Living Two Lives - Book 21

Chapter 1

Of course Andrew said nothing. He and Freya walked back quietly to the flat, arm in arm, and he spent the rest of the day getting ready for Paris. It would be a month before he was back in London but he had already decided to stay with Jim and Freya rather than at the house. But with no Ara there that term he doubted he would be down much, it was more likely that he, Justin and Pedro would come down for some gigs and just return to Cambridge that same night.

By 10.00 that evening Andrew was in Paris walking up the Champs Elysees heading to the little jazz bar he had previously visited, hoping there was live music. That night it was just one man, quietly playing away on the piano. It was almost a live rehearsal, he was improvising away and several times Andrew got the sense he was going back over passages, different tempos, different keys. It was interesting to watch him, a strange yet captivating combination of flawless technique and music that was assured, together with this experimentation. It was as if they were getting to hear him rehearse, while still being entertained. It was a nice way to pass a couple of hours and let the week just finished flow away. The following morning after his run Andrew was outside Hermès’ offices at 7.30 as requested and Manon came and took him up to her office. She was getting as bad as Beatrice, straight to business.

“I understand that Veronique told you that we are starting to bring in other male models. We need to start to plan for this time next year when you will no longer be working.”

The tone was confident but her face betrayed some anxiety.

“She did.”

His short answer threw her.

“That’s it? Are you okay with that?”

He looked at Manon in surprise.

“Manon, what would you do if I said no? You are telling me this morning, although Veronique told me last month. What you say makes sense.”

She looked like she wanted to say more but instead she switched to the plan for the week. The only word to summarise it was ambitious. Just hearing Manon talk about what they were hoping to achieve made Andrew realise that they were going to be long days. He interrupted her.

“These are long days again Manon.”

He was starting to practice the statement as a form of question. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.

“I know they are, we know they are. The problem is the campaign is a great success, in fact that is not a problem at all. But we are ever more conscious that you are going to quit by this time next year.”

Marilyn knocked at the door and once the air-kissing was over Manon continued.

“The commercials were originally a way for us to capitalise on Heloise. You know that we had doubts about you before they were ever shot. But then it all changed. It was the fireman’s lift that did it. That right there captured the intimacy of a couple. It is those spontaneous moments that have become the essence of the campaign. Renee doing gymnastic flips into your lap; the push-ups; the bullfighting; the snowmen; even when you just turned up straight from a jog and chased Eve round the bedroom. And that is before any of the stuff with Chiara. The commercials from Cyprus ooze sex and lust, that luxuriant air of holiday romance.”

She stopped recounting what he had already done. Andrew was more concerned with what was to come.

“We have been quietly auditioning for someone else and it has not been very successful. We are trying someone this week but we are all concerned as to whether it will work. Thus we want to use as much of your time as possible. The schedule is crowded and bordering on stupidity but we want to get as many shoots done with you. The two weeks at Christmas will be just as busy. We are going to try to get something that complements the Cyprus shoots when we are in Martinique.”

She stopped again and looked at Marilyn.

“We would not be doing this with anyone else. It is in excess of the contract but you always talk about coming here to work and that you don’t mind working long hours.”

Andrew turned and looked over at Marilyn.

“Am I still your craziest client?”

Marilyn’s smile matched his own.

“There is no doubt about that.”

She shook her head, a mannerism Andrew recognised.

“But I listened to your words and remember them. You are accommodating now but in two weeks’ time when you are back at university we know not to call you. Quid pro quo.”

So once again it was going to be a busy week. But Andrew really didn’t care, it took his mind off the distractions of the summer. There were six scenes each matched up for broadcasting, although not in the order they would be filmed. The first was getting ready for riding, the second was a romp in the hay loft, the third was cleaning up after the romp, getting all the hay out of hard to reach places, the fourth was getting dressed up for a night out, the fifth was an evening in the Salon, all glamourous and shiny before finally the last scene was the final undressing in a hotel bedroom with the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Just listing them all made it clear it was an ambitious set of scenes to shoot. But the worry was not his, he would expend his usual effort and leave all the worrying to Manon and Veronique.

The relentless shooting schedule meant that Monday passed in a flash. One of the reasons for that was there was no drama with the models. Between Hermès, Veronique and Marilyn they had weeded out anyone who they were unsure about. The commercials were now well known and so models and agents knew what was expected. There were five ladies only one of whom he had worked with before; three French, a German and a Swede although the last two both lived and worked in France. They were all typically model beautiful, that was just a given, but what was interesting was none of them were waifs. They were all healthy, almost athletic in appearance and when Andrew realised the first scene involved the ladies pulling on a snug pair of riding jodhpurs it all made sense. Clearly the key moment in the audition had been how well they filled a pair of jodhpurs. Given his acknowledged fondness for a female arse Andrew was guilty of a lot of staring. But other than filling a pair of jodhpurs the five models were all different, again hardly unexpected. They were all older which was also increasingly unsurprising but were dissimilar in most of the other ways. As the week progressed Andrew came to understand that they were all experienced successful models.

It was days like that first one that Andrew knew he was getting better as a model. He thought back to his initial shoots and the long, often tortuous takes and retakes. But now it was much more instinctual and everything flowed. Whereas when he started it was one model for a day with two scenes, now there was a relentless flow to it all. The one downside to all this was that he didn’t get close to the models. They were friendly and there was no reserve between them while they were being filmed but Andrew knew next to nothing about any of them. He had worked with Eve back in the summer but, at least on the first day, the others were nothing more that pretty women as opposed to individuals. And that feeling got more obvious over the day. That Monday morning was also sheer torture for him. It was nothing but dressing the five models as if they were about to go riding. So just a conveyor belt of jodhpurs being pulled up over stunning arses. The things he had to do! All joking aside it was fun as hell. The jodhpurs and boots were the same for each of the five models but the jackets were all different.

It was small details that made all the difference. It reminded Andrew of the shots he took all the way back in his last year of school with June Wyatt, specifically the difference between walking over to the bed in high heels or in bare feet. Just one small detail and the whole shoot, the feel, the mood was different. So it was that morning. Equestrians have a uniform, he vaguely recall seeing an event on the television when he was younger and they all had a stylised look. Jodhpurs and boots, a high buttoned jacket with a shirt or blouse underneath, topped off with a hat. What they were trying to shoot was playing off or subverting that very constrained image. There was a more formal double-breasted jacket with long tails, all very severe and elegant. There were shots of Ebba, the Swedish model getting dressed in this, all very standard and she looked great. But then Noémie dressed the same way but did not put on the blouse. Immediately the nature of the look was different. And it was the same with the single-breasted jackets, the more popular kind. When the model was wearing a blouse, or a blouse with more buttons undone, just that act alone changed the dynamic. But then the jacket was worn with no blouse, the buttons were done up, undone, depending on the look, and it was different again.

No one was wearing a bra, this was fashion not function. The thought of bouncing on the back of a horse without support made Andrew cringe never mind the women but they were selling an image not trying to win the Olympics. The final accessory, bringing it back to the whole purpose of the shoot, was a Hermès scarf. It was to be worn as a cravat, tucked in to cover the flesh on display in the undone jackets. At the end of one shot Andrew asked Veronique if he could try something. She smiled and nodded okay. The whole morning had been all these little disconnected scenes and so he thought he would try something.

Eve stood in front of a mirror removing imaginary creases in her blouse before slipping on her riding jacket. Andrew stood to the side running his hands over the scarves hanging over a rail. Eve did all the buttons of the jacket up except for the last one. One button was all it took to draw the eye. The drape of the jacket changed because of that rebellious act. A woman wearing it her way. And she looked fabulous, and more importantly she knew it. There is something about these riding outfits that triggered some very dirty thoughts in Andrew. In his mind it was the sexy librarian trope re-imagined. The image presented was proper, restrained, elegant and Andrew’s dirty imagination thought about corrupting that image. So Eve looked bloody fantastic and had just a real air of sultry elegance.

Andrew walked over to her, she did not know what he was going to do, and just started undressing her again. No sooner had she put on the jacket than he slowly unbuttoned it and laid it down on the bed. Then he started unbuttoning the blouse, standing behind her. Once all the buttons down the front were undone Andrew took his time with the cuffs before slipping it off her shoulders. Suddenly she was topless again. Leaving her standing there he walked back over to the scarves, looked back at her and then selected one. Andrew put the scarf round her shoulders covering her tits and then took the jacket and helped her back into it. Again he took his time doing up all the buttons bar the top one and then slipped his hands inside the jacket to smooth the scarf. Neither of them had said a word. He was about to look at Veronique and let her know he was done but before he could Eve spun round in his arms and kissed him passionately. It was only then that he heard Veronique yell ‘cut’.

“That was so hot Andrew. I had no idea what you were doing and suddenly I am standing there topless. The way you looked over at me as you selected the scarf.”

Eve gave a little shudder. Veronique came up just quietly laughing.

“How the hell am I supposed to be able to get that into a 30 second commercial? Impossible man!”

