My breath stilled in my chest.“It changes me, too,” I said.“I mean, I think it’s in a good way.I’ve never written anything like this book before.My writing has never been this honest, this unhidden.It’s like I’m seeing everything in a new light.Like I have this new relationship to writing where I can spill out my thoughts directly onto the paper and there they are.Like… everything looks different to me now.If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”
I stopped speaking.Aster had risen from the high-backed walnut chair by the desk and started walking toward me slowly.The way he stood in front of me brought me back to the first time I saw him, how he looked like he could have been a statue from antiquity brought to life.
He sat next to me after that, in a moment of silence.He leaned forward and clasped his hands together between his knees in deep thought.You are certain that my feedback helps you?he asked.
“If you gave me feedback, I’m certain it would.”
And that we can create something good together?
“Not just good.Something… powerful.”
Then maybe—maybe there’s a greater good?—
He looked back up at me.His pupils were dilated with excitement and anxiety and hunger.He looped his fingers around one strap of my tank top and the bra strap beneath, and he pulled them from over my shoulder.
I sucked in my breath.This was one turn I had never anticipated.My adrenaline kicked in at once, and my thoughts began to race.Suddenly I felt exposed before him, opened up and vulnerable.If he could do this to my body, then he could do the same to my soul.He could unveil me and unwrap me like a Christmas present until all I had was bare before him.
Aster looked up.I can stop if you want.
“Keep going,” I said.
He lowered the other strap and paused for a moment, studying my shoulders bare for the first time.I began to sense how the rest of the night would play out, and it seemed better than anything I could dream.Even so it felt surreal.I remembered how dreamlike he seemed when we first met, back before I knew if he even existed on the physical plane.
“Aster?”I said as he examined me.“Where did you come from?From me, or were you around before?”
He blinked a few times, and his lashes appeared thicker than I remembered.Then he helped me to my feet, and he caressed my bare shoulders with his fingers.I’ve been around since the dawn of humanity.I’ve worked with many artists before now.But I’ve never been the way you see me until you thought of it.That’s how we are as muses.One life, many incarnations.Very old and very young at the same time.
Then he kissed the tip of my nose and stepped back.
A breeze caught me through the window.Darkness had fallen outside, but I hadn’t thought to pull down the curtains.Right now I enjoyed the feeling of being so close to the open darkness of night.
“I’d like to hear about it,” I said.
Aster nodded, but I didn’t know if he heard my words or only my voice.Do you mind?
I didn’t need to ask him to explain his request.He liked the curved slope of my shoulders, and he wanted to see more of me.Nothing about his desire felt wrong or shameful or even out of place.It was like a photographer asking me to stand a little further to the right or a doctor asking me to stick out my tongue.
I started with my tank top.The air felt cool, brisk, around my shoulders, and it lacked the humidity often present this time of year.Then I pulled off my shorts.There was less than ever between me and Aster, and my heart pounded when I wondered what he would ask for next.
For several seconds Aster stood transfixed with an expression of intense concentration—brows lowered, valleys creasing the space between his eyes.He squeezed his hands together, and his knuckles turned white.
“Is it all right?”
His eyes traced a line from my toes to my face.Stella, you’re beautiful.I said that when we first met, and I still mean it.I could look at you all night and I’d never tire of the sight.
I bit my lip.“Should I remove more?”
Please do… if it’s not too much to ask.
I adored that even now he retained a sense of propriety about him.He could not forget the nature of his being, not for one moment, not if the two of us were the only survivors left in the world.He wanted to be professional, polite, detached.But I had a power over him.I was the one who made him forget himself, who made him lose control.Later, I would look back on this moment and not know for sure whether to laugh or cry at the memory.
Keeping my eyes locked on Aster’s, I unhooked my casual white bra from behind.I pulled it off one arm at a time and then dropped it to the floor.Then I removed my panties, also white, silky with a lace trim.I was clean-shaven, though I had been preparing for the beach at the time.My skin had only begun to bronze from our excursions outside, but my midriff looked almost as white as Aster’s.
Then I stood still in front of him and a moment passed.I wondered if he would follow through on his unspoken promise and join me in my state or if he would not allow himself to go further than allowing me to model for him.
But already his hands flew to the buttons on his shirt, and he unhooked them one at a time at a rapid pace, not stepping back or pausing to enjoy the view as he moved.He climbed out of his pants and stood before me in a pair of simple black boxers.A fine layer of silvery hair covered what I found to be a set of solid abs.The man might have been carved from marble by a master of the Italian Renaissance and he would not have been more perfect.
He walked to me.He reached around me and planted his palms back behind my shoulders.His chest closed in over my breasts.He was warm.Hot, even, but not sweating.Hot like a hot stone on a sunny day.
