by Olivia Besse
So, from then on, the number of lovers that she conquered began to tick higher and higher. After the first few awkward encounters with casting directors and assistant designers, she realized that it wasn't that difficult after all. Sex was sex, and it got her what she needed. She barely felt anything for all of those men other than the raw physical passion of the moment. But that was fleeting.
She was unaffected.
She was numb.
And, soon enough, she was the giggling girl who got the coveted British Vogue editorial or whimsical Mulberry campaign. When she walked into the Fashion Week casting for the Burberry show, one of the straight stylists, with whom she had spent thirty utterly steamy minutes in the shower, let her know with a wink that she would be given two looks and needn't wait around to audition. A well-known casting director that had fucked her in the bathroom at Soho House ended up casting her for a slew of shows, including those for Matthew Williamson, Christopher Kane and the ever-coveted Tom Ford.
While other girls schlepped their heavy bags full of model gear around town to even be considered for such shows, Elodie barely had to bat an eye to be picked to wear the opening look. She found herself disgusted with how easy it all was and annoyed with how she had once been one of those sleep-deprived models with blisters all over her feet from running all over the cobblestone streets in four-inch heels.
Needless to say, she saw how her romping skills reaped new opportunities for her. If she fucked that Italian photographer, she got great photos to add to her book. If she fucked the one straight booker at Groupe's London office, he would work harder to get her that Erdem campaign. And, if she fucked the rich and spoiled Russian aluminum heir, she would get all sorts of sparkly things.
Maybe Felix's mother had been right all along, Elodie thought as she waited her turn to walk around the fountain for the Louis Vuitton show in Paris. Maybe she was just a crafty orphan girl who would stop at nothing to get her big payday. Maybe she was just a wily little coquette. But none of that mattered now. While the Duponts were running their irrelevant little hotel in Châteaudun, Elodie Marais was making a name for herself.
Okay, maybe she wasn't making herself as well-known as she would have like. Or at all, for that matter. In fact, after fervently Googling herself and checking all of the runway coverage, she found that none of the blogs or reporters had even mentioned her name.
Upon returning to New York, she was more than a little miffed that, despite all of her salacious efforts and runway stomping, she was still relatively irrelevant. And, although her agency was pleased with her recent work, she still had little to show for it. She wouldn't be getting paid for some of her work for the next three months, and her agency had somehow tabulated a lengthy list of trivial things to charge her for. Ultimately, Elodie returned to living in the model apartment, a slave to her freshly acquired debts.
While her licentious ways had proven themselves fairly useful in the European market, Elodie realized that she was up against bigger fish once she returned to New York with her new mindset. All of the models were sleeping with whoever they could get their perfectly manicured hands on to get their own big breaks. So, much to her disappointment, Elodie's go-to tactics proved futile, while still being completely necessary.
After her impromptu street style photo shoot, Elodie was now standing in front of B Studio. She headed in about fifteen minutes early and proceeded to chug down iced black coffee and chain smoke Marlboro Reds. The makeup and hair artists started on her face and golden locks as they maneuvered around her burning cigarettes.
Her photographer for the day was a well-known sleazebag who was still extolled for his photos, despite his notorious reputation as human scum. But Elodie knew that if she got on his good side, he could open up a lot of doors for her. Despite his unfavorable traits, he was known to be loyal to the models that he favored. And she was determined to become one of them.
The shoot was for a high fashion magazine spread about New York club kids who apparently wore Hanes white tees with Alexander McQueen hot pants and Givenchy sneakers. Suki, the main makeup artist, began to smear glittery Nars eyeshadow across Elodie's lids as Tanner, the hair guru, straightened her long waves into submission.
Once she was dressed in her first outfit, which consisted of said Hanes tee with sequined Chanel couture shorts and graffiti-adorned Givenchy high tops, Elodie waltzed over to the set. A DJ set had been set up with fake booths nearby to simulate a typical nightclub scene. Fake, or possibly real, cocaine and champagne bottles were strewn across the table. Another model who looked slightly familiar sat in one of the booths, wearing a plain white tank top and Joseph leggings with bedazzled Nicholas Kirkwood pumps.
As the infamous Matt Twinings walked in with his adoring crew, both Elodie and the other model perked up. It was well known that Matt was just a trust fund baby from London who had picked up a camera one day and called himself a photographer. His mother was friends with the Art Director at one of the big fashion magazines, so he just kind of broke into the industry. And even though he was a manwhore-slash-pervert, he was ridiculously handsome.
Matt still had his boyish good looks even as he was pushing thirty. As he swaggered into position, he shot the two models a cocky smile and they both ate it up. He pulled the hood of his navy American Apparel sweatshirt over his messy mop of flaxen hair and rolled up the sleeves to reveal his heavily tattooed arms. "Alright, ladies," he said in his sexy British accent. "Shall we begin?"
A fake DJ appeared from the edge of the set and stood idly in the booth. One of Matt's assistants turned on some music and Elodie got to work. She stared into his lens seductively and did as she was instructed, like the perfect little mannequin she was. When Matt instructed her and the other model, Kelsey, to each do a bump of the blow from the table, they were pleasantly surprised to find that it was, indeed, not fake.
