The Artist And The Muse

When I walked into Clarisse Newton's study that morning, I came armed with two things. The first was proof that everything was going according to plan, my plan, and the second was of course, my best smile.

This might make me sound like a pompous shit but I truly do believe my smile is the best weapon I have right now. Especially if I wanted to get into Clarisse's pants. Okay, I think I heard you scoff in skepticism. Don't worry, I'll prove you wrong.

Just as every other fucking times I've been here, Clarisse was seated behind her desk. The only difference was, this time, she was poring over a thick binder of what I assumed were Apex financials. How in the heavens does she always have something new to do?!

Anywho, with the soft morning light spilling through the large windows of the home office, she looked like she belonged in a magazine advertising furniture.