Her indignation was tempered by a big smile. And Andrew then had to do it four more times with the other models, trying to hurry through the scene while not appearing to hurry. By late afternoon they had got everyone dressed every possible way. And as Veronique had complained, he had no idea how she was going to edit all this into something coherent.

His own outfit? Skin tight; vacuum-packed skin tight. Veronique was going to earn her money editing him getting into the jodhpurs as it took a long time to squeeze into them. The shirts were slightly easier but all five were clearly designed for showing off his body rather than for covering it. There was a riding jacket hanging up but it was a visual prop, he never put it on. Andrew spent a lot of time shirtless and there were lots of shots of the women buttoning up his shirt although he clearly needed to invest in a medallion given that there was always a deep ‘vee’. And however much he caressed the other models they caressed him even more.

So at 5.00 Veronique had eight hours of coverage of all of them getting dressed in riding gear. In the chronology of the shots the next two scenes were at the stables but they were going to be shot separately on the Thursday and Friday. So having got all dressed up the rest of the evening was a standard shoot in the bathroom and bedroom. The other four models were sent home and it was just Andrew and Julie. Showering and the usual shots of cologne and perfume before getting dressed up for a swanky night out. Andrew was surprised as to how easy, almost mechanical, that part of the shoot went. The night at Hermès’ Salon was going to be shot with all five models on the Wednesday, dovetailing with an actual event. So after the getting dressed shoot was over they moved to a little hotel in the 7^th arrondissemont where the conclusion to the evening was a romantic and passionate encounter with the Eiffel Tower in the background. And that was not nearly as steamy as usual because the star of the shoot was the Tower and there was only so much that they could do while being framed at the appropriate angle. It was nothing more than undressing and romantic cuddling with the Tower in the background before Veronique called a halt. He and Julie were handed robes and Andrew sat down on the bed. It was 10.10 and he was tired.

“Only four more days Andrew.”

Veronique, who worked harder and longer than any of them seemed far too cheerful for that time of night.

“Will you be okay tomorrow morning?”

There were five models and only three days to shoot the romantic scene in the hotel room. So Veronique was doing one of the shoots at 4.30 the next morning, which seemed cruel and unnecessary to all concerned.

“I will be fine, although by this time tomorrow I will be flagging I expect.”

He had grabbed food on the way over to the hotel for the final shoot so when he finally returned to the Monsart at 11.00 Andrew went straight to bed. He didn’t run in the morning and as he sat in the cab thinking about the irony of going from one hotel to another at 4.20 in the morning, he also thought about the previous evening’s shoot. It had felt mechanical and it was because he didn’t know the model as an individual. He and Julie had spent the early part of the evening doing the whole shower and dress-up part of the scene before moving to the final scene with the Eiffel Tower in the background. He didn’t know how realistic this was going to look at 5.00 in the morning. It was the German model Heike who had drawn this short straw, and who had been up even earlier to get ready. But the limited movement meant that it was a much shorter scene, more circumscribed than normal. The only reason they had to be there so bloody early was to get the night sky and the lights sparkling on the Tower. They were done quickly and Andrew stifled a yawn as he sat on the bed while Heike used the bathroom in the hotel room to get dressed. Veronique leaned against the window frame to chat.

“I think we are well ahead of schedule. When we get back to the studio we will film the remaining scenes where everyone gets dressed up for the night out. You have three of these shoots with the Tower in the background left to film. Do you want to two this evening? That would mean we can skip this tomorrow morning and only have one left after the gala on Wednesday night.”

Andrew wasn’t really paying attention.

“Tell me what you are thinking?”

He looked at Veronique in surprise.

“You always are thinking Andrew. Don’t look so surprised.”

“I worry about the connection. The five models are all great, there are no issues and we are working seamlessly. But it seems generic, that’s why I played around with dressing Eve yesterday. Showering and dressing is meh. Already overplayed. I understand how Hermès are wanting lots of footage, different models and all that but you know that the best stuff has come from focusing on one model. Think about the dance auditions and then the day with all the scarves, other than that one scene with Solange at the end they were interchangeable. I am not doubting the quality of your work but Hermès seem to want quantity over quality. I don’t want to have to pick one or two of these five but it seems to make more sense to ‘waste some time’ and see what happens rather than work on a conveyor belt.”

Veronique was silent for several moments.

“You think we should skip the showering and getting dressed scene?”

He nodded.

“The whole shower, perfume or cologne afterwards is part of what is expected but nothing happens. It comes back to the connection. If there is a connection than I can play off it but this week I don’t think I am making much of a connection with any of the models. There are too many and you are trying to do too much. It feels like there is a lot of pressure on the stuff at the stables.”

Andrew returned to the Monsart to get some breakfast and as he was finishing Veronique arrived with a car. The schedule was changing again. He was starting at the stables that morning. A roll in the hay was never going to fit with Hermès’ image so he wondered what Veronique was proposing to shoot instead. When they got to the equestrian centre five miles out of the centre of Paris there was just Heike, it was back to just one model. The scene was simple in design. There was a large ring for the shots with the horses, surrounded by a typical white rail fence. But rather than a tacky hay loft there was a large gazebo set up to one side of the ring, with several expensive cars parked beside and behind it. The gazebo had a chaise longue, side table, and even a credenza with champagne and finger food.

Riding a horse was fun, exhilarating and terrifying, often all at the same time. But any shots of Andrew actually riding were a total bonus. His role was to athletically dismount before striding up to Heike. With the late summer weather it was hot and he was working up a good sweat. There was one experienced rider who would lead Andrew round the ring to help him get up to speed and then would peel away so that Michel got some shots of Andrew riding at pace. But doing that in the morning sun as well as repeated mounts and dismounts had him sweating profusely. Once his horse had been led off to the stable Heike helped Andrew unstick his jacket from his shirt and he stood there in a skin-tight white shirt dripping with sweat. Veronique had Heike in riding gear at that point but there were regular fashionable clothes to change into later.

Most of the change was mental. He was not conscious of a line of models waiting to do the same thing and so Andrew concentrated on the woman in front of him. Did he do anything different? He was not a good enough model to know for sure but it was more relaxed and his focus was on the one person. The shoot itself? Straightforward. It felt immodest to think that but he had a role to play and knew how to do it. There were three elements to the shoot; Andrew, the female model and Hermès. He was the male eye-candy showing a lot, if not all, of his body. But the shoot was never about him, even when he was in shot the whole time. It was the woman and the Hermès product that vied for top billing. With that mindset Andrew found it easy.

At the end of the shoot his last act was to cover a naked Heike with one of the large scarves. He hauled his jodhpurs on, a lot of editing to make that look sexy, before sweeping aside the cover on the front of the gazebo and the morning shoot was over. Andrew drank a gallon of water and sat in the shade. Having put on a robe Heike came and sat beside him.

“That went very well, your reputation is well deserved.”

He looked at her.

“Reputation?”

“You never complain and are easy to work with. You don’t try and dominate the scene but can turn up the sexy when required.”

He shrugged. His amateur status was never more obvious.

“Are most shoots not like that?”

Heike managed not to do a spit take but it was touch and go.

“Merde, no. Male models are worse divas than we are.”

She sounded very proud of this dubious achievement.

“I have never worked with another male model. I have never even been on set with another male model so I have no idea.”

She shrugged again.

“That is no loss. Anyway, I am glad we had some time this morning, yesterday felt very rushed. I could feel your eyes on me more today, lingering looks, lingering touches. I think it was better, more believable. Anyway I will see you tomorrow night for the gala. I am off to have an afternoon nap.”

His groan made her smile even wider. No sooner had she left than Veronique sat down. And whacked him on the arm.

“Ouch, what was that for?”

“Being right.”

Andrew failed to hide his smugness and was whacked again.

“How are you holding up Andrew? Will you be able to do the same thing again this afternoon?”

Just listening to that sentence made Andrew smile. ‘Will you be able to cope with another beautiful woman naked in your arms?’. If he couldn’t he deserved to be gelded.

“I will be fine.”

The afternoon shoot was with Noemie and followed a very similar pattern, although with the late summer heat Andrew was even sweatier in the afternoon than he had been in mid-morning. But just as Eve had used it as part of the shoot the previous month so Noemie did that day. She was also the flirtiest of the five women and so the two of them had fun during the shoot. And that fun translated over to the shoot. The afternoon flew by fooling around with a beautiful naked woman in a tent at an equestrian centre on the outskirts of Paris. Once they had wrapped up there they had to return to the studio. There were showers and dressing rooms so they could get all glammed up for the bedroom scene with the Eiffel Tower in the background. Ebba showed up as well and so the three of them headed back for the final shots. Getting a romantic undressing with the Eiffel Tower lit in the background was great but it was also incredibly constraining. The two of them only had a small circle of movement and Michel had only the one angle to shoot at. What it did mean was the shoot was quick, once they were undressed there was nothing else to do. But it felt ho-hum.

