Etoile (The Mannequin Series)

by Olivia Besse

  Mia shrugged her shoulders with a blank expression. "I guess so! Anyway, so good to meet you. So sorry, but I have to run. See you guys next time!"

  The flighty girl grabbed her bags and gave air kisses to each of them before scuttling out of the showroom, leaving behind a cloud of Chanel perfume and frenzy.

  Elodie began to follow suit, grabbing her bag and turning to Tyler. "So, I will see you in Paris on Friday, I suppose," she said in her best attempt at a cordial tone.

  Tyler looked at her in amusement as she tried to turn on her heel and walk away. A firm hand grasped her wrist as he spun her around and into his arms.

  "I can't stop thinking about you," he whispered into the air surrounding her ear in a barely audible voice. The vibrations from his husky voice tickled the tiny hairs on her skin. "You make me crazy. There's something that you do to me that I can't figure out."

  Though she didn't want to admit it, Elodie knew that being around Tyler spurred something inexplicable inside of her as well.

  "I... can't," she managed to say as she made a half-assed effort to break free from his grasp. She could feel the bulge from Tyler's dick pressed up against her lower body, causing her to tremble ever so slightly.

  Their embrace was obscured from the showroom assistant's view by the scanty clothing rack behind Elodie's back. If the headset-clad girl was to take but one step to her right, their scandalous predicament would be discovered. The thrill of getting caught only added to the tangible tension in the air, as both held their breaths silently and stared into the other's eyes.

  She wanted so badly to walk away from him, yet rip his clothes off and have him fuck her right there at the same time. The conflicting voices in her head battled it out as she felt Tyler's hand slowly move up her thigh, under the skirt of her dress and right to the thin edge of her underwear.

  The corner of Tyler's lips curved upward as he played with the flimsy strap and cupped her bottom in his large, strong hand. As his hand moved dangerously close to her deeper regions, she stopped him in his tracks.

  "I really can't," she interrupted in a meek voice. Gently pushing him away, she quickly composed herself and headed for the door, avoiding his gaze. How she would survive five days with him, she had no idea.

  Sixteen

  "Yea, so I think that my boss has it out for me," James said with a laugh as he finished his scotch. "This week is going to be brutal."

  Sipping from her third glass of Pinot Noir, Elodie gave him a sad smile as she rubbed his hand. James had ended up leaving the office around ten, which had effectively negated their dinner plans. But she had still felt an urge to see him that night, especially after the incident with Tyler earlier in the day. So the two were now sitting in a dark, cozy bar around the corner from his place, filling each other in on the day's events.

  "And it's even worse because you're going to be gone. Five days, you said?"

  Elodie nodded with a small pout. Five days that she would have to spend with that dangerous Tyler, while being kept away from this wonderful man. Her head hurt just to think about it. "Five days is not too long," she reassured him with a smile.

  "Yea, and at least you get to visit Paris. That's awesome. You better bring me back something good," he continued with an adorably drunken smile.

  "Oh, but of course," she replied flirtatiously as the heaviness of the wine hit her. “Is there anything you have in mind?”

  “Well, I do have a thing for French girls,” he said with a big grin.

  When Elodie bit her bottom lip and smiled back at him, James gave her a brazen look and grabbed her hand. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

  Once on the sidewalk, he put his arm around her shoulders and held her close. With a satisfied sigh, Elodie relaxed in his embrace and rested her head against him as they slowly made their way back to his place. As they rounded the corner onto Chambers Street, James leaned down in his alcohol-fueled boldness and began to kiss her, right there in the middle of the sidewalk.

  He pinned her body between his and a shuttered storefront, the metal gate thundering violently as it shook behind her. Elodie giggled as he ran his fingers through her hair and took her lips in his. The strong taste of expensive scotch filled her mouth and her body relaxed in satisfaction. They continued like this for the one block back to his house, interspersing intense makeout sessions with taunting periods of walking. For all she knew, it took them an hour just to get down the street.

  Inside the elevator, James grabbed at the backs of Elodie's thighs and picked her up, pinning her against the wall as she shrieked in delight. He left a trail of kisses down her neck as she leaned back and pulled at his perfectly styled hair until the elevator ding rudely interrupted them. They laughed quietly on the way back to his door as he held a finger to his lips so as not to disturb his cranky neighbors.

  Making their way through his dark apartment, they found the couch and collapsed onto it in a fit of passion. James hovered over her as he gave her tiny kisses on her eyelids and forehead before lying down next to her.

  The moonlight shining onto their faces, he looked into her eyes as his hand slowly grazed her bare legs, making its way up her thigh. Elodie let out a sigh of relief as he finally graced the soft, silky skin of her inner thigh with his manly touch. His tongue was sweet and warm as he kissed her gently, and she thought in her head of how she wanted to taste him forever.

  With a small moan, he pulled down her lacy underwear and grabbed at her mound firmly.

  "Oh my god," she whispered out as he continued to kiss her neck while rubbing her clit in a circular motion with his thumb and index finger. Blood rushed to the area, causing her to throb uncontrollably against his touch. She whimpered as he continued to stroke her as she became more wet and excited. Seeing her writhe against the couch, however, caused James to snap out of his drunken trance.