After the shoot was over and Matt had all the images that he needed, he walked over to the booth where the two beautiful girls were situated. They both had on skin-tight Versace dresses in loud prints that barely covered their bums and Christian Louboutin boots, looking the part of trashy little club rats.
"Ladies," he addressed them. "A job very well done. Now, shall we finish this up?"
The three of them proceeded to clear the table of any trace of white powder while introducing themselves to each other in rapid voices. Matt began caressing both of their bare thighs with each of his strong hands, and Elodie coyly spread her legs as she inched closer to him. He gave her a pleased smile and she soon had his full attention. Seeing this, Kelsey got up, dejected. Neither Matt nor Elodie bothered to say goodbye to her.
Matt poured champagne for them with his right hand as he continued to finger fuck her with his left. His assistants and the stylists continued to buzz around, unaware of the indecent act that was transpiring under the table. As they guzzled champagne, Elodie felt her mind leave the building as she gave in to the warm tingling of drunken pleasure. And, despite his bad boy reputation, he still had a little bit of dignity, it seemed, as he led her to the coat closet instead of going for it out there in the open.
Inside the closet, however, any and all discretion dissolved away. Elodie unbuckled Matt's jeans as he shoved his warm tongue deep inside of her tiny mouth. He was aggressive with her, grabbing at her heaving bust with his rugged hands and ramming her against the wall with the force of his eager body. He pulled the dress down to expose her soft breasts and groaned out in delight. Matt took one of her perky nipples into his mouth, massaging the sensitive skin with his moist tongue. She thrashed against the wall in pleasure as she ran her fingers through his hair.
He moved his hard kisses onto her neck and back to her mouth. Meanwhile, he sheathed his gigantic hard-on and pushed it against her thin leg, as if to tease her. He sucked so violently on her tongue and lips that she thought he might leave a bruise. They made out passionately for what seemed like hours until she couldn't fight it anymore. As if he had read her mind, he firmly pla
nted a hand on each of her cheeks and held her against the wall as he scrunched the $1500 dress around her hips and pounded into her upwards with sheer urgency.
She felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach as he ravaged her. She could barely catch her breath due to the overwhelming shock. With each thrust, his throbbing bulge rubbed violently against her quivering area, sending electrifying surges up and down the length of her body. Elodie cried out loudly as he ordered her to say his name over and over.
"Matt! Oh, Matt!" she panted out repeatedly as he spit out expletives. He grinned and grunted through clenched teeth, "You fucking like that, huh?"
Matt continued to play rough as he allowed her feet to finally touch the ground and turned her around. He swiftly bent her over and entered her relentlessly with his searing cock as he pulled her hair tightly and spanked her with force. Elodie continued to scream out in satisfaction and delicious pain as he beat into her like a jackhammer.
When he was about to climax, he flipped her around again and soon had her on her back on the storage closet floor. He was relentless! The coldness of the hardwood against her skin was in stark contrast to the burning of her loins and the warmth of his body against hers. As Matt's manhood endlessly thrashed against her, she succumbed to the hot, hot heat that overwhelmed her. He blew a stream of cool air onto her glistening face as her eyelids fluttered uncontrollably. Matt groaned in raw pleasure as he was about to finish. He pulled out and gave a haughty laugh as he came onto her thigh.
"Thanks, love," he said afterwards with a wink. "Hope we get to work together again soon." With that, he quickly zipped up his pants and sauntered out of the closet.
And, as if on cue, one of his assistants was already waiting outside of the door with a bored expression and a hand towel, which Elodie received gracefully. When she walked back to the dressing area, the fashion intern was staring with her mouth agape. Elodie merely smirked, ripped off the sweaty dress and tossed it into the shocked girl's arms.
Five
The crappy model flat that Elodie shared with three other girls was located downtown, and had the advantage of there being no chaperone. Her roommates were all around the same age as her, and all four of them were lanky with long, heat-damaged hair.
Heddi was a scrawny brunette from Denmark, with a stick straight body that was void of any womanly curves. Her milky skin always smelled lightly of the SPF 60 sunblock that she slathered on every morning, rain or shine. Her face was quite plain and mousy, but she photographed beautifully and produced haunting images. She was extremely tall, almost clearing 6 feet, which made her a favorite amongst some fashion house while being shunned by others.
Reckless Tatiana was from a small town in Belarus and spent more time partying than working. It was a shame, really, since she was striking. She had one of the smallest faces that Elodie had ever seen, adorned with giant, icy blue eyes, a perfect little nose and tiny lips. Her hair was so light that it bordered on the color of snow, and it hung in sheets that grazed the tops of her tiny hips. Her English wasn't very good, but she spoke to everyone as if they were the ones who were illiterate for not understanding her.