Andrew was exhausted by the time they were done and headed straight to bed. The next day after a nice long run and an enormous breakfast he felt more human. The Wednesday shoots were identical to the previous day and Ebba and Julie were good fun to work with. Andrew didn’t know if it was a coincidence but since he had hired Marilyn things had been much better in terms of the chemistry with the models. The other thing that was helping was he was not being a big old slut. He had a flight on Saturday morning to meet Suzanne in Amsterdam so he behaved. Much to Noemie’s disappointment based on the way she had looked the previous night. It was just 6.00 when Veronique let them know that Ebba’s shoot was over. She rode with him in the cab on the way back to the studio.

“We will be done by tomorrow lunchtime with Eve. By cutting out all the clean-up and getting dressed shots we are well ahead of schedule.”

“Is that bad?”

“Surprising rather than bad. I think you can have the afternoon off. Would you be prepared to do something tomorrow night? I am thinking about a romantic dinner shot, something like that.”

“Sure.”

There was nothing romantic about multiple shots of pretend meals. Andrew would need to eat before the evening began. But first he had to survive an evening in the Salon. There was a scheduled show on the runway in the adjoining room. Most people seemed excited to be unpaid extras in the five scenes where he escorted a different woman through the room. The whole thing was a blast, much more relaxing than he imagined. Because the women were in total control, this was their natural habitat. Andrew took his cues from them and they totally embraced the whole thing. There were smiles, light arm touches, lots of air-kissing. All he had to do was smile and look loving and supportive as they worked the room. And not that they were competitive but they all tried to outdo each other, while all the time trying to make it look effortless. Andrew’s smiles were becoming more and more genuine as he watched their antics. It also meant that he was not bothered very much by the attendees. When the show was announced and the patrons started to gravitate through to the showroom they were done.

“If I didn’t know better I would think that you were almost enjoying yourself.”

He bent down to kiss Beatrice on both cheeks.

“Ahead of schedule. That is good to see. Will you work until the end of the week?”

He nodded.

“Veronique gave me tomorrow afternoon off but wants to do something tomorrow night.”

“Are you going to think of something to throw us all into chaos on Friday?”

Rather than sound upset she sounded hopeful.

“Do you have a few minutes? I would like to talk to you about that.”

Beatrice seemed surprised at his serious tone.

“Let’s find a seat Andrew and then we can talk for a few minutes and I won’t get a sore neck.”

She grabbed a glass of wine and they found a couple of chairs in the corner.

“What do you want from the shoots Beatrice? These five this week mean I will have worked with more than 20 women during these shoots. I don’t know, I am just the amateur, but it seems rushed and formulaic. Courcheval was funny, Martinique will be funny but this week seems humdrum.”

He shrugged.

“We never thought the commercials would be so successful. Veronique shoots lots of film which in turn allows us to make lots of commercials. When you see a commercial on television or at the cinema how many times have you turned away, rolled your eyes and just tuned it out. You have seen it before. Often the same commercial is run hundreds of times. What we are trying is lots of shoots that are thematically similar but are different. That is why there are so many changes of clothes, different outfits, different scarves or bags. Every commercial has a man, woman and Hermès but there are lots of subtle differences. This week you are working with five different women and there are probably at least three separate commercials for each model. You have many qualities as a model but without doubt one of the most important is that the shoots go quickly. Trying to work with five models in one day? Stupidity. But everyone is ready for you now. Part of the audition was showing the prospective models the behind the scenes filming that we did. Just showing them how smoothly and quickly everyone went. It is the women who realise they need to be ready to work, that this attitude is the real key to the shoot, they are the ones where we then actually audition them for the look and all the other factors. It is the thing that is most difficult to find. Do you realise that there is a second crew shooting the same models but with someone else? And we are giving him the advantage that the female model knows what has worked already.”

Andrew didn’t ask but the look on her face told him how well that process was going.

“The nature of modelling is that the shoots often seem very similar. You had some memorable moments early on and that has made reaching those heights difficult. But Veronique told me that the two days of shooting out at Les Chesney have been great.”

“They feel very similar, like it has all been done before.”

“Exactly! That is what we are looking for. Did Veronique ask you to change your attitude? Did you have to reshoot things?”

He shook his head.

“You are creating the same illusion with lots of different women without needing the obvious friendship and chemistry that you have with Heloise or Renee Clement. Just because the scenes are effortless with them and everyone can see how much you like working with them does not mean that these scenes are mediocre. The scenes you did with Mathilde and Jeanne in Courcheval, they were incredibly hot.”

Beatrice paused for a sip of her wine and Andrew thought about what she said. You only know that you have had great sex with someone when you compare it to sex that is only good. Not a perfect analogy but…..

“Thank you for that. Sometimes I need to stop overthinking everything. Two things. Get Veronique to show you the shoot from tomorrow morning. I am going to torture and torment poor Eve so badly she will need to jump in the horse trough to cool off.”

Beatrice just smirked.

“Secondly and more seriously think about a bar scene. I can play the double bass, for real, and so you do not need to fake it or edit it. Find a couple of models that sing, or want to sing, or find a singer that wants to be in one of your commercials. Then film a bar scene. It can be jazz, elegant, I can play, she can be in the audience. Put another model in the audience. We both play and rather than do the mother daughter thing have two older women fight over me.”

Andrew leaned over, kissed her on the cheek and headed to the door and Eve at the hotel beside the Eiffel Tower. He heard Beatrice’s shoes before he felt her hand on his arm. She spun him round.

“You can really do that?”

“Six years of lessons. It has been a couple of years but the last piece I played was Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in front of more than 2,000 people.”

Andrew left her to her planning.

 

Chapter 2

Andrew felt calmer about the filming that week after Beatrice’s words. It took her explaining it him to understand the value of repetition, and allowing Hermès the chance to shoot as many variations as possible. Veronique had the vision in her mind’s eye and so she provided direction as well as keeping the shoot moving forward. What allowed this fast pace was that they never had to worry about dialogue. There had only ever been two shoots where the female model had spoken. Mathilde was one with the claw clip and there may have been another model that week. The skiing into the snowmen in Courcheval had squeals and giggles but for the most part Veronique was concerned with the mood, the looks between the models, making sure that the scarf or bag was prominent and not just discarded on the floor in a heap. But there were no flamboyant theatrics. She was creative yet disciplined, and was an underappreciated component of Andrew’s success as a model.

Again with the bedroom scene allowed little in the way of latitude for doing anything out with a tiny, tight circle where the Tower was visible, the shoot that evening was over quickly. There would be up to three to five seconds of them in the final commercial anchoring the scene in Paris. But the following day Eve and Andrew turned up the heat. He didn’t run in the Tuileries as normal but instead went directly out to the equestrian centre. Eve was already there getting the finishing touches to her make-up and hair. He led her aside for a moment.

“I want to turn up the heat this morning for our shoot.”

Eve looked at him and smiled.

“Okay. How?”

“To start I am going to get all hot and sweaty like last month but every time I look at you I am going to try and convey an arrogant authority. What I need you to think about for the next hour is that chaise longue. Because I am going to be thinking about throwing you down on it and ravishing you. So get your head into that place and every time I look at you think about the chaise. The feel of the leather. How it is going to stick on your skin. Think about how far I am going to push the scene. How far you are going to want me to push the scene.”

Rubbing her temple with his fingers Andrew walked away. A skin tight shirt, jodhpurs and riding boots are not the ideal running gear but he went for a run, working up a sweat. Veronique was already shooting him as he walked back to get his jacket and mount the horse. 33 minutes later Andrew was absurdly sweaty and as he cavalierly dismounted from the horse he grabbed a small towel off the rail and wiped his face. Without breaking stride he threw the towel aside and caught Eve as she launched herself into his arms. Just for a second it seemed real and Andrew was thinking about pleasuring Eve for hours. But his fantasy screeched to a halt and he slipped back into model mode.

The best that he could describe it later was it was more lust than passion, more sexual than sensual. The highlight for Andrew was using the chaise longue. He made a mental note to investigate getting one for the house in London. Just like the counter in the bathroom scenes it was at the perfect height to hide their lower bodies so Michel was able to shoot straight on without worrying about anything being exposed. But as a prop with potential it was pretty great. And the best part of filming was the editing process where several minutes of hopping around getting their boots off could be conveniently skipped.

By the end it looked like Andrew was fucking Eve doggy over the head of the chaise. He had her pulled back into his arms, in the first shot with a scarf draped over her shoulders hiding her tits but in the second it was weighted to slide off as they pretend fucked. And there were some superb shots of the jodhpurs being peeled off down over her arse and off her legs. It was borderline softcore porn. After a break Veronique recognised that it was probably too much and so they dialled it back to more passion and implied ravishing rather than lust and blatant ravishing. Either way Eve got ravished, at least through the lens of the camera. When it was all over Andrew lay back on the chaise for a moment, a towel around his waist, letting some of the heat bleed off him. He felt someone sit on the other end of the chaise and opened his eyes.

“That was pretty wild Andrew. Do you think they will use the first shots?”

He sat up straighter.

“I doubt it. It was a little too much for Hermès I think. The first two thirds of it, even the first three quarters, is fine and I imagine they will use it but I don’t think the stuff at the end. Who knows. Are you okay? Was it too much?”

