Chapter 7

Andrew recounted the dinner with Ogilvie and Bodmer, the subsequent meeting with Bodmer and then the property viewing with Jim and Freya over dinner and they enthusiastically asked lots of questions. Over many visits in the first half of 1986 they kept asking if he had closed on the purchase of the building. They were more relieved than he was when everything was finally signed. They were pleased for all three of them that the dinner had gone well and were not surprised at the modest and low key requests going forward. As usual, they were having a big dinner party at the flat on the Saturday night so Andrew got out of the way. After his usual exercising and swimming he grabbed some notes and headed off to the University College London Library. It was closer to Ara’s flat than Jim and Freya’s but still not far being just south of Euston Road.

When he went there Andrew brazenly walked in like any other student, found an empty desk and sat and worked away. Other than a break for lunch he spent the day reviewing all his material science coursework. He had chosen all seven Civil or Structural Engineering modules but you were examined in a total of 10 modules so he had chosen two materials science courses, one that term and one next, as well as an introductory business course. So he spent all day reviewing his Mechanics of Solids coursework. When he got back to the flat, both Freya and Jim were rushing around, so he changed and then left again before any of the guests arrived. He didn’t know who all was coming over but it seemed a big deal to both of them so he got out of the way, sharpish. Dinner was pub grub before Andrew headed over to the Marquee Club to see who was there that night. You paid your money, you took your chance. He drank moderately in case he had to speak to any of Jim and Freya’s guests but they were still going strong when he returned to the flat and was able to quietly get into his room without incident. The door had a key which Andrew hardly ever used but that night he figured it was safer to lock it since everyone appeared to be well trousered and he didn’t need an accidental visitor lost on the way to the toilet. He found out the next day that the last of the drunken wretches left at 3.40.

Andrew had a quiet morning after his run. The flat was silent and he sat and worked until noon. Then he put the coffee on and the smell finally stirred his hosts. They both came through, and slumped at the table as he placed coffee in front of them. Ten minutes of sipping coffee and letting blood flow through their bodies had them finally capable of speak.

“We will never get invited to anyone’s house ever again.”

Just a trace of hyperbole.

“You had to open that bloody stuff, didn’t you?”

Is there anything worse than getting nagged with a hangover?

“I didn’t make you drink it.”

Sullen silence descended for a minute before he ventured to ask.

“What was the cause of your downfall?”

Jim snorted wryly and Freya rolled her eyes.

“You would have thought that something called Black Death would lead me to be cautious, but sadly not. It is a kind of Icelandic aquavit called Brennivin. I saw the bottle one day when we were visiting Moira. It is a black label with a skull and crossbones. But despite the label it is very smooth and goes down far too easily. It also sneaks up on you and so I managed to get all our guests a lot drunker than anyone realised. It just went downhill from there.”

Freya leaned over and patted his hand.

“That is the truth. Once we had this devil’s brew in us then we hit the drinks cabinet hard.”

They were interrupted by the phone and judging by Freya’s side of the conversation one of their guests had just arisen as well. She came back though smiling.

“Well that was Nigel. He and Fiona are only just awake as well. I will not repeat the names he called us.”

Jim and her laughed and so before Andrew left he cooked them up a huge breakfast. They needed the food to soak up the alcohol. He was called a ‘good man’ and a ‘nice boy’ and he left them to wallow in hungover misery for the rest of the day. He Tubed out to Heathrow and was at the Monsart just before 7.00. There was a note telling him to be at the staff entrance at 7.30 on Monday morning. After checking in, and despite the cold winter night, Andrew walked through the deserted streets and squares of the 1^st arrondissemont. He walked for an hour, no real plan to his strolling, just enjoying the calm and quiet. He suspected that the rest of the week would not be so tranquil.

Manon was waiting at the staff door when he turned onto the street. She quickly kissed him but then hustled Andrew up in the lift to the conference room where Beatrice Raymonde, her boss, was waiting for him. More kisses and with a mug of coffee in hand, they sat to talk. And they went straight into it.

“Salome?”

