Authors: Meghan O'Brien
“Unfortunately, that’s just not true.” Erato’s tone left no room for argument. “That your distraction would be mild, I mean, or that temporary heartache is the more impossible obstacle for you to overcome right now.” She planted her hands on her hips, making Kate feel very much like a scolded child. “At this point we’re in damage-control mode. I should have seen how dangerous Olive was from the very beginning, and I
never
should have allowed her to be used as an incentive more than once. That was my failure, and I apologize profusely for going down this road in the first place. It’s not like you didn’t try to warn me—you were afraid that seeing Olive again would derail you, yet I foolishly believed that what the book
really
needed was for you to scratch that itch once and for all. You’d assured me you wanted to keep things casual, that your writing was your top priority…and I believed you.” She exhaled, then sat back with a sweet smile. “Look, I’m not saying you can’t date her. I’m just telling you that you can’t see or talk to her again until you’ve finished a first draft you feel comfortable submitting to your publisher. That’s all.”
Kate searched her memory for her current word count, then extrapolated from there. “But that’ll take me two and a half weeks, minimum!” And that was assuming she could write at the same pace she’d maintained for the past week without faltering—which seemed unlikely, considering how badly emotional turmoil tended to affect her ability to work and how burnt out she would be if she kept up this pace much longer. Even if she managed to finish the draft quickly, she was a perfectionist when it came to preparing her manuscripts for submission. She would almost certainly need the full month she had left to bring the story up to her standards.
It was one thing not to
see
Olive for that long, but to not talk to her, either? The whole point of the dinner date had been to discuss their feelings and process all that had happened so far. Olive was clearly shaken by her feelings and insecure about Kate’s intentions. One hour at a Mexican restaurant wasn’t likely to assuage all her fears about starting a relationship with an eccentric author like her, but it was the least Olive deserved.
Yet Erato wanted her to wait
three weeks
? Kate snorted. “She won’t
want
to date me if I disappear that long.”
“Then it wasn’t meant to be.”
Aghast, Kate got up onto her knees. “That’s easy for you to say.”
“None of this is easy for me.” Erato scooted backward until her back was pressed against the headboard. She stretched her long legs out in front of her, then motioned Kate closer. “Now come over here and let’s cuddle this out. I don’t want you to be angry with me.”
Kate didn’t move. “I
am
angry. I don’t want to have to choose between you and Olive. I really don’t.”
“The choice isn’t between Olive and
me,
my darling, and besides, you’ve already made your decision.” Erato’s smile turned seductive, her hand fluttering to her chest only to run down the valley between her breasts. “And
I
made a promise to
you
, which I intend to keep. Just as I assured you I would.” Her gaze drifted away from Kate’s face to the juncture of her thighs, reminding her of her state of undress. Erato licked her lips, and when she spoke again, her voice was deeper. “Now why don’t you come over here so we can get back on good terms?”
Kate actually considered going to her. Her body twitched as though compelled by a supernatural force, before her logical mind took over. “No. You’re not going to appease me with sex. Not about this.”
Erato released a long-suffering sigh. “Suit yourself.” The hand that had come to rest over her stomach slid down between her legs, where she rubbed the crotch of her lingerie with gentle, confident fingers. “When you’re ready to resume our physical relationship, let me know. Until then, I’m quite good at taking care of myself.”
Kate tried not to look. She really tried—but it wasn’t until Erato slipped her fingers beneath the elastic band of her panties that she was finally able to redirect her attention out the window. Despite the purely sexual—and admittedly enticing—display in front of her, Kate focused on only one objective: texting Olive to confirm their date before Erato could somehow manage to stop her. She stood up, ignoring the breathy moan behind her, and walked to her nightstand to get her phone. It wasn’t on the charger, which didn’t shock her. Last night hadn’t followed her typical nighttime routine, to say the least. She checked the pockets of the jeans she’d worn for her date, then went downstairs to search the kitchen and living room. After a frustrating hunt, she tossed on a T-shirt and pajama pants, grabbed the keys to her truck, and went outside to check there. When she came up empty once again, her suspicions immediately turned to the woman currently masturbating in her bed.
