The Writer's Muse Ch. 01

I am totally stunned by the last offer and think about refusing it but cannot come up with a single valid reason why. I have always proof read my own books as my second wife refused to have anything to do with my writing efforts. My editors do it as part of the editorial process of comments and suggestions but I have never had an independent eye do it in the early stages. This actually is a godsend as rewrites after the editors have got their hands on a manuscript is a nightmare.

I send her out to get some new clothes and give her my credit card to do it. She protests loudly at first but then realises that it is safer than using her own accounts if they were being monitored. She returns with a new pair of jeans and other clothes but then proceeds to put on an old jumper of mine over the top of them!

Notwithstanding her excursion, our first day working together to get the bloody book finished goes like clockwork... cups of tea or coffee appear at regular intervals, sandwiches are made for lunch before we take a bracing walk, arm-in-arm, along the windswept promenade talking about everything and nothing before returning to do more of the same in the afternoon. I set her up with a draft copy of the book so-far on my tablet and she sits quietly reading it, making copious notes on a pad.

I look up at her from time-to-time and smile at the adorable sight of her curled up on the sofa in my thick jumper as she reads the book, sucking on her pen. Despite having new outfits she seems to like wearing my stuff and I'm not complaining. Every now and again she catches me looking and mock-glares at me and indicates that I should get back to work. I throw a salute and put my head down before glancing up to see her smiling back at me. She's a hard taskmaster but it is probably what I need and I certainly continue in the vein of energised and inspired writing that I have mined since I met her.

On some occasions when I look over she is pensively chewing her bottom lip, staring into space as she reflects on something important. On a few of these occasions she is actually staring right at me but not focusing and looks mightily embarrassed when she comes out of her reflective trance and realises I've been watching her. Maybe she will confide in me someday.

She lets me have a few hours off in the evening and we walk to the nearest pub for a couple of drinks and a bite to eat in front of a roaring fire. I'm dying to know what she thinks about the book but don't want to ask in case I seem like a needy child, eager for approval. Instead we talk about every other subject under the sun and I do glean a few insights into her life... an only child in a well-off family and her mother died when Chloe was quite young. Still nothing of any value about 'he' and why Chloe is so frightened and pensive.

Eventually we get around to talking about the book. She looks at me levelly.

"You know, you're quite a good writer when you put your mind to it."

My jaw is hanging open again in surprise to begin with, before I get angry.

"Who the fuck gives you the right...?"

She cuts across me and I see a flash of anger in her own dark eyes.

"George, don't get angry with me. Get angry with yourself."

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

She pauses and looks thoughtful.

"George, I didn't just start to proof-read the book this afternoon, I also looked you and your published works up on Google.. the critical reviews... interviews... things about your career as a journalist... and..."

She pauses as though trying to tread carefully through a minefield.

"... I would say you have... err... under-achieved."

I grip my hands tightly as I try to contain my temper.

"You sound just like my last wife... you could do so much better... if only you put your mind to it... well you can fuck right off."

I glare angrily at her and get up to leave but Chloe grabs my sleeve and looks pleadingly at me.

"George... stop... I'm not trying to make you mad or remind you of your wife...but maybe there's truth in what she said. Just because it came from someone you don't like, doesn't make it wrong... "

She tries a winsome, pretty-please smile.

"... and you do like me don't you? If you let me explain my thoughts you might understand what I'm saying. Please sit down... I'd hate for you to be angry at me."

The cute pout is too much and by now I realise she can wrap me around her little finger and slump back in my chair... still glowering at her just to let her know I'm not yet ready to be a pussycat about this.

"Just so you know, I think you... and she... are bang out of order on this, but say your piece."

She sighs with relief and then smiles and keeps her gaze locked with mine.

"It's almost like there are two writers inside you... one bang ordinary and the other exceptional."

She waits to see if I respond to that but I just keep looking at her... knowing full-well where this is going but am very surprised that she has picked up on it so quickly. For somebody so young she is very astute.