“No. There are several commercials that stand out in the series. I think this one will as well. I want to be successful and we didn’t do anything that wasn’t detailed in the contract. As you said it is probably too much for Hermès but it was fine. But you also helped me get to the right place with the talk in advance. Every time you looked at me I could see it in your eyes. But maybe there was nothing there and all you had done was primed me so that I saw what I wanted to see, or what you wanted me to see.”

She shrugged.

“It was great. Do you know what they want to do tonight?”

“No idea. In the past they have filmed us pretending to have dinner. I presume it will be the same but I don’t know.”

He wandered off to get changed. Back in the centre of Paris he snuck back into the pool at one of the city centre hotels and spent a wonderful hour just slowly cruising back and forth. It was nice to enjoy the swim and the no-drama week. When he returned to the Monsart there was a message to call Manon at her office.

“Hello Manon.”

“Can you come to the office please. We can dress you for tonight here after we have chatted.”

Andrew was sure he could find his way to their offices in his sleep now and 25 minutes later was again in Manon’s office. She was smiling and gave him a big hug.

“I think that Beatrice is afraid to meet you in December. Every time she talks to you…”

He smiled but didn’t say anything.

“There is a music store not far from the studio, just off the Rue de Rivoli. They will have a double bass there for you tomorrow. Will you show us how well you play?”

“Let me know the address and tell them to expect me as soon as they open. It is three and a half years since I played. I will be rusty.”

“Okay. How did this morning go?”

It was his turn to laugh.

“Probably a little more blatant than Hermès would consider. Veronique had us reshoot the last bit again. But it went fine. I probably have the best chemistry with Eve.”

He shrugged.

“What is happening tonight?”

“Just some dinner shots, nothing to taxing.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“After lunch we want to take some shots of Paris from the Eiffel Tower; down the Champ de Mars, over to the Arc de Triomphe, down the Seine to the Louvre and Notre Dame, all the standard tourist views. You get to play dress up with Heike, Ebba and Julie.”

“Do you and Phillippe want to have dinner? Every time I see you it always seems rushed. I am on the 8.50 flight to Amsterdam on Saturday morning and it appears I have Friday night free. Do you have plans?”

“That is a great idea. What do you want to do?”

“After dinner I will show you the little jazz bar that gave me the idea for Beatrice. The music is great, it is quiet and I like the relaxed air to the place. I always seem to be running around and it is a nice change of pace.”

Andrew needed to stop being so blasé about standard shots for commercials, the filler that may only be in the final commercial for a second or two. He survived with Eve, Noemie and Ebba and they managed not to look too ridiculous swapping places and changing clothes. What he did find interesting was that Ebba talked to the other two for several minutes before they started. That was no big deal but they kept looking over at him while doing it. At the end of the meal Andrew worried he was going to have to turn one of them down but the evening wrapped up without any veiled hints at coming back to his room. He snorted and shook his head at his own self-absorption as he walked back to the Monsart. He felt a fool.

The following morning was just a complete blast. It was a small city centre instrument shop, primarily guitars, but standing very conspicuously in the back of the shop was a double bass. Now Andrew had played for seven years while at school, he had started in Primary 7, but was not an expert in the quality of different instruments. His own bass was good, but schoolboy player good, it was nothing fancy. The bass there just felt different, it was an odd way of thinking of an inanimate musical instrument but it felt more grown-up. And so tucked away in a tiny practice space at the back of the shop Andrew played for the first time in more than 40 months. Even the scales were rusty at first but he persevered. After a while it turned into swimming, he tuned the world out and played fragments of some of the pieces that he had practiced all these years. When he looked back on all the crazy things he did during the crazy four years at school the one, more than any other, that was the craziest was his double bass lessons. Andrew played in two concerts in four years. The first had 37 people in attendance and the second more than 2,000. And then he had stood his double bass in the corner of the box bedroom in his flat and ignored it.

He was a reasonable, technically competent double bass player, functional but not instinctive. So he knew his limitations but saying all that it was a wonderful way to spend a couple of hours. There were various pieces of orchestral music with the instrument so once he got a semblance of flexibility back into his fingers he leafed through what they had provided. Of course having mentioned the Choral Symphony to Beatrice there was a copy of the bass part in the pile. Putting everything else aside he opened the part to the fourth movement and started to play. It is close to 25 minutes for the whole movement so he jumped to the moment when the main, most glorious, theme is first introduced. There is a momentary snippet from the oboes before the cellos and basses have their moment in the spotlight. He didn’t know how long he played this theme over and over, probably too many for the customers of the store, when he heard a noise. Beatrice and Manon were standing watching him and one of them must have made the noise. He stopped and looked at them.

“I don’t know why we bothered. That was wonderful Andrew.”

Apparently he had passed the audition. Once he had packed everything back up and added his thanks to the staff they walked the two blocks back to the studio.

“Can you play Jazz?”

“Yes, but I am not good enough to improvise. If there is sheet music then I will be fine.”

Beatrice just looked at Manon who hurriedly nodded. When they got to the studio she sat him down if only to save her neck.

“Heloise was a fashion model who wanted to do something more. What we have ended up with is great. She has shown that she is more than just a model for someone else’s clothes. The whole thing has been a huge success. But Alejandro wanted to do the same thing, or at least take baby steps. As you said at the time, it seemed that her agent wanted her to do it more than she did. But we have never run that shoot, at least shot like all the others. Compared to your other shoots it looks like she is a kidnap victim. So we just went with the fully dressed outdoor shots, all very standard. But overall a disaster. So if we use someone who wants to break into modelling, wants to alter how she is perceived by the public, then there will be a risk.”

Andrew shook his head.

“I disagree. Show the candidate all the shoots. The behind the scenes shoot where the model walks in all but naked in front of 50 people. You have those shots to let her mentally get ready for the process. And show her the Alejandra shoot. Show her what complete failure looks like. If she says she can do it and she is confident then get her to strip, stick on the modesty patch and tell her to go next door. You are going to film the audition in front of 50 people again. That is all made up but it will make the audition very real very quickly.”

“You really do want my job.”

He laughed.

“No you are safe. I still have the soul of an engineer, as I was told twice this summer.”

He went to get changed before the three of them were driven over to the Eiffel Tower. It was only then Andrew discovered there was a restaurant on the second level of the Tower and they were having lunch there before doing the shoots looking out over Paris. It was only months afterwards that he realised that this restaurant had been one of the scenes in the latest James Bond film. It was not disguised or anything, there is a whole fight and chase starting in the restaurant, and the Tower and Paris, are central to that part of the film. So he sat at a table for four with Manon and Beatrice opposite him and the three models came and sat and they pretended to have lunch, three times. There was only one camera discreetly hidden but able to film him and the model as they talked to Manon and Beatrice.

“Was Catherine Deneuve not available?”

He leaned back expecting a whack.

“Be nice or it will be a week of dancer’s belts for you, young man.”

They all laughed and Ebba, who had seen that particular commercial giggled as well.

“The look on your face, it was so funny. Chiara just radiated this aura of gloating.”

Andrew was not sure Beatrice should have wine at lunchtime as she gave an exaggerated account of the day, indeed the whole week. But as a way of forgetting about the camera it worked very well. After three filmed lunches, during which Andrew did actually eat lunch, they ascended to the very top of the Tower and played tourist. The morose Hector, who Andrew had worked with when talking to customers in the Hermès store, stood on a small riser ostensibly shooting out over Paris and two of them cycled in and out of his shots. No big production and no fuss. Well one or two guys watched the three female models pretty closely but nobody did anything stupid. It was a relaxed afternoon. These were filler shots but anchored the shoots in Paris, and gave Veronique additional options for a second or two in the commercial. At the end of the afternoon Andrew decided to walk back to the Monsart from the Eiffel Tower. In many ways the week had gone well, and had been easy. But there was no doubt that he was emotionally detached from these shoots. There had been few moments where he had spent any time with the different models on their own, not surprising when they were using five at once, and so there was not much of a connection. Eve had been the closest and even then, it was nothing like Andrew had with Heloise, Renee, Chiara or Mathilde. And that was down to him. Andrew’s sense of the week was that he had been coasting, mailing it in. Nobody seemed upset and there had not been endless reshoots but there was a disconnect.

When he had spoken to Beatrice he had been unsure about the intensity of the shoot while at the same time thinking that trying to shoot five models did not make sense. But it was the nature of modelling, you are trying to create an image and Beatrice was very happy that they had consistency. And consistency meant repetition which he was having trouble with. The lucky amateur did not have to stand in the same pose for tens of different outfits. It came to him that when he had taken the pictures for June Wyatt way back in 1982 she had posed almost exactly the same way every time as she cycled through all of the clothes that she had made. Fashion modelling did not just extend to having models that were all one size and height, it also was the posing. Let the clothes stand out, not the model. He laughed to himself as he walked along the banks of the Seine, if only they let him wear some clothes. Realising that he was probably scaring little old ladies Andrew wiped the smile off his face. But at the end of the conversation with Beatrice he remembered thinking about good sex versus great sex. These commercials were selling sex, and more blatantly than most. The week just wrapping up had been good sex, even Thursday morning with Eve, and Andrew wanted great sex. And he only had great sex with women with whom he had a connection.