She stomped back upstairs, telling herself she wouldn’t get angry or make accusations, and would deal with the situation with the maturity and calm strength of character she needed in order to prove that her feelings for Olive weren’t upsetting her sensibilities. Although she was prepared to interrupt a serious attempt at self-pleasuring when she returned to the bedroom, she still felt mildly taken aback at the sight that greeted her: Erato, lingerie strategically askew, lying in the center of the mattress with her hand between her legs and her back arched in pleasure. It was as though she’d walked into the middle of a scene from one of her stories, unrealistically beautiful heroine and all. The desire to join the woman on her bed was tangible, nearly melting away her fury despite her best attempts to hang on to the justified emotion.
Erato’s vibrant blue eyes opened, full of affectionate longing. “I’m so close, Kate.” She angled her wrist and penetrated herself with a slim finger, tilting her knee to the side to give Kate a better view. “Even if you don’t want to touch me, will you stay with me while I come?” Her body shuddered, causing her breasts to jiggle appealingly. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll help get your creative juices flowing.”
A few weeks ago, she would have been skeptical about such a claim. Now she had no doubt that if she gave herself over to Erato’s special brand of sex magic, she would almost certainly walk away inspired. Perhaps she would even forget that she wanted to text Olive, let alone meet her for dinner. Kate shook her head, resolved not to let that happen. It wasn’t fair to Olive, to say the least, and would no doubt humiliate her after she’d gathered the courage to bare her soul in the immediate aftermath of Erato’s rude dismissal. Keeping Olive—her smile, her warm eyes, her curvaceous, responsive body—firmly in mind, Kate wrestled with her brain to focus on the task at hand.
“Have you seen my cell phone?”
Erato stopped fingering herself immediately and, with a frustrated sigh, slipped out of her vagina, then her lingerie. She arranged the material over her crotch so that she was covered, as though girding herself for battle. Then she offered Kate an infuriatingly calm smile. “It’s in a secure location.”
“
Give me
my phone.” Kate waited to see if the words had landed with the weight she’d intended, then held out her hand, palm up. “Now, please.”
“I’m sorry, but no.” Erato sat up. “We’ve played this game before, Kate. You know how it goes.”
“That was different. This time she’s expecting me to text her. If I don’t, she’ll think I’ve blown her off.”
Erato’s expression was patient and tender, which only stoked Kate’s anger. “You can explain what happened once you finish the first draft.”
Her resolve not to lash out slipped. “You’re a smart woman, Erato. What don’t you understand here? We’re not in an exclusive romantic relationship, I’m only asking for the chance to spend an
hour
with Olive before the damn book is finished, and you sure as fuck don’t pay my wireless bill, so you have no
goddamn right
to hold my phone hostage. I went along with it last time because your rules were somewhat reasonable. Now they aren’t, so I’m done playing.” She stopped, took a breath, and lowered her volume slightly. “Don’t punish me for something I haven’t even done. Let me take Olive to dinner tomorrow night, and if my writing falters in
any
way because of it…well, I’ll accept that you were right and stop questioning your directives, once and for all.”
Erato looked almost pained. “Must you make this so difficult?”
Sensing that they were at an impasse, Kate growled in frustration. She raked her fingers through her hair and pulled, welcoming the stinging pain and the way it released some of the pressure building within her chest. She didn’t want to ask Erato to leave, but if pushed hard enough, she would do it. She really would. Maybe. “Must
you
?”
“I’m doing exactly what you begged me to do, and nothing more.” Sighing, Erato got up off the bed and walked to the closet, where she’d hung the handful of dresses she’d brought with her. Kate caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirrored door as she stripped off the lingerie and reached for a flowing blue garment that contrasted nicely with her olive skin and made her eyes look even more brilliant than usual. “Once the book is finished, you’re free to ask me to leave, to disagree with the way I went about keeping you focused, and to hate me forever if things with Olive don’t work out. Until then, I suggest that you put your energy into finishing the book instead of being upset with me.”
Kate stood with her hands fisted at her sides. She literally had no idea what to do. She refused to give up on the idea of contacting Olive, if only so she could confess that Erato had decided to forbid her from dating until she’d produced a submission-ready manuscript. Like
that
would go over well. Still, it would be better than nothing—which was a pretty terrible thing for Erato to expect her to offer. Unfortunately, it was clear that Erato wouldn’t change her mind based on whatever arguments, promises, or threats Kate came up with. She couldn’t possibly finish the book before Olive’s feelings were hurt from the lack of contact on her end, but maybe Erato would be willing to compromise?
