The Muse

The Second Session.

I actually care about what I wear today. I don't usually give a damn about what I wear to the studio, since much of it will be stained by paints and charcoal anyway. Normally, I opt for the basic jeans and t-shirt, but today I wear a skirt with a semi-decent blouse that I can afford to mess up. The skirt is shorter than what I usually wear and I have only ever worn it on nights out in hopes to catch someone's interest. Today I not only hope, but aim to catch someone's interest.

It's chilly outside, so I snuggly wrap myself in a jacket that hides my figure because there's nothing I love more than keeping my shape a surprise. I look forward to my model's reaction in particular.

When I make it to the studio, Alex is already there. He waits by the front door with a book in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"Hey," I call to him. "You're here early."

Alex looks up from his book and grins through a drag of his cigarette. "I got off work early."

That's bullshit and I know it, but I'm glad to see him nonetheless. I search my pockets for my keys, but I can feel his eyes on me. I pretend not to notice.

Once the door is open, he follows me inside and into the elevator like a dog.

"I came up with an idea for this project," I tell him. "Hades."

"Bless you," he says. "What's your idea?"

"I'll be painting you as Hades offering the pomegranate to Persephone."

Alex furrows his brow and shakes his head.

"You don't know the story?" I ask. I almost pity him.

"Not really," he says. "The names ring a bell, but my memory of Greek mythology is a bit rusty."

I smile weakly. I feel like a mother about to tell her child a bedtime story, but then I remember the story that I'm about to tell and it's far from any other bedtime story.

"Persephone was the goddess of spring," I begin. "Hades fell in love with her and took her from her garden so that she could stay in the Underworld with him. Then her mother, Demeter, found out about it and her sadness was so great that it brought winter to the world. Hades heard about what was happening and knew that he had to let Persephone go, but he didn't want to lose her, so he gave her a pomegranate to eat because he knew that anyone who ate or drank anything from the Underworld was bound to it forever. She ate three seeds from it, which bound her for three months of the year and that's why we have winter."

Alex is staring at me now. The smile creeping at the corner of his lips is different from the one I became familiar with yesterday.

"I'm pretty sure we have winter because of the tilt of the earth's axis," he says. "But I kinda like that version better."

I share his smile, holding his gaze for only a moment before we've made it to the studio floor. I shrug off my jacket within seconds of entering the door and hear a suppressed moan. Success!

"Shall we get started?" I ask. When I face him I notice him eyeing me and try not to bite my lip. He only nods and proceeds to undress.

Once Alex is naked, I instruct him to sit on a chair, wrapped in cloth with a ball in his left hand. The chair will be his throne, the cloth his toga and the ball the pomegranate offered freely to Persephone. When I give him these directions I see that wicked smile again and he jokingly asks me: "Does this make you Persephone?"

I don't answer. I don't want to give him any answers just yet.

Soon, my model is in place and I sit before him to sketch several different designs in my sketchbook before I'm satisfied enough to sketch one on canvas. Before long, I notice him studying me just as intently as I study him and for a while I say nothing about it, but at some point I have to say something. Anything.

"You're staring at me."

"Yeah," Alex says. "I am."

"Why?"

He shrugs. "Because it never occurred me to look anywhere else, because you're fucking sexy or because that skirt doesn't really leave much to the imagination."

I look down and find that my legs are further apart than I thought. Immediately, I cross them tightly and try to laugh to hide my embarrassment. Alex just smiles.

"It's okay," he says. "I don't mind."

My cheeks are warm again, but I don't hide it this time. I like the way he looks at me and I find myself wanting more.

"You really don't mind?" I ask. It might be a stupid question, but I'm curious.

Alex shakes his head. "I don't see why I should."

"Why not?"

"'Cause it's a nice view. Might as well enjoy it."

I like that answer, so I decide to reward him for it. I very slowly begin to uncross my legs, teasing him and watching his breath getting heavy.

"So," I begin. "Is that why you're staring at me? 'Cause you couldn't look anywhere else, 'cause you think I'm sexy or 'cause of my skirt?"

Alex watches intently. "I'm gonna go with all of the above."

I suppress my smile, wanting to keep the moment, as I reward him by parting my legs only a little further. "You really think I'm sexy, then?"

"Oh, fuck yes."