  "Wait," he said as he stopped abruptly. "We shouldn't be doing this. Not when we're wasted."

  She let out a frustrated sigh as she tucked her messy hair behind her ear. "I'm fine," she reassured him. He couldn't just get her all hot and bothered and then stop!

  "But I'm not. I don't want to take advantage of you."

  Elodie shook her head. "It is not like that."

  James sat up and ran his hand through his hair. "It's just... I moved too quickly with an ex-girlfriend of mine, and she resented me for it for the rest of the relationship. I just don't want to make the same mistakes again. Not with you."

  "You are not," Elodie purred in an attempt to seduce him back in the mood.

  Stroking her hair gently, he looked at her with warm eyes. "Let's just do it right when you get back. You might think that you're okay with it, but I'm not. I can barely think straight right now."

  She didn't know if it was due to the alcohol, or out of annoyance, but Elodie pulled her underwear back on and grabbed her bag. "I will just see you when I get back then."

  "You know I didn't mean it like that. Here, I'll walk you home," he began as he laughed at her little temper tantrum.

  Why was she so mad? He was just trying to be a gentleman. Wasn't this what she wanted?

  Letting out an exasperated sigh, she softened her voice. "I am fine. You should just sleep it off. You have work early tomorrow too. Tatiana wanted me to come out with them anyway," she fibbed, knowing very well that Tatiana was at home for once. She wasn't really in the mood to spend twenty minutes walking in awkward silence with him while he was drunk, so it was the best excuse that she could think of.

  "Alright, if that's what you want. I'm not going to wait until you get back to see you, though," James told her as he got up and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I'll call you tomorrow."

  She nodded slightly and made her way out the door and down the elevator. The doorman wished her a good night as he hailed her a cab. Elodie gave him a tight smile.

  "Good night to you too," she lied through her teeth. What was he talking about? This was a terrible night.

  Elodie let out a big
moan as she fell into a heap in the backseat. Why was everything with James so complicated? And what kind of prude was his ex-girlfriend?

  What a bitch, Elodie thought bitterly as she wallowed in her misery.

  Once the cab pulled up to her apartment, Elodie paid the driver and grumpily made her way out. Upon entering the apartment, she was met with quizzical looks from her roommates, who were gathered in the living room, smoking up a storm.

  “You home early,” Tatiana commented as she eyed Elodie suspiciously. “What wrong?”

  “Everything,” Elodie groaned as she stumbled into the living room.

  Jelena jumped up to steady the drunken girl as she almost tripped in her satin Miu Miu platforms. “You smell like sailor,” she said with a disapproving sniff. “How much you drink?”

  Elodie squinted her eyes as they adjusted to the light. “Wine,” she answered in a firm voice.

  “I ask how much...” Jelena grumbled as Tatiana and Heddi exchanged looks.

  "What is wrong? Something happen? James bad in bed?" Tatiana asked curiously.

  With a groan, Elodie shook her head. "No bed," she moaned as she collapsed onto the futon. “There was no bed and there will probably never be any bed.”

  Tatiana patted her friend's hand and walked towards the kitchen. "Is okay. I told you he is gay. The boy's hair way too perfect. We drink more and you feel better."

  "He is not gay," Elodie mumbled defensively as Tatiana poured her an entire glass full of vodka. She finished it in one gulp and held the glass out for another, relishing the burning feeling in her throat. Maybe if she drank enough, she could just pass out and forget about it all.

  Jelena and Heddi exchanged confused looks before looking back at Elodie. They had never seen their quiet and reserved French roommate so willing to get shit-faced.

  “Oh, what the hell,” Heddi said with a shrug as she held out her own glass.

  And, before long, the four girls could hardly pass for sophisticated high fashion models.

  "So he told me that he does not want to take advantage of me when we are drunk," Elodie slurred with half-closed lids as she clumsily lit a cigarette.

  Heddi looked at her curiously. "Don't they usually like that better?" she asked in a quiet voice. Jelena patted the confused girl on the hand with a slight shake of her head.

  "So just tell him you want him take advantage of you," Tatiana said matter-of-factly as she puffed away on her own cigarette. “Men love hear those words.”

  "I did," Elodie wailed. "And after I said it, he still said no. Then I just felt like a slut.”

  “All girls are sluts,” Jelena said as she rolled her eyes. Heddi frowned as Tatiana nodded in agreement with a big smile.

  “Is it possible for a man to be a tease?" Elodie asked as her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “God, I sound so desperate.”

  “He is weird boy,” Tatiana muttered as she shook her head.

  “I want that weird boy,” Elodie said quietly as her mouth formed a pout.

  Jelena waved her hand dismissively. "So go get."

  "It is not like that," Elodie muttered as she took a long drag. Her head was spinning from the massive amounts of alcohol and nicotine that were flooding her frail body.

  Tatiana rolled her eyes. "Please. If you want, you get. Go now. Go get!"

