Becoming His Muse, Part Two (9 page)

His words fall through the dilating pleasure of my coming, and it does feel like magic, as I open up to the cold night, supported by his warm, strong body and presence.

I give over to bliss, safe in his arms, completely oblivious to my surroundings, feeling only the shooting flares of delicious coming arcing through me, expanding brilliantly at first and then fading to a soft warming glow.

As rippling waves of satiated desire recede, he holds me, kissing me lightly on my cheek, my hair. He slides his hand out from under my sweater. He leaves his other hand in my jeans a little longer, holding me still and quiet. The pressure of his still hand is comforting, soothing, after my satisfied desire, but I know he’ll pull away soon. I feel his heartbeat against my back. I don’t want to move, but we need to. We’ve been gone longer than we intended and it’s chilly; our heat flared and burned and now it’s dispersing into the cold night. When I shift, trying to get my feet under me so they might effectively hold me up, he slides his hand, slowly, out of my jeans.

I turn to see him pulling something from his pocket. A handkerchief? I smile as he wipes his damp hand.

“Always prepared, are you?” I hear something I don’t like in my voice, a kind of veiled suspicion. Where did that come from?

Why did my mind immediately jump to him doing exactly this with other women in other places? Why, after the delicious pleasure he’s just given me, do I suddenly feel defensive and suspicious?

I don’t like my feeling of powerlessness, of him rejecting my urge to touch him, of him having such control of me. Of me not having any. Is he always in such control? With everybody? I think of the group of wannabe writers, mostly women, waiting for him in Mick’s. How each and every one of them would probably love to be in my shoes right now. In my jeans more like. Maybe they are. My jealousy flares.

“Are you fucking any of your groupies?”

Logan’s eyes widen, and then blaze with anger for a second. He gives me a hard appraising look. “Only with their minds.”

My stupid, blurted question has clearly pissed him off. I want to take it back. I feel like a petty insecure child.

“I’m sorry, Logan. I just…”

“Listen, Ava. You asked if I’m always prepared. The answer is no, because tonight I found myself without a condom, otherwise I might have fucked you doggy style against this planter. I would have liked that. But I wasn’t ‘prepared’. I am, however,
adaptable
. And I quite enjoyed this.”

“But you didn’t even…” I glance down at the front of his pants, at the remains of his erection.

“You energize me, Ava. You were damned sexy a few minutes ago, in your desperate desire for me.”

I feel a little embarrassed now. I was so hungry for him. I literally begged him to have sex with me.

“But the green monster comments dampen the flame,” he says, frowning. “It might give you a sense of control to feel jealous about a handful of writing students, but it looks ugly on you. Your real power over me— and that’s what this is about, isn’t it? Your sense of power? The power you want lies in your desire for me, and desire for its own sake, that place where you are vulnerable and
out of control
. You gave me something tonight, Ava. Something greater than an orgasm. I’m going to go back into that bar, say my goodbyes, go back to my room, and ejaculate on the page.
Figuratively
.”

I feel stupid now. He’s right. I ruined a perfectly sexy moment.

“I’m sorry I got jealous.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand jealousy. I know when it gets its teeth into you it doesn’t want to let go. But it kills things. Ruins them. The reassurances you want are words I can give you, but they’re just words in the end, promises. And promises, like rules, often end up getting broken.”

A sharp sadness lodges in my heart. Logan can be so warm one moment, so cold the next. But is it coldness, really? His words are true. I can’t argue with the truth. But I want to. I want to know he’s mine. All mine.

“At the moment, I can assure you of one thing, Ava,” he says. “All my condoms have your name on them.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Every foil packet has a tiny A-V-A written on it.”

“Seriously, you label your condoms?”

“Helps to keep me focused.” He winks, but I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. He adds, “I told you before, I favor quality over quantity. And no one around here compares to you, Ava.”

He leans in close, brushes his lips across my temples. “Does that make you feel better?”

I nod, feeling his soft lips move across my forehead. “I don’t want anybody else,” he says. “I want
you
.”

“I want you, too.”

He kisses my eyelids and the bridge of my nose. “We should go back. Everyone’s going to be wondering where we are.”

