by Faver, JD
She shook her head. “Can’t tonight, Alain. Helmut is a farm boy. He goes to bed with the chickens and gets up before the sunrise. I have to be on his schedule.”
Alain clasped his hands on her shoulders. “Ah, you are so right. Pamper the beautiful man. I am delighted that you found him for me. I’ll meet you in the park tomorrow morning.” He gave Mel a kiss on the mouth, something he had done a thousand times before.
But, at that moment Helmut stepped out of the cubicle and stood glowering at her.
#
Helmut hadn’t spoken on the cab ride back to her apartment. And when she opened the door, he followed her inside, frowning all the while.
Mel wanted to talk to him, but she wanted to avoid any unpleasantness between them. She turned and placed the palms of her hands on his chest. “Are you hungry? I have food from the deli. I just have to heat it up.”
He regarded her solemnly. “If you are hungry, I will eat.”
“Great, because I’m famished.” She stretched up for a kiss, but he stopped her, holding her face in both hands.
He stared into her eyes, pierced her soul with his gaze. “I do not like it when other men kiss you.”
Mel felt the heat rising from her core. She blinked under his unwavering gaze. “I know.”
He lowered his mouth, taking hers in a savage kiss. His tongue invaded, enticed hers into a tango of desire.
Gasping for breath, she tore her lips away, surprised that she was still wearing clothes.
A flame of anger flickered in the depths of Helmut’s eyes. “Is this thing between us so commonplace that it means nothing to you? Am I just another man who worships you?”
Tears filled her eyes, but didn’t spill. “No,” she whispered.
“Then you must tell me what I mean to you.”
“Everything,” she gasped. “You mean everything to me.”
His jaw twitched as he held her gaze. Then his expression softened. “Ach, liebchen, it is you who mean the world to me.”
Mel reached for him and found herself swept up in strong arms, crushed against his chest. She squeezed his neck and pressed kisses against his cheek. He was grinning. She felt the giant fist clenching her gut release its hold.
“We will eat now and then we will go into your bed and make love. But you must promise not to allow other men to kiss you.”
She tried to think of a way to explain to Helmut that she and Alain had a history together. She didn’t want to enlighten him as to the concept of ‘fuck buddies’.
#
The next day went a little smoother. Mel was breathing easier as the shoot progressed.
Helmut agreed to have Muriel in the portable dressing room to stand by and assist with changes. He allowed Bruno to arrange his hair and only snarled when he tried to use the dreaded hair gel.
He’d forbidden Alistair to come near him. The poor dear hovered on the periphery of the shoot, alternating between grousing and looking terrified that Helmut might pound him to dust. Mel didn’t voice her opinion that Helmut wouldn’t hit a girl or a girly-man.
While Helmut was changing and Janissa reloaded the cameras, Alain pulled Mel aside.
“You are such a naughty girl,” he said. “You pose our St. Croix Man beside this giant phallus. That’s a lot of symbolism on one page.”
Mel sighed, stepping away from the arm he placed on her shoulder. “Trust me, Helmut is Mister Testosterone. He doesn’t need any help.”
“Ah, yes,” Alain said. “I’m certain that you would know about that. And how is the grand passion going?”
“It’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is absolutely fine.”
Alain gave her a sideways look. “You don’t suppose that you could take him in to be waxed before we go to Cabo San Lucas?”
“What?” Mel gaped at Alain in horror. “You must be kidding. Helmut has a gorgeous body. He is totally perfect the way he is.”
“But he has a growth of blonde fur on his chest.” Alain was grimacing and waving his hand as though he’d stuck it in something vile.
Mel glowered at him. “Trust me, Alain. Most women would rather rub their tits against Helmut’s lightly hairy chest than they would some feminized male model with a spray-on tan. He’s the real deal.”
Alain sniffed. “If you say so.”
Mel took a deep breath. “And Alain, please don’t kiss me anymore. It upsets Helmut. He doesn’t understand our friendship.”
