Living Two Lives - Book 16

Chapter 1

Friday morning started off with Andrew belatedly giving June Wyatt the first £2,500 of the £10,000 that he had promised her. He had never gotten himself organised at the Christmas break to give her the money and so he was finally able to meet and get that dealt with. It would let June live and eat, as well as a small amount to get started with her clothes designs. She was grateful but understated about it, which Andrew was quietly pleased about. She knew he didn’t want a fuss made. And although unsaid, what was also crystal clear was their sexual relationship was over. Squid was never mentioned but it was foremost in Andrew’s mind. When she left she was off to buy some material, delighted to be able to just jump in. Since his return from Cambridge Andrew had not opened a book and so he spent the rest of the day studying quietly, finally relaxed and calm, resigned might be a better description, about the situation with Suzanne. The time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. He took the time to shop for, and then eat, a reasonably healthy dinner, another first from his time in Edinburgh. Then it was time to plan the following morning’s activities.

“Hey it is me. What time does the club open?”

Tony was silent for a second.

“8.00 tomorrow and 9.00 on Sunday.”

“I am on the 7.30 flight to Heathrow on Sunday, so tomorrow it is. Stockings, heels, two pleated skirts, one that she wears there that covers the stockings, the other the shortest one she possesses. Sheer, semi-transparent blouse. No knickers or bra. And her long coat so that we can get in without causing a riot. I will be at the flat at 7.15 and we need to stop at the shop so I can get my camera bag.”

“7.30, I have to pop back to lock up after the last users of the studio. I will collect it tonight for you.”

“Deal.”

“I am not going to tell her until I get back from the shop. You know how she gets.”

Tony and Andrew were laughing as they hung up but Tony was going to sleep well that evening.

And so it proved in the morning. One person came down the stairs with a bounce in her step, and chest, with a smile you could see from Glasgow. The other staggered down the stairs a bedraggled mess. But also with a smile visible from miles away. Maggie winked at Andrew and hugged and kissed him before climbing into the back of the Golf. Tony collapsed in the front seat and said nothing. Loudly.

The Manse Club was an institution. Already nearly 50 years old it was an outwardly plain functional snooker hall. There were nine tables but other than a small burst of light round the door it was dark. As Andrew walked in he was extremely grateful he had spent all the time experimenting with light settings and shutter speeds. They were the second group there, right behind two old men who were obviously regulars. They went to one back corner and Tony led Andrew and Maggie to the other. There were seats built against the wall in between racks of cues. Knowing that it could get busy quite quickly Tony racked the balls while Andrew got his camera ready. Maggie hung up her coat but was careful not to draw attention to herself. She selected a cue and bent over the table so that Andrew could see how high her skirt rode up. Tony got another cue but his role was to keep an eye out for the locals and anyone setting up at the adjacent tables.

Maggie might have fucked Tony seven ways to Sunday the previous evening but she was fired up and ready for more. She bent and posed letting Andrew get lots of shots of her bum peeking out under her skirt. Then she changed into her shortest pleated skirt which didn’t even get to her stocking tops. She could not have looked any more like a sexed up strumpet. It was fantastic. Andrew had been sitting on the ground so that nobody could see the camera. He got Tony to stand beside Maggie and caress her arse as it was proudly displayed by the short skirt. Then to both Andrew and Tony’s astonishment Maggie just unzipped the skirt and was completely bottomless and she continued to pose in the far corner. Tony’s caresses were long both in time and in the way his hand started to linger in those hard to reach places. Andrew had Maggie kneel down on the floor.

“Take off your blouse.”

Maggie didn’t pause for a moment. In a flash she was naked. Andrew got Tony to bend over and take some shots while Maggie knelt naked in front of him, half tucked under the table. They ended the third roll of film with one of her trademark winks as she hovered right in front of the obvious bulge in his jeans. Working on the principle that it was better to stop 10 minutes too soon than five minutes too late, Maggie redressed in her blouse and longer skirt before slipping back into her coat and sitting on a bench seat with a studied air of innocence. The maxim was proved true as less than five minutes later another two men took up position at the table next to them. Andrew and Tony actually played a frame of snooker before Tony packed up the balls and they quietly left. Andrew didn’t think anyone had twigged what had happened but if they did, no one said anything.

He dropped off the two of them without a word at their flat knowing that it would be an hour, at least, before they showed up at the shop. In fact it was closer to two hours but when they came in, smiling and holding hands, Andrew was engulfed in an enormous hug from Maggie.

“Thank you, you crazy man.”

Maggie shook her head.

“I was naked in a public snooker hall.”

She smiled at Andrew.

“And I bloody loved it. If you ever run out of things to think about on your morning swims then think up some more crazy antics and situations for me.”

Tony clasped Andrew’s hand but no words were exchanged. None were needed. If he still had the flat upstairs the man would have gone for a nap. He headed off to prepare for a shoot in the studio at noon and Maggie joined Andrew in the darkroom as he took the developed negatives and started to print all the pictures. About 65 of the 72 pictures came out well, there were a few that were blurry or too dark. In the dark of the room, with black stockings and a dark skirt, Maggie’s pale skin stood out wonderfully. And the sequencing worked as well. From the first photo where Maggie was standing straight, her skirt mid-thigh but still perfectly appropriate; then to her bent over with the first skirt, the bottom half of her two cheeks peeking out under it; then Tony’s hand caressing her arse, which also raised the skirt completely out of the way. The second skirt was indecent before Maggie ever bent over and her arse was totally exposed which she did. But there was something about a woman naked from the waist down bent over playing snooker that struck a chord with Andrew. It wasn’t even worthy of note anymore that Maggie always posed with her legs apart, sometimes only slightly but normally very clearly. And Maggie on her knees in front of Tony, almost tucked under the table, well that was male fantasy fodder of the highest order. All in all they were a spectacular series of photographs.

“Last night when Tony came through and told me what we were doing this morning it got me immediately excited. And the actual shoot exceeded even my dirty imagination. When you start planning a shoot it is like Pavlov’s dogs. I instantly get turned on. It is truly wonderful it really is. And just four to six times a year. Nicely spaced out.”

Maggie sighed happily. Andrew stoked her fires.

“I saw June yesterday, you should get her working on a piece of clothing for you. Something unexpected. You can tell her it is for a model, not you, but think about something.”

Maggie paused and Andrew could see he had lost her. After five minutes of silence, during which time he had cleaned up the darkroom, Maggie looked over at him.

“I am struggling. Give me an idea.”

Suddenly it was Andrew’s turn to be stuck. Then the big old brain came to his rescue.

“Remember I talked about getting a skirt with an arch-shaped panel missing at the back, as if a giant had taken a bite out of the skirt. Get her to make something like that. We will be motoring along, hugging one bank with no one on that side. You can stand facing the other boats as they pass on the starboard. All lovely, looking respectable as you wave at them, say ‘hi’, whatever it is. But I am standing behind you photographing your bare arse with some doddery old couple clearly in the background. You can turn round and smile, do that cheeky wink of yours, whatever you want. From the front, respectable married woman, the secretary that makes sure the Planning Department works properly. From the back, Maggie Fife, notorious sexpot and a woman of endless dark desires.”

It took Maggie a moment to realise that Andrew had stopped talking. She shuddered quietly.

“It is just as well you are leaving tomorrow. Bloody hell Andrew.”

She stood and composed herself.

“That is exactly what I mean.”

She left to put the kettle on, forlornly on a random shelf now that the flat was no longer useable. She was about to make tea for the two of them, plus Stacey and the other shop assistant, when Elspeth came bursting into the shop and through the back. She didn’t even stop to say ‘hi’ to anyone and instead went straight for the box of old photographs that they had been sorting. She flicked through all the paperwork until he let out a ‘yes!’. She then hunted for the specific two packets of film. Maggie and Andrew had been standing watching as Elspeth seemed to be in her own little world. When she found the two packets of prints, and the accompanying negatives, she sat in her chair and smiled.

“Do you know what that stupid woman did?”

Andrew guessed she meant the mean daughter who had summarily disposed of all her father’s camera equipment and photographs. He also guessed Elspeth was being rhetorical and waited.

“One of the names on these releases made me stop and think. I was sure I had heard of it before. So I asked Donnie last night. He didn’t know but one of his mates was round this morning before they went off to the football and he confirmed it for me.”

She handed over a model release to Maggie and Andrew looked over her shoulder. It was an odd name, Diana Fluck. In tandem the pair of them looked up at Elspeth.

“She changed her name when she became an actress. That is the real name of Diana Dors.”

Diana Dors had been the British version of Marilyn Monroe or Jayne Mansfield. She was a statuesque blonde. Again in sync, Maggie and Andrew looked at the box of old pictures.

“Exactly. I wonder what else, or more importantly, who else is in there, and all the others.”