  The other two girls cheered her on drunkenly as Elodie bit her lip. They didn't get it. She couldn't bear to get rejected yet again. But her body was sick and tired of being teased. Why was she stressing out over something that had come so naturally to her before this whole mess?

  Maybe they were right. Maybe all she needed to do was firmly demand that he fuck her brains out. Maybe she just had to make her wants and needs completely clear to him.

  But what if he said no again? What if he rejected her for the hundredth time? She might just possibly die from mortification.

  “I don't see why you're so worried,” Heddi said with half-closed lids. “He obviously likes you. Just go and tell him how you really feel.”

  “Yes, go and tell,” Tatiana encouraged her.

  Elodie didn't know what to do. Part of her knew that if she went back to his place, he would just sigh again and repeat what he had said earlier. She honestly didn't know if her ego could handle another blow.

  As she looked at her friends with a wrinkled nose, they all motioned for her to get up and go. Tatiana refilled Elodie's glass as she continued to babble. “Just go, Lo. You never know. He probably waiting right now for you come back.”

  Elodie let out a deep sigh as she braced herself. Maybe she should listen to them. After all, she might go crazy if she denied herself any longer. Constantly being teased had taken a toll on the poor girl. With blurry eyes, she grabbed her bag and stumbled towards the door.

  "Good girl!" Jelena called out as Elodie gave them a thumbs up.

  After she walked onto the sidewalk and got into a cab, she tried her best to fix her makeup while having a drunken conversation with the driver. She couldn't remember the last time that she had been so inebriated. When the driver dropped her off, the doorman to his building gave her an amused look. "Good evening, miss."

  Elodie smiled brightly at him as she replied, "Yes, a very good evening."

  Once in the elevator, she felt her desire intensify as she pressed the number for his floor. The illuminated button morphed into three glowing orbs as she swayed back and forth on the way up. As the elevator dinged, she tried her best to keep her composure as she made her way down the hallway, trying her best to keep quiet.

  Holding her breath, she pushed the doorbell multiple times and shut her eyes tightly. The door creaked open and she let her shoulders relax as she heard him greet her, obviously pleasantly surprised at her arrival.

  "I was wondering when you'd finally come," Tyler drawled out as he pulled her in through the front door.

  Seventeen

  Elodie tapped her Chanel espadrille-clad foot impatiently against the curb as she waited for the next Roissybus to arrive. She was not in a good mood, and was definitely dressed the part in black Rag & Bone Jean leggings and a thin black Alexander Wang tee. Her hair was a mess, but she didn't have anything to tie it up with, so it hung in wavy knots. Her Céline Trapeze bag dangled limply from her wrist, and giant Tom Ford sunglasses shielded half of her face. That is, she looked impeccably like the cranky French girl that she was.

  Having landed at Charles de Gaulle a mere forty minutes earlier, she was still gathering her senses as her groggy Ambien-induced fog sorted itself out. Getting through baggage claim and immigration had been hell, but she had finally managed to make her way outside of the terminal. With a frustrated groan, she checked her useless phone for the fiftieth time. Six more minutes.

  Despite the fact that the Ero campaign that she (or Tyler?) had managed to book would be fairly lucrative, the looming threat of past agency debts still weighed heavily on her shoulders. The ludicrous price of the last-minute Economy class plane ticket to Paris was, in itself, enough to make her think twice before hailing an expensive cab into the city. The 10 euro bus would have to do, she thought to herself bitterly, especially since she was not in the mood to take the RER and make transfers. Plus, the bus would get her to the corner of rue Scribe and rue Auber, across the street from Opéra station, in about an hour's time. Her agency's Paris office was only a few blocks from there.

  As the bus noisily pulled up to the curb, Elodie waited behind the line of pushy tourists until it was her turn to climb aboard. “Bonjour,” she greeted the unhappy driver, who gave her a curt nod as she passed him her fare. After strenuously lifting and haphazardly tossing her battered Heys roller onto the top of the growing luggage pile, she slumped into a nearby seat behind an Italian couple who smelled lightly of cabbage. Was she really an in-demand model who was about to be featured in a prestigious high fashion campaign?

  Elodie pushed her tired face against the cool glass of the window and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sudden jerking motions th
at rattled the bus as it stopped at every terminal to pick up more passengers. At the end of Terminal 3, a group of young French men climbed aboard, loudly chatting about their recent trip to Ibiza and nonsense. She could feel their eyes on her, but she chose to ignore them and stare at the signal-less screen of her phone. Maybe she should have just splurged on a cab.

  It felt odd to hear and speak French, as she had not done so in quite some time. The reality of being in her home country had not yet hit her, as her mind was fixated on other matters. Speaking of which, what the hell was wrong with her?

  It's not like she had done it on purpose—she hadn't been able to think properly after hastily leaving James' apartment like that. Adding alcohol into the mix had been a grievous mistake. Cheap Russian vodka, at that. And she had been so good up until that point, too! She hadn't intended to see or speak to Tyler after that willpower-taxing incident at the showroom. Why or how she had ended up at his front door, she had no idea.