There's another answer I like. My legs are now far apart, exposing my panties to him. "I think you're sexy too, Alex."

Alex's breath is at its heaviest now. His smile has softened, but his cock is getting hard. I watch it grow and feel myself lubricate just knowing that it's growing for me. I did that to him. He's hard for me.

"Shit," he chuckles, but does not look the least bit guilty about his state.

"It's okay," I mimmic his earlier statement. "I don't mind."

He humours me, but he doesn't believe me, so I have to prove it. I lift the hem of my skirt so it's hiked up to my hips, slip my hand under the panties and touch myself for him. I'm already wet enough to gather my juices onto my fingertips and rub them in circles around my clit.

He groans in response. As if to give in, he drops the ball, takes his balls in his left hand, his cock in his right hand and starts to stroke. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Slowly, at first, but it doesn't take him long at all to pick up his speed.

"Take it off," he demands. His voice is already hoarse.

I happily obey and my skirt is on the floor, but he stops me before I can touch myself again.

"Panties too," he says. "I want to see your cunt."

So he has a dominant streak to him. I feel like we're playing a game. Two can play at this game.

I take my knickers off, but slowly. I want to torment him with this. His moans become more animalistic and he growls by the time my panties are down to my ankles. He curses under his breath once he sees the lower half of my body naked, my legs spread open on the stool and my fingers circling my clit for him.

It's not enough.

As I play with myself with one hand, I slowly unbutton my blouse, exposing my bra and cupping my breast. Alex picks up his pace and his moans become more erratic by the stroke. I feel myself getting closer just hearing his voice, remembering all the fantasies I've had since yesterday. Soon, my moans are just as erratic as his.

"Are you close, Helena?"

I can barely speak past my moaning, but I nod.

"I want to watch you come," he says. "Come for me."

I shut my eyes and it only takes a couple of calls of my name and a few more strokes around my clit before I do and I nearly break the windows with my screaming. The entire building might hear me, but I don't care. A full stream of curses fall out of my mouth as I come down from a strong orgasm, but when I open my eyes I see that he's stopped.

Alex lets go of his still hard cock, but there's a look of triumph in him that makes me feel more vulnerable and exposed than I already am.

"You didn't come," I remark, though barely able to catch my breath.

He shakes his head. "I don't want to come just yet."

"When do you want to come, then?"

He doesn't answer. He just smiles that wicked smile, covers himself and returns to his pose.

"You better put your skirt back on," he tells me. "That sketch isn't going to finish itself."

Strangely enough, I do as he tells me, though not without struggle. My legs are still weak as I slip my skirt and knickers back on. Once I have my breath and strength back, I force myself back to work, trying and failing to hide the heat in my face.

The rest of the session is quiet, but for the occasional glance and flirtatious comment. We say nothing of what's just happened between us. When it's over I have to bite my lip in order to say anything of it and I don't know why.

Once Alex is dressed again he asks if he can take a peek at the painting so far. Immediately, I cover the canvas with cloth.

"No," I say, probably too harshly. "Not yet."

He shrugs it off. "When you're ready, then?"

"Maybe."

He only nods and turns to leave.

"Do you want to go for a drink?"

The question just spills out of my mouth. It stops him, at least, but when he looks back at me there's another smile that I don't know how to feel about.

"I actually have plans tonight," he says. "But maybe some other time, if that's okay with you."

"Yeah, that's fine. When is a better time for you?"

"How about Friday?"

Friday is good. It feels a long way away, but Friday is good. I agree. "Friday, then."

Alex steps towards me before I can say anything else, kisses me softly on the cheek and whispers: "I'll see you tomorrow, Helena."

His voice is smoky and his breath hot against my skin. He's close. Too close. Just close enough. For a moment I think he's about to kiss my neck, but he doesn't. He just gives me that smile-that fucking smile-and walks away.

When he leaves I nearly lose my balance. My legs are still weak from what happened today. What the hell did happen today, anyway? More importantly, how does someone make a chaste kiss on the cheek seem sexier than any other kiss?

I need a drink. A strong one, to be exact. When I leave the studio I head straight for the jazz bar.

"What'll it be, love?" the bartender asks me.

I think for a moment. Today calls for something special.

"I'll have the pomegranate cocktail."