The Muse

Five hours later he had the entire story mapped out. All he needed now was to flesh-out his characters and paint the appropriate word pictures. He saved his file and pushed back from his desk. He was back; the creative juices were flowing again.

Realizing that it was nearly twelve o'clock, he approached the connecting door and would have opened it had he not remembered that he was no longer alone. Still dressed in only his bath robe, he retreated back into his bedroom and got dressed. Now he was ready to open the door; he wanted to tell Tiffany about his breakthrough, but she wasn't there.

He went back into the office, opened the sliding door, and went to the balcony rail and scanned the beach. He still didn't see her. Then he looked down. There she was, dressed in a Flyers jersey over a sweatshirt and a pair of black stretch-pants. It wasn't how she was dressed that fascinated him; it was what she was doing.

It looked like a slow motion ballet. Each movement was precise and flowed smoothly into the next. Kicks were mixed in with the arm movements. She went on for twenty minutes, mixing full speed movements in with slow motion. When she was finished, she stood with her hands on her knees and allowed her breathing to return to normal.

Not wishing to be seen, Jim returned to the kitchen, prepared a pot of coffee, and cut up a couple of bowlfuls of fruit. Ten minutes later Tiffany walked through the doorway.

"Oh, you're up. I went down to the beach for a while."

"I've been up since seven; I was working in my office. I've got the bones of a new story! Now comes the hard part, though: bringing it to life. I haven't been this close in four years. You must be a good omen for me."

The process of fleshing out the story started slowly and took on a life of its own. Instead of Jim sitting at his computer by himself working through each phase of the story and then having Tiffany edit his work separately, much like Erika had done. They sat together in his office, bouncing ideas off of each other, each making meaningful contributions to the story.

As time passed, Jim became more and more dependent on her presence, her input, and even their disagreements.

Most people work with the anticipation of the weekend; Jim endured the weekends with the anticipation of resuming their workweek. Tiffany became his drug of choice; and he was totally addicted.

For Jim, this became a personal dilemma. He was fighting his feelings for her. She was basically the same age as his daughter and even though it had been over five years since Erika had died, he just couldn't allow himself to fall in love with another woman.

It took three months, but together they did it, and in the end they had a manuscript that they were both proud of. After a lot of back and forth between Jim and his publisher, it was decided that the novel would be published under a new pen name, that of a woman. Jim insisted that the woman's name be Anne Tiffany.

The book came out at the beginning of summer and was quickly acclaimed a must "beach read". It rose steadily on the Best Sellers List, making it to number 3 by the end of August. To celebrate, Jim and Tiffany got dressed up and went out to a fancy restaurant in one of the hotels in Atlantic City. After a night of dinner and dancing, on the way back home, they decided that they didn't want the night to end.

"Why don't we walk the boardwalk, it's still pretty warm for the beginning of September."

Jim couldn't help feeling that he was the envy of every man they passed with Tiffany dressed in her little black dress, a shawl over her shoulders, clinging to his arm. Because she was still wearing heels, they walked the concrete pathway which had been built for the boardwalk tram. On more than one occasion they heard the five most annoying words heard on the boardwalk; 'Watch the Tram Car Please,' played by the driver instead of a horn.

It was nearly midnight when they decided that they had had enough and headed back towards their car. They had seen and heard a lot of motorcycles running up and down the streets but didn't know why until they saw a poster tacked up on a utility pole. This was the first day of the three day "Roar to the Shore" motorcycle rally. They had parked in a lot several blocks from the boardwalk, and as they walked past one of the many bars on the side streets away from the family oriented boardwalk, a group of maybe ten bikers was just coming out of one of the bars.

As best that Jim could tell they were mostly females, which was confirmed when he saw the backs of their jackets "Dykes on Bikes". As they passed the group someone called out, "Hey Sweet Cheeks". Jim and Tiffany ignored them and kept on walking. But she called out again,

"Hey Sweet Cheeks; where are you going in such a hurry?"

Tiffany turned and appraised the group. The one with the big mouth was apparently the leader of the gang.

"Not you, Honey. I was talking to him. You know, sometimes a girl likes a little steak once in a while for a change of pace. Although with you, we could make it Surf and Turf."