"I read some of the early chapters today and couldn't work out why some of it was rubbish and some it was really good. The good stuff flowed, it made sense, I understood it and was engaged with it, I wanted to read the next bit to find out more. However, the not-so-good stuff... I skipped paragraphs... read one word in 3 at the most... it bored me. Then I looked at the dates and realised that the stuff you have just written was the good stuff and the older stuff was not so good. But... the stuff you wrote 2 or 3 days ago was even worse!"

She stops and looks at me to gauge my reaction but I can't look at her and turn away. She reaches out to grab my hand and tugs insistently and I look back at her to meet her enquiring gaze. I realise she really wants to know and hasn't already made up her mind. An open mind? She is one in a million, this one.

"Why is that George? Why is today and yesterday really good, but two days ago was piss poor?"

I weigh my answer for a little while but her eyes never leave mine as I ponder my answer. I see interest, support, affection... dare I say, love... in her gaze. I grimace and shrug.

"Inspiration my dear Chloe. Inspiration! Or the lack of it... until now... until the last few days..."

I reach over and grab her hands in mine and look at her with a smile... one of gratitude and my own measure of love and affection.

"... when you came into my life. You have given me inspiration... although you have nothing to do with the subject your mere presence has enabled me to write stuff that makes even my jaded mindset thinks is good."

I sit back and we continue to look at each other and I can see her mischievous smile playing around her eyes and mouth.

"I'd better hang around then. You've got pretty much the whole book to re-write."

I mock-glare at her but nod in acquiescence and she grips my hands fiercely as her whole face is suffused with impish happiness.

She holds my hand as we walk back to the flat. It seems like the most natural thing in the world.

Chapter 8

Taking the role of my writing manager she suggests that working until the early hours might end up being counter-productive and that I should have an early night. She tells me that she will take the couch and blushes furiously when I tell her that I won't hear of it and that we will share the bed. I spin it that I would not be able to sleep if I was worried about her when I'm really looking forward to feeling the warmth and scent of her sleepy body next to mine.

We return to the flat and I recognise that I am actually quite tired.. the lack of sleep from the night before plus the brain energy expended on high quality writing has taken its' toll and we're in bed by 10pm. This time I get in first and am lying on my back when Chloe, wearing my T shirt again, follows, turning off the bed side light as she slips under the duvet. She immediately crawls over into the crook of my arm and lays her head on my shoulder as my arm reflexively pulls her tighter to me. I am aware of her flinching and realise that I didn't put any cream on her bruises this morning.

"Hey, we need to do your bruises. Roll on your tummy and pull the T shirt up. I'll go and get the cream. It's OK as I can do it in the dark so won't be able to see anything."

She giggles as I get out of bed.

"I keep telling you there's nothing to see."

"Your arse looked pretty good this morning!"

"What! You were perving on my bum. You dirty old man!"

Ouch! Well that cools my ardour somewhat although she does try to soothe my ruffled feathers by saying I'm not old and she was just teasing and can I ever forgive her? She giggles when I give a grudging harrumph.

I retrieve the tube of cream from the bathroom and go back to the bedroom. The light from the hallway illuminates Chloe's body on the bed and I see she is clad only in her unflattering large knickers which cover her pert bottom. I can see no hint of side-boob as she has her arms by her sides. I turn out the hall light and the bedroom is now in darkness except for the diffused street light through the thick curtains. As I straddle the tops of her thighs I know that my erection will grow if I rest it anywhere near her bum but she complains that I'm too heavy on her legs and asks me to move higher. I'm sure I hear a teasing giggle in her voice.

As night follows day my cock expands with the feel of her buttocks against my groin so I try to keep my hips elevated as I gently apply the salve to her back. I hear gentle moans of pleasure as the cool cream soothes her tortured back which just adds to the rigidity of my rampant cock. Once I have finished, she kneels up from the bed to put her T shirt back on as I lie down. In doing so I catch a glimpse a silhouette of the most beautiful breast in profile against the street light... a gentle slope down to an upturned nipple and then the effect of gravity rounding the weight back to her chest. Not very big, but very sexy. My breath catches in my throat at the sight and I sense her head turning towards me as it emerges from the neck of the shirt but she says nothing.