Clearing her throat, Kate watched Erato in the mirror as she adjusted the hem of her dress. “How about I prove to you that I’m
still
not distracted? My feelings for Olive—which did
not
just develop last night—haven’t prevented me from making progress yet. There’s no reason to believe that one dinner date will change that—or at the very least, a few text messages to explain why dinner has to wait. If I spend all day and the better part of tonight writing, would that convince you there’s no harm in letting me at least have a conversation with Olive to explain your point of view?”
Erato stepped out of the closet, ready for the runway. “I’d love for you to accomplish a lot today. The Olive situation has definitely rattled you, and it would certainly make me feel better if you’re able to write through this.”
It wasn’t difficult to notice that Erato hadn’t actually addressed the most important part of her proposal. “And when I produce
at least
three thousand words today, you’ll let me use my cell phone to message Olive?” She hesitated, unsure whether to push her luck. Oh, hell. She’d promised Olive a dinner date, and she couldn’t start an honest, healthy relationship by breaking her word. “All I want is one hour alone with her, one meal together. You could even wait for me in the car.”
Erato arched an eyebrow and folded her arms over her generous breasts. “Oh, could I?”
Kate cringed. “I just meant…you know, to make sure I come straight home afterward.”
Shaking her head, Erato regarded her without speaking for what felt like a long time. Kate bit her lip in an effort to stop the endless stream of bargaining and pleading that threatened to pour forth, anything to fill the silence and convince Erato not to jeopardize the trust and faith she had in their partnership. Finally, Erato sighed. “Let’s revisit this discussion tonight, after you’ve written those
thirty-five hundred
words.”
It wasn’t perfect, but that was the best she was likely to get. Although she’d have preferred to text Olive before noon, she didn’t think it would be a deal-breaker to wait until bedtime. Kate nodded vigorously. “All right. That’s fair enough, as long as you promise you’ll actually
revisit
and not just reiterate.”
“I’ll agree to that.” Erato stuck out her hand and grinned when they shook on it. “Do you want to start writing now, or would you prefer to begin the day with a bubble bath and a cannabis cigarette?”
Trying not to smirk at Erato’s formal word choice, Kate forced away the instinct to immediately dive into work and considered her options. She had a long day of writing ahead of her, but it was still early. Washing up was her next step no matter what, because frankly, she reeked of sex. A bath would take longer than a shower, but the joint would help calm her frustration and hopefully ease her into a creative space where she might actually be able to meet her word count. She would never admit it to Erato, but few things interfered with her ability to work like emotional upset. Today she simply
had
to produce good work despite the uncertainty of her romantic life and the inner turmoil that triggered. If she didn’t, it would be all the proof Erato needed that Olive wasn’t good for her creativity.
“Will you run my bath?” Kate managed a pleasant smile she didn’t really feel. Staying calm about their disagreement while having a prolific writing session wouldn’t be easy. Hopefully the decision to indulge in a little relaxation first would help.
“Of course.” Erato winked as she passed her on the way to the bathroom. “I’ll even roll your joint.”
By the time Kate sat down at her desk an hour later, dressed in a tank top and panties, hair still wet from the bath, she was sufficiently calm enough to turn her thoughts away from Olive—who was no doubt living her life and not yet worried about a lack of communication, anyway—and back toward Rose, Molly, and their increasingly complicated romance. When she’d left them the day before, Molly had tried and failed to end their sexual relationship due to her misgivings about keeping secrets from Rose’s mother. After their office-desk sex, Rose tells Molly they could just be open about being together. If her mother has a problem with it, as she always has in the past when Rose has dated women, then that’s her loss. But Molly is insistent: she has been Rose’s mother’s caretaker for far too long and has come to mean far too much to a sick old lady to take careless risks with her emotional state. Rose’s mother is on the decline. Molly has no idea how much longer she’ll even be lucid, since for the past month she’s been having bad days rather than simply bad moments. The thought of ruining whatever time she and Rose have left for reconciliation is unacceptable. Even if Rose didn’t resent her in the future, Molly is certain she would never forgive herself. She suggests to Rose that perhaps they can be together later, one day, but Rose points out that they have no idea how long her mother has left, and life is short and unpredictable.