Jim tried to get Tiffany to ignore them and continue walking, but Tiffany couldn't resist a little snide remark of her own.

"That's okay, we're really not into whale blubber," she replied, an obvious reference to the woman's extra rolls of fat around her middle.

"Listen Bitch, if you know what's good for you you'd better shut the fuck up before someone comes over there and shoves her fist into that pretty face of yours."

"Anytime you want to try, be my guest, Lard Butt"

Three women separated themselves from the rest. The leader followed by two others slowly walked towards Tiffany. Tiffany shrugged, slipped off her shawl and her heels and handed them to Jim saying, "Please don't get involved; just keep walking towards the car, I'll be there soon."

Jim took her things and retreated a couple of steps, but had no intension of leaving her alone.

The leader threw the first punch, a hard roundhouse right, which Tiffany easily evaded. She did the same with the second and third punches, and then threw three lighting quick upper cuts to the woman's unprotected belly. The leader, gasping for air, bent over at the waist, providing an irresistible target. Tiffany's leg, raised high over her head, came crashing down heel first, on the side of her head. She pitched forward, landing face first on the sidewalk. She wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Shocked at first to see their leader so easily defeated, the other two charged at Tiffany. The first tried to grab her, Tiffany grabbed her right arm, dragged it across her body and hit the back of the elbow with a sharp blow, resulting in a loud crack, there was no doubt that the arm was broken from the way the woman screamed in pain; her right arm hung uselessly at her side. As the third attacker got in range, Tiffany hit her with three rapid kicks, moving up her body, first her stomach, stopping her dead in her tracks; the second to her chest, straightening her up; and the third, a devastating kick to her jaw, which knocked her out before she hit the sidewalk. All three kicks had been landed in a blink of an eye.

Jim just stood there stunned as Tiffany eyed the rest of the gang; an unspoken challenge was given. There were no takers. Tiffany turned and walked back to Jim taking her shoes and shawl back from him. They walked in silence back to their car. Jim drove, while Tiffany reached into the glove compartment for some tissues to wipe the blood that was dripping down her leg.

'Damn, I must have cut myself on one of those studs that were on the last one's vest."

"Do you want to go to the hospital?"

"No, it's just a scratch. I just don't want to get any blood on your car."

By the time they got up to the condo, the tissues were covered with spots of blood. Jim ushered her to the living room and onto the leather sofa. He had her sit while he went into the bathroom and got a wet washcloth and a first aid kit.

"Jim, it's nothing; I've cut myself, worse than this, shaving my legs."

"I don't care; we've got to get that cleaned and disinfected. Who knows what kind of germs were on that vest."

"OK; you're sweet. I'll just sit back and let you take care of it." Tiffany leaned back and enjoyed his pampering of her.

Jim knelt at her feet, placed her foot on top of his thigh, and carefully wiped the dried blood from around the wound, which was little more than a deep scratch. He pulled out a bottle of peroxide from the kit and a cotton ball and swabbed the wound. When the peroxide had evaporated he placed a band aid on the cut. Jim was so intent on what he was doing that he didn't feel Tiffany slide her foot from the top of his thigh to the inside near his crotch and begin to manipulate his already responding manhood.

"Jim, I'm getting a cramp in my thigh; please rub it for me."

Before he realized what he was doing he began to rub her thigh, one hand on the inside and one on the outside.

"That's almost it, a little higher; just a little higher. Oh yeah that's it; that feels so good."

All this time, her foot was working on his hardening erection. Jim's mind was now on overload as he tried to process all the sensations and emotions he was feeling as the tips of his fingers brushed up against her naked flesh. It seemed that she had forgotten to wear panties this evening. As he looked up into her eyes, he saw a young beautiful desirable woman; she saw a man wrestling with his conscience, trying to find a reason to deny himself the pleasure of being with a beautiful woman, a woman he was falling in love with. When he hesitated and pulled his hands away from her, she decided for him by placing her other leg over his shoulder and with it drawing his head closer to her essence.

"Kiss it, Jim; make me yours. Please, I can't wait any longer."