Alain raised his brows, looked horrified, his manicured hand pressed to his chest. “But we have been together forever. He should understand a simple gesture of affection between friends.”
Mel shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t. Helmut is an elemental man. He isn’t going to share my affections and I don’t want to ruffle his feathers.” She gazed at Alain meaningfully. “I’m sure you understand. You don’t want to alienate our St. Croix man, do you?”
“Oh, good heavens, no.” He looked aghast.
Her phone rang. “Yes, Gina.” She listened intently. “No, I don’t think it would be a good idea to let Helmut go on the Letterman show. What?”
Gina went on to explain that The Letterman producers wanted Helmut to appear on the show and read a Top Ten List.
“No, absolutely not,” Mel said. “I am not going to ask him. He wouldn’t handle it well.” She expelled a breath of air, puffing out her cheeks. “Just let me get through the first campaigns for Elan and St. Croix. Then we can relax.”
That night she took Helmut out to celebrate the end of the St. Croix shoot. She had dozens of great shots and he looked delicious in all of them.
“We are going on a date?” He was actually grinning.
She stood on tip-toes to deliver a kiss along his jaw line. “Yes, don’t you think we deserve it?”
“I will be glad to go on a date with you.”
She had arranged that he leave the shoot wearing one of the casual St, Croix designs, perfectly tailored slacks, a sports jacket and a pale blue silk shirt.
He stood before her looking like an eager puppy. A big, gorgeous eager puppy.
Mel tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “I thought we might grab a bite to eat and go dancing. You do dance, don’t you?”
“I have not been to dance since I was in college.”
She flashed him a grin. “It will all come back to you. Like falling off a log.”
#
Helmut accompanied Mel to a brightly lit restaurant. All the tables were small and crammed together, and the surfaces were shiny; glass and chrome. He felt a wave of claustrophobia. The place was filled with greenery, but none that would compete for floor space. It was hanging in baskets overhead and from wall-mounted containers, giving the impression of entering a rainforest.
Helmut perched on a small chair across the table from Mel. She looked beautiful, as always. Her dress was loose and short, while her skinny heels were high. She looked sexy and alluring, but Helmut felt uncomfortable when so many men turned to look at her.
He ordered something he recognized on the menu, beef. When it arrived it appeared not to have been cooked to doneness. Helmut’s gag reflex prevented him from doing more than staring at it when he cut into it and the juices ran red.
Mel raised her hand and a waiter appeared immediately. She sent the steak back to the kitchen and in a short time his meat was returned to him cooked through. He cut into it and sighed when he placed a bite in his mouth. Real food. He smiled across the table at Mel.
“How is it? Is it too well done for you? We can send it back?”
“My food is fine.” He sliced another bite and poked it into his mouth.
She looked pleased.
A few individuals came to speak to Mel during their meal. Strangers seemed to be staring at him, but he ignored them. After tonight, he would return to the farm and all this city insanity would be behind him. He was on a date with Mel and he wanted to disregard everything else.
After dinner they took a cab to Soho; to a nightclub she said she l
iked. When they climbed out of the cab, Helmut could feel the music pumping through the street. They had to walk down a flight of narrow concrete stairs and pass between two men almost as tall as he and so muscled they couldn’t hold their arms straight down at their sides. The men eyed Mel appreciatively before turning their suspicious faces to Helmut.
Mel pranced ahead of him into the darkened interior. A heavy beat throbbed through his sternum. Bright lights flashed as at the scene of an accident. Helmut followed, gripping Mel’s hand, fearful of losing her forever in the press of humans gyrating on the dance floor and clustered around the periphery.
Mel led him to the bar and turned to scream something at him. He leaned closer. “What do you want to drink?”
“I am not thirsty,” he said.
“It’s alcohol. Don’t you want a drink? I’m having a chocolatini.”
Helmut frowned down at her. “Um, all right.”
Mel grinned at him and in a short time handed him a drink in a stemmed glass.