Elspeth passed over the two packets of prints. They were perfectly normal, respectable even, poses by a movie star. This was not some hidden cache of unknown nudes or anything like that. But Charlie McWilliams had been involved in the movie business, or at least been part of the scene. And there were boxes covering 21 years, 1952 to 1973. Andrew remembered that the woman had said her father had died more than 10 years earlier. Which would be around the date of the last box.

What they had found meant that no packets of prints were just quickly looked at and then discarded. The task which already was going to take an age had just lengthened. Elspeth has just popped in to confirm the name and so she left Maggie and Andrew contemplating all the boxes of photographs.

“I will ask Stacey if she and Elspeth have a friend that wants to work some part time hours in here, sorting through that lot. If Elspeth has someone to chat to then the time will pass quicker for them.”

“I was thinking that you should get Elspeth to open all the boxes, get them all right side up and go through all the releases and notes, assuming that each box has the same arrangement. She can get them all entered into a new file in the program so that we have a record of who he shot. But I don’t think we throw any of the shots out. Go through them, see if anyone jumps out, there is anything that is, more sellable maybe. Something like that. But then repack the box and store it. Keep everything, because as sure as anything it will be the pictures we threw away that will turn out to valuable.”

“Keep the lot?”

“Tony has the space here, and there is more space behind the door in the darkroom. It would take quite a few hauls like this one before he starts to run out of space.”

Maggie changed the subject.

“I wonder why he ended up in Edinburgh, died up here.”

“With a name like McWilliams he was probably Scottish. Retired back up here?”

They were interrupted from their thoughts by the sudden emergence of Tony from the studio.

“Can you come through and bring your camera. I have shot a bunch of rolls and I want to see what you can do. Do you have the time?”

Andrew did have the time but was unsure about another sudden shot. He somewhat reluctantly followed Tony into the studio. ‘Angela’ looked bored and was sitting on the couch, looking incongruous with a vivid purple bikini. She was a standard pretty model with a good figure and there was nothing that appeared to stand out. Andrew realised that this was the life of a glamour photographer. There were no ugly women. It was how you made one of many beautiful women stand out that would determine whether a photographer was successful or not.

It was either photograph a beautiful woman in a bikini or sit and go through hundreds of old pictures from the 1950s….

Andrew worked with Angela for the last hour of her shoot. He had been given no time to prepare and so just winged it. He discovered that Angela had a nice arse, given his predilections it wasn’t going to be unobserved for long. After getting a roll of her posing in her bikini he waited while she changed back into her jeans. Andrew liked the look of jeans and high heels, again he was hardly breaking new ground here, but then had Angela cycle through several bikini tops as well as bras. It was all very hurried and improvised. His only instruction to Angela was to act like she was wearing a blouse or jumper. To pose like she didn’t realise that she was just wearing a bra or bikini top. He took lots of shots but he would only find out how successful they had been when he developed the film. Finally the shoot was over and Andrew escaped leaving Tony to deal with the paperwork as usual.

“Why did he get you to shoot instead of just carrying on himself?”

“I don’t know. She wasn’t the most engaging of models. Maybe it was hard work?”

Tony let Angela out and joined them.

“Thanks for that. I was struggling to get anything with her. I know I just dumped you in it but I needed a break. She looked positively bored on my last roll.”

“Has she been modelling long?”

“About a year. I don’t think she will last unless she cheers up, learns to look happier. You got her more engaged. Part of it is the pace. You don’t hang around when you shoot. Always onto the next shot.”

“Really?”

“You always seem to know what you are going to do next. ‘Out of that, into this’. ‘Over to the bathroom set’. ‘Go and change back into your jeans, but keep the shoes on’. As soon as you finish a set, or finish a roll you have the model getting ready for the next one. I think she forgot to be bored. Leave all the film, I will develop it for you.”

It would have been nice to hang out with Tony and Maggie, go for dinner, sit in the pub and just get away from the studio and the shop. But there was a booking for the studio that evening so Andrew bade them farewell and headed home. He had an early start for Paris in the morning.

 

Chapter 2

Sitting on the plane to Heathrow on Easter Sunday, without the distraction of Maggie and Tony and the business, and Andrew was back to his usual overthinking mood. There had been no sign of Suzanne and no contact with her since the Wednesday. Leslie and Julian had returned on Saturday from their mini-honeymoon, but it had been late on the Saturday evening and he had an early start the following day so there was nothing other than a quick conversation with them. The loneliness and isolation of his school days struck him that morning. Andrew had not maintained many friendships from school, not that he had many to start with. Other than Pete who he had seen briefly that trip there was no one. His life while at school had seemed like this carousel of women constantly in his life but by the end there was only June Wyatt and Mary Jones that he saw, and even then it was not regularly. And Suzanne. From the day Andrew finished at school he had put it, and most of the people that were fellow pupils, behind him. His life other than Cambridge had been Suzanne, Julian and Leslie, Tony and Maggie, and Pete. Now one was no longer available, both couples were married or were about to get married and the last, although a good friend was not a confidante. Andrew, even although he seemed to be running around the whole time was lonely in Edinburgh. On top of that was the horribly belated realisation that Mary Campbell didn’t want to see him all the time and the lack of any kind of familial bond with his parents. When he had been troubled by Arthur Sherard Andrew had gone to see Freya. When he had been upset over Suzanne he had gone to see Nikki and Fran, and he didn’t think he would have discussed her with Leslie, even if she had been around.

As they came into land his resolve increased to be a better friend with his friends at Cambridge. It was clear he did not have a group of friends from school that were going to be the bedrock of his adult friendships.

Once Andrew had changed terminals and on the short flight to Paris he thought about the upcoming couple of days. He had history with Manon and Heloise, not much but at least some, and knew that they could get everything resolved. But the meeting later that morning with Chiara was a mystery. Andrew understood her gratitude over the shoot but didn’t really see the need to meet. Theirs was a fleeting acquaintance. Thinking about her made him smile as he reminisced about the recreation he had done with Fran in her living room in Glasgow. Chiara was the oldest woman Andrew had seen naked, she was three years older than Maggie. Every other woman he had seen naked was 21 or younger. Andrew stopped himself, he was forgetting his part-time career as a glamour photographer. All of the fantasy shoot women had been at least 30. Jayne Morrison just the previous week was 39. He thought it was surprising that he didn’t think about them when he thought about naked women, even when most of them had been topless in the shoot. Another compartmentalised silo. Anyway, all his sexual partners had been under 21. Sure there had been a large number of older women, including Heloise herself and going all the way back to Kenzie. So Chiara was an outlier. As Andrew had said to her at the time 99% plus of the women on the planet regardless of their ages would hate her for looking so good and worrying about it. She might have been 29 but she was fit, trim, healthy and beautifully proportioned. She was physically very attractive, what he had struggled with was her attitude on the Thursday evening. His reaction to that had carried over to the Sunday shoot and it took most of the day to disappear. So he was nervous about the day, more from the unknown than anything else. He just had no idea what she would want, or even how she would react to him.

Such thoughts continued as the cab took him into the centre of Paris. For the third time he was staying at the same little hotel on the border of the 1^st and 2^nd arrondissemonts, the Monsart. After checking in Andrew walked through the Tuileries Gardens and was standing outside the Louvre at 11.50. Although it was the Easter weekend, maybe because it was the Easter weekend, the courtyard was busy with lots of people. There was some kind of demonstration going on, but it was not clear exactly about what. Suddenly an arm snaked through his and standing beside him was Chiara Zellicotti. It was a strange admission but Andrew was surprised how pretty she was. Pretty understates it, but it was different than beautiful. He turned around and was surprised at how she looked. And this was a woman that he had held naked in his arms. She pulled his head down and kissed his on both cheeks, French style.

“You look surprised. Am I late?”

Andrew blushed and shook his head.

“I was taken by how striking you look. It surprised me, but in a very pleasant way.”

It was interesting to see Chiara acknowledge this, take it as her due somehow.

“Do you wish to go into the museum?”

“No, my hotel is close by, it was just a convenient place to meet. I don’t mind where we go. We can visit the museum if you wish just as a place where we can walk out of this weather but I don’t care.”

“We are both bundled up so how about we walk through the gardens and along the Seine until we spot a quiet café?”

They extricated ourselves from the crowd, the protest was getting louder, and crossed back into the Gardens. Chiara commented on the angry people around them.

“The protestors are getting angrier. It will not end well.”

This was the protest about the building of the glass pyramid in the middle of the courtyard of the Louvre. It is an accepted icon now but at the time it was hugely controversial, ‘Mitterrand’s Folly’ or some such thing. But they were quickly away from all the commotion and Andrew could concentrate on the woman on his arm. With her heels Chiara was 5’10 or 5’11 and so they could walk arm in arm and talk without him having to lean down or stoop as he often had to.

“Thank you for coming here a day early and meeting me. Most of what I wanted to discuss with you could have been done over the phone but I felt it was important for us to talk face to face. I want to talk to you about many things.”

Chiara smiled up at him and he hardly recognised the woman on his arm.

