A Lifelong Muse - Part 1

Part 1

For a trendy coffee shop, the place was actually pretty quiet. Not dead, by any means, but it had been easy enough to find somewhere a bit out of the way to sit, and the general level of noise was low enough to give a sense of privacy to a conversation whilst still letting a person hear their own damn thoughts.

Plus, I'd always quite liked the coffee itself, which was one reason I'd been happy to hear the woman sat across the table from me suggest here as a place to meet up.

The fact that this was business also meant that she was covering the tab on her expense account, which, though I could have easily afforded it, was a definite plus just on general principle.

Sitting back, I took a sip of my coffee as I waited for my companion to finish making her notes, letting myself appreciate the view a bit. I'm a guy, after all, and there was certainly nothing objectionable about the way the curvy brunette had turned herself out for our little chat. Hell, her even in the neat blue business suit she was wearing, it was easy for a guy to let himself imagine licking his way up those long legs and getting a good taste of what lay under her skirt...

Not that I was going to spend much effort on that little day dream. I'd had no real need to eye up a woman for years, even though I'd actually been given permission – in writing – to do so. The faint smile on my lips widened a bit as I recalled the rest of that permit's wording as well.

And if I ever find a girl willing to let you loose on her, honey, I'd be interested to see where it goes...

"Nearly done, Mark."

The woman's voice was as easy on the ears as the rest of her was on the eye, and the quick smile she flicked my way was definitely friendly enough. Maybe a bit too friendly, actually... and I wondered, not for the first time, if I was going to have to do some dodging later.

"No worries, Anna," I said back, shrugging easily. "I'm not exactly booked for the afternoon."

That got a light laugh, and she set her notepad back down on the table whilst giving her long hair an oh-so-casual flick back over her shoulder. "Good to know. Now, you were saying about the main character of your work? The way you speak about her, it almost sounds like she's a real person."

I smiled back, chuckling softly as I gave another shrug. The usual lie was already on the tip of my tongue, ready and waiting to be said out loud, and I simply let it out.

"Well, in a lot of ways, she is. It certainly feels like it at times, at least." I took another sip of coffee, then set the cup casually down on the table. "When you've been living with the same character for a couple of decades, they tend to feel quite... solid."

Not for the first time, I found myself thinking that what I'd just said wasn't all bullshit. She really had been with me for that long, and I'd long since given up trying to convince myself that she was only a figment of my imagination – even if she had first appeared when I was eight.

"I understand a lot of writers have a similar sentiment about their creations," Anna observed, and I nodded agreeably. "Perhaps less so with artists, though. Not that I'm going to complain – there's obviously something that lets you draw her with such a sense of... reality."

"I try," I laughed, and she smiled warmly back, leaning forward a bit to rest her elbows on the table. And, purely by coincidence I was sure, give me a good look straight down the front of her blouse.

"How did you come up with her?"

Picking up the cup again, I took another sip, looking thoughtful as I considered how to answer. Or giving the impression of it, at least. "I honestly couldn't say," I answered after a minute. "It all started when I was a kid, and I kind of grew up with the whole idea. Nailing down any specific part of the process is... well, tricky, to say the least."

My ninth birthday, the day she'd first kissed me on the cheek.

Halloween '97, when we'd gone out in public together for the first time – and only one of us had been in a costume.

New Years, when I was eleven, and I'd held her for hours as she cried over the way she always had to hide.

Christmas '03, the first time we properly kissed. And the day it finally hit me just how delightfully different girls really were.

Yeah, real hard to pick out specific things. Really.

"I guess that's one reason, or at least part of it, why it took so long for me to start drawing her the way most comic guys do their female characters."

I said it with an easy smile, and Anna nodded in something she probably thought was understanding. My estimation of just how much went up a moment later, though.

"I guess it must have felt kind of like putting pictures of your sister up in the locker room or something."

"Well," I managed, "Maybe not my sister, but..."

Chuckling, the brunette made another note or two, just like she had been all the way through the interview, and I tried not to think of the argument that had led to me finally agreeing to draw Maya that way.