Jelena was from Saint Petersburg and had been scouted three times before finally giving modelling a shot. She never ate anything but sashimi and seemingly subsisted on cigarettes and champagne the rest of the time. She had stunning blue eyes and translucent skin, which contrasted well with her rich brown hair. She was the newest addition to the house, having arrived only five months prior.
Before Jelena, there had been two girls who had both been unable to handle the demands of the industry. Sandra was a sweet girl from Missouri or Mississippi or Montana who had gone running home in tears when she couldn't endure the continuous insults and rejections.
A stunning girl named Nannie, who had come from Namibia, had her contract terminated after she had gained four pounds, unfortunately all in her thighs, from partying so much. Rumor had it that she had found some sugar daddy sponsor and was now living off of Columbus Circle in a sprawling penthouse condo, but they hadn't heard from her since she had walked out the front door.
Tatiana and Jelena were very close, as they often tittered rapidly in Russian together with exaggerated hand gestures. Who knew what they were plotting half of the time. They seemingly knew every nightlife promoter in the area, and always went out for comped meals and parties. Some of their friends even lived in promoters' houses and went out every single day. Heddi, on the other hand, often chose to stay in and make unnecessarily dragged out phone calls to her boyfriend back in Copenhagen.
The apartment consisted of two bare bedrooms furnished with bunk beds, as well as a shitty futon full of cigarette burns situated in front of a broken television. The agency charged them each $1,000 a bed for rent, which was outrageous, but none of them had the bravado or initiative to move out on their own. The kitchen was empty, save for a dusty juicer and a refrigerator filled with air and take-out condiment packets.
"Honeys, I am home," Elodie announced as she walked through the front door. Her arrival was met with pathetic moaning. Tatiana was laying on the sofa with an ice pack across her forehead, while Jelena was recumbent on the floor, perusing fashion blogs on her iPad. Heddi was nowhere to be seen.
Tatiana groaned again for dramatic effect and, without moving a muscle, managed to whine out, "Oh, Lo, I die. Can you go to deli and get coconut water? Only raw coconut water, other one too much sugar. Thank you. Love you. Mwah."
Jelena chirped in, "Lodie, me too! Me too coconut water."
"And Marlboro Lights. Love you."
Elodie rolled her eyes lovingly in the way that a mother would to her mentally challenged children. She walked down the 11 flights of stairs to the deli around the corner and gathered their requests, turning back around abruptly to make the trip home. As she did, she bumped into Tyler. She hadn't spoken to him since their little romp fest, nor had she seen him around town. Her ears turned red and her eyes widened as she turned to face him.
"Whoa. Long time no see," he said as he smiled brightly at her.
Elodie gave him a small smile back and replied in an exaggerated French accent, "Tyler, how nice to see you. Where have you been?"
"Around. I got shipped off to Japan for a bit, but I'm back now," he said as he touched her elbow gently. "We should hang out sometime."
She batted her eyelashes and breathily responded, "Oh yes, of course. Do you have my number?"
After they exchanged information and made a bit more small talk, they parted ways as her phone began to shake violently with her roommates' inquiries. Japan had treated him well, she thought, but she had no real intention to hang out with him again. He had nothing good to offer for her time.
"Lo, Lo, Lo, I love you," Tatiana croaked out when Elodie returned with their drinks. She theatrically pulled herself upright and chugged down the entire bottle before proceeding to light up a cigarette. Elodie took one from the box and stared at the two sickly Russians as she took a long drag.
"What the hell did you two do last night?" she asked curiously.
Jelena let out a deep sigh before replying, "We went to SP because promoter said he would give free bottles, but he lie. He try make us do walk in. Can you believe? So of course we say no. So we drink with banker boys and do blow until 7 in the morning. I am so tired, I die."
"So tired. Me too. Lo, we go again today, so you come with us. Is good way to meet husband, like Dariya and Yuliya did," Tatiana stated matter-of-factly.
Elodie knew that this was the truth. Many of the other girls had resorted to scouring the city for billionaire boyfriends and potential husbands so they could have the cushy lifestyles that they had entered modelling for. Selling your body for modelling, jobs or marriage... wasn't it all the same anyway?
Although she didn't particularly like going out to the rowdy nightclubs filled with boisterous Wall Street types and careless models, the prospect of going out with her roommates for a fun night did sound tempting.
&n
bsp; Oh, what the hell. She was terribly bored anyway. Maybe she could find a guy who would buy her a new Chanel bag.
“Sure,” Elodie said as she stamped out her cigarette in Jelena's Baccarat ashtray. The two Eastern European party animals smiled at her enthusiastically.
“Do you know who I saw at the deli?” she continued in a nonchalant manner as she pretended to check her nails, though she felt a flutter inside of her stomach as the words came out.
“Who?” Tatiana asked with a curious expression on her face, ever the sucker for any type of gossip.
“Do you remember Tyler?”
“Tyler from Tom Ford ad, Tyler?” Jelena asked with a glint in her eye.
Elodie nodded, to which Tatiana immediately frowned. “Maybe I should gone to deli,” she grumbled bitterly.
“He is very pretty,” Jelena said as she scrunched up her face. “Maybe too pretty.”