Back in the master Bedroom of the bloom house, the young woman who had once been Denise Brewster sat naked at her computer typing. She had lost six more years of age by now, leveling off at 26, a year younger than her lover. Her hair was now a cascade of golden curls, her demeanor less domineering and more wistful.
Nadie, who had been resting on the bed, rose and walked over to her lover, pressing her naked bosom against Denise's back and giving her a peck on the cheek. "Working already, dear?"
"Sorry, I just thought of a good way to segway between the sixth and eighth chapters," Denise explained. Denise, or rather Demi as she was now named, was a writer, with a few publications but nothing really big yet.
"So that's what you were thinking about the entire time, is it?" Nadie asked, nuzzling Demi's neck.
"What can I say? you inspire me," Demi said.
"Is that so? So maybe you can come back here, and your muse can give you a little more inspiration."
"I have no arguments about that," Demi said, standing up and heading back to bed with Nadie.
