Taster Menu
The writer stared for several minutes at the computer screen, it's blank white page and surrounding icons waiting impatiently for his inspired musings. He reached for his glass of ChΓ’teauneuf-du-Pape and took a large sip.
Come on creative juices, start flowing
, he thought as he swallowed the red wine.
"What's up?" asked Laura. "Writer's block?"
He turned from the screen and regarded the eighteen year old sitting on his couch, dressed in her white crop top and grey knee length pleated skirt. Her lithe legs were folded beneath her. She brushed away her long blonde hair from her face and stared at him with electric blue eyes.
"When did you arrive, Laura?" he asked, and turned back to the blank screen.
"It's Lorna, I told you that already." she said, raising her eyes to the ceiling in annoyance. "Why don't you ever remember?"
"I don't recall agreeing to you changing your name." he said.
"Well I have, okay? It's Lorna."
"Whatever." he said while staring at the large monitor and it's cursor blinking it's regular drumbeat of impatience.
"Staring isn't going to get it done, you know?" said Laura, "You've been here before. Remember the tale of the...what was it called? That Chalmer Institute thing at Bentley Hall. That was a pig for you to write, wasn't it?"
"You weren't in that one Laura, so how would you know?" he responded without looking at her.
"Lorna!" She scoffed and walked over to him. "And why was that? Was I too pretty for such a gritty drama?"
She put her hands on his shoulders and massaged them.
"Oh you're tense." she said. He tilted his head from side to side and could hear the groans and creaks of cartilage in his neck.
He sighed. "It was a psychological mystery thriller involving sexual trauma and repressed memories. It's not your thing, you do the older man, younger woman stories, Lesbian awakenings, or the early masturbation and exhibitionist ones. It's why you have disproportionately large breasts."
Laura looked down at her chest straining against her tight, white crop top and cupped her breasts in her hands.
"I like my tits." she said, pouting.
"I know you do, and so do I, and so do many of our readers, but Bentley Hall wasn't your scene, sweetheart." He sipped more wine, closed his eyes for a second and then looked again at the screen. Still blank.
"Hey, you two." said Gloria, entering the room from the hallway, "What are you discussing?"
He turned to look at the middle aged woman standing beside Laura, barely coming to her shoulder in height but certainly exceeding the younger woman in breadth. She was wearing a knee length black dress with a low cut front that showed off her cleavage. She also had on stockings and suspenders.
"He's stuck." said Laura.
"Again?" asked Gloria, "Just like that Bentley Hall story?"
Laura nodded.
"Look, you two, I know you want to help, but you're not, okay? Can I please just work in silence?"
"Thought we were your muse?" said Laura.
"I think muse is singular." said Gloria, "Like 'a muse'"
"Amused?" said Laura, with a chuckle.
"No." said the writer, "Not fucking funny."
"Grumpy." said Gloria, and went and sat on the couch.
"So what stories have you got cooking?" asked Laura. "And which ones am I in?"
"And me!" called out Gloria.
The writer took a deep breath and turned away from the screen.
"Okay, since you've asked, though I can't guarantee either of you will be in any of them, I'll give you a little taster. You can tell me whether you think they're worth pursuing, though I reserve the right to totally ignore anything you say. Okay?"
Laura turned away from him and sat next to Gloria on the couch, gave her a long kiss on her lips and then rested her hand on the older woman's thigh.
"Fire away." she said.
"First of all, I have a sci-fi fantasy, time travel thriller, with lots of sex, set in Las Vegas. It's working title is:
Three Days in Sin City
"
"Ooooo.....will I understand any of that?" asked Gloria.
"I can do an American accent, y'all." said Laura.
"It is a complicated one. Our protagonist arrives from the future totally naked...."
"Like in the 'Terminator'?" asked Laura.
The writer wiped his hands over his eyes.
"Yes, well, in a way yes, it is a bit like the Terminator, but that's just a plot point. He has tattooed on his skin directions for the tasks he has to carry out to reach his ultimate goal."
"Memento." said Laura, and she nudged Gloria in the ribs, feeling pleased with herself for recognising the reference. Gloria ignored her.
"His goal is?" asked Gloria.
"To kill someone....someone important. A senator or maybe even a presidential candidate. That way he can change the future."
"And for that he has to be naked?" asked Gloria.
"Does he have a big cock?" asked Laura. "Silly me, of course he does. They all do." she said leaning back on the couch and letting her free hand stroke the inside of her own thigh.
"Can I continue?" asked the Writer.
"Please do." said Gloria.
"He's naked because he can't bring anything synthetic through the time travel thingamajig. Once here he has to locate the decomposed body..."
"Ewww gross." said Laura, "See? I can do American."
"...in the desert, of a man who lost everything in the casinos and killed himself. That way our guy gets some clothes."