Like a moth to a flame, he allowed her to guide him where she wanted him to be; once there, he needed no more persuasion. He kissed her, taking in the aroma of her arousal; his tongue flicking at her extended clit, until she arched her back and her hips tilted forward in an attempt to maximize their contact. Her first climax hit her suddenly. She tossed her head back and screamed his name. When she couldn't take his continued assault any longer she gently eased him back onto his haunches with her foot. His face glistened with her moisture.

"Come, into my bedroom, now; I need you now."

Taking his hand, she practically dragged him into her bedroom. The bed was already turned down, the sliding glass door to the balcony was open, and the rhythmic sound of the crashing of waves on the shore provided the sound-track as they began to undress each other. He marveled at the smoothness of her skin, stretched tightly over her athletic body. Her breasts were small perfect orbs each topped with a rock-hard nipple, just begging to be sucked. The rest of her body was just as perfect; a flat stomach, long lean legs, and a butt you could hold onto forever.

As she unbuttoned his shirt and allowed it to drop to the floor, she ran her hands over his chest and abs. He wasn't a body-builder, but he was lean and hard, with no visible fat anywhere. Her hands trembled as she worked the button of his slacks, almost catching the zipper on the fabric before getting it down. His slacks dropped to the floor and, as he tried to step out of them, she gave him a gentle shove and he flopped backwards onto the bed. His briefs were the only article of clothes remaining, which she practically tore from his body.

Tiffany stood over him appraising his body; although twenty years her senior, he was very pleasing to the eye. She held his cock loosely in her hand, moving her hand slowly up and down. There was still plenty of room for her other hand as well. She leaned over and kissed its head. 'Later,' she thought; 'right now I want him to make love to me.'

Climbing onto the bed, she lay down next to him and pulled him onto herself. Their lips crushed together, tongues dueling for supremacy. Her hand slipped between their bodies and she guided him in between her lips.

He met little resistance as he entered her, marveling at how her moist heat surrounded and held him like a glove. Slowly at first, then with increasing desire, their love-making increased in intensity until the sounds of slapping skin and creaking bed-springs seemed to all but drown out the sound of the pounding surf. Her arms held him tightly as wave after wave of passion washed over her. Finally, five years of pent up sexual desire was released and they each screamed the other's name. Afterward, they held each other tightly, as if they were afraid that should they let go of the other what they were feeling would somehow slip away into the night.

When they had fully recovered, Jim rolled over onto his back, taking her with him.

"Tiffany Edwards, I love you so much. I didn't truly know how much until tonight. I'd get up and get down on my knees, but, after that, I'm not sure I could right now. Will you marry me?"

"Jim Stafford, I told you five years ago how much I wanted you. I couldn't come right out and say 'I love you' then because I was still a child. But I knew then that I'd find a way to get you to love me as much as I loved you. So yes, I will marry you."

Jim glanced at the clock on her night-stand; it was nearly two in the morning.

Tiffany followed his glance and, knowing what he was thinking, took his face in her hands and planted a toe-curling kiss on him.

"Don't even think about going to sleep yet. That was so good; I plan on having a second serving. I'll do all the work this time; you just have to lay back and enjoy. I guess my mother was right. It's best to have your first time with an older, more experienced man. She should have added a codicil to that statement, however; it's best to start before ten o'clock."

She slid back down his body until she was kneeling between his legs. Taking his now-flaccid cock in her hand, she slowly and skillfully worked him into her mouth. Before long she had him standing hard and proud, ready for action. Tiffany climbed back up his body until she was straddling him and eased herself down, engulfing him completely. She rode him slowly, savoring the stuffed feeling she was experiencing. She grasped his wrists and held them down behind his head as she caressed his lips with her extended nipples, while he tried to capture them. He was helpless to stop her. This was for her pleasure; his was only a byproduct of hers and he was fine with that.

She rode him hard until she could no longer hold off his climax. With a final moan of passion, they both came one last time before collapsing into a coma-like sleep.

The next morning, Jim woke up alone in her bed. He could hear her in the kitchen preparing breakfast. He also thought he could hear her talking to someone. At first he thought they had company, but when he peeked out from behind her door, he could tell that she was alone and that she was talking to herself. The talking stopped when she heard him walk into the room.

"Good morning sleepyhead, you ready for breakfast?"

"Good morning to you," he said as he gave her a hug and a kiss. "Who were you talking to?"

