to remove my lousy virginity, then I would need to step up my game. And she was right," she said.

"I noticed the clothes you bought yesterday, though. They were, um..."

"Less whoreish?" Josie interrupted me.

"Well, let's say more conservative, more classically stylish, more beautiful than..."

"Skanky?" Josie said.

"If you insist," I said and Josie turned around, pulling open her shirt to reveal her breasts. This was a sight I doubt I would ever grow accustomed to. I went hard and she smiled at me.

"I do. From now on, my inner slut, or outer slut maybe, is for you only, Michael Jones. The rest of the world can only look on and dream," she said and I felt even more fortunate than before, if that were possible.

We ate and Josie insisted on a quick fuck before we left the apartment; "I was getting spunk withdrawals," she had said. Then, as we reached my car outside and I drove off, she asked me where we were going. "And why'd you bring this?" she said, holding my sketchbook with all the pieces I'd done of her.

"I want to show these to someone, is that OK?" I said.

"As long as it's not my folks," she replied and stared off out of the window. I glanced over at her. She had on a long flowing light-yellow and green colored dress that radiated spring and freedom. It did very little to hide her curves but was feminine and lovely. She had on the sunglasses and the hat I'd bought her, which had a brim, which I thought was coquettish. She looked like a modern day princess at a garden party.

"A quick stop first," I said and parked. Taking her hand, we jogged into my favorite shop; the art supply emporium, a place I didn't visit frequently anymore due to stagnation, but that had all changed now.

"Get whatever you want," I said to Josie, and went about picking up everything I could think of: oils, watercolors, charcoals, pencils, brushes, paper, canvas, everything I needed to make a frame and stretch, preparation and cleaning solutions, a giant fabric tarp and finally, a sturdy easel. I'd had one in my younger days, but it had long since vanished.

"Want me to get you a beret too?" Josie said when she saw my stack. She was holding a sketchbook on high quality paper and some new pencils.

"Is that all you want?"

"Yes, love," she answered, and I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable by insisting she spend hundreds of dollars more of my money.

"We'll take all this please," I said and threw in a book about sketch techniques for Josie, the very same one I'd studied when I was her age, all those decades ago. We loaded everything into the trunk of my car and Josie kissed me as the sun hit my face. I felt free, rejuvenated, inspired. This girl had brought me back to life.

We drove over to a well-known gallery downtown and Josie looked at me, with a daunted expression on her face. "Here? Really?" she said, as I picked up my sketchbook from the back seat.

"Yes. I know art and I know these are something special. Plus, I know the owner," I said and we laughed and got out of the car. We went in and my friend Raphael greeted me with open arms as Josie flitted around the room like a butterfly in a flowerbed.

"Michael!" Raphael roared. "Absolutely wonderful to see you my old friend," he exclaimed, giving me an unnecessarily large hug. He was a larger than life character, of vaguely southern European descent, as big as bear and nearly completely bald. He was a shyster, a rogue and a scoundrel, but he was also a loyal man and he knew his business. I handed him my book.

He opened it and looked through, flipping through a few, then stopping to analyze others. When the first nude appeared, with my model looking down at her own naked breasts, he raised an eyebrow and looked at me. Others made him chuckle internally.

"These are wonderful," he said, "Absolutely stunning, Michael," he said. "This is brilliant work that leaps off the page. I can taste her, feel her," he said. I'd left the best till last and this one stopped him in his tracks. He took it and handed the rest back to me. He held it up and placed it against the wall.

"She is the madonna, an objet d'art, the sacred prostitute, the divine mother, the innocent child, both lover and downfall of man," he said and looked at me. Raphael's associate Tony came over and stood there nodding.

"It's biblical, Oedipal, but intimate, sensual," Tony said, then took the rest of my sketches from me.

Josie was observing from afar.

"This obsession, this creature, this entity, this visitation. You are in love with this girl, yes, Michael?" Raphael said as Tony poured over my work intently. I shrugged and shuffled my feet. Then he looked over at me, noticed Josie floating nearby, looked at her, then the picture, then back at her and back at me.

"Come here, girl," Raphael said, and Josie walked over slowly. She removed her sunglasses and hat, and shone like the sun. "Has this man been disturbing you?" he said and laughed, an odd sort of laugh that yielded very little sound.

"Oh, yes, sir," she said. "It is non-stop, all day every day. And he only wants the same thing. To sketch me," she said, and again, Raphael chuckled, then looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"I see," he said. "Now, child," he said. This was a European way of speaking that men used when referring to any female under the age of thirty-five.

"Josephine," she interrupted.