It felt fragile in his hand. He thought he could drink it fast and get rid of it. When the liquid hit his palate, he realized it was not something he would have chosen to put in his mouth.
Mel seemed to be enjoying hers, sipping it as she chatted with Janissa, who appeared at her side. A group of her friends were in the crush of people and she wanted Mel and Helmut to join them at a table on the far side of the bar. Mel placed a hand on his arm and led him through the throng to a circular corner booth.
She grinned and waved at people and introduced Helmut to her friends, but he couldn’t hear any of the names. He slid onto the plastic seat beside Mel, content to be with her, anxious for the evening to be over.
#
Mel didn’t think Helmut was having a good time. He’d liked the steak cooked to a medium well state of doneness; just a little pink inside. And he didn’t like chocolatinis. So much to learn about him.
She squeezed his hand under the table. She couldn’t tell if he had been recognized as the Hombre poster model. Lots of women were staring at him, but that might just be based on his general hotness. Helmut was a head-turner.
She leaned close to his ear so she could be heard. “Do you want to dance?”
He smiled at her. “If you want to dance, I will dance.”
Not sure what that meant, she shrugged. “I’d like to dance with you.”
He nodded and got up, allowing her to slide out of the booth. Several others at the table slid out to join them on the floor. Mel grinned as Helmut began moving to the music. Thank God! He’s got some moves. She danced, greatly relieved that he didn’t look like the proverbial frog-in-a- blender on the dance floor. She should have known that his natural athletic ability would translate to some innate dance talent.
She kept him on the dance floor through the next two plays and then led him to the bar. “Would you like a beer?”
His face split into a wide grin. He ordered a bottle of beer from the bartender and paid with cash from his pocket. He leaned back and let the liquid roll down his throat.
Cameras flashed and Mel was violently shoved out of the way as several women rushed toward Helmut and began tearing at his clothes.
They screamed his name and grabbed at his arms and chest. He tried to fend them off, his expression distressed.
Mel watched in horror as the screaming women ripped his shirt off right in front of her. Someone was capturing his disrobing on video and someone else flashed a still camera at him.
The bouncers came forward and peeled the women off of Helmut. They were still fighting over his shirt as they were being escorted from the club.
A chorus of “Helmut! Helmut!” resounded throughout the club. More cameras flashed. Someone handed him a black tee-shirt with the name of the club screen-printed across it. He drank the rest of his beer and set the bottle on the bar. Helmut gazed at Mel before pulling the shirt over his head. The shirt was snug, clinging to his well-defined chest and back. His biceps bulged out of the sleeves.
He shook his head, his expression telling her that he was totally fed up with her city. “Let us go now.”
Mel nodded and walked with him as the bouncers cleared a path to the stairs. On the street, she hailed a cab and rode with a silent Helmut to her apartment, clinging to his arm.
Other than the occasional muscle twitch in his jaw, he could have been a statue.
#
CHAPTER NINE
Mel promised Helmut she would drive up to the farm the following weekend. She had kissed him goodbye and put him on the train to connect with his truck at the other end.
A desolate feeling hung over her, like a pall. Why did she feel so completely empty when they were apart? Whatever happened to the independent woman she had always thought she was?
On Monday she went to her studio and worked on printing the multitude of photos she’d shot of Helmut for the St. Croix line.
Just before noon, Alain entered with Pearl Roche, his Director of Marketing.
Janissa grinned. “Hello Mister St. Croix. Hello Miss Roach.”
“It’s Ro-shay!” Pearl enunciated.
Mel tried to keep a straight face. It seemed that Janissa always needed to be reminded how to pronounce Pearl’s name.
Pearl was a forty-something African-American woman who took herself much too seriously. She was slim and sleek and elegant, her large dark eyes set in a small head with close cropped salt-and-pepper hair.
Alain held out his arms to Mel and then took on a questioning look.
Mel tilted her head to one side. “Yes, it’s alright to hug me.”
“Well, I didn’t know,” he said with a mock pout. He folded Mel into his arms. “And how is the beautiful man today?”