Sometimes the penny drops late in the process but it hits the ground eventually. All his best shoots, at least at the start, involved women who Andrew had fucked. It was only later that he could achieve the same level of intimacy in a shoot with someone he had not fucked, and even then, it was just Mathilde. So the shoots with the best chemistry were with models who he had the best chemistry. Now that was not just a tautology it was how Andrew had managed to survive and even thrive as a model. He really was the lucky amateur at the start but the way he had learned to be a better model was with women like Chiara and Renee. Because at the end of the day although they were long tiring days it never felt like work. And with Heloise, and Renee he realised, it was spending time with his friends, often playing dress-up, or more often un-dress down, if that was such a thing. What did it all mean and why was he thinking about it on a sunny September afternoon in Paris? The whole week had felt too easy. Or more likely the reason was the overarching sense of ‘how the hell am I (still) doing this?’. Who knows.

When Andrew got to the restaurant for dinner at first it was just him and Phillippe. Manon had been held up at work, which they were both sure they would hear about when she got there, and so the two of them chatted away.

“Can you talk about your job very much? I have been conscious not to ask too many questions so as not to put you in an awkward spot. Mind you I doubt I would totally understand the answers anyway. I don’t want to come across as not caring about your job.”

He nodded.

“I realised that you are very discreet about it, and I thank you for that. I can talk at a general level about what I do but it is not something that lends itself to long dinner table conversations. I work in the Finance Ministry as you know and I am now in the department that deals with taxation. Not the politics or levels of taxation, we are told that by the politicians but rather the mechanics of taxation. Different kinds of taxes, individual, corporate, wealth, excise, things like that. I specialise in looking at levels of tax collection across the French economy and where possible I compare those levels to other OECD countries. If Denmark has the same level of tax on cigarettes what is the amount of tax raised, per capita, in Denmark compared to France. Why are they collecting more, why are we collecting more, things like that? So it is mathematics, statistics, politics, finance, national psychology, a lot of different things.”

The plumbing of government. All of these fascinating jobs that are necessary but unless you randomly run into someone, like Phillippe, you have no idea that they exist. Now when Andrew stopped and thought about it his job made sense but most people would go through life never knowing what the taxation department of their finance ministry actually did. But as Phillippe said it was rather arcane and not something that was an easy dinner table conversation. Being married to Manon gave him the perfect foil.

“What about you Andrew? This is your last year at Cambridge. What is your final year project on?”

Andrew never really talked about his project as he was like Phillippe, he didn’t think it was interesting round the dinner table.

“I am focusing on Structural and Civil Engineering and my project is on making buildings more blast resistant, able to withstand a bomb blast.”

“Wow, you can do that?”

“Yes and no. This is not protecting buildings against military attacks. The RAF dropped 10,000kg bombs late in the Second World War, they went through metres of reinforced concrete. And nuclear weapons are another thing entirely. But in terms of someone blowing up a car or truck outside a building then I am interested in different techniques and ways that the blast effect and the shockwave, the overpressure, can be absorbed without the damage to the building, or at least reduce it.”

They were just starting to talk about this when a harassed looking Manon arrived. It looked like she had been hanging out with the models too much as her entrance would have done Chiara proud. With a quick kiss to Phillippe she grabbed his wine glass and took a healthy slug. Phillippe looked at Andrew, Andrew looked back at him, and they both tried not to smirk. Whacks would result. Silence was the best policy.

“Phillippe knows I don’t mean this the way it sounds but I love you Andrew.”

Well there was an interesting conversational starter. Probably more interesting than taxation or building design.

“That is very flattering Manon but I don’t think of you that way.”

Phillippe made the mistake of sniggering and got Andrew’s whack as well as his own.

“Idiot men.”

But you could see some of the stress bleed out of her. Phillippe poured Manon a full glass of wine and after a more moderate sip she smiled. Phillippe leaned over and they gently kissed.

“Okay, I am better. I am sorry I am late but when Beatrice and I returned to the office I had to go to Les Chesney to talk to Veronique. Trying to replicate the shoot with the other model was not going well. At the end of the day we sent everyone home and went back to the office. The three of us were sitting talking about the differences, trying to see if there was anything salvageable from the shoot. The short answer is not really and so that is what prompted the comment.”

In amongst all this their waiter had been fluttering around and so they ordered to get him to piss off. Once that was dealt with Manon resumed the conversation. Well monologue but Andrew was sure he and Phillippe would be allowed to talk at some point.

“Trying to find someone to replace you has been a challenge, one that shows no sign of ending. That is why Beatrice kept us late, first the three of us but then just her and I once Veronique left. When you think about it our product is key to any shoot. Then the female model mainly because female models are famous, talked about, known beyond the fashion industry, into the wider society. And finally there is the male model, of whom practically none are known outside fashion. So it would seem that the male model, in this case you, is easier to replace than the female. But it is the exact opposite. We went round and round in circles.”

She stopped.

“I know that you hate getting praised and I was about to launch into another long ‘Andrew is wonderful’ speech. You are not in any danger of being replaced before the end of your contract. Enough, what were the two of you talking about before I charged into your evening.”

Phillippe took her hand and kissed and then gently caressed it. Manon blushed endearingly.

“Would you believe we managed to talk about my job and Andrew’s project for university. We didn’t sit here not talking waiting for you.”

Andrew had found someone who got whacked on the arm as much as he did. Rather than quickly moving on from his arcane project they both seemed fascinated and had lots of questions.

“It all started because I was close to a terrorist bomb. I was 150 metres, maybe a little more, up the street when a bomb went off. Far enough away that I was not in danger, I was well outside the shrapnel zone, but what struck me was the power of the blast. It was not strong enough to knock me over but I felt it. The bomb was small, only 20lbs, eight kilos. At the same time I would read in the papers, or hear on the news, about 1,000kg bombs going off in Northern Ireland. So that started my interest in the subject, the proximity to an actual blast. After that it has been many things, it is five years I have been thinking about it. There is the intellectual challenge of it, looking for an engineering solution but also it is almost impossibly difficult to actually do something. Maybe I am tilting at windmills but it appeals to me. And while it is a pretty obscure subject, a huge chunk of my research is in standard civil and structural engineering. The design of buildings, the materials, composition of materials, subjects which had relevance in a more traditional context.”

Andrew also talked about how his time with the OTC and especially the camps with the Royal Engineers had influenced and helped his thinking. Neither of them had much knowledge of French military issues so they could not tell him if there was a French equivalent of the OTC, and that was after it took quite a while to explain about it. So the intersection of military and civilian was a mystery to them. But at the end of the night it was nice to spend time with the two of them talking about something other than modelling. They all walked back to the Monsart and went through to the hotel bar.

“I was walking over here just now and it struck me that I had spent an hour, more than that, talking to you about engineering, and complicated and important issues at that. Yet four hours ago I was sitting with Beatrice and Veronique worrying about how we are going to find someone to replace you for our commercials. I don’t know what that means but it is odd.”

“Why are you trying to replace me?”

“You know why! You are giving up next summer.”

She made this sound like a cardinal crime.

“No, I know that part, I was meaning why are you trying to replace me. Do something different again. You have said that all your competitors are copying what you have done since the first commercial with Heloise. So as they all rush to join you here, move somewhere else. Pick someone different.”

“I don’t think you understand. It has nothing to do with how you look, in either the face or the body. It is the way you act in the commercials, the way you act with the other models.”

Andrew looked confused.

“I don’t know how to act Manon. I have never had a lesson, never been in any productions, at school or anywhere else. I am not an actor.”

“You are a much better actor than you think you are. Any pretty boy with a nice body can do what you do. With you there is something more. That is what we were talking about this evening. There is a sense of fun, you have a very honest face, you don’t try and be the star, you always make the woman the centre of attention, and our products. That last one I don’t even think you realise you are doing it. The best that we could come up with is that because you don’t care, this is not your livelihood, you are happy to do whatever we want. Veronique loves you, she says you never fight her on anything and just do what you are asked, and Marilyn is completely convinced that we are taking advantage of you because of your friendship with me, and with Heloise and Renee.”

Andrew shrugged.

“I don’t know what to say. As you say I am nearly done. Three weeks are left. What is the plan for December? I am guessing Martinique will be like Cyprus.”

“Yes, although there will be five models not just one. You will be very tired!”

He ruefully shook his head as the two of them burst into laughter.

“What a terrible reputation to have.”

“Well deserved!”

Andrew had to laugh.

“As for the week before, I don’t know but we will try and find a model that can sing, or a singer that wants to model. We will let Marilyn know and I am sure she will be in touch.”

An odd week of modelling had come to a close. Andrew would be up and away early the following morning.

To Amsterdam.

And Suzanne.