I try to lie on my side away from her to hide my fully erect cock but she asks me to lay on my back again so I roll over. She lifts my arm out of the way and slides back against my side and I carefully drape that arm over her back, trying not to touch her bum... much as I want to. I can feel her lovely small boob pressing against my side and I'm praying that the hand she rests on stomach does not move any further south, as I'm sure the head of my cock has escaped the confines of my boxers.

I hear her quiet whisper.

"You're a very cuddly man, George Reynolds. that's another thing I like about you."

I give her a gentle squeeze and kiss the top if her head.

"You're quite a good cuddler yourself. I miss having someone to hold at night."

I feel her lift her head from my shoulder and look at my face in the dark.

"You miss cuddling your wife, or just having someone to cuddle?"

"The latter... but that's only part of it. She actually didn't like cuddling me as I made her too hot. No, I miss having someone to share my life with... including sharing my bed."

I can sense her still looking at me and I hear a hint of laughter in her voice.

"So, you've not been... umm.. getting any for a while?"

I choke as the smutty question makes me snort as I was breathing in. I recover my composure.

"If you put it like that... then... no. Not for a good long while."

"I'm sure that's probably not good for your creativity so I think I need to take you in hand..."

With that she slides the hand resting on my stomach down to deftly stroke my rigid member all the way along its' length and I gasp in surprise and lust.

"Chloe... no... sweetheart... you don't... oh fuckkk..."

Her hand traverses my length back to the head and I feel her fingers encircle the glans which has escaped the waist-band of my underpants. She gently wanks the sensitive crown and I groan some more in delight but move my hand to grasp her wrist to stop her. She continues to squeeze my rampant erection in her fingers and won't let go.

"Shh... George... just enjoy it... I owe you so much and I really want to make you happy... just think... your writing will be off the scale tomorrow with all those endorphins flooding your brain... now come on lift your bum so I can get your boxers off and get to this big boy... he feels lovely."

She continues to gently stroke the head and any resolve to resist vanishes. I feel that my orgasm is not far away as I seem to have been edging for the last 24 hours without relief. I lift my hips and she quickly pulls my boxers down to mid-thigh before her hand returns to lovingly stroke my bone-hard penis from the crown to my balls. Unfortunately my underpants are preventing me from spreading my thighs so she can have full access to my balls. She tuts in annoyance and twists around to slip under the duvet to free my legs before I feel one hand gently cradling my testicles as the other slides smoothly up my shaft, twisting around my girth as it does. Her face is near my groin and I can feel her breath on the exposed head as she pulls the foreskin back on the downward stroke and I groan at the sensation and also the vision of her sexy mouth so close to my needy cock head.

Seconds later it is no longer necessary to imagine it as her lips wrap softly around the crown and her tongue flutters across under side of the head. I groan in pleasure as her hands continue to slowly masturbate me and I know I am only seconds away from exploding into her mouth. I want to give her some pleasure too and reach out a hand to caress her buttocks which, due to her reversed position, are now near my shoulders. Her body goes rigid when I touch her hip before sliding onto the firm globe of her bum and she lifts her head and her voice is panicked.

"No, George! Please! Don't touch me there... Please... No!"

It is too late and the events unfold in slow motion.

My fingers traverse down between the cheeks of her knickers-clad bum as she tries to wiggle her body away from my touch but the constraints of the duvet prevents her from moving too far or fast. Her movements cause my hand to slip further across her bum as she continues to plead with me to stop touching her as she frantically thrashes about to try and get out from under the duvet. She has not relinquished her grip on my cock and I roar out my orgasm as my hand continues to slide inexorably down her perineum and comes to rest... on a pair of testicles... and despite my explosive climax, the realisation hits home...

'Fuck! She's a boy!' She's a beautiful, sexy boy!

