Emma Swan was once about to be famous for her artwork. There was a set to be featured in her local – but quite famous – art gallery. They had commissioned a piece that would introduce the set – something that said who she was and what the set was about, without giving too much away. When she failed to deliver, they'd cancelled the set.

And now she was stuck drawing caricatures of children and drunken adults in the middle of New York, due to lack of inspiration. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to draw or paint anything good, anything she liked or was proud of.

She remembers vividly that it was a Wednesday morning. She was by the airport nearest to her apartment. She was halfway through a caricature of a woman and her near-newborn baby when she saw her… The most beautiful woman that could ever have graced the earth. In Emma's eyes the woman was a fallen angel, come from the high heavens to middle earth.

The blonde artist tore her current drawing away and apologised quickly to the small family. "I just… I have to stop. This isn't what I want to do and I've just been slapped in the face by my muse." She explained simply, grabbing her graphite pencils and starting to quickly sketch. She had to draw this woman before she walked away.

She sketched quickly as the brunette woman she watched stood impatiently, checking her watch every few minutes. Emma sketched the watch-checking, black pencil skirt, the black blazer and added her only splashes of colour in the crimson silk shirt the woman wore and her deep red lips.

The woman was only a few feet away and as deep brown eyes looked up and down the busy street, obviously searching for her ride, they connected with Emma's bright green orbs.

She noticed that the almost scraggly woman was frantically sketching away at something, gaze flicking between herself and the paper in front of her. The blonde finally sat back in her fold-away beach chair, a small smile on her face as she seemed to compare her sketch with the brunette.

Her eyebrow's furrowed and she started to step slowly towards the artist. "May I ask why you were staring at me?"

Emma had to force herself to reply – the woman's voice was like pure silk. "I uh… I just drew you."

"You drew me?" A perfectly shaped eyebrow was raised.

"Yeah… I've been doing caricatures for nearly a year now, I've had no inspiration… But seeing you… God, my muse slapped me in the face." Emma smiled softly, repeating her earlier statement.

This earned her a soft smile in return. "Well… May I see it?"

The artist nodded and stood, picking up the large sketchpad and turning it around. "I'm calling it 'Beauty on a Tight Schedule'."

"Oh, it's… it's fantastic! I've never seen artwork so hasty and yet so precise, so intricate and well done."

"Why thank you. I was actually due to have a set at the local gallery, but my muse left me and they dropped it. But you… You must be my muse in human form. Maybe not even human, maybe goddess form." She held out her hand to be shaken. "I'm Emma, by the way. Emma Swan."

A slightly more tanned arm reached out and grasped her own. "Regina Mills. I'm here in New York on business."

"It's absolutely delightful to meet you, Regina."

"The same goes for you, Emma."

The blonde glanced past the other woman. "I think your cab's been nabbed. Need a ride?"

"Well, I don't usually accept rides from strangers, but I think in this case I can make an exception."

"Can I see you again?" Emma asked as she stopped her car outside a swanky hotel.

"That depends on what we'll do."

"I'd really like to paint and draw you some more."

Regina handed over her business card. "Send me a text later. I'll call you and let you know when I'm free in the next couple of weeks."

"You got yourself a deal."

"So, what is it you do, exactly?" Emma mumbled around a paintbrush settled in her mouth as she worked on a canvas with another.

"I'm Mayor of a small town in Maine." Regina replied, sitting regally in a paint-splattered leather chair in the artist's studio apartment.

"What business does Maine have with New York?"

"What makes you think I'm here for the town? I'm here on personal business."

"May I ask what that is?"

"My mother finally died. I'm here to attend her cremation. Good riddance, I say."

"You don't seem to like your mother very much."

The Mayor scoffed. "Not even the care workers liked my mother. No one likes my mother. She didn't raise me, she only birthed me. I barely even have a connection to her."

The blonde stopped for a moment. "You free Friday night?"

"Yes, why?"

"Let's go out. Dinner and a play."

"Can it be 'Wicked'?" The brunette looked hopeful.

"I don't see why not."

"Hello, am I speaking to a Miss Emma Swan?" A man's voice asked over the phone, interrupting the passionate love-making session the pair were involved in two nights before Regina had to leave.

"This is she." Emma panted, hoping that he couldn't hear two sets of heavy breathing as the other woman rode the blonde and the toy strapped to her hips.

He went on as if he hadn't heard. "I'm sorry to call so late at night but we've been contacted by a woman by the name of Regina Mills and I've only just found the memo to call. Miss Mills has noted that you were due to open an exhibition with us a year ago and you failed to deliver, but she seems to believe you're back up to standard. Would it be possible to arrange an appointment to view your artwork?"

Emma bit her lip to hold back a moan as red lips began sucking on her neck and the double bed started to creak a little with the speed of their combined thrusts. She took a few seconds to collect herself before she replied. "Yeah, that's fine. I can do any day, any day at all."

"Assuming you still live at the same address…" He paused to listen for anything and continued at her sound of confirmation. "I'll be over at noon tomorrow."

"Wonderful. I'll see you then. Gotta go." She hung up without a chance for him to reply and tossed her phone aside, both hands reaching out to grip near-black hair as she moaned happily. "Fuck, Regina! Holy fuck!"

The two cuddled up together. "Can I ask you for something?" Regina asked.


"It'll be my son's birthday the week after I get back. Could you maybe do him a painting?"

"What of?"

"You could put his face in Captain America or something." She shrugged. Emma thought for a moment.

"Show me a picture and I'll think of something. In the morning, though. I wanna snuggle."

"Miss Swan, they all seem to be of one woman…"

"Well she's my inspiration, and can you blame me? She's perfect."

"Is she real?" He asked.

"Yeah. She's at a business meeting right now."

"Your girlfriend? Fiancée? Wife?"

"I hope she'll be my girlfriend soon." Emma laughed.

"So when's Henry's birthday?" The blonde asked over lunch.

"Next Thursday."

"What… Really?" Regina nodded. "That's funny cause I gave a baby boy up for adoption when I was eighteen, and I had him eleven years ago next Thursday."

"That is rather odd… This is a long shot, but, did he have a birthmark on his left butt cheek shaped like a star?"

"Yeah, how did you… Oh my god." Emma dropped her grilled cheese onto her plate and the brunette set her own sandwich down, nodding slowly.

"I adopted your son… We have a son."

"I'm gonna miss you. These two weeks… They've been amazing." Emma sighed, taking Regina's hand and bringing it up to kiss the back of it as they stood in the airport.

"I'm going to miss you too, but I promise I'll be back in a couple of weeks with Henry, our son."

They grinned at each other. "I'm gonna get to meet him."

Over the tannoy, the flight to Maine was called and the blonde pulled the brunette in for a soft kiss. "I'll call you when I land."

Two weeks later

"You must be Henry." Emma whispered, slightly in awe as the young boy and Regina walked towards her just inside the airport.

"Mom has told me that you're… You're the woman who gave me up."

"Star shaped birthmark on your left butt cheek and weird brown dot on your foot."

Henry leapt into the blonde's arms and the Mayor let them have their moment before stepping in and joining the hug. "We could be a family." She whispered, earning eager nods from the other two.