A dark silhouette crossed the path behind us, their shadow stretching up to my toes, my eyes averting to the general direction of the figure as I recognised the perfectly cut quiff and mesmerisingly long eyelashes. Stood still, his dark eyes pierced the blackness, pricking me with a strange feeling. It felt like guilt, strange as I had no attachment to him; and even though I wanted to turn away, I smiled.
"Marie?", his voice was strong with a brittle husky quality that conveyed a tiring evening. It was an incredible turn on. I could feel that Harry was watching me very closely and so I rubbed my hand down his back, to reassure him? I wasn't sure, the whole event seemed so surreal. 'I don't even know any of you' I repeated the phrase over and over in my head. This guilt, this heaviness, the awkwardness between the three of us; so unnecessary.
"Hi, Sir" I accentuated the pause between the two words, exaggerating the fact that he was my authority; to remind myself really, not to specifically target him. Stepping closer to me, he wrapped his hand around my waist, pulling me into himself protectively. Having direct eye contact with Harry, he muttered "Have a nice evening" then dropping his hazel orbs to mine he smiled "I'm confident in the succession of your interview, Ma'am". I decided it cute that he had played along with my formality and was ignorant to the downward frown settling on Harry's face. "Thank you" I whispered, Malik's hands already gone from mine as he slipped back through the darkness.
"We should... Erm, get going". No inference was needed to see that this rendez vous with Mr. Malik had made him uncomfortable and I could sense the space between us growing. "Sure" Slipping my arm into his outstretched one, we walked towards a low top, matt black Jaguar parked in the front. Next to which was an old red Cooper, obviously having seen many days. The sight was quite comical. "Ladies first" the smile came back to his cheeks and as he opened the door to the Jag, I couldn't help but feel underdressed.
"Why thank you, Mr Styles" I tried to say brightly, the tiredness in my eyes overpowering all other thoughts, the fresh smell of Malik's cologne still remnant in my nostrils. His eyes traced my body and his lips were slightly parted, lightly bitten and a little wet from where, I assume, he had licked his lips. As he walked to the other side of the car, I bubbled up inside, fangirling as I did best. My cheeks flushed with warmth at the thought that someone so attractive, of such authority could have feelings for, could appreciate, me.
"Impress me" *click* *click* "Appeal to me, give me some sensuality" *click* *click*. I puckered my lips and slid the off shoulder top further away from me, running my hands up my top, exposing the flat stomach with a thin layer of muscle protruding from it. I must have been the most awkward model. I tried not to think of this as I heard the flicker of his camera on the tripod stand.
"Wait." He paused and I could tell that he was probably frustrated with the lack of sexual appeal that I emitted. I took a seat and ran my hands through my hair. His emerald eyes were gleaming with the comfort and relief that came with photography. I would give up so much to feel that way everyday and reminded myself that this could be proof of why I should be a photographer; not a model. Mr Styles sat beside me.
"Enough of beautiful, Marie" his eyes stayed on mine, his breaths audible and deep. I dropped my gaze. His hands traced my upper thighs and into my very innermost thighs. I gasped as shivers ran tentatively over me. My eyes fluttered as I looked into his and my lips parted slightly as he leaned into me. Our bodies were hot against each other, our faces millimetres away. "That's what I want." His lips curled into a smile, his dimples shadowed by the dim lit candle light room.
Breathless, I closed my eyes and sat back up from my laying position as he had climbed over me. "Try and remember that feeling" his lips brushed against my ear. Opening my eyes, I took him in, completely aroused by his hands on me. His fingers traced the line of my skirt and pulled. Down. "Too long" he muttered. I watched the muscles in his hand relax as my maxi skirt hit the floor. I was left with my black lace lingerie panties, heels and white chiffon top.
When Mr Styles returned to the camera, I focused my eyes onto the camera, replicating the feeling of his fingers making circular motions on my inner thighs, my stomach exposed and my hair tasselled. I lay sideways on the wine coloured sofa and crossed my legs to display my heels. There were maybe about 100 clicks on his camera and as I crawled over the sofa, there was another flood of shots. His lips curled in a pleased smirk.
By the last photo, we were both sweating with excitement and work. Me with a little sexual frustration on his part. "We should do that more often...." Harry collapsed on the sofa beside me "but without the camera, just the candles" his voice was low and soft, playfully and knowingly teasing me. I allowed myself to smile and push him playfully because I knew that I had done good. We both knew what that first sexy photograph could do.
"Maybe, Haz, just maybe"