I'm too far gone to hold back on coming and if anything, the knowledge that she is a man seems to accentuate my sexual high and my hip thrusts into Chloe's hand become stronger as I absently cup her balls through her knickers and my semen jets... who knows where.

Chapter 9

I knock on the bathroom door for the umpteenth time.

"Come on Chloe, sweetheart. You can't stay in there forever. Come out and let's talk. If you're worried that I'm going to hurt you... I'm not... I promise."

I can hear her sobbing unconsolably inside as she has been for the last 5 minutes after she fled from the bedroom. She seems to think I'm going to beat her up as the only thing she has said was 'I am sorry... please don't hit me' as she ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

I try another tack.

"Chloe, you've only got a T shirt on so will get cold. At least open the door so I can give you the dressing gown."

This seems to generate even more crying so I slump down with my back to the door. The lock is only a thumb-key and I can actually open it from the outside but I'm worried that she'll get even more upset if I do that.

I try to collect my own thoughts about the import of the momentous revelation that Chloe is, or was, a man. I have already realised that she's pre-op Trans as the fact that she has boobs and her mannerisms are feminine and the way she dresses would definitely indicate she's not a bloke.

Does it bother me that she used to be male?

Maybe, but that's more to do with the fact she didn't tell me... she didn't trust me... but then I do know that someone has hurt her very badly and that's a very good reason not to trust.

But surely she must have realised that I would find out in the end. FFS! We were sleeping in the same bed.

Yes, and she was hiding her own erection this morning and I felt it when she cuddled me so that wasn't very bright on her part.

Yes, but does it bother me that she has a cock?

Umm... no not really. I liked her as a person before that. I'm still referring to 'her' as 'she' not 'he' in my head.

I think she needs to know that.

I knock on the door again.

"Err... Chloe... Please come out. I know you are Transgender and it doesn't bother me. I wished you had told me before but I understand why you didn't... I liked you as Chloe before I knew and I still like you as Chloe after. You know I'm not like whoever hurt you so please trust me when I say I won't do that. Goody Two-shoes do not hurt beautiful, sexy transgender girls."

I hear movement in the bathroom and certainly she seems to have stopped crying. Her voice is croaky and weak.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you George. I wanted to but somehow there was never a right time and once we started sharing the bed I worried that you would find out and get cross and... well... it's called Trans Panic... where straight guys beat up Trans girls if they think they've been duped..."

"Is that what... 'he' did?"

She is quiet for a second and her voice says she is near to tears again.

"Yes... but there were other reasons."

"That's OK, sweetheart. You don't have to relive it now. Can I come in... I can unlock it from here..."

I hear the lock turn and scramble away from the door to give her space so she doesn't feel threatened. The door opens slowly and she peers around the edge and I smile at her and hold my arms open wide. She gives a strangled sob before stepping forward so I can fold her into a cuddle, kissing the top of her head as she mumbles her apologies through her tears against my chest with her own arms wrapped tightly around my back.

We stand for a long time like that. There is no hurry on either part to break the emotional bond created by that hug. Eventually she relaxes and bends her neck to look up at me with a nervous smile.

"George, you are a lovely man but I would understand if you wanted me to leave...

I stop her by kissing her on the lips and she squeaks in surprise allowing my tongue to slip into her open mouth and tenderly entwine with her own. This had not been my original intention but we gently make out for a few seconds, moaning into each other's mouths.

Eventually we break apart and I look down at her.

"Chloe, you are going nowhere as I need you to help me finish this bloody book."

Her eyes are alive with hope and delight while she grins cheekily.

"Yes... Daddy!"

I lightly swat her bum.

Cheeky mare!"

"Owww, you said you wouldn't hurt me.

I'm tempted to say something like 'if you think that hurt let me show you what a good spanking feels like' when I realise that it is totally inappropriate after what she has been through. I am flustered and blush before she giggles at my discomfort.

"You're so sweet when you blush. You seem to do it a lot around me."

I raise an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah, funny that... now come on let's get back to bed... we've got a lot of writing to do tomorrow."

She has a shocked look on her face.