(someone asked me to explain to her what a muse was... I thought this might be the best way to show her)
* * * * *
He closed his eyes He rolled over and looked at the clock, groaning to himself... 3:45 AM. It seemed as if it had been an hour ago, lying in his restless bed,that it had been 3:30. Accepting another sleepless night, he sat up and rubbed his eyes absentmindedly, hoping it would quell the dull ache in his brain. "No use fighting this any longer" he thought to himself. "I'm up"
He made his way into the kitchen and poured the final glass out of the bottle of Shiraz. As he swirled the wine in the glass, he wandered over to the window and gazed outside. The darkness that met him there held no comfort. It was so still outside, without even so much as a sway in the branches of the trees outside. He couldn't get over how quiet it was in the house... outside... in his heart. Sighing to himself, he made his way through the house to his Steinway. It had been mocking him as of late; taunting him with the block it had placed in his head. It had been so long, with absolutely nothing. Feeling the emptiness more than he before thought possible, he sat himself back down on the bench that he had lately spent so many fruitless hours at. He put the glass to his lips, taking in a sip of the sharp burgundy wine before placing it down on the piano. He sat and held the wine in his mouth, feeling it move around in his mouth, tasting the slight overtones of berries and black cherry, before finally swallowing slowly, feeling the slight burn as it made its way down.
As he had so many times before, he placed his hands on the well loved keys. He had grown to despise this instrument that he had worshipped all his life. He had nothing left to give it, or so he felt, but still, night after sleepless night, he found himself back here, as if he were paying some sort of penance. He closed his eyes as, almost hesitantly, he pressed down a simple minor chord... then another... and it began.
As his brain began to swim with a combination of the sounds that filled the room and the evening's worth of wine he had earlier, he sensed it somehow - faint at first, but definitely there. The unmistakable scent of jasmine wafted into his nostrils. The soft sound of her footsteps accentuated the ebbs and tides of his song. Each measure began to come easier to him as he felt her there standing behind him, just as he remembered. He tried not to jump as her right hand made its way onto his shoulder, just resting there. The music began to take care if itself as he felt her left hand on the back of his neck, her fingers sliding up into his hair, sending small shivers up his spine.
He began to move effortlessly up and down the keyboard as she slid her hand off of his shoulder and down over his chest. Her hair began to flow over his left shoulder as he felt her soft lips on his neck, just barely touching his skin. She rested there for a moment as he felt her warm sweet breath on him. He tilted his head to the side slightly allowing her greater access as the song continued to pour from his fingers. He felt his eyes began to well up a bit as it all came back to him. As her fingers swept through the hair on his chest he floated fluidly from modulation to modulation, as if the very core of his soul was now connected to his instrument. Emotion began to overtake him.
Her lips brushed over his ear as she began to kiss and nibble on his earlobe, pulling it between her lips. The rate of her breathing became the tempo of the music; the rapid beating of his heart the syncopation. His hardness began to throb with desire for her as she swung her leg over him and straddled his lap He looked into her eyes for the first time in so long, with his hands still on the keys, playing a masterpiece that he was quickly losing control of.