"Ah! Josephine! Quel beau prénom pour une si belle fille!" He carried on speaking French, then Italian, then a multi-Euro hybrid. Josie smiled and the room lit up. "What do you think of this, huh?" he asked her.

"I think this man has captured something from the beyond," she said in her usual poetic way.

"Yes!" Raphael shouted and stamped his foot. The building shook a little as the small handful of other patrons milling around looked over. "How long will it take for you to complete this series, Michael?" he asked me.

I saw Josie take a deep breath. Her eyes went wide and she looked at me. I'd shown Raphael my work before and he'd always been polite, but this was different.

"Tony!" He yelled, not realizing he was standing next to him. "Ah, yes, Tony. Fetch the schedule book," he said and then saw that Tony already had it. Raphael handed the picture to Josie and took the book from Tony. "Let me see now... Avril, Fauvist retrospective, Juillet, Août, ah!" he exclaimed again, shut the book with a slam and stamped his foot again. "Septembre, Michael, oui? Josephine, oui?"

I looked at Josie. That would give me four months to finish the work and create a cohesive collection. My first after fifteen years of creative drought. Was I up for this? Was I really this good?

"I want some larger pieces too, Michael. Something grand. Time to get your oils out again! With these as a prelude, an appetizer. But this," he said looking at the piece Josie was holding then gestured at her in general, "she is the center of it. Your Josephine."

I walked over to a cooler by the wall and poured myself a small cone of water, and drank it down. I had not foreseen this. I had expected kind words and encouragement, but not this frankly overwhelming, life changing occurrence.

"I will come to you both in two weeks and see how it is coming on, oui?" he said. "Then, if we are all happy, we sign contracts and move ahead. How do you feel about being a sensation, my darling?" he turned to Josie, but didn't wait for a response. He gave me another oversized hug, stroked Josie under the chin, then stormed off.

"Leave your number with Tony!" he yelled with his finger in the air, and was gone.

"Congratulations, Michael, really. This is very moving, extraordinary," Tony said and shook my hand. "And you are a remarkable young woman, I can tell," he said to Josie with a smile and another warm handshake for her. Tony was the glue that kept one of Raphael's feet on the ground. He took a few choice pieces, placed them on the floor and photographed them. They weren't all the ones I would have expected, and I was slightly mortified to see Josie's nip slip in the grass included. Another was more minimal, abstract.

"I will pass these around a little to drum up interest," he said. I was loath to be separated from my work, but I left them all with Tony, then Josie and I departed. We walked around the block where I knew there was a nice secluded park. I was in a daze.

When we got there. Josie sprung to life. She screamed, danced about, kissed me, jumped on me and screamed some more. I couldn't believe it. Did that really just happen? "It's all because of you," I said.

"You were supposed to change something in me, Michael, and by doing so, something inside you has awoken," she said, wise as ever on these matters. I looked at her, still in disbelief at her, and the effect she'd had on me.

"I don't understand what I see when I look at you, I can't describe you or articulate you, I can't express the feeling you give me when we're together, but somehow... it all came out on the page," I shook my head. "And your transformation... it's all there for the world to see. Are you OK with this?"

Josie smiled. "Of course, my darling," she said.

I was then pierced with horror, realizing I really had to deliver now. Had these pieces been a fluke? Could I reproduce it? It had been spontaneous, and now I had to recreate the flow and quicksilver madness of those works self-consciously. Could it be done? "Can I do it?" I said the last thought out loud.

Josie saw my doubt and reassured me. "I'll make sure you do," she said, and we walked back to the car holding hands.

"You know, Josie," I said. "If this happens..."

"When this happens," she corrected me.

"OK, when this happens, your parents will undoubtedly find out. Frank is no art expert but Emma has a keen eye. Even if we just tell them you sat for me, it's obvious what's going on. It's obvious that I've had you. About half-way through the series. And there's an obsessive eye, an intimate presence. It's full of love and desire and a hell of a lot more besides," I went on. "It'll be obvious that I love you."

Josie seemed unconcerned. "We'll figure it out," she said, skipping down the sidewalk. "Let's get ice-cream!" she said, but I couldn't quite shake the uncertainty. If I was to continue on at this level of work, and perhaps exceed it, all my inhibitions and doubt would need to evaporate.

I set up a workspace in my front room, a relatively large, open space with huge windows along one side. I laid out the tarpaulin on my living room carpet, which stretched from the bottom of the couch to the television and my wall of films. I put the easel in a place that felt right and set up all my supplies on a side table. I had spent the day, the day before, stretching canvases, something I hadn't done in a long time, but you know what they say about riding a bicycle.