“First of all I want to apologise and at the same time thank you for the weekend that we shot together. I was unhappy with my life, what I saw as a fading career and generally was mad at the world. You happened to catch it that night but I had been a bitch with a lot of people for many weeks. But I was amazed at your suggestion to Beatrice Raymonde about our shoot. That she and Veronique decided to shoot it is also amazing but that it was your idea was just so, so.”

She ran out of words. She ended up squeezing his arm and smiling at him so Andrew understood her sentiment.

“The day of the shoot went well, especially after I cried my fake tears at you. No man can resist a crying woman.”

He smiled at her mischievous expression, and she carried on.

“I knew what you had suggested was unusual. I had worried about my appearance for a long time. And it was not all in my head Andrew. I was being passed over for roles and for shoots. That Beatrice took a chance with what you suggested does not change my situation, or so I thought at the time. But they did take a chance with the commercial shoot and it has been successful in ways I am shocked and surprised at. Fashion is about youth, innovation, it is tailored to the young. But Hermès is a luxury brand that has appeal to older people, overwhelmingly women. They were trying to broaden their appeal to a younger audience but I am at the starting edge of that demographic, having just turned 29. Not Heloise at 22 but me at 29. The final scene of our commercial was more than Hermès were initially prepared for. But Beatrice liked what she saw, what we had done and so she took it to senior management. There are two 30 second commercials, standard slots for television advertising but they have cut a two minute mini movie for the cinema. It challenges and fights the notion that you are too old at 29. They let me do the voiceover myself with my Italian accented French. It was approved last week and will be shown in the cinemas next month. Heloise gets April exclusively, then the cinema commercial will be shown in May while Joelle’s commercial is on television then finally my television commercial will be shown in June. But that is just timing.”

She caught her breath before continuing.

“When I asked you to come over and speak to me, this was all being mooted but nothing was definite. Now they want to expand the range of models and focus on women of my age and even older. Now this is a move that is long overdue and someone would have come up with the idea. But Andrew, it was you. You made a suggestion and it has taken on a life of its own. We both know that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, as that Oscar Wilde said, and if Hermès make this move then other fashion houses will as well. There is going to be a generation of older fashion models that will want to thank you.”

The way she said the last had all the blood flowing south. Mercy, or maybe merci. Yes Andrew knew it, he needed to stick to his day job.

“I could have told you all this over the phone but I don’t think I could have done it justice, made you realise how important this is, unless we met. I think that Beatrice Raymonde will get the main credit for the inspiration but she knows where the idea comes from. Veronique, your friend Manon, all the models, she herself knows that it was your idea.”

Chiara finally stopped talking and drew breath. She got Andrew to stop and looked at him.

“I just wanted to say thank you to you in person. The change in the last three months for me has been wonderful. I don’t know what is going to happen but the future is better now than it was at Christmas. I am happier than I was at Christmas, and a large part of the change is due to you.”

They started walking again and Chiara continued to gush forth about the new possibilities for her. He smiled and nodded and made the odd comment but she clearly needed to let all this pent up excitement out. Finally the torrent of enthusiasm waned and she was silent.

“I have talked too much, for too long, but I was excited to tell you about everything that is happening. Enough of me, tell me about life in Britain, life as a student.”

Andrew gave her the brief and very edited version of his life.

“So you are not going to model full time?”

“No.”

“But why not. You have the physique and the willingness to do these daring shoots. I think that when the commercials start to be shown you will be in demand.”

“Chiara, I have less than three weeks of free time until the second week of December. One in late June and two in late September. Other than that I am at university or working on my summer job. Regardless of the demand I do not have the time.”

Chiara looked astonished and then pensive.

“I had assumed that we would get the chance to work again Andrew. I know from speaking to Heloise that she hopes for the same thing. Are you saying that you will not shoot anymore?”

“That is the main reason that I have come over to speak to you and Heloise. I am pleased that you all think the campaign that is about to start will be a success. This is your life and if it means that you can extend your career and change people’s attitudes about age in the industry then I am delighted for you. But I am an engineering student, who did this as a whim this time last year, and then as a favour for Heloise at Christmas. I know, because Manon flat out told me, that they would have preferred someone else. So ignoring Heloise and what she wants, let’s talk about what you want, and why you think I should be the person for the shoot. I don’t even know if I can be in some shoots, as Hermès have a hold on this last shoot for a year. And on top of everything else I have to deal with, I do not have an agent.”

Chiara’s attitude changed from gushing enthusiasm to considered calm.

“Okay, I am not going to try and change the plans that you have in place. I would like to work with you for two reasons. As a thank you for what you have done for me, and because I think of you as a lucky charm. Working with you was the turning point for me. I know that I can work with other models and achieve the right result, I just think it would be easier with you. Are you able to work at the weekends?”

Andrew sighed, could this get any more complicated?

“My summer job is for the government, and as the junior person there to cover other people’s holidays I get all the shitty tasks. That meant I had to travel out of town at short notice a couple of times. I should be able to travel and work most weekends but it is not 100% guaranteed.”

“Okay, and in September?”

“I can work then but I do have to get ready for university.”

“So if I lined up four or five shoots mostly one day but no more than two you would be able to fit them in by October?”

“Yes I should be able to. But remember I am meeting Heloise and Manon for the same discussion with them. I doubt that I can do 10 shoots in 15 weeks.”

“And you cannot work before the end of June?”

There was a low railing along the side of the embankment and he sat on it and thought for a moment.

“I am going back to university next Sunday and I will do no modelling work until after my exams. The second half of June at the earliest. I must be crazy but I can stay this week, or come back at the end of the week if there is a shoot, or two, that can be done this week.”

Rather than look excited or grateful Chiara looked thoughtful.

“And you will tell Heloise the same thing?”

Andrew sat there for several seconds before responding.

“With Heloise it is friendship. She helped me last year and wanted me to be in the commercial at Christmas. She is still saying the same thing as she did then, she doesn’t think she is a good enough actress to fake the emotion. She thinks she needs me. Part of my talk with her is to talk through all that with her. When I stop and think about what you are asking and how it slots into my life, I feel I am sacrificing my time to make this work. I have 15 weeks between the end of 2^nd year and the start of 3^rd year. Two weeks of Army camp, 10 weeks of work with a one week break right at the beginning and two weeks at the end. And then straight back to university. It is not much of a break in the summer.

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful or dismissive of this chance, this opportunity, or anything like that but it is not my life. I am an engineering student and that is the most important thing for me. For you, for Heloise, for all the other models I meet and work with, this is their life, their career, the way they pay the bills.”

“Do you not enjoy the attention? All of us love being in the spotlight.”

“Not in the slightest. I am shy and private, despite my relaxed attitude to my body on film and in print. There is nobody to represent me, to promote me, and I don’t care.”

They slowly walked along the north bank of the Seine, not talking. It was not a tense silence Andrew could tell Chiara was thinking about what he had said.

“I don’t think I have ever met someone in the industry or round the fringes of it, that wouldn’t kill for this opportunity. You are unique. I have to ask; your summer job is set?”

“Yes. They asked for me to return and I have committed to them again. I don’t think I could back out now.”

That last was bullshit but working for the MoD Police was more important than modelling, and right at that moment Andrew could not have explained why. But it was true. Chiara continued to ponder as they walked along.

“I fired my agent last year, I did not think he was doing a good job for me. Now it was not all his fault but he was not helping. I have represented myself for the last 10 months. I have worked in the industry for 12 years in five countries in Europe. Would you consider me as your agent Andrew?”

Andrew had seen this coming from half way through the speech.

“On the face of it, sure. You list all the reasons why you would succeed. But what about all the other things. Lawyers, language barriers, conflict of interest, what about all them?”

Rather than be offended Chiara smiled.

“These are good responses, especially the last one. Promise me seven weekends between now and when you graduate. Two this year, three next year, and two the final year. Part of the contract at the start. Then you don’t work for me, with me, and I represent you with everyone else. Beatrice mentioned she sent everything to a lawyer in Edinburgh, so we will use her, with local help if we need it.”

Andrew didn’t respond for a long time as he thought it through.

“I will consider it Chiara, seriously. But I don’t know. I don’t know that I have the passion for modelling and two years is a long time to commit to something in advance. Look, you have been very kind with your praise and comments and I am not dismissing them. But I don’t know you Chiara. I don’t know anyone in the industry. Hell Manon is not in the industry, she was someone I met in Edinburgh. She is in product development for Hermès. Heloise told me a lot of stories of her life as a model and I was horrified. Sickened, disgusted, angry, pick any of them. Part of my reluctance is that the modelling industry appears to have more than its share of scum. People who take advantage of people, especially women. So it is not an industry I am drawn towards. If Heloise had told me that the shoots were not a success or that she was now willing to work with other male models then I would not be here. I would have had my moment in the sun and then faded away. So this is not going to be something I am going to jump into, embrace. It will be the exact opposite. For anyone other than Hermès and the three or four models that I have worked with already I will be suspicious and looking for reasons not to do the shoot. Can I be any clearer?”