“I saw a poster in Covent Garden, probably for the Royal Opera House. Most people have heard of the dance of the seven veils and I thought about using scarves instead. What I could not think of was how to attach them so that they could come undone easily.”

“We had the same problems, some kind of heavy necklace, almost a collar or a harness.”

Andrew thought of Suzanne’s playsuit but this was not the place.

“Okay we will think on it some more. What else did that clever brain of yours come up with?”

He flushed at the compliment.

“Do I need to get my agent?”

“Pah. Come on, I can see in your eyes that there is something.”

“I was watching a movie, which is really rare for me. It was White Christmas, but that is unimportant. The movie shows rehearsals for a stage show. It made me wonder about you doing something behind the scenes. Not with you but actors or models playing you. I think people would be fascinated to get a peek behind the curtain over this process. Think of when Renee turned the other way round when I did the press ups. Now that could never be shown but if there was a camera behind you so that your head blocked out the two of us. And at the end you can be all ‘no, no, no’ all dramatic and flouncy. Everyone will wonder what on earth we did that wasn’t acceptable. I thought about it on the plane yesterday. As with all my ideas it is half formed but hey, you asked.”

Rather than immediately denounce his idea Beatrice was silent thinking about it.

“You are trying to figure out who would play you aren’t you? Catherine Deneuve?”

Beatrice needed to learn to pull her punches, but her face was smiling.

“Okay I will think about this. Let us change subjects so that you can go and get started. We want to shoot in the Alps in January. We have a store in Courcheval up in Haute Savoie. We have rented a chalet and want to shoot there all week. Can you ski?”

“No. I have never tried.”

“Okay, we will have to shoot a comedy not a sports movie.”

Ouch.

“We will get some outdoor shots, you on a lift, maybe going down a bunny slope, we will see. But that is going to be theme for January. I want you to let Manon know who you feel comfortable with this week. Heloise and Chiara are a given but we need at least two more. I know that you work well with Renee Clement but we can’t keep using the same models. She is already doing a shoot this week. I am tempted not to use Heloise in the Alps so that there is something fresh in the summer. It is only going to be a month away. The fact that you disappear for months at a time before suddenly reappearing helps with the freshness.”

She turned and left him with Manon. He voiced his part question, part statement.

“She was a whirlwind this morning.”

“Yes, the Salome thing is annoying us all. Come on let’s get you up to wardrobe.”

The fierce Albertine was waiting for him together with a rack of 20 suits, all his size. Andrew was stunned at all these clothes just for him. Veronique arrived and explained.

“Hermès had 20 suits made in your size to give us options for the shoots. We will use 10 of them this week, maybe more depending on how everything is going.”

She selected one, apparently at random, and passed it to him.

“Go and change into this and meet me down in the store. You are going to do a lot of handbag shopping this week, that is the focus.”

Andrew did as he was asked and 15 minutes later, dressed to Albertine’s satisfaction he was in the store. He said hello to the small crew, all of whom he recognised from previous shoots. The click clack of Chiara’s heels announced her before Andrew saw her. She swept down the stairs looking ravishing with more than a hint of imperiousness. He could just imagine Merry walking up to him ‘Well? Peasant’. The memory made him smile.