It had taken another year and a half of nagging before I'd been broken down and done the sort of pictures she'd really been aiming for. Well, for anyone else to see, at any rate.

"What about the stories themselves," Anna asked. "You're unusual in that you write it all as well as draw, and I was curious as to where the ideas come from."

Listening to Maya talk about her work, but there was no way in hell I was going to say that.

"A hyperactive imagination?" I hazarded, getting another laugh, then I shrugged again. "I just write what seems to make sense. I've never claimed to know where in my head the ideas come from, though."

"No idea at all, Mark?"

I pretended to think it over for a few seconds, then shook my head. "Nope."

It was clear that she wasn't completely buying it, but the knowing little smile she gave me made it just as plain that she was drawing entirely the wrong – or right, depending on your point of view - idea of why I was dodging the question some.

"Fair enough," she said after a moment, sitting back in her chair and absently fiddling with the buttons of her suit jacket. She opened her mouth, about to say something more, when a musical chirp sounded from her bag, repeating itself as she aimed a frown in its direction. "Sorry," she muttered, but I just waved for her to deal with it, turning a bit to look out of the window and out at the street. It might not have been a huge amount of privacy, but it was the thought that counted.

A minute or so later, Anna sighed and stuck the phone back in her bag, a clearly annoyed look on her pretty face. "Apparently," she said sharply, "someone at the office has managed to completely screw up a project, and there's only one person who can fix it."

"Your turn to be the hero?" I asked, half joking, and getting a snort of nearly-laughter in return.

"Apparently," she said again, but this time with less obvious irritation. "I really am sorry, I know it was a pain to arrange everything for this interview to happen, and for something to blow up in the middle..."

"Hey, don't worry about it. We can finish up some other time. Or you can mail me any other questions you have, and I'll get answers back to you."

"I prefer to do it face to face," she said, and I tried not to let out a cynical snort when I heard it. I imagined she did, given that it gave her more chance to try and get her hands on the subject of her interview.

She had a bit of a reputation, after all...

"Like I said, no worries. We can sort something out."

The look she gave me was actually kind of grateful, as if I really was doing her a favour, but then her expression turned a bit more hesitant. "Uh, there was actually something else I was going to ask..."

Instead of saying anything, I simply waited, politely curious as I watched her trying to maintain her flirtily professional demeanour. Quite why she was having to, I had no idea...

"My son knows I'm meeting you today, and, well, I kind of promised him..."

The idea that she had a kid old enough for comic books was... surprising, to say the least. From her looks, I'd never have guessed she had enough years under her belt. Which, part of my brain pointed out, just meant that she must have started real early...

Managing not to let any of my thoughts show, I just nodded and laughed, setting my cup down yet again and sticking a hand into my pocket. A second or two of rummaging produced a pen, and I held it up, meeting Anna's slightly nervous gaze with a grin. For a long moment, the pair of us just looked at each other, then she let out an embarrassed giggle and stuck a hand into her bag.

Pretty much as I expected, she produced a copy of the latest issue of 'Confessions', and sure enough, filling half of the cover, was the very same 'character' we'd been discussing. Golden, cat-like eyes gazed out of the page, a sly smile on her lips and the vivid emerald green of her hair flowing in an invisible breeze. What skin showed under the sleek armour the drawn figure wore was a deep purple, and her whole pose managed to convey power, grace... and an ability to do things to a human body that occasionally defied imagination.

Not too shabby an attempt, I am proud to admit. Even if it does fall short of reality in a few regards.

"What's his name?" I asked her as I took the comic from her hand. "If I have time, I'll see if I can do up a custom sketch or something for when he meet up to finish this all off."

I'll admit, sometimes mothers can be rather enthusiastic about doing stuff for their kids, but from the look of eager gratitude on her face, you'd have thought I'd just offered her free orgasms for the next month...

---

I'll admit, I have no actual need to use the stairs up to my apartment. There's nothing wrong with the elevator, after all, but it was only a couple of floors... and the exercise was hardly unwelcome, given that my job mostly involved sitting on my ass.