Again Chiara looked thoughtful rather than upset or offended. Then she smiled.

“Nothing you said is a lie Andrew. Come, let us talk of other things.”

Andrew had given Chiara the short version of his life and now she talked about herself as they arced away from the Seine and back into the centre of Paris. Her mother was a widow and it was just her and her older brother. He was a priest in the Catholic Church and her mother was very religious so she had a distant relationship with her family. Not estranged but only one step away from it. Religious nagging every time she headed home meant that she only saw her family once a year, at Christmas. Chiara had graduated high school but had started modelling immediately. She had been approached while still at school but her mother would not countenance her doing any modelling so she had waited until she turned 18. Given Andrew’s comments about the industry she skated over the early years, ‘they were some tough times’ was as far as she was prepared to go. But at 21 she had been ‘discovered’ and had worked in Milan and Paris regularly until the last year. Then she lost some shoots to younger models and most of 1984 had been a struggle for her. She had still been working, though not as much, and she had been bitter and angry. As Andrew had witnessed in December.

Their walk along a quiet side street was suddenly interrupted by two familiar faces, standing waiting outside a small café. Heloise smiled.

“What? You thought we trusted the two of you alone?”

There were hugs and kisses all round before they entered the café and sat at a small booth at the back. Once the orders had been taken they were able to chat.

“Don’t look so surprised. Chiara and I have spoken for several weeks about your visit. It took a little while but we recognised that we are no longer competing for the same shoots, the same commercials and that it was better to plan this trip together.”

Heloise was smiling but there was a serious undertone behind her speech.

“Okay, I suppose that makes sense.”

Andrew let Chiara recount their conversation of that afternoon to Manon and her, and they sat and listened. He sat quietly not understanding the rapid fire French. Once Chiara was finished Heloise looked to Manon to respond.

“Beatrice knows we are all meeting and what I am going to talk about has her approval. They really love the commercials, they spent time and money on the mini-movie for the cinema and all of them have tested really well with audiences. Remember this is not art, this is a message to sell cologne and perfume. They want to shoot some more, with other models as well as with Heloise and Chiara. I heard what you said about the modelling industry, and the way fashion uses it. Although it is not quite as stark as you make it out to be, there is a lot of truth in what you say. So this brings us to you.

“Andrew, you have a creative streak. You joke about just being an engineering student and although that is true it is not all that you are. It was your idea with Chiara. It was you with the dress with Joelle. It was you with the fireman lift with Heloise. Small things, things that gave the shoots that little bit of piquancy, that touch of fire. The shoots went well, the models all loved working with you, although why wouldn’t they? Trust me it is not always like that. So we are here to talk to you about the options for working, probably throughout your remaining time as a student, and maybe beyond. Having heard everything you and Chiara have talked about, is it something that you would be interested in doing? Can you make the time for more shoots?”

Andrew didn’t mean to sit thinking for so long, it was an unnecessary increase in the tension. He just thought through the remaining breaks until he graduated. If he managed to do something that week, and assuming there was a shoot after his finals in 4^th year it would be eight shoots. If they agreed to one week per break.

“Okay I was thinking about what that would be like. Would you accept one week of shoots per break? Eight weeks of shoots total, if we do something this week.”

There was a lot of talk in French and some thoughtful silence before Manon responded.

“I think that is the right amount for Hermès Andrew, it allows us to always have campaigns ready to launch across different products. But what about other companies? Other opportunities?”

“What about them? Remember this is not my career. You do have to plan for me to stop and never shoot again in July 1987. Not 100% definite but I do not know where I am going to be working, it is entirely possible I could move to the US or Canada or somewhere like that. So this will be a 28 month contract, 8 weeks of shoots minimum, one week per break from university. If there is a chance for more then we can discuss it but it gives you the minimum. At the end of July 1987 the contract will be over and we can either part ways or renegotiate just like in any other business arrangement. And the contract will pay me regardless of whether you use me or not, all that will have to be worked out, but I won’t be working for nothing. In return I will agree to only model for Hermès.”

Chiara’s intake of breath was pronounced. Her dreams of being his agent evaporating before his eyes. All three of them looked at me strangely.

“You really don’t care about being a model do you?”

It was Manon who voiced the unspoken collective thought.

“I don’t want to disappoint you but you heard what I said to Chiara. If you had called me and told me that the commercials were awful and the audience hated them, hated me, I would not have been upset. I am doing this for my friends, not fortune and glory. Definitely not glory.”

“I will talk to Beatrice tonight. You had better plan to stay until Saturday morning. I doubt we will be able to get anything organised for Tuesday which means you will be busy from Wednesday until Friday, and they may run late. Now that I think about it, Tuesday will be about getting the contract signed. We will pay for the hotel, are you at the same place as usual?”

He nodded.

“Okay then, we have a plan. I will see you in the offices at 9.30 on Tuesday morning Andrew and we will get the contract sorted out, deal with Beatrice and then figure out what we are going to shoot on short notice and see if we can find any models who are free.”

The last was said with a wry look at Heloise and Chiara. Manon stood to leave and Chiara also prepared to go. Heloise made no move and so Andrew said his goodbyes to the other two and returned to the booth. He felt that his parting with Chiara had been a little perfunctory after all their talks but she had hustled off with Manon. Heloise leaned against him and smiled.

“I thought that would take much longer, maybe all day tomorrow as well. None of us really grasp how little you care about modelling. You talked about it at Christmas, and in your letters and calls, but you were so good with the three of us that we all assumed that you would want to do a lot more, especially the racier, sexier shoots. There are men who have been in the industry for years that are more nervous than you were that weekend. And as for the lift with Chiara.”

Heloise shook her head.

“That is the last 15 seconds of the little movie, it is just a two minute commercial really. You should hear the rumour mill within the industry. When it is shown at the cinemas, there will be a lot of comment, a lot of talk.”

“It is nice to hear all these kind comments Heloise but I am always uncomfortable being praised like this. I was not lying when I said I would have been happy if the whole thing was a flop. I did the shoots because you asked me.”

“I know. I need to become more comfortable with other models but I still only want to work with you.”

“I am going to working for Hermès for a week at a time, and you will know when that week is. It will be up to you or your agent to deal with Beatrice and I presume the ad agency. But I am steering clear of all that. I will leave all that for the lawyers.”

“You trust your lawyer very much.”

“Mhairi? Oh yes. She is excellent.”

The less said the better about how much Andrew relied on Mhairi.

“Are you going to get an agent? What do you think of Chiara’s offer?”

“Can I ask you what you thought of Chiara’s offer? I can see the benefits of dealing with someone who knows all the tricks and shortcuts, all the ways agencies and companies try and screw you over. But at the same time she is still working and it just creates confusion and all sorts of conflict of interest problems. And I don’t know that I need an agent. If I sign an exclusive contract with Hermes with ironclad payment terms whether they use me or not, what do I care. Mhairi contracted with an entertainment lawyer in London with experience of the industry to review the last deal. I assume she will do the same this time and I will pay a one-time fee and then it will be sorted.”

The day was full of significant pauses and appraising looks.

“I know that this is an odd, even personal, question but do you not want to enjoy the lifestyle?”

“Enjoy the lifestyle? You told me some of the horror stories Heloise.”

“Does the idea of women finding you attractive, wanting to be with you, not appeal?”

This was turning into a very surreal day.

“Come on Heloise. We are sitting here in a booth at the back of a quiet café in the late afternoon. You could not force me to go to a club or anything equally trendy. I am the world’s most boring person.”

It was as if Heloise had been testing him. She smiled.

“I know, well about the club. I don’t agree about the boring part. You are going to have to be careful with the contract Andrew. Often agencies or their clients would expect the model, or models, to be out, to be seen. Like the gatherings at the Salon at Hermes. Additional publicity. You should make sure that no one tries to insert that into the contract. Based on what I have seen, it is the female models that have to deal with this much more than the male models. We are paid three to ten times more than the men, it is one area where the discrimination is against the men.”

Andrew did not care about the pay differential. As he thought about what Heloise was talking about it came back to the power dynamic. If you are being paid a lot of money then the buyer has some power, the power of the Franc, or the Pound. By not relying on modelling to make his living, to not have to worry about making rent, or having enough money to buy food, Andrew was outside the power dynamic. Based on everyone’s reaction he appeared to have some power as they were all so keen for him to continue to model.

They moved away from modelling for a while and talked about the last three months of their lives. Heloise and Abi wrote to each other every couple of weeks which was a surprise. But Heloise liked the connection outside the industry and she seemed more relaxed and happy than at Christmas.

“I am going to visit Abigail next week before she returns to Cambridge. Just three days but it will be nice to see her, and her parents, again.”

Wow, a real friendship, not just pen pals.

“Do you think back to that night with us both in your bed Andrew?”

Heloise was unable to keep a straight face and laughed before hugging him.