 

Chapter 3

The flight up to Amsterdam took just over an hour, the culmination of an early start and endless waits to finally board the plane. Andrew thought about Suzanne, in amongst the constant waiting on the plane, she had been on his mind throughout the whole week. They had these snippets of life together, the tantalising possibility of a future together but Andrew was trying not to let them grow too large in his mind. He could play being a grown-up now and again but for the most part he was a confused 21 year old student. He was sitting in the plane waiting to take off when the thought came to him that his confusion about Suzanne and Ara was a reflection of his personality, either innate or developed. Andrew charged forward at life and tackled problems, both at school and at university. He was best in situations where he could work towards an answer. Life as an exam, study hard and you will do well. As Andrew thought about it, sitting on a plane on the outskirts of Paris, it was clear he was guilty of trying to do the same thing here. Having decided that he did not know what it meant, but it seemed significant somehow to have at least thought it. His thoughts of that time were hopelessly confused. When it came to his dealings with Ara and Suzanne everything was a big old mess. That he was constantly thinking about, and comparing, the two of them being just the most obvious.

Andrew’s flight from Paris arrived about 20 minutes before Suzanne’s flight from Edinburgh so he did not have long to sit waiting patiently in international arrivals for her. When she finally exited and came out onto the concourse his smile was involuntary and wide. A student in jeans and a top, strawberry blonde hair swept back, and looking lovely. Andrew stood and walked towards her and the sparkle in her eyes and her own smile just made his even wider. He didn’t lift her by the arse and kiss her in the middle of the concourse but the thought was there. And Suzanne knew it. He bent down and they kissed for what seemed a long time. They said nothing as they headed over to the taxi rank and the short journey into town. After checking into the small hotel they had stayed at two years earlier and dumped their bags, Andrew guided Suzanne back out of the room and down onto the pavement up the side of the canal. He could tell she was surprised and disappointed that they were not in bed already.

Their initial chat needed to address something that had been bothering Andrew for days.

“You seem serious Andrew, what are you thinking?”

Suzanne’s lips twitched up and threatened to break into a big smile.

“I wanted to talk about this weekend and make sure I don’t make a mistake, I don’t want to upset you.”

“Okay.”

The ‘a’ was drawn out.

“Three weeks ago I told you that you were coming here this weekend. Thinking about it later I worried that I was bossing you around outside the bedroom and was making you uncomfortable. It has rather nagged at me that I was crossing the line between the bedroom and the rest of your life.”

Suzanne looked at him in surprise before starting to laugh.

“It is always nice to see you act like a complete idiot every now and again. It gives the rest of us hope. When you told me that we were coming here we were lying in bed, we may even have been fucking, I can’t remember and it is irrelevant. You are so far the other way that I doubt that you could act in that manner and I would say something to you if anything like that happened.”

She pulled him to the railing at the side of the canal, out of the way of the other pedestrians.

“Stop being silly. I have to work hard in my head to stop letting this all overwhelm me. Everything that you do for me. I cannot even begin to talk about it, it will just make me cry. I am here, and I am happy to be here. Don’t you understand, this is me. Not the whole me, not even a major part of me, but this is a key piece of who I am. I want to walk into every sex shop in Amsterdam this weekend. It is like a shot of adrenaline. Do you not remember how important it was to me two years ago? I want to tease and be teased; I want my eyes to be bigger than my wallet; I want to think about coming back here every year for the rest of my life and still not have run out of things to buy.”

Many times Andrew had seen the sparkle in Suzanne’s eyes but they had been shielded with cataracts before. Now? Blazing passion and excitement.

Nothing else needed to be said. Suzanne was excited and he had been needlessly concerned. They walked back to the hotel arm in arm, he could feel the excitement radiating off Suzanne, but his mind was elsewhere. Andrew had gone from worrying that he was misreading the situation with Suzanne to thinking about how he could make the weekend even better. He was still thinking about that when they returned to their room. Andrew absent-mindedly opened his bag and stowed the few pieces of clothing in the dresser drawer before stashing the bag in the cupboard. He watched Suzanne do the same thing, including hanging up her coat. It was knee length, belted with a relatively narrow opening at the throat. It was fashionable more than weatherproof but was perfect for a cooler autumn evening. It was a dark gray that went well with her blonde hair. It was similar but lighter than the coat that Maggie had bought for the trip to Morar. He smiled when he saw the coat and at the memory. Suzanne jumped onto the bed and looked alluring but he resisted her siren appeal.

“Come on, we are going shopping.”

“Now?”

Suzanne almost fell off the bed she was scrambling so hard to get ready but they managed to get themselves sorted and headed back out. And although Andrew led her towards the centre of town, and just beyond it the red light district, it also took them past mainstream shops, including several shoe stores. Ignoring her questions he addressed the sales lady who approached. After checking that she spoke English, almost ubiquitous in Holland, he explained what they were looking for. Well okay, what he was looking for. He wanted to get Suzanne a pair of boots, nothing too over the top, but still with a heel and looking elegant. Her feet were measured and our assistant brought out some selections. As he sat in the shop Andrew came to the conclusion that he might have a bit of a boot and shoe fetish. He had bought Maggie at least three pairs, was now buying a pair for Suzanne and he had bought three pairs of shoes in Cyprus for Aino, Kerttu and Lilja. The thought made him smile. They left with Suzanne having selected a nice pair of black boots, below the knee with a 3” heel. Nothing over the top, as he intended, the sort of boots that professional women wear in the autumn and winter every day. They found a small restaurant and when they sat down he finally addressed some of her questions.

“Relax, for goodness sake. I bought you a pair of boots. Just because it was not the kind of shopping you thought it was going to be, relax.”

“You are far too devious for me Andrew. You never do anything without a reason.”

Then she smiled another of her spectacular smiles. They chatted away over a later lunch before they finally walked back to the hotel. Andrew started to undress and Suzanne after a brief pause quickly joined him. He sat on the end of the bed and watched her finish stripping. Before she could approach the bed he twirled his finger and Suzanne pirouetted before him. In fact that is not correct. She spun so that her back was to him and paused for a moment before peeking over her shoulder. Only then did she complete her turn and launch herself at him. They crawled up the bed but instead of their usual position he asked her to lie on the bed, face down on her front. It was easier to whisper to her and see her reactions that way.

“So tell me what you want to look at when we really go shopping. And don’t just say everything, talk about specific things. What are you excited to look at? And why?”

Suzanne leaned in and kissed him before considering the question. He could see she was taking it seriously.

“You are right about everything but even the specific things are also pretty much everything. I think back to the store we were in two years ago. We hardly looked at any of the videos. This time I want to look at all of them closely. I want to see what they show on the boxes, what they depict. It is inspiration, ideas, something like that. But we looked at most of the rest of the store last time. All the bondage gear obviously. But I think I could spend an hour just looking at all these things. But cuffs, and chains, and blindfolds, what else is there? So all things that I have, that we have, already but different choices. We looked at all the different vibrators and dildos. Again I think I will pick up every one of them, compare the size, is there a way to compare them? I don’t know, some of them must be more powerful. I want to look at all these kinds of things. Demystify it, let me understand it. Let us understand it. And it is the same thing with all the whips and paddles. Do you think they have any instruction books for sale?”

“Er, I don’t know. What do you mean?”

“Beginner’s guide to bondage. Just a way to explain all the differences. So Phil had a riding crop that she used on me. And I think she used to ride horses so it really was for riding. But she would smack my arse with it, there was a little piece of leather on the end and she would flick it so that the little piece of leather smacked me. It was an intense but localised version of getting spanked. She didn’t use the shaft on me like a cane. So there is an example. But you saw the stuff that was there last time. Paddles, wooden or leather. I think one even had holes in it, which I didn’t understand. So they cover a bigger area. And then there were those cat of nine tails things which terrify me and excite me in equal measure. Plus the home made things like ping pong bats. I think it would be really helpful to read about the differences.”

Suzanne stopped and looked at Andrew.

“And yet as soon as I say that it doesn’t ring true to me. What I really mean is that it would be great if you could find something like that and were able to buy something with more confidence or certainty. Think about if you found a book like that today and then read it tonight or tomorrow morning. Then we went shopping and I had no idea what you were going to buy, or why, of how much it was going to hurt?”

She had to stop as she shivered. Without a word she straddled him and lowered herself onto him. Dropped onto him was closer to the truth. Suzanne sighed as she lay across Andrew’s chest.

“I just turned myself on talking to you. That is the kind of conversation that you whisper in my ear, drive me crazy and end up with me calling you the devil. And I did it to myself! You really are the devil, you are making me do your dirty work!”

Andrew spun his legs round, grabbed Suzanne under the arse and carefully stood, still buried in her. Walking to the end of the bed he suddenly threw her down on it and before she had even finished bouncing, grabbed her ankle and pulled her to the end. Her nostrils flared and the contest was on. Her core was strong and tight and she made him fight for every stroke. The joy in her face as they savagely fucked was transfixing. He wanted to bottle that moment, to draw that moment out, but their most intense yet intimate fucking was also always destined to be short. By getting so worked up, feeding off each other, the inevitable pulsing always came far too soon. Rather than lie on him immediately Suzanne rushed to the bathroom so that they had reasonably dry sheets for the night. But she came back through within a minute, gloriously naked, all tits and hips and just looking fantastic.

“You are a shameless ogler sir.”

“Guilty. But in my defence, you are quite the vision to ogle.”

She giggled as lay across him.