Chiara air kissed so that her make-up was not disturbed and then turned away to get final direction from Veronique, with a sexy wink as farewell. She knew what she was doing with her hips that lady. Suddenly half a dozen Hermès staff appeared to act as customers in the store and they were off. They entered the store at least 10 times and bought a whole range of different bags and scarves, rushing upstairs to change half way through. Veronique had them quick marching the whole day. From the store it was over to the usual Studio, dressed in the familiar bed and bathroom set up. The middle part of the day was the pair of them getting up, cleaned, applying either perfume or cologne, and then dressed before leaving the ‘apartment’. Andrew was smartly dressed but Chiara looked a million dollars. The outfit, the scarf round her neck, the bag on her arm. She was stunning, completely amazing and a walking advert for Hermès. But then it was objectification time. And no, not Chiara. First, they went to a dance studio where Andrew discovered he was to model a serious of dancer’s belts. It is a kind of jockstrap for male dancers, but rather than the two loops round the tops of your thighs and then up to the belt, this was a thong for men. It was the closest he ever came to saying no, to going full diva. Frankly he would have been happier naked. But again, they hadn’t told him, so his reactions were real. Just like Chiara’s were. Andrew had to change into three different ones. Looking back later that night it was funny but he was struggling at the time. Chiara of course hammed it up suitably and Veronique was pleased with the shots. Finally Andrew was dressed in gym gear and told to run up and down the stairs until he had worked up a good sweat. Then it was peeling all the sweaty clothes off him until he was left standing there in nothing but the dancer’s belt. Chiara carefully put the bag down, hung the scarf up on a convenient hook before throwing herself into his arms. Fade to black, ravishing ensues. Once they had all the shots Veronique needed they were done. Andrew showered and changed and then Veronique came back into the changing room to talk to him, to explain.

“You are a good sport Andrew. Given where the dancer’s belts have been you can keep them.”

She really did like fucking with him.

“We wanted to shoot this without letting you know first so that we could get your honest reactions. The shoots with Chiara are trying to turn things on their head. It is always the woman that undresses for the man. We wanted to show it the other way round. And you were perfect, so mortified, trying not to glare, exactly what I wanted. Thank you.”

They left the locker room and were walking to the reception to meet Chiara when a dancer came out of one of the other studios and walked towards the woman’s changing room. She was wearing a standard dancer’s outfit, leggings and leotard, with a towel round her neck. The way it hung it covered most of her chest. If she was topless it would have hidden her breasts. Andrew stopped and thought about the seven veils as she walked past them.

“How many scarves do we have here?”

“I don’t know, 10 maybe. Yes, at least that.”

“Ask that dancer if she could spare us a few minutes in the studio we used.”

Veronique handled the French for him and after getting the dancer, named Marie, to agree to help them for a few minutes, she went off to find the wardrobe lady and bring the scarves back. Two minutes later the two of them returned with Chiara following behind.

“I talked to Beatrice and Manon about doing something similar to Salome and the Seven Veils. Hermès and the Seven Scarves instead. But we were struggling to figure out how to attach them, to wrap them round the model. The way she has the towel has me thinking.”

Veronique and Chiara saw what Andrew meant and he left them to move the scarves around the dancer, as it involved a fair about of feeling and touching her body. At first it did not work but then two scarves were tied round her neck and the tail draped over one breast each. But they kept moving. But once they tied a scarf like a sarong round her waist, then the top two stayed like a scarf halter top. So they had three of the seven, what about the rest? There was a bit of putzing around for a while but eventually they tied them at the elbows and the knees. When Marie moved her arms and legs they fluttered around, creating the effect. Now she had to be careful not to break her neck as all the scarves were too long and bulky to be ideal for the job but the outline of the use was set. Marie was thanked and sent on her way with a Hermès scarf for her trouble. She floated off to the changing rooms.

“There are two of your shots for two different commercials. One of me dressing her, tying the scarves, and then its twin, of me undressing her. If we got a dancer then I could hold an end and as she danced away another scarf is peeled away. I could even wear the dancer belt while we are doing it.”

Veronique was miles away, Andrew could see her working some of the stuff out in her mind. He and Chiara waiting for her to return.

“This will work. We can shoot it lots of different ways, removing the elbows and knees first as you would expect, or just straight to the middle and have her dance around you naked but for the four scarves on her limbs. That would be unexpected. And you could wear one of those beach sarongs that we used in the summer, and she can at least take that off you. Belt under it one time, naked another. We could spend all day here getting endless combinations. That would work for allowing us options. This will take until Friday to do properly. The model or models will need to be good dancers, have dance training. Okay, time to call Beatrice at home, get them thinking about it. It is Antoinette in the Studio tomorrow morning and that is a repeat of last Christmas just with a new model. Okay?”