“I shouldn’t tease you given that Abigail did not give you a choice.”

Her tone turned wistful.

“I do think of it. How nice you were to let me sleep with you, how nice Abigail was to suggest it.”

It was Andrew’s turn to look at Heloise carefully.

“What am I missing Heloise? You are a beautiful woman, a famous beautiful woman, and I understand that you have been treated badly by men in the past. We have become friends and it is through my friendship with you that I am experiencing a little of your crazy and glamourous life. But there seems to be more to it.”

She sighed and looked away before turning back towards him.

“I am fine Andrew. It is the only time I have ever been so daring. I mean it wasn’t daring as I didn’t do anything but you know what I mean.”

Rather than being an erotic reminiscence it reinforced once again that he was seen as the safe option. It didn’t get him down but it did distract him for a while. Heloise and Andrew chatted away but it must have been inconsequential. Afternoon turned into evening and they left the café. Andrew discovered they were a couple of blocks to the south of the Champs-Elysees as they came upon it suddenly.

“Will you have dinner with me Andrew?”

He shook off his torpor and smiled at Heloise.

“Of course. Do you have any suggestions?”

In response Heloise took his hand and they headed over the river, ending up at the same place they had been at Christmas, the French restaurant owned by the old man that had served with her grandfather. It was now her favourite place and she was afforded privacy and anonymity when she was there. So the two of them had a quiet romantic dinner on the Left Bank. The best thing about the restaurant was the portion sizes. This was a soups and stews kind of place, probably called French provincial or some such thing in the Michelin guide, and the portions were hearty. Heloise had sparkling water and a salad but Andrew ate for the pair of them. It was a lovely meal and he had a nice time but part of him was wondering where the night was going.

This was where the difference in their status, their experience and their interests all came to the fore. Andrew did not want to go to some club or a party somewhere. He had never been anywhere trendy in his entire life and did not feel he had missed anything. Too serious, too studious, too sober. So he was concerned that Heloise would want to go clubbing. It was not that Andrew didn’t want to go clubbing, that was not true. He went to a tacky nightclub catering to drunk students every week. It was the worry about dealing with attention. The conversations during the day had highlighted to him how both Heloise and Chiara enjoyed the spotlight, enjoyed being well known, if not famous. He could think of nothing worse. Now Andrew’s ego wasn’t so large that he thought that anyone would be interested in him, but he also didn’t want to have to deal with people coming up to Heloise, to them. All that was left for him to do was explain to Heloise that he was a miserable misanthrope. He should have had more faith in her.

“Let’s walk back to the Tuileries and enjoy a quiet walk in the park. I have only done that, walked there at night once before, with you a year ago.”

So they ended up walking arm in arm, no different than any other couple, glossing over the height of course. Heloise had a hat and scarf on to ward off the chill of the evening so no one recognised her. They had done a good job of staying away from modelling over dinner but talked about her upcoming work. She went on, at length, about various fashion shoots she had completed or had scheduled. Most of the brands Andrew had heard of but he doubted he could have picked out the clothes. Her and Abi would have a lot to talk about the following week. Turning, Andrew followed Heloise’s lead and they walked along a colonnaded pavement before arriving at the entrance to a hotel. She led him into the bar of the Hotel Meurice, it reminded him of the In and Out Club in London. They found a table against the back wall and people watched.

Suddenly the tension from earlier was back. Did Heloise want to come back to his hotel with him? What were the expectations? Andrew’s reading of women’s signals was as shit as ever and he couldn’t help feeling that he was expected to say or do something. He was out of his depth, and blunt honesty did not seem the right approach.

“Would you like to do something tomorrow? We solved all our problems a day early.”

Heloise smiled at him, giving nothing away.

“I have to fly to Ajaccio tomorrow evening so it will have to be in the city. I am glad we dealt with everything today as I would not have had a lot of time tomorrow.”

“Where is Ajaccio?”

“Oh, it is the capital of Corsica. I am there until Thursday working but should be home Thursday evening. I will talk to my agent tomorrow and make sure Beatrice Raymonde knows I am available for Friday.”

She grinned at him.

“You will have me naked in your arms again Andrew.”

He laughed, blunt honesty looked like the only solution.

“Forgive me my bluntness Heloise but I am terrible at understanding women. I am trying to figure out if you would like to come back to my hotel tonight.”

Andrew was blushing and now there was a matching pair.

“I did not think that you would ask. Andrew, I am, I mean, I.”

Heloise ran out of words sighed deeply.

“I do not think that I can Andrew.”

“I am sorry I embarrassed you.”

“It is me, I do want to go back with you but nothing can happen.”

She was exasperated with the situation. And being the slow man that he was, the penny finally dropped.

“Come back as my friend Heloise, tease me with your sexy body. I will kiss you, for a long time, and then we will fall asleep, me spooned behind you with your hard little nipple grazing my hand.”

“We will not, I mean, eh, just friends?”

He laughed and kissed her hand.

“I promise to be a gentleman, definitely not a perfect gentleman, but you will only be semi-ravished not totally ravished. All in the name of friendship.”

He was sure the whack was for his poor attempt at a pious look. On the walk back to the hotel it was as if a cloud had lifted off them. Where the night was heading had weighed on both of them. Now Heloise and her endless legs skipped along as they walked past the Ritz.

So, how do you only semi-ravish a supermodel?

 

Chapter 3

The fact that Heloise’s grip started to cut off Andrew’s circulation as they got closer to his room was not lost on him. She was still walking quickly but she was clearly conflicted. He got her into his room, let her sit in the chair while he sat on the bed.

“Okay, now that you have stopped crushing my hand, are you okay? Would you like to get a cab home?”

She came over and sat beside him.

“No. I am just being stupid. I was wondering how thorough this semi-ravishing would be.”

She giggled.

“I am worried I won’t be ravished enough.”

Heloise threw her arms up and jumped on top of Andrew, pushing him back. Her lips had just a trace of the liqueur cocktail from the bar still there. Andrew pressed against them, tasting her, tasting that one last cocktail, his tongue teasing them apart. He lost himself in her lips, the softness of them, and closed his eyes to the world and focused on them. Heloise’s tongue slipped into his mouth, running over his teeth, flitting her and there. Andrew’s hands snaked round to her dainty bum and cupped it firmly, squeezing her cheeks and grinding her hips against him. Her hands came and caressed his head as she held him tight, her fervour and desire evident in the way her hips swayed against him, no resistance to his dick pressing against her. They lay on the bed, kissing and grinding against each other for several minutes, letting the tension between them build. They parted to get some air and Heloise groaned in his arms.

“Merde, I am so horny. You have me so worked up.”

Andrew rolled her onto her back before sitting up.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

No sooner was the sentence out Heloise’s mouth than Andrew’s fingers were at her belt, undoing it and her trouser button at the same time. He grabbed the waistband of everything and pulled them down her legs, knickers and all, the trousers turning inside out as he pulled. An annoying 15 seconds of comedy ensued as he tried to get her shoes off with her trousers tangled up around them but eventually Heloise was lying naked from the waist down on the bed. Looking stunned and a little embarrassed.

With a smile Andrew parted her legs and kissed his way up those insanely long legs. By the time he was passed her knee he could smell her arousal. There was no shyness, no false modesty. Heloise was primed and ready. Slipping his hands under her, onto her bum cheeks, Andrew licked delicately, with just the tip of his tongue, along her lips. Heloise had a small pussy, the smallest he had ever seen. It was why sex had been so painful a year ago. It was a physiological thing, her sex organs, although fully developed were just small and tight. With some women that first lick, from taint to clit, is long and you get a sense and taste of the woman’s pussy juice. With Heloise that was not possible. It was more delicate movements, more finesse, doing everything on a smaller and, to his mind, more difficult scale.

Although the task was different than normal Andrew was determined to make this as memorable for Heloise as possible. His tongue found her clit, ripe and ready for him. Time lost any meaning for the next little while. Andrew’s world was between Heloise’s thighs. And he was pure scientist. He knew what worked for other women and so it was now time to gauge the response from Heloise to his tongue. It took a few minutes to realise that she needed sustained strong pressure on her clit to finally get to orgasm. He was a little uncomfortable as she pulled his head into her pussy and demanded that he squeeze harder but repeated entreaties to him finally got her over the top.

There are orgasms that can catch you unaware, they just suddenly sneak up on you, sometimes they surprise even the woman as well. This was not one of those ones. It felt like Heloise was on the brink of orgasm for 30 seconds, a lot of ‘right there’, ‘don’t stop’ and an endless stream of ‘oui’ had her twitching and shivering in his arms. This was not thrashing around, it was delicate and feminine and just suited Heloise. If there was such a thing as an elegant orgasm, that was it. Andrew still lay between those long legs, waiting for her to recover. She was not Helena but she came back to earth fairly quickly. And then he pounced.

