A Writer's Harem: The Muse Beckons by Tyme O. L

Author:Tyme, O. L.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-10-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Jack sat up on the bed. It was dark now and he was still in his clothes. He tried to orient himself and remember where he was.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The hammering continued, knocking from his grasp any sense of centre. He pushed himself up, his brain completely fogged by sleep and exhaustion, then got up off the bed and walked in a zig-zag towards the infernal noise.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Alright,” he said, his voice dripping with irritation, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“I hope not,” said Eve, standing in the hallway like a being from another world, “it’s far too early for the spilling of seed.”

He squinted his eyes, trying to focus on the pale figure clad all in black, standing perfectly still in front of him.

“Shit,” he said, “what time is–?”

“Yes,” she said, then turned and walked off down the corridor, her heels clacking precisely on the tiled floors. “We won’t be waiting for you.” She opened the front door to Danuja’s apartment and walked inside, closing the door with a thud.

Jack closed his front door and stumbled back into the apartment, moving this way and that, uneasy on his feet and unsure which direction to go in first, until finally he stumbled into the bathroom, stripped off and jumped in the shower.

“Shit,” he cried as he jumped right back out of the shower, the water cold.

“At least it woke me up a bit,” he said to himself as he stood with his arms folded, shivering as the icy water dripped down him. Even as he stood there, shaking with cold, thoughts of Eve ran through his mind, his cock hardening as he pictured the cold glare of his gothic Japanese nightmare upon his naked body, then he stepped back into the water and sighed as the hot water battered his tired body.

◆◆◆

A few minutes later, he jumped out of the shower, now fully awake, dried himself and ran into the kitchen. He pulled out the lasagna Asami had made from the fridge, cut himself a healthy portion and chucked it in the microwave. It felt sacrilegious to heat such a delicious-looking home-cooked meal like that, but time was of the essence.

He hadn’t eaten all day, planning to get home and enjoy some of Asami’s lasagna before getting back to work. But after his extended afternoon with Morika and his unexpected encounter with Danuja and Eve, the day had gotten away from him, but no matter.

A day well lived is a day well written.

He smiled at the line, unsure whether it was a profound moment of insight from one of the great writers of yesteryear, or some bollocks he just thought up to justify an entire day of not writing.

As the microwave hummed, the lasagna rotating in the illuminated cooking box, he ran back to the front door, where his bags were still sitting in a pile. He flipped on the lights for the room and unzipped the main suitcase, digging carefully for a set of fresh clothes.

Everything was still

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