“He’s fine,” Mel said, knowing it was a lie.
Pearl snorted. “I saw him on Good Morning America. He didn’t look fine to me, but...” Pearl almost smiled. “It was a brilliant marketing strategy.”
“Genius. Pure genius.” Alain kissed his fingertips.
“What are you talking about?” Mel glanced from one to the other.
“It was a set-up, of course. I thought you knew.” Alain gazed at her in disbelief.
Mel’s stomach twisted in a knot. “Knew what?”
Pearl rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on! The women. The oh-so-convenient cameras.”
Realization hit Mel like a bomb. It was Gina who had suggested that Mel take Helmut to Inertia, the Soho bar, in the first place. “It was on GMA?”
Alain beamed. “It was perfect. It showed him dancing with you and then at the bar when the women mobbed him.”
“Oh, no!” Mel had a strong desire to hurl the cappuccino she’d recently ingested. “Helmut will think I was in on it. I have to talk to him.”
Alain made a scoffing noise in his throat. “Don’t be silly. What man would object to having beautiful women tear his clothes off?”
“We came to look at the layout.” Pearl announced imperiously. “What have you got?”
Mel stifled the urge to wrap her fingers around Pearl’s slender neck and strangle her until her eyes popped out. She took a deep breath and tried to capture that mental image. “Certainly, Pearl. I can give you the next fifteen minutes and then I’m leaving.” The two women stared coldly at one another.
“Fabulous,” Alain said. “Let’s get right to it then.”
Mel led them to a waist-high worktable in the center of the room. Janissa was already spreading the proofs out on top of the surface.
Mel hadn’t wanted to show them all to Alain at the same time. She had planned to feed them in over time so that Helmut could have time to work uninterrupted on his farm. She suspected that his tolerance for the photo shoots would wear thin very shortly. But Janissa had arranged the photographs in the order they’d been shot.
Alain was goggle-eyed and even the cool as ice, Pearl, was nodding appreciatively.
Alain grabbed Mel and kissed her cheeks, muttering to himself in French.
Mel shru
gged him off and started picking up the photos.
“I thought these for your GQ layout and this one to be your back page spread in all the fashion rags.”
Alain’s brows furrowed as he considered the images. “These are masterful. You’ve captured the essence of his masculinity and yet there’s some indefinable quality about this man.”
Pearl picked up one of the proofs of Helmut standing beside the lion statue. “He looks smokin’ hot but sweet at the same time.”
“Exactly.” Alain turned to gaze at Mel. “I think it is because the model is in love with the photographer.”
#
“Of course I did!” Gina wasn’t in the least bit apologetic.
Mel was furious. “How could you sic a mob of women on him? They shoved me out of the way and went after him like a pack of wild dogs.”
“Wasn’t it fabulous? I promised a bonus to the one who came away with the biggest piece of his shirt.” Gina was grinning ear to ear.
Mel had demanded that Gina meet her for lunch at Rene’s, their favorite restaurant, but she didn’t have much appetite. She pushed around a salad with grilled chicken and mandarin orange segments. “Gina, you don’t understand Helmut. He was humiliated.”
Gina made a scoffing sound in the back of her throat. “You should both be kissing my toes. I have a slew of talk shows that want to interview him. GMA, of course. And The View, Oprah and Ellen just to name a few. And Letterman wants him to appear as a guest.”
“But why? He doesn’t act or sing or do anything except look gorgeous.”
“Honey, they wouldn’t want to interview him if they didn’t think he was a celebrity already.”
Mel nodded, her brow furrowed. She gathered a bite of chicken and lettuces on her fork and poked it into her mouth. She could picture Helmut’s face when he’d been attacked and how self-conscious he’d been to be bare-chested in the night club with women screaming his name. “He’s just not comfortable with his celebrity. He hasn’t accepted it yet.”
Gina grinned. “Well, he better get used to it. The president of Old Golden called me this morning to request Helmut’s services.”