Andrew slipped the middle finger of his right hand into her, a tight but comfortable fit. Her cry of ‘Oh Andrew’ was cut off as he circled the roof of her vagina, feeling for that little rough patch of skin. It was slightly further forward than he was used to but upon feeling the rougher skin Andrew started a tapping cadence on it and returning his lips to her clit. Heloise’s second orgasm was anything but elegant. Her hips were off the bed and his head was trapped between her thighs. Heloise pushed Andrew’s head away and flopped down onto the bed, panting from the unexpected physical exertion. He pulled himself up the bed and lay beside her, still dressed, incongruously, from the waist up.

“That second one, wow. I have never felt like that before, what did you do?”

“Caressed your g-spot, with my finger. With most women when you do that and play with their clit, the orgasm is more intense than normal.”

“That’s for sure.”

Heloise sat up and pulled off her sweater and blouse giggling as she slipped under the covers naked.

“You need to lose some clothes Andrew.”

A minute later she was draped over his left hand side, her head on his shoulder.

“I have become afraid to get close to men recently. Too many sleazy guys, photographers, models, guys around the edge of the industry. That is where Manon had the right idea, setting me up with you, someone who has no idea who I am, or who I was, and isn’t immediately trying to use me to get something for themselves. Even tonight you are gentle and giving and you just blew my mind. I take a lot from you. Intimacy, satisfaction, even making you model. Here you are, only doing modelling because I have asked you, well me and an ever expanding collection of women.”

“It is a life experience Heloise. Putting aside the absurdity of being naked with so many hot women, it is a chance to see behind the curtain. And the truth is I have long holidays from university and most students get a job during the breaks. Mine is just a little more, well naked, than most.”

“It all starts on Tuesday. You will be famous, on television across Europe.”

“It is an odd circumstance, which I don’t think I fully appreciated even in December. But it is the women who are famous, the women who get paid several times more. I doubt that there will be much of a fuss over me, it will be you, and Joelle and Chiara that will get the deserved plaudits.”

“Maybe that is right, it is true about the publicity and the money. But don’t underestimate your hidden power Andrew. Because you have nothing to compare it to, your shoots went very smoothly compared to most that I have been on. Manon was right about your creative streak. You have good ideas and it makes the set calm and a fun place to work. I heard Veronique compliment you to Ms. Raymonde. One thing is to consider who you are working with, and who you may want not to work with. You asked me about Chiara as an agent and you talked about just dealing with a lawyer over the contract. But having an agent could allow you some say over the other models on the shoots. There will be more than 50 women over the next two and a half years. You are not going to like all of them. There will be some who were like Chiara that evening before the shoots and who you will not be able to seduce into compliance.”

“Seduce. Hah. I don’t think so. She had to cry, fake tears mind, to get me to forget her behaviour.”

“Oh Andrew, you idiot. Chiara is happier than she has been in more than a year. She is going to an extended career because of what you suggested. She is having dinner with you tomorrow night and is going to come here and thank you repeatedly.”

He looked in amazement at her calm face.

“Andrew, you are my friend, my closest male friend. A generous friend as you just showed. I love you but we are never going to be together, and, well I am not possessive. Just as Abigail was not possessive with you in December. Chiara and I have talked about you and she was open about wanting to take you to bed and thank you for everything. I will be in Ajaccio, so who am I to complain. You are not mine, and my love for you, the way I feel about you, will not change because you sleep with Chiara Zellicotti. And being with her will not change how you think and feel about me. Now one night we might both want you and then who knows.”

She giggled and kissed him.

“I should have filmed the look on your face.”

Andrew was stunned, by the casual acceptance of it as much as anything. Once again, he appeared not to have any say in what was going on in his life. Heloise one night, Chiara the next, who the heck knew on Tuesday.

“Are you upset?”

“No, just taken aback. I didn’t realise that Chiara was so grateful, and how she wanted to thank me. And although I understand and agree with your thoughts about us, I was surprised at the casual way of passing me around.”

“No not passing you around, just not being possessive. I am just presuming that you will succumb to her charms tomorrow. Two adults without ties who can bring each other pleasure.”

Heloise stifled a yawn and looked at him guiltily.

“We don’t have to be anywhere in the morning. Will you let me sleep now and it can be your turn in the morning?”

Andrew didn’t even pretend to claim that she didn’t need to reciprocate. 10 minutes of clean up in the bathroom and they were back in bed. They spooned like he promised and his last memory was Heloise holding his hand to her tiny tit, her nipple grazing the palm of his hand.

As always, he was awake long before the woman in his bed, only Suzanne had become acclimatised to waking early with him. He exercised quietly and then left the room for his morning run. The hotel did not have a pool so he ran longer that morning, endless laps round the Tuileries. Andrew thought about the upcoming day, about Heloise and Chiara, about him, and women, sex, he thought about many things. He never missed a chance to overthink something. Everything with women seemed complicated right now. Suzanne was an ache that he was trying to deal with; Helena was confusing not just with the two of them but with her desire to experiment sexually with Abi; who knew what was going to happen with her and/or Abi next term. And now Heloise and Chiara on top of it. Andrew shook his head as he ran on that miserable Paris morning; he was a slut, there was no doubt about that, but he was a confused slut. Andrew and his first world problems!

Once again it appeared that a beautiful woman wanted to sleep with him and he had made no effort to get to this situation. Sure he had been kind and supportive and all those things back in December but Andrew had not done that with any expectation of a thank you fuck. In Chiara’s case, far from it. He reflected on his dating and sexual history. It was one long series of women coming on to him. The only time Andrew had deliberately set out to seduce a woman had been Judy Stein, that memorable day in London a couple of years earlier. Rather than the hunter, he was more often the hunted. He wondered what that said about him. Well other than being a lucky bastard, but aside from the obvious.

The squeal of ‘Andrew!’ as he slipped his cold hand onto Heloise’s warm body made him laugh and he scooted through to the bathroom to escape the torrent of abusive French being thrown at him. He stood in the shower washing the sweat off himself and warming up when a very miffed French lady flounced into the bathroom. It took many kisses and caresses, now with suitably warm hands to melt his frosty bedmate but Andrew wasn’t complaining about his penance.

“To think I used to like you. What a way to wake up.”

Heloise shivered despite the warm water cascading over them. There is nothing like fooling around in a hotel room shower, the endless hot water an indulgence. When they were sufficiently waterlogged they stepped out of the shower and after they were dry Heloise led Andrew back to the bed and had him sit at the end while she kneeled in front of him. Tucking herself partially under the bed, she was able to look him in the eye as she kissed and licked his straining dick. Heloise did not have the range of facial expressions of Helena but there was real emotion in the way that she looked at him. And it was enthusiasm over technique, this was not a rote return of the favour from the night before. He felt his body start to react to her tongue, to her long, slender fingers gently rolling his scrotum, to the memory of her body all night as he cuddled against her. Heloise felt his balls tighten in her hand and her eyebrow rose for a second. Andrew leaned back closing his eyes and let her drain him dry. He could feel her finger on his pubic muscle at the base of his balls as it pulsed repeated, it was as if she was counting the blasts with her fingertip. Andrew’s arms gave out and he slumped back onto the bed. Rather than climb on him Heloise cleaned her teeth before coming back to the bed. She nudged him to get on the bed properly before lying along him, the only woman who really fit. Andrew allowed the world back into view and looked at her striking face.

“I should have teased you more for that cold hand this morning.”

Her cheerful mood turned pensive.

“I like sex, I miss sex but I worry about the man being too big.”

Every man on the planet worries about being not big enough and Andrew had found the one woman who worried about them being too big. That fried his circuits right there.

“I was looking at you, thinking about you in the shower, remembering last year, I wanted you to fuck me so badly. But you, you are too big.”

Her sigh was heartfelt.

“How do I find out if a man is not too big?”

Not a conversation Andrew ever imagined having. And it had nothing to do with sex. Heloise was lonely, suspicious and mistrustful of most people, especially men. She wanted someone who treated her like Andrew did but where there was time to see if there was something more to the relationship.

“Do they have sex shops in Paris?”

His out of the blue question had her speechless for a moment.

“Eh, yes. Up round Pigalle.”

“Will they be open today?”

“I have no idea, why do you care.”

“Get dressed, we are going shopping. Hat, scarf, sunglasses.”

It took a bit of coaxing to get Heloise dressed but they were on the 12 line of the Metro heading north without too much delay. It was only when they stepped into the middle of the main street through the red light district that she started to realise he was serious.

“Andrew, what are we doing?”

“We are going shopping for you.”

