Word Play (The Muse Series Book 1) Read online

  WORD PLAY

  The Muse Series – Book One

  Copyright © 2018 by S.L. Carpenter

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  (This story was originally released elsewhere as “Amuse Me”. It has been extensively re-edited for this edition.)

  Dedication

  I write for many reasons, and love finding things that inspire me. This is the first of three books about finding that muse. One of mine is creating the perfect words that tell a story.

  This is dedicated to all the amazing lovers of words who keep me wanting to write.

  Chapter One

  Johnny stood in awe. His stare a compliment to Eve’s beauty as she sheepishly walked to her side of the bed. Their night of teasing was now concluding with a night of unbridled passion.

  Eve slowly began to unfasten the buttons on her red silk blouse, again teasing Johnny’s lustful eyes. Her hair dangled loosely around her head and covered her shoulders. As she pulled the blouse loose over her shoulders the cool air in the room become electric and alive with warmth and his primal desires.

  He wasn’t the reserved type. He had worked all evening trying to get into Eve’s good graces. He also wanted to get inside her pussy that she had talked about with great detail as he ate a taco in the restaurant where they met. She had joked about how she didn’t like teeth when someone was eating her taco. Johnny had let his mind wander at that comment and held back saying he hated teeth dragging on his cock when getting a blowjob.

  Back to the undressing.

  Johnny was a typical male when it came to undressing. He pulled and tugged his shirt over his head making his thick black hair resemble a used mop. His chest was broad and muscular with perfect tone but not all freakishly overdone with steroids. With a snap and a quick wiggle his pants dropped to the floor and the wide head of his cock poked out of the front flap of boxers that had red hearts and “Home of the Whopper” written on them.

  He could see that Eve was pleased with how he looked. Johnny hoped she had heard of the myth of a man’s nose in relation to genital size because he had an incredibly large nose. But Johnny wanted to show her that he was more than just beefcake, that his personality also filled the bill. Hopefully he’d fill her in other ways also.

  Eve let the red blouse slide off her upper torso, revealing a red lace bra. After a few tugs at the fastener on her hip, the black leather skirt fell to the floor.

  Johnny quickly looked at her underwear. They were red, like her bra, with one exception—a bright light shone between her legs as if highlighting the part of her anatomy he wanted most. At first he thought he was seeing things. A blinding vision or a mind game from the drinks earlier. He looked again and did see a light between her legs—because she was so bowlegged the light on the nightstand shone between the gap of her legs.

  She obviously could never wear a thong. Everyone is different but this was a little awkward. Johnny was a gentleman and wanted to be proper and genuinely nice.

  He also wanted Eve and needed to get laid. He paused for a moment and thought hard about what he was about to say. Johnny opened his mouth and began to question Eve’s anatomy. “Ummm, Eve? Do you play soccer or ride bulls in the rodeo?”

  She sat on the bed, holding back her tears.

  Johnny sympathized and sat behind her, gently massaging her shoulders. He figured he could watch her breasts wiggle and her nipples poke out of the bra as he rubbed her shoulders.

  Eve looked down. She had to answer the question all men asked. She began to tell Johnny what had happened to her. “I had an accident”.

  “My parents worked at the circus. They were clowns. Ever since I can remember, circus people, animals and love surrounded me. Everyone was always so nice and when I turned sixteen I got a job working for the circus. They gave me a shovel and had me follow the elephants around. I hated it but my dad put things into perspective. He said ‘Shit happens’ and it happens a lot.”

  Taking a deep breath, she continued. “One day I was shoveling behind Jumbo Jim, the biggest elephant in the circus. I turned to look at the cotton candy maker. He was a nice boy with three teeth and a prosthetic leg from converting a rototiller into a go-cart but forgetting to take the blades off.