The habit meant I wasn't even remotely out of breath when I reached the front door, even though I was carrying a pretty heavy bag in one hand. The question on my mind when I walked through the door, though, was less to do with my level of fitness and far more about whether I was going to be able to get the bag and its contents hidden before certain prying eyes spotted it...

"Braindead cocksucker! I hope you get ass-raped by a Timber Wolf!"

If you didn't listen to the words, the voice that echoed out from the lounge was musical, the exotic accent seemingly designed to send a tingling shiver down your spine. It conjured up images that were a long way from family friendly – or maybe that was just me – and never failed to make me feel good to be home.

Now, if only she'd stop screaming at the computer...

Since my arrival seemed to have gone unnoticed for now, I took the opportunity to quickly stash the bag in my closet, then headed for the lounge, dropping my jacket over the back of the couch as I walked past it. My attention was on Maya, though, sat hunched over the keyboard of the PC on the desk, eyes locked on the screen as her hands flew over the keyboard. The sound of explosions leaked out of the headset she wore, matching the flares of light that flashed on the monitor... and there was no way I couldn't smile as I watched her systematically destroying whichever poor bastard she'd caught in her virtual sights.

That comic cover had gotten the basics right, but there was no way I could make a drawing like that truly capture the jewel-like shimmer of her long, flowing hair. There was an air of restrained energy around her that no pen could ever capture – and the fact that she had apparently 'forgotten' to put on more than a pair of my boxers and a strappy tank top made it very easy indeed to see the almost iridescent shimmer that coated her amethyst skin.

And there really was a lot of that skin on display... which meant it was probably a good thing there was only voice chat available on the game she was playing.

"Yes, Gelf," she snapped testily, "I am well aware that they're trying to flank us. Try locking the bastards so I can hit them."

It was a source of wonder to me that I could listen for hours to her berating team-mates online, ordering them around with the assurance of a veteran battlefield commander, even though the focus she brought to the game meant that I might as well have not existed for as long as she was playing. That never bothered me, though. Not given the fact that the internet was the only real contact she had with the world outside the apartment.

Well, this world, at least. Her own was a whole other matter... which never failed to leave me wondering just why she was willing to spend so damn much time here, instead of somewhere she could... well, not be a freak.

Stepping up behind her, I waited to see if there was any sign she knew I was there, and sure enough there was a tiny flicker in the reflection of her face on the screen, her eyes shifting to meet mine for a split second before locking straight back onto what she was doing.

"They're trying to cap Gamma, if nobody's noticed."

I rested my hands on her shoulders, feeling the silky warmth of her skin as I leaned in to lay a soft kiss on the top of her head. The scent of her freshly-washed hair filled my nostrils as I breathed in, mingling with the scent that was purely her, and the familiar jolt ran through me, settling itself deep in my gut and reminding me yet again that no matter what, this was where I wanted to be.

Without a pause on what she was doing, or the stream of words coming out of her mouth and into the headset's mike, Maya shifted, straightening her back and settling her shoulders back so she was leaning against me just a bit. Without thinking about it, I let my hands drift across her skin, skimming down over her collar until my fingertips brushed against the fabric of her top. Her breathing pressed the swell of her breasts against my touch, and I was sorely tempted to go at least a little further... but also knew full well the terrible wrath that would descend upon me if I distracted her at the wrong moment.

Or what she liked to call "terrible wrath", at any rate. Somehow, being repeatedly poked with a pencil wasn't really the most horrific experience imaginable, which was the worst she'd bothered with for a while now.

A sharp hiss snapped out of her, a sound of triumph that matched the announcement flashing up on the screen. Apparently, her team had won, and I smiled at the way her voice changed, warming and offering congratulations to everyone she'd been ordering around. That only lasted a few seconds though, before she reached a hand up to hook around the back of my neck, pulling my head down as she tipped her own back. Our mouths met, surprisingly gently really, given the fierce way she'd been acting. She let out a happy little hum, biting ever so softly at my lip, and I finally slipped a hand under her top, letting my touch roam over the soft skin it found until I held her breast cupped in my hand, the tight nub of her nipple pressing against my palm.