What was Heloise thinking? She sounded exasperated, embarrassed and amused. The percentages fluctuated from moment to moment. The main drag through the area was a large boulevard and the Metro access was in the middle. Looking both right and left Andrew could see a fair way down the street. Several sex shops had lights on over to their left so he headed towards one that looked not too sleazy. Heloise had a firm hold of his hand and had her scarf so far up over her face she looked more like a bank robber than a customer. Andrew’s third experience of entering a sex shop was like the other two. A bored employee at the front counter and two or three lonely pervs wandering the aisles. Heloise was now trying to crush the bones in his hand she was squeezing so tight. They found the extensive vibrator section and he discovered to his immense amusement that the French word for dildo is ‘gode’. Too many jokes and a fantastic gag gift for the Christian Union for their secret Santa. Moving quickly past the anatomically grotesque end of the selection there was a display of several very thin models. Heloise had accepted this trip with remarkably little fuss, she just needed a supporting hand, a little push to visit somewhere that had intrigued her for a long time.

“I cannot believe I am in a sex shop.”

Her voice was a whisper.

“I will be on television tomorrow and I am looking at these.”

Her arm swept across the display in front of her. She was worried about buying the wrong kind, too thin, too thick, too who the hell knows there was always something wrong with it. They would still be there now if Andrew had not picked up a couple of examples, together with some lube, and went to purchase them. It took most of the Francs that he had with him but less than ten minutes after walking in, Heloise was chasing him out of the store, their purchases made.

“Andrew, how do you know they will work?”

Her voice lowered.

“Whether they will fit?”

He stopped and took her hand.

“We will have fun trying and if they are not the right size then we will come back and get some more.”

A startled ‘oh’ was the only response and they walked in silence back to the Metro. It was only when they were on the train back into the centre of the city that Heloise suddenly turned to him.

“We?”

Andrew laughed and kissed her as she snuggled into him. Less than 90 minutes after having the idea they were once again lying naked on the bed. He pulled the two packages out the bag and started to break the packaging open. Andrew deliberately let Heloise work on the packing of the second, smaller, vibrator and she suddenly stopped. He was surreptitiously watching to see her reaction, it was a cheeky purchase and he hoped she wouldn’t be offended. The whacks were therefore not unexpected.

“Really Andrew. You think I am going to let you shove this up my derriere?!”

He rolled Heloise onto her stomach and murmured into her ear.

“No Heloise, you are going to be lying like this, one vibrator in your pussy, your arse all lubed up and ready. This will be buzzing away all round your tight little arsehole and all you will be able to think about is what it will feel like. I won’t shove this up your arse, well I will, but only after you beg me to. You will be close, so close, but all you will be able to think about is that moment when I stop teasing you. Does that not sound like fun Heloise? A screaming shattering orgasm and one that you can carry in your purse. Think of those lonely nights in Ajaccio.”

Of course Andrew had made her cry. Not from offending her but from acting like a boyfriend. They did nothing for many minutes as Heloise calmed down and settled in his arms. The woman wanted to have a normal life, boyfriend, sex, intimacy, and all she had was an insensitive Scottish engineering student who liked going to sex shops. Under the category of she could do so much better….

“You are a bad man, corrupting innocent French maidens. I should tell Abigail next week.”

Interesting conversation at Hall that first night.

“I am sorry I got emotional. Even although you are a filthy pervert.”

She smiled as if this was a good thing.

“It was a loving gesture. I want a man who spoils me, and pushes me, and understands me.”

The packaging was finally disposed of, well thrown on the floor, and the two toys were examined. They had been gouged on batteries at the checkout but it was a necessary expense. Once everything was in place there was a moment or two of seeing what they felt like against a hand before the moment of truth. The longer, slightly thicker vibrator was the perfect size for Heloise, snug without any uncomfortable stretching. It was nothing more than a plastic finger. Heloise took to it instantly and her smile after that first mechanically induced orgasm was breathtaking.

“You might be a filthy pervert but you are a clever man. Why did I not have one of these before? Oh my, that was fantastic.”

With no hesitation Heloise flipped onto her stomach and looked over her shoulder, her eyes nervously sparkling.

“Be gentle, you are entering virgin territory.”

And then she lay back down, her head on the pillow. The night before Andrew had asked her if she trusted him, there could be no bigger degree of trust than this. So he gently lubed her up. As Andrew soaked her sphincter in the lube she slipped the other vibrator back into her pussy. Everything about Heloise was small and tight and so for the first time he pushed his pinky finger through the muscle into her arse. Continuing to apply lube he speared her arsehole gently but repeatedly ensuring that plenty of lube got inside. They were both surprised that it was not more of a struggle. As she said this was virgin territory but with patience and lots of lube Andrew was able to transition to his index finger with no issue. And when he pressed the vibrator into her arse, it was the smallest and thinnest one in the store, there was no pained reaction. Heloise moulded herself to the pillow under her hips and ever so slightly wiggled her arse. When he turned the little dial on the base and the low buzz started all she did was groan and Andrew heard a breathy ‘oh yes’. He thought someone liked it.

“Roll onto your back, carefully.”

It took Heloise a second to understand and comply but soon she was arched over the pillow with both toys still buzzing away. With his left hand keeping the anal toy in place Andrew worked to bring Heloise closer and closer to an epic orgasm. He quickly realised that pressing the tip of the vibrator against the roof of her pussy and keeping the pressure on her g-spot would bring her off. So with that as his go-to move Andrew would tease it every now and again, letting the tension build in her body. And she knew it. Heloise was fighting an internal battle over immediate pleasure now versus Mount St. Helens in ten minutes time.

It was amazing to watch. She was gorgeous but it was so much more. Heloise’s image was this tall, elegant, almost brooding model. Strikingly attractive but with a cool demeanour. What Andrew saw that day was not just her with the mask slipping, it was her with the mask shattered. And it was humbling. This was Heloise the real woman, not Heloise the construct that everyone else saw. Maybe it is like that with all women, just Heloise’s public persona was more public.

When she felt his lips on her clit Andrew swore her orgasm started from a Pavlovian response. He pressed his lips tightly together, directed the vibe to the roof of her pussy and just tried to hang on. For Heloise it went from teasing and almost there, to an orgasm of destructive beauty, to all being too much. He was pushed away and the two vibrators were yanked unceremoniously from her body. Andrew got himself beside her on the bed and just held her in his arms. There was no bounce back refractory period this time, she was drained and took several minutes to come back to earth.

“Oh Andrew, that was, hmmm, so, just, I mean, hmmm.”

You get the picture. Heloise climbed onto to him, her face close to his.

“What made you decide that we should go there, today?”

“Heloise, it was a spur of the moment decision. I knew that there were very slim vibrators available but what triggered it was your sadness about missing out on sex. You were lying exactly like you are now and you had this wistful expression on your face. You have so many worries about sex but you also miss it, or so it looked to me. So I thought I would take you to buy a vibrator, let you start to take control over your sex life. The little anal one, that was a guess, one which I hoped wouldn’t offend you. I wondered if you chicken out or be upset with me, I hadn’t realised that it was a secret desire.”

“So it was just a lucky guess?”

“Yes, but it has become clearer to me that you are a very sexual person worried about the act of fucking someone, worried that it will hurt you, and it has left you a repressed mess. Now some of these haven’t gone away but you have something to take the edge off on the days when you are a big bundle of horniness.”

She giggled.

“Just every day ending in ‘i’.”

That joke would have been funnier if Andrew knew the days of the week in French. Only the French word for Sunday did not end in an ‘i’. But he got there eventually.

“Can I ask you a very personal question?”

Heloise nodded.

“Have you seen a doctor about how small everything is down there. Now I did not do a lot of biology at school but I did learn that the female body is designed to bear a child, and that it is designed to stretch and pass a child through the vagina. I believe that sex is sore for you, at least with most men, but it is not trying to pass a baby. Have you talked about this with a doctor?”

Heloise looked at him curiously.

“I have thought about it but I have done nothing. I have not seen a doctor since I was 12, maybe 14, something like that. Because I was so tall so young, I saw a doctor regularly to make sure my bones and joints were okay. But this was before puberty, there was no discussion about that.”

“I would find a lady doctor and make an appointment. Find out if there is anything you can do. For your own sake; maybe birthing a child would be impossible or dangerous. But letting someone examine you, getting a proper medical opinion would help.”

“How is it that I can have these conversations with you?”

“If you can’t have them with your friends who can you have them with?”

Heloise kissed him blinking back unshed tears.

“And your main problem, assessing men to remove doubts and worries about them. That is easy.”

Quizzical skepticism was all that greeted his pronouncement.

“Blowjobs. Don’t hit me. Stop worrying about where the night is going and just spend the time getting to know someone, seeing if you like him. If you want to advance things then do what you did to me this morning. Claim you are not ready for full sex yet but offer him a blowjob. No man will turn down a blow job. If he passes the test then you can relax. And if he is too big then you can move on.”

Her look was the classic ‘I can’t believe I am seriously thinking about this’. Every man knows the look.

“What if he wants to take it further?”

“Tell him it is the wrong week. You keep your knickers on and he stays clear. Of course you will have to remember to wear knickers.”

Andrew really did just like to get hit by women. Her squeals turned to laughter turned to kissing.

“You are a terrible man. And a filthy pervert. But I love you. Thank you Andrew.”

