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The Poet and his Muse

Date: 10/24/2015, Categories: Love Stories, Author: Sisyphus, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

door from the other side of the cabin squeak open and saw Allison, barefooted, tiptoeing past him at the table and stood at the sink. “Sorry, I just need to get some water.” She spoke softly. “It’s okay, I’m just typing up these sonnets, I’m not writing, you’re not disturbing me.” “Good. I don’t want to disturb you, but I drink a lot of water.” She held up her empty container. “Its fine,” Jason said and went back to typing, while Allison continued to fill up her bottle. After typing a few words, glancing down at his notebook, he looked over at her holding the bottle under the faucet while looking out the window and again noticed her slender, petite body, the roundness of her ass in the snug jeans, her breasts and her long dark hair. He noticed the dangling earrings, her small bare feet. The water was overflowing her bottle as she stared out the window then quickly turned off the faucet. “It’s really beautiful here.” She turned to him. “I’m really getting a lot done. It feels good to work here.” She paused, “How’s the writing going?” “Good. I just finished two sonnets.” “Wow, really, will you let me read them later?” “Yes,” Jason said, then realized the sonnet he had written was inspired by her touching his thigh earlier. He was afraid he would be confessing something he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know. “Well, maybe. I’m not sure. I sometimes like poems to rest a few days before I think they're really finished.” “Okay, I understand.” Allison nodded and tightened the top of ... her water bottle. A disappointed pout on her lips was quickly replaced by her glancing at his laptop. “So is that what you do, write your poems in a notebook then type them up?” “Yes,” Jason answered, seeing her expression change to one of fascination. She nodded. “This is helpful for me to see how you work. It’s interesting. I mean I’ve read everything, but now I can see the process,” she said, nodding. “Have you always worked this way?” “Well, years ago I used a typewriter. I just started using this laptop about three years ago, but yes, I always write in a notebook before typing them up. I keep all of my drafts and I have all of my old notebooks somewhere.” “Wow, I wish I could see your notebooks. That would help my dissertation. It would help me with tracing your use of imagery from your earliest poems.” “Well, you have the poems. I’d rather you not see the mess of drafts and revisions.” He glanced down at his notebook, then back at her standing by the sink. Allison looked down at Jason’s feet and laughed. “What are you laughing at? What the hell is so funny?” “You’re wearing one gray sock and one blue sock,” she said. “And your sweater is on backwards, did you know that?” Jason looked down at his feet. “Oh, yes, well, I guess you could call it a mixed metaphor.” He laughed. “I’m more precise about the syllables in a sonnet than what I’m wearing.” “It’s cute,” Allison said. “Listen, I’m having a problem with one of your poems from your first book, can I get it and see if ...