  Anyway, I tripped on a pile of droppings and the shovel jerked upwards and I hit Jumbo in the balls. He became enraged and began to charge after me as I ran. I stumbled after I kicked the side of a dart throwing booth and ended up bent over a railing with my hands on the ground to keep me from face planting into a pile of puke from a kid who ate two chili dogs, some cotton candy and took a ride on the ‘Gut-buster’. Before I could regain my stance the elephant was behind me and shoved his trunk into my…

  - - -

  This is so fucking lame. It just isn’t working again, he thought to himself.

  A heavy sigh left him as he reached to the right and hit the delete key on his computer.

  Eugene watched as the letters disappeared from the computer screen one by one.

  The words vanished, leaving the pages empty, just like the void of creativity in his imagination. For over three months he hadn’t been able to write a single scene, page or paragraph that read or felt right. Everything was meaningless. His passion was gone and everything he wrote was dull and lifeless.

  For a writer, this was a slow death. Writer’s block was more painful than constipation after eating spicy Mexican food.

  His small, lonely, microcosmic world had shrunk around him and now he needed to get out and have an experience to inspire and awaken the inner being and set loose his alter egos. The walls needed to be knocked down so he could spread his wings. Basically, he needed a good fucking and a drunken binge—not necessarily in that order.

  He had written thirty books filled with romance and sex. Two were made into low budget movies for cable, with terrible acting and fake breasts. He had a nice apartment and a kick ass computer set up for writing. California was a hotbed but his bed had run cold.

  Lately, though, he had lost his urge to write. If he had to name a place for his inspiration, it was the Arctic, blank and barren. He needed a change of mind, a change of scenery. In the most basic of terms he needed to run away and find his muse.

  He wrote under the name Angela Jollie. People told him there was a stigma problem with men writing romance and erotica. He was asked to think up something different than Eugene S. Finkter. His middle name was Scott. He liked his name but knew his parents had cursed him to a life of constant teasing.

  Something had to be done. A drastic transformation in his hum-drum life to make him think differently. To get out of the rut which currently trapped him.

  So he pondered his possibilities. A vacation to someplace different.

  Las Vegas? No, just gambling and hookers there. Hmmm. Florida?

  Hmmm, no, it’s set up for retirement and other than spring break; I’d end up in bed with a grandma with no teeth. That actually has advantages though…

  He needed exotic, he needed the Caribbean. Eugene needed Aruba.

  - - -

  The phone call to his editor Jenna didn’t go as well as expected. A few harsh words about commitments and having his cock nailed to his chair if he didn’t meet his deadline were spoken.

  So he bought his ticket to Aruba and packed only the essentials. His laptop, battery packs, some disposable razors, a multi-pack supply of glow in the dark condoms, various mini portion bottles of hair and skin products (he liked his hair silky smooth), a bright yellow swimsuit, his Kama Sutra manual, four pairs of beach pants, his furry leopard-skin underwear, an assortment of T-shirts, his phone—loaded with music—and three cans of sardines packed in tomato sauce for use as writing fuel.
r />   His mind raced with all the thoughts of a beachfront hotel. He pictured sunny days and starry nights of complete relaxation and the hope he would meet someone special to make him remember why he wrote in the first place. Or at least someone to mess up the bed with. She could lay in the wet spot.

  If he didn’t meet Ms. Right, Ms. Right-Now would work just fine.

  Eugene needed to get laid. His hands were getting carpal tunnel syndrome from constant masturbation.

  The first part of the plane flight was a connection of tension-filled disasters. From being booked in coach next to an extremely large, smelly man who thought of himself as a standup comedian with horrible jokes profuse sweat, to almost spilling his diet soda over his laptop computer, everything pointed to a dismal getaway. The flight to Florida started in the afternoon and with the time difference he landed after three a.m.

  The layover in Florida was nice. Eugene got out of the plane and had an hour and a half to stretch his legs and walk around the airport. He was also in dire need of some caffeine. Where’s a coffee shop when you need one?