They finally separated and Heloise went for her second shower of the day. She came out of the bathroom, a towel round her hair but otherwise naked. Tall, rail thin but beautiful. Andrew lay on the bed admiring her as she moved around the room.

“You don’t need to come with me back to my apartment. I am going to grab a cab I will be fine. I need to finish my packing and then head to the airport. I will see you on set on Friday.”

The kiss before they left the room was full of love, not happy ever after love but love nonetheless. Andrew walked with Heloise down to the lobby and once she was safely on her way he went in search of food, he was starving. Fortunately half a block from the hotel, in sight of the front door, was a café. The waitress was taken aback at the amount of food he ordered but Andrew didn’t care. He couldn’t tell if this was a very late breakfast or an early lunch, but either way he was finally full.

He made a couple of calls that afternoon. A short one to Jim and Freya letting them know he would not be back with them until the weekend. The other call was to Mhairi, he could only guess her reaction. It was Neil that answered the phone.

“Hi Neil, sorry to bother you on a holiday but is Mhairi around? I need to talk to her.”

Neil just laughed.

“This is not an unexpected call Andrew. She is right here.”

He passed the phone over.

“Am I that predictable?”

“Would you be terribly offended if I said yes. Come on Andrew, you were off to Paris to sort out your modelling. Did you not think you would be calling me?”

“Your tone suggests that I was deluding myself but I really didn’t think I would have to be calling you on a holiday. Sorry about this.”

“Andrew, my normal work is all the day to day stuff that we talk about with Leslie, not just for the Trusts but generally. It is interesting and important work but whenever you call I have no idea what crazy thing I am going to be doing next. I am probably the only lawyer dealing with modelling contracts in the whole city. So I don’t mind these calls.”

As long as he was keeping her amused. Andrew went through everything that had been talked about the previous day, the whole process not just the outcome. He sat in his room waiting while Mhairi processed everything he had told her.

“Okay. The key question is how aggressive do you want to be?”

“How do you mean?”

“Trying to get a deal done in one day so that you can shoot on Wednesday ties my hands Andrew. How keen is Hermès to get this done?”

He pondered this.

“From what the three of them told me Hermès are keen to get this done. I told Manon that I would sign exclusively with them for 28 months, until the end of July 1987, so I don’t think there is any need to be coy. The key thing for me Mhairi is that this is never going to be my career. I don’t care enough and perhaps most importantly I don’t want the attention, which giving how little I will be wearing most of the time is a ridiculous thing to say. But it is true. I am not an attention seeker and never will be. It is not my nature. My intention at the end of this is to walk away, become an engineer or whatever I choose to do with my life. I need something with intellectual stimulation and this has none. Sure it is a teenage boy fantasy, naked models in my arms all day long, but I know that it will not hold my attention for long

“So make an aggressive proposal. Don’t worry about holds, or anything like that. Combine it all into a single day rate, much higher than normal but they have exclusivity so the hold is not needed and let the rate take care of the residual issue. I shoot five days every break for the next seven breaks, plus three days this week. I get paid this modelling fee whether they use the shoot or not, whether they even have me model at all. Billed through the company at the end of the month the shoot is scheduled. And the rate applies if there is mutual agreement for additional days shooting. Also put some wording in that my agent has the right to review the proposed models and the right of veto on one per shoot. Something like that. How does that sound?”

“You make my job easy Andrew. None of my other clients are this decisive. I understand exactly what you want. You will be paid every university break. It is up to Hermès to use you, and given the rates I am going to try and get, it will be in their interest to use you to the maximum. I will talk to people in London to get an idea for those rates.”

“About using me to the max, put in limitations of hours. Day rate is eight hours, beyond that is at an increased hourly rate. No work beyond 12 or 14 hours. Something like that.”

“Okay. So you mentioned an agent. It sounds like you have made a decision on that.”

“Yes, but not in the traditional sense. Heloise said I would be working with more than 50 women doing this and I am not going to get on with all of them. I need to figure out who to use to do that, work with Hermès and the ad agency and just look out for me. It is the stuff I don’t know that worries me. I feel like a seal in a sea full of killer whales.”

They were done, the rest was up to Beatrice Raymonde. If she wanted this, then they should be fine, if not then Andrew was off to London. It wasn’t that he had the power, she just needed to realise that she did not have the power.

He was startled out of his reverie by the phone, it was the front desk. Ms. Zellicotti was there.

 

Chapter 4

For all of her concerns regarding her career and her age, Chiara Zellicotti was a confident woman. She had been feted and the centre of attention for close to a decade so Andrew do not know if she was innately confident or had just become so used to attention that she permanently exuded it. Either way Chiara made no attempt to be low key and discreet. At the same time, she also didn’t go out of her way to court attention, she was a striking beautiful woman who did not bundle up and try to be anonymous. The evening and night were an education for him.

Andrew was attracted to smart women, he had been at school, and it had become more pronounced at Cambridge. And a lot of his partners over the years had been defined by their intelligence, not by their looks or sexuality. He also had been with women without a lot of experience, or if they had experience it was not great. Apparently his type was sexually inexperienced, brainy women. Chiara Zellicotti was not that.

Now Chiara was not stupid but like Heloise she had common sense, life smarts. An understanding of how the world really worked, street smarts rather than book smarts. But more than anything else she understood the power of her sexuality. This was a woman who had been hit on, harassed, exploited, all as part of her job. Lying in bed later she was honest but blunt about some of the things that she had done. People that she had fucked for the chance of a job, to get on a shoot, to make the cover. Sex was part of her job, and it meant nothing to her. That was too harsh; it meant very little. It was a physical act not an emotional one. Chiara was genuinely grateful for Andrew’s help back in December and this is how she thanked people. That is a blunt summary, it was not as transactional as that. Was it more that Chiara thought he expected it and she had no issue with fucking him? Again that seems too stark. However often they talked over the years Andrew could never capture her motivation. She just did not over think sex and did not agonise over the meaning of different acts to different people. And therefore utterly unlike Andrew.

For dinner they went to a nice restaurant only a few blocks from the hotel, four blocks from the Hermès headquarters on Rue Saint Honore. But there was no doubt that Andrew was dining with a model. She was not showy yet you knew she was there. And it appeared to be effortless. He was the gauche fool sitting next to her, not that he was receiving much attention. Andrew became guilty of people watching the people who were watching them, but he was fascinated by how people’s eyes were drawn to Chiara in a way that they were not to Heloise. Heloise slinked around, never really stood out, at least when Andrew was with her, whereas Chiara struck a pose, had a presence. The only time he could think when he and Heloise had some of that attention was the very first night when they walked arm in arm through the Tuileries, equally tall. But it was noticeable on this night with Chiara both how Andrew lived his life in the shadows, and even more importantly, liked to live his life in the shadows. The attention on them was not completely uncomfortable but it was very different for him.

“Have you had any second thoughts about your plan?”

“No I don’t think so. I will wait to see how Hermès react tomorrow. They may not want to have me as an exclusive model and it all becomes moot. Is it wrong to hope just a little bit that it all falls apart tomorrow?”

Chiara looked surprised at the admission but only for a moment.

“Now that I understand that this is not important to you Andrew, I can understand that. It looks to me as if you are doing this out of a sense of obligation to Heloise, me and Manon. Is that true?”

“A combination of obligation and friendship I suppose. I like to plan ahead and so I am pleased to lay it all out for the next two years. It also allows everyone time to make alternate plans. I am not going to do this as a career after I graduate. It does not interest me.”

The first course of our their arrived and it allowed Chiara a moment of reflection before the conversation continued.

“Because of the shoot in December I did not believe that you were like this. I thought that, although you were different in your thinking, you enjoyed the attention just like all the rest of us. Especially as you spent the whole weekend naked. But now I can see that it is not who you are. Even here this evening you are uneasy at the attention. The reluctant naked model, who would believe such a thing.”

When she put it that way she had a point.

“I do not want to come across as too pushy but by talking about this I suppose I am. Have you thought about an agent? And specifically me as your agent?”

“After listening to you and Heloise I am convinced that I do need an agent but more to deal with the planning of the individual shoots during the week rather than negotiate a contract. Heloise talked about the reality that I could model with up to 50 different women during this time and I won’t get on with all of them. Having someone who is familiar with the industry, the models concerned, just somebody who can be the bad guy in negotiations, all of that makes sense. But Chiara, how can you be my agent? I don’t want to be mean but you are a model and will be in several of the shoots, at least I assume so. I have to trust you 100% and if you are working with Hermès at the same time then you will always have divided loyalties between your job as an agent and your job as a model. Does it not make sense to have a bitter old man or woman, more than 50 years old, that has seen every type of scam, that is not prepared to put up with any crap from anyone, me, the director, Beatrice, whoever? I think that person or type of person makes more sense. But I have no idea how to find them, evaluate them or trust them.”

That was a preview of Living Two Lives - Book 16. To read the rest purchase the book.

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