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.

“Sit in your desk chair, Writer,” Muse ordered.

Kneeling before him, Muse grasped his turgid member, engulfing it with her warm mouth.

“Oh, God!” Writer sighed as the sensation enveloped him.

Muse was good at her craft, sucking and stroking, and soon Writer exploded into her mouth. Swallowing his warm seed, Muse slowly slid her lips off his cock and stood before him, radiant in her nakedness. Filled with lustful madness, Writer pawed between Muse’s legs, feeling her wet heat.

“I’m ready for you, Writer.”

His cock remained rigid as his knees forced Muse’s legs apart. As she slid over his lap, Writer’s cockhead felt the kiss of her warm, velvet folds, and he was lost. Thinking of nothing but fucking, Writer pulled down on her hips, impaling Muse on his nine inches of hardness. Instantly, his senses were overloaded with pleasure, and he began thrusting.

“Fuck me!” Muse commanded as she kissed Writer, mashing his lips with hers.

Writer kissed back, reveling in the pain of her hard nipples piercing his chest. Muse matched his thrusts as their pubes collided at an ever-increasing pace. Ripples of ecstasy caressed Writer’s cock as Muse’s cunt spasmed around him, trying to milk his seed. 

Moans, grunts, and wet squishes formed the soundtrack to their sex, and as Muse neared her destination, she wrapped her legs around Writer’s chair and pulled him in deeper. He felt his cockhead bump Muse’s rubbery cervix as they both ignited in an ungodly climax. Writer had never felt such ecstasy and knew then, with certainty, that if he died in this moment, he would die a satisfied man.

“Payment accepted,” Muse whispered as she wrapped him in her terrible embrace.

For a moment, Writer felt fear. Then, he was outside his body, watching as corrosive black voids covered his skin. From these empty pits, sprays of golden sparks erupted as his flesh was consumed. Within seconds, his physical form was no more. And as his consciousness faded from existence, he had time for one final thought: What about the promised story?

***

Sergeant Gilroy took one look at the burnt outline of a man seared into the office chair and promptly puked up his breakfast burrito.

“Geeze Jim,” his partner whined. “The detectives will be up our asses for contaminating the scene.”

“Fuck you Sam, this was supposed to be a simple wellness check.”

“Yea, well, whatever happened, it was fucked up for sure. Looks like the poor bastard was just working on his computer. Maybe a short circuit or something?”

“Not our job to know,” Gilroy growled. “Just call in the fucking gold shields and let them figure it out.”

“Looks like he was writing a story,” Sam said as he read the computer screen. “Something about a dark-skinned chick floating in a pond. It looks like a damned fine story if you ask me…”