  While in the airport, Eugene browsed through the little store. A smile crossed his face as he saw a copy of his latest book on the small shelf in the store. He picked it up, admiring the art on the cover, a couple embracing in front of a beautiful sunrise. His smile turned to a sneer when he saw the price tag covered with a “50% OFF” sticker.

  Eugene wasn’t a nerd or anything, he just lacked all the social skills of the modern man. He hadn’t been out on the prowl in a while. His last relationship was a disaster looking for a place to happen. The Titanic of bad relationships, and as he began to sink into the cold abyss of breaking up, it landed squarely onto his lap, as well as his wallet. He was successful, had dark, wavy hair, was about six foot, a hundred and ninety pounds, in good physical shape from hours on the treadmill and healthy eating…but he was a lonely, miserable fucking mess.

  Before boarding, Eugene looked around at the other people getting onto the plane. They appeared to be mostly older couples on vacation. At this time of morning he felt as old and weary as they did. With a sigh he moved forward and bumped into a head full of brown hair.

  “Watch it, asshole,” the woman barked. She turned around, yanking on her wheeled bag and glared at Eugene.

  “S…um…sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He looked at the woman.

  She had dark brown hair and was slender but not so skinny that a stiff breeze would blow her away. Her clothing was attractive and looked professional. She also had the look that if you crossed her she would rip your heart out of your chest and show it to you as it beat in her palm.

  Her demeanor calmed and she spoke, “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You just startled me. I am so frickin’ tired and just want to relax on the plane and get some sleep.”

  “Me too. These connecting flights are a bitch but at least we’re going to Aruba. Vacation, sun and no worries.” Eugene longed for the escape.

  Of course if this woman wanted to escape with him, he wouldn’t mind.

  Boarding was similar to a ride at a theme park where you slowly go through long intertwining lines to get on the ride. The good part was Eugene had the woman to look at as she read a book while waiting. Eugene couldn’t help but talk about books. Hey, he was a writer.

  “So you read a lot?” he asked.

  Smiling, she held up the paperback in her hand. “Yes, I read a lot of these trashy novels. I’m a sucker for a romance. Makes me feel good. What about you?”

  “Not much. I read some. You ever read anything by Angela Jollie?” He was a promotional whore and always wanted to get feedback on his books from readers.

  The woman shrugged, “I used to. I read a lot of different things from different authors. Her new stuff just hasn’t been as good as her old books.”

  The woman continued to pulverize Eugene’s ego with negative comments on his last few books. He never considered himself Hemingway but damn, a few compliments wouldn’t hurt either.

  They boarded the plane and parted ways. Who knew what might happen. Maybe he could change her mind about him and his writing by showing her all the great things he could do sexually. The wild and wicked sexual closets in his mind could open and reveal what lust and passion were all about. Basically, he could fuck her into oblivion.

  - - -

  The flight was a short two-hour hop and skip. That was in a perfect world. This one had a delay because some part of the wing fell off or something. Instead, he ended up sitting in uncomfortable airplane seats and waiting. Most people were asleep but for some reason Eugene couldn’t nod off into dreamland. He decided to write something. The blank document on his laptop stared back at him. The blinking cursor, a constant reminder of his plight.

  He hated flying and his nerves took control so he sat on the plane feeling like a vampire. Awake and looking for blood. Well, blood or a strong drink.

  He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he found it. Glancing up the aisle behind him, he found a nice pair of legs. The woman in the line was sitting in her seat and Eugene could see her left leg, bared to the split in her skirt. She had taken off her heels and was shifting around in her seat just like he was.

  Maybe a quick non-committal fling with this long-legged beauty would inspire him. If not, at least she would ease the growing anticipation in his pants. The swelling reminded him that he needed to take a pee. He adjusted his crotch and quietly got up from his seat. The guy sleeping in the seat next to him was so still and quiet Eugene thought he might be dead.

  As he walked down the aisle he made eye contact with the woman he longed for. Her gaze was that of lust and sensual fever. Her legs were slightly parted and the skirt she had on had shimmied up to her thighs.

