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 his agent 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.