I met my muse at a museum. I started following her as soon as I saw her penetrating eyes peeling the ancient paintings of angels and devils. She flowed through the galleries like water. Alone within the crowd, she had the ways of an amazon queen. Her golden skin and her feline eyes gave her presence enough to stand up to all that renaissance display surrounding her.
I've been trying to write something for weeks and I couldn't put down a single word, but suddenly this young woman almost made me grab a pen from the museum clerk and start writing poetry in my arm. She glanced at me as she went out to the gardens outside the museum. Frozen by her green gaze, I looked away.
I followed her down Paseo del Prado while she looked up at the branches of the trees along the street. I shadowed her from safe distance, studying her movements. That's when I first thought she had to be a dancer. The way she walked between people at crossings, the way she turned corners. It was all gracefully executed.
I followed her along the serpent streets of Madrid. She sometimes took out her phone and stopped to take pictures of birds and graffitis. I looked from a distance, wandering about the way she smelled. She sensed my staring a couple of times and turned my way, every time I discretely evaded her glance.
She kept walking up to a thin medieval alley. She walked so certain of her own movements, like a model or an actress aware of the audience's excruciating eye. Her clothing was also according with her graces, her short white silk skirt floated about in waves as she walked, her thighs revealing the perfect tan present in her every inch of skin.
When she stopped at the huge metal door and turned to look at me I felt totally exposed. She opened the door and stared directly at me. I got nowhere to hide, we were standing alone in the alley. She looked at me with white heat intensity, straight into my eyes. I knew she was aware of my following from the very beginning. She was letting me know she was allowing me to follow her.
After a few seconds, she smiled at me and entered the building very slowly, looking at me the whole time, until she disappeared inside. She left the huge door wide open, like waiting for me. I took a few steps towards the door and looked inside hesitantly. I just saw a huge dark stairway and an old elevator going up.
As I walked inside the building I felt a great rush. I felt the call of the unknown adventure. I loved the sensation that anything could happen from that point onwards, and I decided I was going to see the end of it no matter what.
The elevator loudly stopped at the fifth and last floor. I started going up the stairs of the old building. I went up hastily and by the time I was on the fifth floor I was panting.
There were only two doors, and one of them was open. Not wide open, just a bit. The sun behind the door drew a blade of golden light in the floor at my feet, like showing me the way. The light went up my body as I slowly pushed the door, blinding me when I took my first step in.
She was there, standing absolutely naked in the huge room. The glass wall behind her displayed the city against her silhouette. It was a beautiful thing to see.
As soon as I opened my mouth to speak, she shushed me. Her finger across her full lips, one of the most godlike visions my eyes had seen. She was like a greek muse sent to me by the gods.
She signaled me to get close to her, and I did so in a trance. I remember feeling overwhelmed by animal fervor, my mind held poetry or sense no longer. I was in her hypnotic command as I walked towards her.
I got closer and started to admire every little detail in her perfect body. She just stood there against the backdrop of the city bathed in golden light, like a statue of a goddess, only moving her arm slowly signaling me to approach her.
When I was close enough she grabbed my neck very suddenly. Her fingers clutched at my throat with fierce determination. I was shocked for half a second but she abruptly pulled me towards her mouth and kissed me. She kissed me long and deep. I could feel her fingernails on my neck, but I didn't care, I was in absolute awe of this perfect creature.
She ripped my shirt and scratched my thighs when she took my pants off. We had the most animal of communions. We fucked like old deities used to fuck. Our every cell exploded in orgasms, we swam in a sea of sweat and saliva. She blocked my mouth every time I wanted to say anything, the only sounds permitted were animal moans.
At the end of the explosion, I was left spent on the cold floor. She stood up, again shushing me when I tried to speak. She just moved her head side to side negatively.
You're a writer, she said suddenly, I know your type. Always looking for the muse. So don't' say anything, just write it. Go home and write.
I lied there in absolute shock, both because she had the sweetest voice and because she seemed to know exceptional things about me.
You won't see me again. Don't try to. I'm married.
Her voice was definite, but carrying several emotions. She looked down at me with tender eyes, then she turned away and picked up her clothes as she walked naked towards the door. In the doorway she said her last words to me, not even looking back.
Don't come back here for me, I don't live here. I've actually never being here before. Good luck, writer.
She walked out in her perfect nudity, as casually as she came in. I was left naked and confused in a cold floor looking at the city, full of people unaware of my ordeals.
I left the place feeling vacant and very aware of the strangeness of it all. Angry at destiny for yet another cruel joke, but also thankful for her smell and memory would be with me forever, and that alone was worth it.
Against all odds, I did see her again. Months later, under the most peculiar of situations. But I'll tell that story another time.