  The top of her blouse was open and a glimmer of perspiration crossed the curve of her chest. In her hands was the book, Hips or Lips he had written a few years ago. She reached her hand up and fanned her neck then squirmed in her chair again as Eugene stood staring at her. He was having an obvious effect on her. He tugged the bathroom door open and went in. The slight tremble of turbulence made him stumble a bit as he flipped the occupied lock. He jerked upright, startled by his reflection in the flickering light.

  Eugene felt a sense of pride knowing his words had actually affected this woman, especially after her comments from earlier. Standing above the toilet, he held his hand against the wall to maintain balance and used the other hand to hold something else. Trying to pee with a boner is tough. You either pee on the wall or hold onto something sturdy and let it rip. He decided to think of different things to calm his manly appendage down. He let his mind wander and closed his eyes.

  He thought of Niagara Falls, a running water faucet, and a beer tap pouring a pitcher. For a moment he thought that urine and beer on tap looked a lot alike. Then he felt the flow release and sighed heavily.

  Anybody who had fought against a boner and an overactive bladder would sympathize with Eugene’s peril.

  He washed his hands, showing proper cleanliness technique, and looked at himself in the mirror. What a stud. His hair dark was combed perfectly. With a grin, he recited his favorite line from a debonair man who women adored. “Bond…James Bond.” A tapping on the door made him quicken the drying of his hands.

  Opening the small door, he saw her standing in front of him. She didn’t say anything but her breathing was quick and shallow. Her eyes looked into Eugene’s and the intensity of her inner fire scorched his passionate soul. His boner returned quickly, feeling the sexual fever from her simple stare.

  The woman forced her way into the tiny bathroom. Her eyes talked for her. She wanted Eugene.

  Their mouths met in a dance of tongues and saliva. She was hot and her hands groped at Eugene’s body, tugging and squeezing. Eugene grabbed her shoulders, pushing her against the small sink.

  The thin fabric of her blouse couldn’t conceal the hardened tips of her nipples poking out, begging to be suckled. With animalistic urgency he to
re her blouse open, revealing the silken lace of her black bra.

  Eugene dove forward, licking her nipple through the fabric and causing her to groan. His other hand reached between her legs, seeking her heated heart. She widened her legs, causing her skirt to rise and Eugene found his treasure. As he slid his hand along her inner thigh he could feel the heat and touched the wetness of her flesh. She wore no underwear, which Eugene appreciated, and his fingers began to toy with the opening of her slippery pussy.

  This woman was aroused to the point of explosion and Eugene wanted to feel her convulse around his cock as they feverishly fucked. The Mile-High Club needed a new member and he wanted to be the one to join.

  Her moaning made Eugene even hotter and hornier. The pressure of his cock pushing against his pants was becoming painful. He was aroused and his blood heated to a boil of desire with lustful anticipation for this beautiful creature. They had cable television channels for this kind of encounter, things like this weren’t reality. Things like this didn’t happen to him. This was the kind of kinky, erotic fantasy usually only found in books, especially his books.

  The woman pulled at Eugene’s neck, digging her red fingernails into his skin. Obviously, she wanted more. As their mouths came closer together, his finger slid within the velvety wetness of her tight pussy.

  While they kissed, he let his finger swirl in her juices. Her pussy tightened and loosened as his finger delved deeper and moved in a circular motion, widening her inner walls.

  She was an inferno of desire and threw her head back. With Eugene’s fingers rubbing her engorged clit, her moans signaled she was close to climaxing. She brushed her fingers along the beads of perspiration across the front of her neck and began to suck on her fingertips, moaning with pleasure.

  She unleashed her inner slut, grabbing Eugene’s shirt and yanking him forward. She kissed him lustfully again then pushed him back. He slammed against the door with a loud thud. Her eyes burned with desire as she tugged at his pants, seeing the bulge swelling inside. Her passion rose to an unquenchable thirst for sex.