He’s right, Ruby could send out a search party any minute now.

“When can I see you again? I mean alone.
Naked
.”

I hear a little catch in his breath. I wrap my arms around him, pull him close, felt him stiffening again under his zipper.

“See what you can do to me?” he whispers.

“I can do more,” I say suggestively.

“Not tonight. I need to write.” I loosen my grip. I have to respect his need to create.

“Don’t you have early studio time?” he says, reminding my own creative priorities, which feel blurry when I’m in his presences.

I nod.

“Let’s go in,” he says, grabbing my hand.

“Probably not together though?”

“Good point.” He pulls out his smokes, taps one out, and sticks it between his lips. “You go in first.”

I pull the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and kiss him long and deep.

“I wish you’d quit that filthy habit,” I say.

He grabs my ass and squeezes. “Which one?”

I run my fingers lightly across his crotch feeling the outline of what I missed tonight. Then I walk into Mick’s, aware of all I gained.

The next morning on my way to the studio, I remember what Logan said about his condoms. Was he just joking?

Maybe I’d start carrying condoms with Logan’s name on them. That way, if we got caught up in a moment like the one outside of Mick’s again, at least I’d be prepared. I could print his initials, L and O. I wonder if he has a middle name? I wonder a lot of things about him now. I know he’s from New York City, grew up there, and not in the fancy parts. He’s the grandson of Irish immigrants, and I sense he had a tough childhood, a difficult relationship with his father, but other than that I know little about his roots and his family. I want to look at the photos in his office again, to ask him about those people, ask him about the things that matter to him.

Pushing through the art building doors, I remind myself that, right now, I have to focus on what matters to me. I have at least a dozen more paintings to complete before my February show, and half of those I haven’t even started yet. Soon it’ll be Thanksgiving and then Christmas and the New Year. This secret affair with Logan is proving to be both an inspiration and a distraction. On the one hand, my imagination and creativity has skyrocketed, on the other, I am so intoxicated by his taste and his touch, I’m thinking about him more than my studies.

As I turn down the hall to Studio 21, I see Jonathan up ahead. He’s leaning against the wall, looking tired. He doesn’t hear me coming but turns his head when I say,

“Hey. What are you doing here so early?”

“Ruby,” he says by way of explanation.

When I raise an eyebrow he adds, “She’s not feeling well. Sent me to cover for her.”

“Oh.” That changes my plans. I can’t work on Mad For You like I wanted.

“Is that a problem?” says Jonathan rubbing his eyes. He’d probably like to go back to bed.

“No, no. It’s great of you to fill in for her on short notice. Thank you. I’ll start a new painting with you.”

I unlock the studio door and flick on the lights. It’s cold in here. Might be mean for me to make Jonathan model nude.

“What’s up with Rube?” I say as I pull out a new canvas and my tackle box of paints and medium.

“She puked her guts out last night.”

“Oh damn. Yuck. That’s awful.”

“Yeah. It was too bad. After Mick’s we were totally getting along great and I thought, you know, there was this chance that we’d, you know… So we’re back in her room talking and then I lean over and kiss her and thank god she kisses me back but then she turns all green and pretty much barfs in my lap.”

“Gross. Poor Ruby. Poor you!”

“Yep, well. Them’s the breaks sometimes. We can’t
all
get lucky in the same night.”

I freeze for a moment, turn to look at Jonathan, who’s getting undressed despite the chill in the room.

“What are you talking about?” I say, feeling cagey. Does he know about Logan and me?

“Ruby went to the bathroom and said you weren’t there so when I went to take a leak, I popped outside for a sec and saw… well, didn’t
see
you exactly, more like heard you panting.” He breaks into a wide grin and starts chuckling.

I’m feeling a blush overtake me from head to toe.

“How did you know it was me?”

“Are you denying you were finger fucked by the illustrious Logan O’Shane?”

“No. Yes! I mean, no. Fuck, Jonathan. Did you tell anybody?”

He’s naked from the waist up and now working on undoing his pants.

“Just stop for a second,” I say, holding up one hand. I can’t talk about finger fucking with a naked friend. He stops with his fingers grazing his perfect abs and stares at me with this mischievous sexy smile.