"Hi honey," I breathed softly. "I'm home."

"I can see that, dumbass," she said softly back, but as I lifted my head I could see the humour gleaming in her golden eyes. It had taken a long time to learn to read that cat-like gaze, but it had definitely been worth it. "Planning on celebrating my glorious victory with me?" she asked dryly.

"Well, I was actually planning to go grab a couple of beers."

"Then let go of my tit and go do it," she said, swatting at my arm with a grin. I brushed my lips over the tip of her nose and straightened, grinning at the way she moved with me, almost as if she was trying to keep the feeling of my hands on her for that tiny bit longer. Which wasn't actually that far from the truth, really. Even after all this time, it sometimes felt like we simply couldn't get enough of each other's touch.

Hell, there'd been a time after I'd turned sixteen that my parents had been worried there was something wrong with me given how much time I seemed to spend in bed. If they'd known why, they might have been a lot less worried... or maybe not. A teenage boy spending as much time as possible in bed with a girl? Normal. Said girl being a purple-skinned otherworldy being? Not so normal.

I still wish they could have met her before they'd died, though.

By the time I came back into the lounge, Maya had shut down the PC and was laid on the couch. She scooted her feet out of the way so I could sit down, them laid them in my lap as I handed her one of the bottles.

"So," she asked cheerfully, "how was the interview?"

"The interview was fine. The interviewer..." I shrugged, taking a pull of my own beer. "Let's just say that if I'd wanted to, I suspect I'd have had a very energetic afternoon."

"Oh really?" Maya asked with an arch little grin. "Was she hot?"

"She has a kid old enough to read your adventures."

"Not answering the question, Marky-boy. I learned what MILF means the same time you did."

I chuckled, shaking my head at her playful tone, then shrugged. "Actually, yeah, she was pretty hot. Not that old, though."

I laid a hand on her bare leg, stroking her skin and watching the way the light seemed to dance over it. It was the tiny little scales that caused that effect, I knew, but it felt like normal human skin. It tasted like it, too. That much I recall from my teenage years.

That had been a... confused, I guess, time. Even more than normal, I mean. That time of life was never the most stable and straightforward, and the three years I'd been left seemingly on my own had been... tough. I hadn't been alone, of course. I still had my friends, my parents hadn't had their car accident yet, and everything was as normal as it could be for a boy the age I'd been at the time.

Apart from the fact that my best friend, the person I'd shared every part of my life with for more than half my life to that point, had been gone. And to make it even more fun, I'd been totally unable to tell a single soul what was wrong.

Was it any wonder I'd been a little screwed up back then?

"What's wrong?" Maya said softly, and her smile had faded when I glanced at her. "You were frowning. Problem?"

I shook my head, smiling as I took a swing of beer. "Just a thought. Nothing to worry about."

"You're sure?"

I nodded, giving her leg a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure. And if it was a worry, I can easily distract myself by thinking about the HF commission request I got this morning."

"Oh?" Maya asked, one eyebrow going up and her eyes themselves lighting up with mischief. "Tell me."

"I'm not entirely sure I want to..."

Which wasn't all that far from true, either. I still wasn't totally comfortable with drawing her that sort of way. And let's face it, some of the requests I'd gotten had been... weird.

"Excuse me?" Maya shot back with an impudent grin. "You're just the artist. I'm the one who has to model for this stuff."

"No," I said, soberly. "You don't. You never have."

She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again without a sound. Looking up at me, her smile faded somewhat again, and a far more serious look came over her face. "I know, Mark. I know. And you know that all you have to do is stop agreeing to draw it."

"Yeah," I sighed, then managed a chuckle. "Gotta admit, though, some of those commission requests have been... interesting."

Maya met my quiet laugh with one of her own, moving a leg so she could press her toes against the front of my pants – which was somewhat distracting, to say the least. "I think my favourite so far is the one where I get captured by the barbarian chief."

Continued in Part 2

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