Monday, September 3, 2012

The Muse Is Thy Master

The young lady spends several minutes walking along the beach, zig zagging this way and that, before finding what she feels to be the perfect spot to relax and get in touch with her inner self. She plops the chair at the edge of the shoreline and carefully sits down. She quickly unties her braid and after spending a few seconds shaking it loose, stretches out her legs, drops her shades and allows the ocean spray to caress her body and ticker her spirit.

As the spray coats her carmel skin, the sun beats down to gently break down her resistance and before long, she is dropping the back of the chair to full embrace the sun God.

A young man, dressed in bermuda shorts and down nip bottles of tequila, is staggering down the beach. Oblivious to his surroundings, he starts singing a few dirty songs at the top of his lungs, and a few minutes later spies a delectable looking woman about one hundred yards just off to his left.

With a spring in his step, he quickens his pace and in no time at all is standing next to what had t be the hottest looking babe he's ever seen. With the incessant hammer of "booty call" permeating his brain, he sits down next to the babe and taps her on the shoulder.

She turns and to his horror he recognizes her. Almost instantly he starts blubbering, but she quickly puts a finger to a his mouth. Flashing a ambiguous smile, she delivers a vicious open hand slap that sends him tumbling head over heels.

It takes him a few seconds to recover and when he does, he sees the young lady tapping his recently vacated spot. Reluctantly, he crawls back and gingerly takes a seat. He turns to speak but is instantly removed with another vicious slap to the head. Again after coming around, he reluctantly crawls back and sits down.

He turns to speak but thinks better of it and instead holds his tongue.

"I'm not happy with you," says the young lady in a voice dripping with anger.

"What do you mean?"

"Excuse me?" says the young lady as she sits up.

"Let me rephrase that. Why aren't you happy? You're working again, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I expected to be used in the same vein as your other stories. Not like this."

"Like what?"

She grabs hold of his neck and forcibly shoves him down in her lap. Squeezing his face, she repeats, "Not like this."

The young man looks and is horrified by what he sees staring back at him. Gulping hard, he reaches up to touch her face, but she grabs his wrist. Flashing a tight smile, she bends his wrist back while pulling him up at the same time.

She stares at him for a moment, then quietly asks, "What are you going to do about it?"

"About it?"

"Yes. What are you going to do about it?"

The young man pauses for a moment, then spins around until he is standing behind her. He gently removes her hand from his wrist, then kneels down and whispers, "Not a damn thing."

She turns around, locks eyes and says, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You needed to get back to work and I needed to write, so this is the best of both worlds. I have a story that is chomping at the bit and oozing out of my pen, and you have a starring role in it. What more could you ask for?"

She reaches up and embraces him. Caught off-guard, he goes to return the favor but suddenly finds himself being flipped over onto his ass. Before he can respond, the young lady tightens her grip and nuzzles his ear for a moment. After giving it a light nibble, which unnerved the young man, she answers his question.

"I could ask for respect. I could ask for to be treated in the manner that I'm accustomed to and deserve. I could ask for a story that better suits my talents." After that last sentence, the young lady stands up, drops the young man in the surf before sitting down and pinning his shoulders with her knees.

With the water crashing the beach at leisurely intervals, the young lady unties her bikini top and arches her back for a moment, before readjusting her position. She sits cross-legged in such a way that the young man's head is now resting semi-comfortably in her lap. For the next couple of minutes not a word is exchanged. The young lady, using the young man's waist as a prop, is busy taking an impromptu sunbath, while the young man, with a view that most others would die for, tries to wait out the impending shit storm that he finds himself in.

The young lady finally sits up, and after shaking some of the water off, puts her bikini top back on. She stretches out her legs for a moment, then stands up and returns to her chair. The young man waits for a minute, before getting up and walking over to the young lady. Squatting in front of her, he moves a few strands of hair out of her face and gives her a light kiss on the cheek.

She quietly nuzzles his face and gives him a light one as well. Smiling, he takes a seat next to her and for the next few minutes stares out at the horizon, letting the warm breeze and cool spray bathe his spirit. Eventually he comes to a decision, so after squeezing her neck for a moment, leans in and says very quietly, "I'll see what I can do."

She doesn't say anything but gives his thigh a gentle squeeze, before clearing her throat and shooing him away. the young man takes his leave and within a few minutes, disappears from the beach, leaving behind a thoroughly contented muse, who drops the back of her chair to work on her tan and gradually falls asleep.

When she wakes up.......

(c) 2012 by G.B. Miller. All rights reserved


  1. I sing to you, of the sweetest muse. And what a vicious little creature showed up. :)

  2. Charles: That be my muse alright.

    A mecurial creature that brings anyone who crosses her path, untold delightful suffering.

  3. An interesting POV indeed! I don't think I could write that much about the muse. Certainly not as creatively.

  4. M: Thanks.

    I have fun with my muse, 'cause my muse has everything that I really admire and appreciate in a woman.

    So whenever I need a break or more importantly, someone to point out things that I really don't like to talk about but need to talk about, I bring up my muse.

  5. Guess I need to go in search of a muse. Wait, my spouse is my muse and a mighty keen on at that:) Nuf sed.

  6. G.A.: There you go.

    You got your muse at the ready for all kinds of fun things. :D

  7. Wrestling at the beach with your muse, who can whip your butt... hope she leads you to a picnic at the beach next time!

  8. Snaggle: If I did, she probably find a way to whip my butt while I was eating lunch. :D


Originality. Is. Good. Be original. Be thoughtful. But most importantly, make me think.