“Now where were we before you got me all hot and bothered. Oh wait, I got me all hot and bothered.”

She laughed again.

“Did I answer your questions?”

“Yes you did. I think the word that struck me the most was demystify. We will look for a book, a magazine, even a video that stops us from doing something stupid or dangerous, but also sparks our imaginations, makes us think of something new and exciting. I know it is tough for you when you have long breaks between doing anything like this week, like next week. I don’t know how to say this without it sounding unkind or ignorant but do you think your need to give up control, your need for submission is getting stronger because you are being denied it, or do you think it has plateaued.”

Suzanne scooted up his chest and kissed him.

“It is okay I understand the question. You nailed it with the comment about the long gaps. It builds up, that is why June was so bloody fantastic. You purged it from my system. But I do wonder if it is a conditioned response. I knew you were leaving that weekend so was it a way to protect myself by not letting any of those thoughts linger. I can’t answer that. The only way I will know for sure is when I am in a relationship with someone and I have the chance to fuck every day. Remember we both were unsure what it was going to be like when we were in Rome. There were crazy days but there were also calm days. It doesn’t consume me, and it is definitely something that I only need in the bedroom. I was thinking about your concerns from earlier as we walked back from getting the boots and I understood where you were coming from. Especially when I told you about Phil trying stuff on outside the bedroom. From that three or four month period I came to understand that I am pretty tame when measured against the whole spectrum. There are people who are much more. I don’t know what the right word is. Intense? Total? Immersed. Something like that. Anyway if I had not seen some of that, even if just at the edges, and experienced and reacted to it with Phil then I think I would be more uncertain. So if I had to guess, on a scale of 1 to 10 I think I am a 3 maybe, and with the right person on a regular basis then perhaps a 4. But I have no desire at all to try being a 7 or 8.”

Despite being keyed up for the weekend they had both been working pretty hard and ended up napping for an hour of the afternoon. Suzanne slipped down off his chest into his arms and before Andrew even knew he was asleep he woke to discover it was 4.30. He was not a napper and it was unusual for him to sleep in the afternoon. But they both had a quick shower and then it was time to spring his plan. The execution of which was aided by the way Suzanne sat around with nothing on while she fixed her hair. Andrew got casually dressed before going and getting her new boots. Suzanne was looking through her clothes for clean underwear but he took her hand and led her back to the bed.

“What are you doing Andrew?”

He didn’t answer but helped her into the new boots, zipping them up before standing and helping her to her feet.

“Andrew!”

He still did not answer but went and got her coat. Returning Andrew held it open for her and she finally realised what was happening.

“Shit. No. No way Andrew.”

He just smiled and leaned down for a quick kiss.

“I already know you are naughty, you don’t need to prove it by trying to keep control.”

The two trigger words impacted upon her exactly as he intended. She slowly slid her arms into the coat and Andrew stood behind her as she carefully belted it. There were no buttons, it was designed to be held closed with the belt. He wrapped his arms around her.

“So are you ready for an evening of shopping? Visiting every sex shop in Amsterdam, seeing everything, holding things, imagining them on your body. In your body.”

She shivered.

“Striking your body.”

Another shiver.

“And all the while feeling the drag of the coat on your skin. The breeze on your legs and your arse. And possibly the best part of all.”

He paused.

“You know you are naked, but everywhere you go all you will be thinking about is that everybody else thinks you are naked. They will know that you are wearing nothing under your coat. All these looks and stares.”

Suzanne spun round and kissed him hard.

“You are wrong Andrew. 100% totally wrong.”

He looked surprised at her adamant denial.

“You haven’t checked out the coat. Put your hands in the pockets.”

He spun her back round and stood behind her and put his hands in the pockets. Sure he could feel her but no more than normally through clothes.

“Lift them out slowly and check the edge of the pocket.”

Still unsure what she was going on about Andrew did as he was asked when suddenly Archimedes ran down the street. There were two slits at the start of the pocket that allowed Suzanne to slip her hand under the coat without having to unbuckle it. Designed for retrieving car keys or whatever, from a suit pocket underneath. But all there was underneath was Suzanne. His arms snaked in and clasped across her tummy. Holy moly.

“Take them out.”

He did as requested and Suzanne spun round, and then waited expectantly. Belatedly getting his head into the game Andrew slipped his hands back through the slits and this time cupped her firm toned arse. Suzanne pulled him down for another long kiss.

“Just so you know I am leaking already. You are the devil. But you are my devil. Come on.”

Suzanne did check the mirror before leaving the room but left the hotel without hesitation. They talked as they headed into the centre of the city.

“Do you want to browse first, go from shop to shop, before deciding what to buy?”

Suzanne didn’t say anything but looked at Andrew expectantly. Oh. He shook his head and smiled. He stopped, turned Suzanne so that her back was against the railing and not so surreptitiously fondled her arse under her coat.

“The first three stores we visit when we are done you are going to stand outside while I buy something. So now on top of everything else that you are thinking about you can think about that. What has caught my eye? What am I going to tease, tempt and torment you with?”

Rather than startle her or fill her with nervous dread, Andrew swore Suzanne purred in his arms.

“Just remember Andrew I have been terribly naughty.”

Biting her bottom lip was unnecessary and almost got her dragged back to the hotel room. With a final squeeze of her cheeks they carried on into the city. Andrew was silent as he thought about Suzanne, her growing comfort with who she was and what she needed, and how she was slowly and insidiously corrupting him.

“Stop thinking about it. Just do it.”

Every man knows who has gone shopping with a woman knows what it is like. And the psychology of it. In the first store the man will see what he is looking for, will decide that it is good enough, meets his needs, and will then go and pay for it. Shopping done. Once when Andrew was seven or eight the whole family went shopping on Boxing Day, them and the whole of the rest of Edinburgh. His Grandma wanted to get a new coat in the sales and so they went into every store from one end of Princes Street to the other. And they ended up back at the very first store where she bought the coat that had been the second one she had tried on at the start of the trip. That is shopping with women, and Andrew got an early lesson. The other psychological lesson was something he read. He didn’t remember where he read this but the gist of the article was that a man will spend £2 on a £1 item that he needs so that he can stop shopping, whereas a woman will spend £1 on a £2 item she doesn’t need just to enjoy shopping.

The evening and night was not quite that bad but was so many different things. It was funny and informative, thought-provoking and arousing, and gave Andrew so much to ponder it would take him all term to sort it all out as he swam. The first time you do something there is so much that is unknown and so two years ago they had both been nervous about entering a sex shop. The front always obscures the inside of the store so there is that sense of stepping into the unknown when you open the door. This time that uncertainty had gone. They started at the store they had shopped at before and so when they walked in there was a sense of the familiar. On their first visit they had ignored the video section and headed straight to the clothes whereas this time they walked over to the video section. And it played out like any other couple on a Saturday night at the video store. Browsing separately but close by, stopping and checking the front and back of different videos, and showing and sharing with the other person. All that was different was the theme of the videos. There was an endless array of naked women and they browsed through the general section without really stopping and checking out anything in particular. But when they got to the small section of bondage videos Andrew was sure they stopped and checked out each and every one. It was if they were getting ideas. And Suzanne was happy. Happy to be standing there wearing nothing but a coat looking at bondage videos. Because she needed this, and this validated her needs and desires. Her desires were never going to be mainstream, never going to be a topic of general conversation, but Suzanne Jenner knew that she was not alone, she was not broken, she was not somebody to be pitied. Despite craving to have no control, she could control this. An interesting dichotomy.

One thing that did stand out from looking at all the bondage videos was the theatre of it all. There was a preponderance of dungeons, frames to strap people to, padded benches to tie people down on. But the basics were the same. Someone took the control away, mostly but not exclusively, from women. Then there was either an endless array of sex acts; or first you hit them or tormented them before the endless array of sex acts. The first was something Andrew was comfortable with and had grown to enjoy. The second was the aspect that he had the most trouble with. And why he could never be a true dominant. In the right frame of mind he could get excited due to Suzanne loving what he was doing to her, spanking her being the main thing they had done up to that point. But Andrew couldn’t get excited about the prospect of spanking her, or smacking her, with a paddle or a cane or flogging her with any number of whips. It fundamentally seemed wrong, even although it was all consensual and he knew that Suzanne loved it. But a lot of Suzanne’s love for it was because she knew he hated it and was doing it only for her. Which was muddled and paternalistic on top of everything else.

Yet Andrew had tortured and upset Suzanne mentally and thought nothing of it. He had told her he was going to take pictures of her and send them into to one of the magazines that featured readers wives. Now it was early on in their journey and it was a mistake but it had really upset Suzanne. Andrew had deliberately set out to torment her with that scenario because he thought it was in line with what she wanted. And it wasn’t. So he had no problem mentally fucking with her for several days with lingering effects for days and weeks after but wasn’t prepared to smack her with a paddle where the pain was localised and would be gone within an evening or by the next day. Never let it be doubted that he couldn’t overthink any and every situation.

After they had finished with the videos they walked through the rest of the store, starting at the clothes. Andrew had bought the corset in Hamburg and Suzanne often wore it outside the flat, under whatever dress or top she was wearing. It was the same with the playsuit. It was able to be worn under a wide variety of clothing and so it was not restricted to just the flat or the bedroom.

