Jay worked at his desk with a fury possessing him that he'd never before known. The designs poured out of him, spreading themselves on the page before him like little miracles. With barely a second to breathe before the next one appeared, he had few chances to look at the work as he progressed at a manic pace, but occasionally he did, stunning himself with the power of the work.
The tap tap tap at the base of his skull, magnifying frustrations and heralding the impending doom of his own forthcoming madness, was nowhere to be seen. The work, or Sasha or both had eliminated them.
But he'd never felt such a surge of power in his life. It permeated his body, as if the muse or the god of creation was working through him, using him as a tool to cause a major transformation in the world. His muscles worked with his body, not in a rigid tense level of excitement but in a fluid way, melding in with his skeleton and his very soul to magically work and give life to the spirit of the work.
He'd never felt such a surge of creative power in his life. As thoughts of Sasha, standing up to him, demanding he address the issue of his mother poured through him, he would throb and harden, swelling in a sexual heat as if his body were reaching out of hers and wanting to claim it, even as he sat and worked.
He thought he heard the door behind him open at one point, but it gently closed again, leaving him amidst the fervour of this passion that gripped and sucked at him. Passion for Sasha mixed with the creative gush made him focus with intensity not caring nor knowing who else shared the world with him at that very moment.
Except of course, for Sasha.
He was intensely aware of her. He could feel her. His cells cried out for her as he worked, not with a longing as such but more with a demand for their joining, and insistence that they meld finally, refusing to resist the power of their bodies united in their desire to become one. He thought of her body, her backside, and those beautiful mounds he'd caught a glimpse of on that first day when he looked down her cleavage. At these moments his hardness would lurch and surge forward taking over his mind, insisting that he find her, kiss her, lick her, enter her consume her and make them one. The strength of need was more than lust. Jay couldn't be sure, but it even felt like it ran deeper than the creativity.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening again.
"Jay, the cloth your ordered arrived this afternoon, and I brought you food. You really should eat."
He turned around and it was Greg. He had the chefs prepared food on a tray. "We've all eaten," he said with a slight apology in his voice, "we didn't want to disturb you. But you've been at it nonstop now for hours, and I really think I need to encourage you to eat."
He set the tray down on Jay's desk, and Jay stood and walked over to it. It looked delicious. Suddenly he realised he was very hungry. Sitting down, he began to eat with a relish.
"Oh my god!"
Jay looked up to see Greg staring at the designs.
"Jay, this is your best work ever. My god, this is so beautiful."
He ran to Jay's work desk, and began to leaf through the discarded designs toppling off the desk on to the floor.
"My god Jay... oh my god... this work..."
Jay glanced up to see his friend going through all the sketches, first examining one and then the other, leafing through them. Jay recognised the look on Greg's face. He knew he had his friend on side with this line.
"I want to get her in here tonight to try some material over her. I think we need to look at it on the skin."
"Sure. Do you know its ten thirty? I mean she's still awake, but it's really late, and you didn't sleep last night."
"I don't care about sleep."
"Well that is really mucho, but it isn't going to help us if you virtually collapse after a few days. You need some rest. Promise you'll head off by at least midnight and then you can start again at five if you want. But you'll have had some rest."
"Sure mother. I promise."
Greg shuffled and looked at his feet.
"Um, speaking of mothers. What the fuck happened between you and Sasha this afternoon? She told me she'd made a complaint because your mother is doing her hocus pocus on her all the time, and you yelled at her?"
Jay flushed and turned quickly to his food, hoping Greg didn't notice. "Look, I don't know.
I feel really bad. I know I shouldn't have spoken to her like that But I flipped out because she caught me off guard. I didn't want her to see the room like this."
Greg looked around the walls at all the appealing pictures of Sasha. Jay caught him throw a sideways glance his way, but if he thought anything of it all, he didn't say anything. "Jay, we have to do something about your mother."
"My mother isn't going anywhere."