Chiara and Andrew left Veronique talking to Beatrice and walked out into the winter darkness. They were both bundled up and there was never a cab when you needed one, so they walked down to the Rue de Rivoli and headed west back towards the Louvre. Dinner was in a nice restaurant, elegant but austere, and they could finally relax and talk.

“It seems you are a star Chiara. Congratulations.”

She smiled and accepted the praise.

“It has been a whirlwind, ever since the commercial we filmed came out in May. They have resonated with the audience and Hermès are very pleased with the campaign. They are even more pleased with the shoot in Cyprus. They are going to save that for after Easter next year to tie in with the summer. But I have seen some of the footage. Merda, you in that sleeveless white shirt pasted to your chest, it looks good, the light sparkles off the water, there are endless sunset and sunrise shots. It is good. I had fun today, you are one of the only models that doesn’t mind making fun of themselves. And the shots of you looking all embarrassed are perfect. I never know how it is all going to be edited together, how they tie all the different scenes back to Hermès, but I had fun with you. I hoped to have some time to talk to you during the day but it never seemed to stop. Are you okay with me coming to the hotel tonight?”

“Of course I am. I have to keep up my practice of ravishing older women you know. I am not working with Mathilde this week so it is all for you.”

Chiara’s smile was lupine. He gulped.

“I presume you don’t read the French fashion press?”

Andrew shook his head. He didn’t read the British fashion press.

“You are a minor mystery because no one knows who you are. You only work for Hermès and no one can find you anywhere. So Heloise and I are asked regularly about you, who you are, what you are like, where do you live? No one would understand that you don’t do this for a living but as some kind of hobby.”

He smiled at her characterisation. It was as accurate as any.

“So you are the mystery man of Hermès. Everyone knows your name is Andrew but that is it.”

Good. 18 months of mystery and he could ride off into the sunset.

The last couple of times Andrew had been with Chiara the fucking was frantic and relentless but that night it was different. It was still passionate and spirited but there was an appreciation of the act, of each other, that had not been there previously. They had more memories to build on, were better at reading and responding to the other person. Andrew’s favourite position that night was Chiara on top. She would occasionally lean down and kiss him but she fucked as she lived life, in the spotlight. She leaned back so that her torso was concave rather than convex, arched slightly, her shoulders pulled back. It tightened her already impressive stomach and highlighted her tits and as they fucked away her body moved in an intoxicating and intriguing manner. She knew she looked good and was getting no complaints from Andrew. Chiara liked attention and even when it was just the two of them, she demanded it. Even spooning her as they settled down to sleep was an experience. She was 29, soon to be 30 and she was magnificent.

He left her to sleep in the morning, she could get up when she wanted and they had said their goodbyes the night before. Andrew had left a small gift for her for Christmas. Since he was modelling for Hermès he had visited one of the stores in Cambridge and bought 10 Trinity College scarves. Not as fashionable or expensive as the ones he was currently modelling but unique. Each of the 31 Colleges that comprised Cambridge University had a separate patterned scarf. It was a little something for his friends in France. When he arrived at the Studio Manon and Beatrice were already there.

“I am delighted at your idea but you have blown up the schedule and we are racing to find a model or models with a dancing background. Heloise will be here at lunchtime and again tomorrow morning but Thursday and Friday are a mess as we figure out this Seven Scarves shoot.”

But the hug and kisses were heartfelt and she was off. Manon laughed as she disappeared again.

“When Veronique called Beatrice she was beside herself. But she hates last minute changes even when they are good changes. She called me at home and I was on the first RER this morning. Lots of models did dance when they were younger, we just need to find the right one.”

Andrew thought about what she said.

“Shoot the audition, let it be the first behind the scenes shoot. There will need to be some nifty editing but why not. Try it, if it doesn’t work then it is not a big deal. It is in the dance studio, close by and you need to run an audition anyway.”

“You wait until she leaves and then you tell me this? I am going to try and catch her, maybe she hasn’t got a taxi yet.”

Three minutes later Beatrice was mock glaring at him.

“Catherine Deneuve is not available this week. But why not. Thursday auditions, Friday the shoot. We will film the audition but also film us running the audition.”