“I like the idea of something that you can wear outside the bedroom, or outside the flat. A lot of these are really great but I like the idea of whatever we buy being something that you can wear under your clothing.”

“I know. The days when I have worn the corset or the playsuit are amazing. I am sexually on edge the whole day. It is the idea of a delayed treat. I remember once just wanting to grab you and run back to the car.”

There were a lot of leather and shiny PVC type clothes and although they were lots of ideas and future purchases there, nothing was capturing their attention. Then they found it. A surprisingly normal dress, scooped at the neck which Andrew knew Suzanne would make look stunning. But the surprise was at the back. There was a heart shaped gap cut out of the it right where the seat of the dress should be. It was so perfect that their hands touched as they both reached for it. Neither of them had to say anything. A balcony at Sperlonga was on both their minds. It would be perfect.

They moved on from the clothes to look at all the vibrators and dildos. Again they spent a long time picking up and checking the back of every box. The range of options seemed bewildering. But this was going to be his first secret purchase and so Andrew spent time looking at all the options. He could see Suzanne watching him at times so of course he immediately picked up the longest and widest one just to see her reaction. But it wasn’t just Suzanne Andrew was thinking of. The range and variety had given him some ideas for shoots back in Edinburgh. After that it was to the last part of the store, the part that he dreaded. Here, although Andrew appeared to look at all the different options, he was really watching Suzanne to get some idea of what she was thinking. They had spoken frequently through the first three parts of the store but here they were both silent. Some of the items were disquieting in the extreme, some of the paddles were heavy and he could only imagine what they would do to her backside. Fortunately she seemed to move away from them and was more interested in the crops and whips. Memories of Phil? This is where they were out of their depth and so although they looked at several items they moved on without fuss or comment.

“Wait outside. I will be two minutes.”

With a big smile Suzanne left and he went back, selected the first surprise and paid for it. He slipped the item into his jacket pocket and the two of them walked to the next store. For the next two hours it was more of the same. They wandered from shop to shop, and Andrew picked up a second surprise for her but by the third or fourth shop there was nothing new. So their browsing was more perfunctory, they had demystified what was available. Goodness only knows which number of store they were in when he got extremely lucky. Andrew spotted it before Suzanne and immediately told her to wait outside. She was surprised to be hustled out so quickly but when he went and checked the little pamphlet it was perfect. It didn’t call itself a beginner’s guide to spanking or whipping but that was what it was. It was 20 pages, if that. But there were simple dos and don’ts and most importantly it explained the differences between the different implements. This was a no brainer purchase and he was happy, almost elated when he came out of the shop.

“Let’s go and buy that dress.”

“Are you sure?”

Biting her bottom lip and peeking out from under her lashes was unnecessary, naughty even. And she knew it.

“I should promise to spank you but we both know that is what you are trying to get me to do.”

Laughing heartily Suzanne took his hand and they walked back along the bank of the canal. The main red light area was a three or four block section on either side of a canal with lots of little side streets and alleys off it. So they walked back the way we came before crossing over to the other bank.

“How are you feeling? How is it being naked under your coat?”

“I have become used to it which is freaky in and of itself. I think I am only really conscious of it when I am outside the store for a couple of minutes while you buy whatever it is you are getting. But the rest of the time it is just.”

She stopped and thought.

“I was about to say normal but maybe natural is a better way of explaining it. It is part of the experience.”

“Have you calmed down?”

“No, that is like an accordion. There are moments such as these when we are walking together arm in arm along the canal and we are just another couple out for a stroll. But then I will be in a store and something will catch my eye, my imagination fires up and then it gets all swampy in a hurry.”

Andrew laughed at the analogy.

“You think I am joking. I am in danger of dehydrating here.”

They returned to the first store and went immediately to the dress. There was one that looked the right size but the European measurement system was different to the British one. Suzanne spotted the curtain indicating a changing cubicle and took it over to try it on. Once she was in the dress she partially pulled the curtain back and modelled for him. With her body the front of the dress was spectacular but when she turned round? The saucy sway to her hips was. Words failed him.

“Stand still. And no peeking. Keep looking forward.”

Andrew had bought a tiny anal plug in that very store and some lube in another. After greasing it up he slipped it between Suzanne’s cheeks.

“Andrew!”

“Ssh.”

It popped in with little resistance, he had chosen the smallest, slimmest model, and Andrew caressed Suzanne’s arse for a moment. The little tag with the size and the price sticker were hanging off the back of the dress so he carefully detached it off the dress.

“Put your coat back on and meet me at the counter.”

He walked away and gave the tag to the leering middle-aged man at the counter. Ignoring him Andrew paid the requisite Guilders and with Suzanne on his arm they walked out into the Amsterdam evening.

“I can feel it with every step. I am so fucking turned on we need to go back to the hotel. I want you to fuck me with it still in. I want to feel what it is like.”

Andrew didn’t think Suzanne was playing at being demanding and naughty he guessed she was just really turned on but for someone who craved giving up control she sure was giving a lot of instructions. Once again, they stopped beside a canal and he pushed her against the railing while standing behind her. Andrew reached round and unbelted her coat which now hung freely, revealing the front of the dress.

“Stop telling me what to do or when we get back to the hotel I will book a separate room and you will lie there all night on your own.”

He heard her gulp.

“We are going out for dinner and then we may go back to the hotel. Or we may stay out drinking until 2.00 or 3.00 in the morning. You keep thinking punishment involves only one thing. You need to remember that denial is the biggest punishment of them all. What would you do if I said you could not orgasm in Holland, or worse Edinburgh?”

He stopped talking and let that marinate in her mind.

“Tell me Suzanne, if that is so horrifying why is your pussy dripping right now?”

Andrew stepped back and waited for Suzanne to turn and take his arm again. As she turned he saw her close her eyes and take a deep purging breath. Slipping her arm into his once again she whispered.

“Devil.”

Although Suzanne was antsy and several times he was sure she had to check herself from moaning at him, they had a lovely evening. The little pub was busy but they were able to get a booth against the back wall.

“Take off your coat.”

Suzanne barely controlled the squeak but then realised that she would be sitting on the coat and from the front and side the dress was form-fitting but did not reveal the secret. After a relaxing, for him, dinner they finally headed back to the hotel. As soon as the door to their room closed Andrew pushed Suzanne to her knees. He seriously needed to take the edge off if he hoped to last more than a minute. There was no way he could deny it any more, these games were starting to turn him on as much as Suzanne. As expected Suzanne quickly had him at the point of no return and greedily swallowed his seed. Helping her to her feet Andrew held her in his arms, standing behind her.

“So you really have been very naughty today, haven’t you? Walking around Amsterdam with just a coat on, then in a dress that flashes your arse to the world, and with a plug stuffed in your dainty little arsehole. That is very naughty indeed isn’t it?”

Andrew could feel Suzanne’s smile even standing behind her.

“What I have to decide if it was not naughty enough, was it just the right level of naughty or was it too naughty. So Goldilocks what do you think? What should be your punishment?”

Suzanne was shivering with desire in his arms.

“I have no control, whatever you want.”

When it came to Suzanne Andrew had no control either. She was simply magnificent. And he wanted to make her sob with sexual excess. Not whimper with denial but sob with fulfillment. He looked at the window. It was an old building, the windows in the rooms actually opened and although there was not a balcony there was a window ledge for her to hang onto.

“Go and open the window. You know the position.”

There was no hesitation, no resignation, only a bright aura of happiness. Andrew stripped, if someone looked there was little doubt as to what they were doing. Despite the blowjob he was hard and ready to go. He switched the light off plunging the room into darkness, the only light coming from the lampposts lining the canal. There was boundary pushing and then there was arrest. Suzanne needed the upside down drawer from the balcony in Cyprus as the height was murder on his knees. But it was satisfying in a way that he couldn’t explain at the time. Andrew was fully embedded in Suzanne and stopped thrusting. Instead he started to play with the base of the little plug. First just spinning it around before starting to draw it out, stretching her sphincter ever so slightly. The noise that Suzanne made defied description. It was excitement, contentment, a frisson of ache, an acceptance of whatever he was doing. Andrew nearly came just from that noise alone. He let the plug slip it all the way back in and resumed fucking her. They were both too worked up to last long, an increasingly common occurrence with the two of them. Rather than fight it Andrew embraced it. He looked down.

A black, faux satin dress, nothing but a few straps from shoulder to waist as he looked at Suzanne’s back. But then at the skirt part of the dress there was a perfect heart-shaped hole, Suzanne’s pale skin in stark contrast to the colour of the material. And to cap it all off tucked between her cheeks was the base of the little butt plug. Not bejeweled or coloured or anything fancy like that. Just a shiny little base tight against her arsehole. Standing at the window hardly registered, Suzanne’s body and the way it was adorned were more than enough. He was glad that Suzanne had a solid grip of the window ledge as he was trying to thrust her out the window at the end.

That was a preview of Living Two Lives - Book 21. To read the rest purchase the book.

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