"Oh that, sometimes I talk to myself when I'm trying to solve a problem or analyze a situation. I find it easier for me to hear both sides of the issue. It's no big deal. I was trying to decide if I wanted to get married in a church or on the beach. For me the beach won out. How do you feel about that?"

"I'm good with the beach," he answered as he sat down to eat.

Later that evening Jim and Tiffany called his daughter and her best friend. The three-way call started as a friendly 'how's everything going' kind of call and then Jim told her that he and Tiffany were getting married. After a long moment of silence Kristin practically screamed out her congratulations.

"Well, am I going to call you Tiff, or Mom?" she asked laughing.

"You can't call me Mom, I'm younger than you, remember?"

Kristin's laughter increased as she said, "How about 'Evil Step-Mother'?"

"Don't make me come down there and put you over my knee," Tiffany warned, joining in the laughter.

"Speaking of coming down here, Matt and I have been living together for about a year now. We were thinking about making it official sometime soon. How would you feel about a double ceremony?

Then, all three said the same thing at the same time; "We were planning on a beach wedding."

After the laughter died down, Kristin continued, "We'll need some time to plan it, get everything booked and invitations out. How about a December wedding on the beach in Miami?"

______ ____________

The wedding was a small affair; less than fifty people in all. Tiffany insisted on paying for everything. She paid for the airplane tickets for her mother and her 'friend,' and for the rest of the "we five"; for Rose and her husband, for Jenny and her boyfriend, and for Faith and her partner. Matt had a small family, all of whom were Miami locals. A reception was held at the Palms Hotel; the wedding itself on their beach.

After the wedding Kristin and Matt took their honeymoon on a research cruise that was part of their on-going doctorate program. Tiffany and Jim left for two glorious weeks on the Happy Island of Aruba.

Epilogue:

Now that the honeymoon was over; it was time to get back to work. They fell right back into their usual writing routine; Jim at his computer, the beginning of a new novel forming in his mind as Tiff prepared breakfast, waiting patiently to help if needed. That first night, as he lay in bed totally exhausted after Tiffany had had her way with him until she could no longer get him hard again, he felt his eyes slowly closing.

'If she keeps this up she'll kill me for sure.'

"Wow, that was fantastic, you stud you." Then she threw a leg over his, her arm over his chest and pulled him into a tight embrace. The last thing he heard as he fell asleep was, "good night, pleasant dreams."

His next conscious thought occurred much later in the night. He suddenly found himself sitting on a concrete slab, his legs daggling over the edge. It was dark out, but the moon cast sufficient light for him to realize two things; out in the darkness he could see waves breaking towards the shoreline, and he was high above the beach. Startled, he began to scramble away from the edge. That's when he felt the hand grip his shoulder.

"Relax, Honey, there's nothing to fear. This is only a dream; it's all happening in your mind."

Turning, he saw that he was sitting next to his deceased wife, Erika.

"Just because it's all in my mind, doesn't make it any less real to me."

"What's the worst that could happen? If you fall, you'll just wake up."

"It just seems so real. What are you doing in my dream, and where are we?"

"The where is easy; we're up on the roof. I just love it up here at night, it's so restful. What I'm doing in your dream is a little harder to explain, but I'll do my best.

"Although technically this is your dream, I'm controlling everything that happens. Here on the other side, we call this a 'Dream-Scape'. Why I'm here is the important question. I'm here to clear up some things that are still troubling you.

"First of all, as far as Tiffany is concerned, I couldn't be happier for you both. She's a lovely person and you both deserve to be truly happy. By the way, in case she hasn't told you yet, I will. She can see spirits; in fact, all of the women on her mother's side of the family could see them. So don't think she's a little odd if you catch her from time to time seemingly talking to herself. She's probably talking to a ghost, just like she was talking to me that first morning after you finally allowed yourself to be happy again.

"After I died, it took a long time for me to understand that I was dead. I thought at first that you both were just ignoring me when I tried talking to you. When I finally understood that I was dead, I tried to figure out some way to let you both know that I was still here. There were times that both you and Kristin walked right through me. It was so frustrating. I wish it was like in that movie "Beetlejuice"; unfortunately, there is no such thing as a "Manual for the Recently Deceased", and I had to figure out everything on my own."