"I know, I know. But Sasha is right. She's obsessed with her. And collecting nail clippings and hair is just plain weird. Is there some way you can tell her to back off? Can she leave Sasha alone?"
"She's worried about me."
"Fuck Jay, we're all worried about you, but we're not trying to move in on someone else. I don't know your mother's plans for Sasha are, but I am telling you, she's acting weird around her, and Sasha is getting paranoid. It'll be bad for her lessons, bad for her preparation and bad for us."
Jay ate his food trying not to look nonplussed about the whole thing. He didn't want to cause a fight with Greg, and besides, in his heart he knew Greg was right. This was a big problem. His mother was difficult, and he'd already tried to get through to her. Greg didn't know what she had planned, but if he did -- he'd probably try to cancel the entire operation. Or insist his mother be committed.
Jay needed Greg, and he had a very complicated feeling deep in his belly, that he needed Sasha too.
"Ok." He relented. "I'll talk to mother and get her to ease up."
The tension in the room eased immediately. Jay looked up at Greg. "Can we get Sasha now? I want to see her in this cloth that arrived today."
"Sure. I'll go organise both. You eat!"
Sasha didn't know what to think of the way Jay had spoken to her. The only thing she knew for sure was that it didn't diminish any of her feelings for him. If anything, the conflict had intensified them.
It seemed so strange. She had no fear standing up to him, but that was her way. There were very few people who could really intimidate her. But the banter that went on between them had a spirit to it that calmed her once she's left and come to her room. It was as though no matter how ugly or difficult it got between them, she knew they could work through it together, understand each other's position and help each other out.
And he'd clearly been embarrassed. It took her about two hours after the fact to work that one out. It hit her like an apple falling from a tree. She suddenly thought about how it must look from his perspective to have her barge into his room and see that it was now converted into a virtual shrine to her. Sure he had to design and get the designs out of him somehow, but surely he didn't need all those sketches of her face, her smile and her hands. He must have felt vulnerable and exposed.
She wanted to take him in her arms and tell him not to worry, that she understood now, and that she was only sorry it took her a while to work it out.
She'd spent the afternoon in her room, flicking through he TV channels, waiting to be called upon. Greg warned her there would be times like this. She would go to her windows that looked over the entire floor below and look across toward Jay's room seeing the light on as the night approached, knowing that behind those drawn blinds he worked away, dedicated to making her beautiful and having the world see her as he saw her.
Sasha's only concern was that she could really fall for him. A man like this was so dangerous, because there was simply no replacement should it not work out.
She remembered walking home from babysitting and singing a song to herself, and thinking how in love she was. Back in those days, if she couldn't have Harrison Ford or Tom Cruise she was happy to settle for the weedy pimply guy up the road. Things were different now, and here she was face to face with the possibility of being with a guy that was every bit as hot a catch as any of her old teenage star struck crushes. There would be no replacement for this guy. If she allowed herself to attach to this fantasy guy, she'll fall terribly hard when the time came for him to let her loose- When his little fantasy fun time was over.
And it was still too hard to believe that this could ever be more than that. No matter how obsessed he may be with her at the moment, she was a muse, and she had no doubt he'd fallen like this for other muses, despite the strength and intensity of their connection. It was simply too much to imagine this would work out for any time of long term thing.
And besides, did she really want to be in any way connected with that mother for a long period of time?
Focusing on that woman helped her all afternoon temper her passion for Jay. She didn't know what the old woman was up to but she knew it was something.
Sasha glanced at her watch and wondered if she needed to watch another program. It was only nine thirty, and she knew that she had to remain ready in case she was called in. But it was now late, and she also knew she was obliged to get a good amount of sleep so that she could look beautiful in the morning.
She held the TV guide, but found the times and the shows swimming in front of her. What a strange day it had been. Lazily she thought back to the relaxing massage and pampering she'd received that morning, and she found herself wondering if it were going to be like that every time she went there for her facials and manicures. Each morning? Mmmm... the thought didn't bother her nearly as much now that she'd been thinking about Jay all afternoon.