“Don’t worry, you’re secret’s safe with me,” he says.

“You didn’t say anything to Ruby?”

“Nope. Though I don’t know why you’d keep it a secret from her.”

“I don’t want to, but it’s a secret from everyone. Or it
was
.”

“Look, you wanna play with fire, that’s your business. I don’t really know what all you girls see in the guy.” Jonathan drops his pants now and stands Greek-god-like in his boxers. He hops up onto the platform but I don’t even have my canvas on my easel yet.

Looking down on me, he says, “Though I damn well know why he wants to mess around with you, Ava. You sounded
hot
last night.” He gives me a long, cool stare and I feel a new blush rising for a very different reason. I give my head a shake. This is Jonathan, my best friend’s ex-boyfriend. I will him not to flirt with me.

“Ruby,” I say. “She’s okay?”

“Sleeping soundly with an empty stomach. I’ll check on her again after this. How do you want me?” He poses with his arms flexed, body-builder style. “Like this? Or this?”

He plays around on the platform as I set up and try to think about what I want to do with him this morning. Painting-wise. He’s got my mind swimming in all directions with his recent revelation that he heard me outside Mick’s. Did anyone else? It freaks me out to think that. But even more disturbing is this tiny flicker of excitement, of having been almost caught in public. I hear it’s not an uncommon fantasy, but I didn’t think it was one of mine. I just wanted Logan so much last night. Was that desire more piqued because I couldn’t have him to myself then? Because I had to steal a few moments in the dark outside? The more I think about it, the more arousing is the idea of seducing him in some other public place. But where? I’m feeling damp and tingly. I have to get my mind on my work.

Jonathan’s doing yoga poses now. Warrior 2 and Triangle pose. At least he’s keeping warm while I set up.

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? About last night?” I squeeze out generous amounts of Cadmium Red, Yellow Ochre, Titanium White and a touch of Ivory Black. I will be painting a lot of skin this morning.

“I can keep a secret, Ava. Don’t worry,” says Jonathan.

He slips out of his boxers now. I can’t help it; my breath catches.

“And if you ever need other forms of secret inspiration… Just let me know.”

He stretches out in a perfect half-reclined position, staring off into the distance in all his gorgeous glory. I rein in a few inappropriate thoughts and then I dip my brush in a gob of paint and get to work.

Jonathan’s right. I can’t keep a secret this big from Ruby.

After my classes I swing by her dorm room. She’s looking pale and in need of a hair wash.

“Hey, Ava, come on in.” She climbs back into her rumpled bed sheets. “Thanks for the visit. Jonathan just left. Hope it wasn’t too much of a surprise that he showed up this morning instead of me. But as you see, I’m a bit of a mess.”

“Crap about being sick. Can I get you anything? Ginger ale, saltines?”

She points to her tiny bar fridge. “Jonathan already took care of that.”

“Speaking of Jonathan, he was kind of weird this morning. Kind of flirty.”

Ruby shrugs. “He’s sexually frustrated. My fault I guess. I already told you I don’t care if you two hook up. You could ease each other’s frustrations.”

“Um, yeah. About that.” I need to tell her about Logan, but not right away. I have to put in a good word for Jonathan. It’s the least I can do. “Thing is, I think Jonathan thought you two might get back together last night.”

She smirks. “Turns out the idea of that literally turns my stomach.”

“Rubes, that’s awful.” I swat her duvet-covered knee.

“You know I don’t mean it. It was bad timing last night, but good timing too, I guess. It would complicate matters if we hooked up again.” She looks away for a second and then looks back with a sly grin. “I’m kind of seeing someone. But you can’t tell anyone!”

It’s as if she’s stolen my line. “Who?”

“This guy from my lit class, you know, the one I broke the Jonathan-seal with?”

“Him?”

“Not him. That was just a one-time thing. But he took me to this club that night and there was this bouncer who worked there and he was really cute and I ran into him at Subway the other day and we swapped numbers and, you know, we’re exploring some options…”

I swat her again. “That’s the most evasive euphemism I’ve heard from you in a long time.”

“Okay so we’re fucking each other’s brains out. There!”