Writer sat at his computer and logged onto his favorite site.
What’s this? A Flash Contest? How intriguing. Oh, but look at these submissions. Sigh, these authors are in a class of their own. Maybe someday…
Hey! Look at the Fairy photo, that’s my Muse. How the heck?
“Muse!” Writer called to the empty room.
A flash and she appeared in the chair next to his, looking quite annoyed.
“Yes, Writer, what is it now?” Muse asked. “I was sleeping.”
“This picture on the website, that’s you! And why are you dressed that way?”
Muse glanced at the screen and smiled, “I rather enjoyed that look.”
“But, but you look like a Fairy trollop. What’s with the makeup and what happened to your usual Chanel?”
“Booooring,” she whined. “It’s a contest. I wanted to look ethereal, and get the juices flowing for the writers. Didn’t my Fairy persona help you?”
“Sadly, no. I read the other submissions and realized I’m out of my league.”
“Truly, you are,” Muse agreed, “But there are other ways.”
“How?”
“You know how. Just give me what I’ve asked for,” Muse said seductively. “Cross the line.”
“You mean have sex with you,” Writer replied, fear tinging his voice. “But you’ve always warned that the cost is high.”
“Anything worth having has a high cost,” Muse purred. “Is my beauty not worth something to your craft?”
“And what would be our deal?”
“You mean other than having the ultimate sexual encounter?” Muse pouted. “If you must have more, then perhaps a finished story worthy of this competition?”
Writer pondered a moment and asked, “And what would be the cost?”
“What are you willing to pay?” Muse sniffed. “I offer you much, would you not do the same for me?”
“Yes, of course. But no one makes a deal without knowing the cost.”
Muse sighed, “The cost will be commensurate with your assessment of the sex. Call it a sliding scale of pleasure. This is all I can say.”
“Well, that doesn’t tell me much. But if I get to assess enjoyment, then I have some control?”
“Indeed,” Muse replied, “The cost is within your control.”
Writer pondered for days, watching as the contest submissions grew, each one better than the last. He realized that if he wanted to compete, then he must pay.
“Muse.” Writer called out to the empty room.
A moment later, Muse strolled into his office, dressed as the character in the contest photo. Her nude, lithe body was barely covered in silver chain mail, and her sensuous ruby lips and blushed cheeks contrasted beautifully with her alabaster skin.
“You’ve decided,” Muse said. A statement, not a question.
“Yes. Contest aside, the thought of fucking you makes my brain burn.”
Muse smiled, some would say wickedly, but Writer saw only sensual beauty.
She slipped off his bathrobe, seeing his body for the first time, all chiseled angles and hard muscle. He untied her garment’s leather thongs, watching as the linked silver fabric fell to her feet, forming a glittery puddle. His sudden intake of breath told Muse he was pleased.