Marshall: Mayfair Model Series

by Castle, Claire

  “Yes, okay,” I said, smiling at him as I heard Damien pounding on the door again. Fuck. After shoving Marshall out the window, I quickly waved, and then stripped off all my clothes, added a towel on my head and threw on a robe. I took a few deep breaths and went back to the door to let him in.

  “Whatever were you doing?” he asked as he hugged me, then handed me a bottle of wine. “For you.”

  “Oh, darling, thank you.” I kissed both his cheeks then placed the bottle on the kitchen counter. “Let me go get dressed and we’ll drink.” I went to my room to put on some clothes and came back out. It was almost a relief to just sit and talk with a friend again even if I couldn’t tell him everything that was going on.

  I pulled out two glasses from the kitchen cupboard and filled them both with wine; I passed one to Damien before I went to sit down. “How are you? And how is the show doing?”

  “Why haven’t you come to see for yourself? I’ve not seen you in ages. Found someone to occupy your time?” he asked, fluttering his eyelids at me. “Give me all the details.”

  I took a sip of my drink to cover up my face. “Oh, no, nothing like that.” I hated that I was lying, but there was nothing I could do. Plus, I didn’t even know what we were, if anything. Tell him that I babysat the hottest male model in the world? Uh, no.

  Damien was like a mother hen to me and he would always take me under his wing. “Look, my dear,” he said, tapping his finger on my nose, “I can see it in your eyes. There’s someone special. I don’t expect you to tell me. But if and when you ever feel comfortable, bring him along to see me in all my glory at my show.”

  “Oh, sure, I’m doing that! So you can ask him his intentions and if he smokes or how many partners he’s had?” I drank more of the wine, which went down very easy. “You know, I left my mum up in Scotland. I don’t need a mother here as well.”

  “Ah-ha! So there is someone.” He poked me. “I knew it.”

  Fuck, I’d walked into that one. “About the show—everyone still in love with her?” One thing was for sure. I could always trust Damien to want to talk about his one true love, himself as “Dame Onyx.”

  “Oh, my goodness, I’ve added this rendition of ‘It’s Raining Men,’ and I’ve got these marvellous backup dancers who wear only pleather shorts. Can you believe it?”

  “Fabulous, just fabulous.” We ate the snacks I’d made earlier and chatted more into the night. As I was clearing everything up, I asked him, “So good to see you. Do you want to stay over? I worry about you taking the train home at this time of night.”

  “Now, who’s acting like a mother hen?” he said and kissed me. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text in half an hour.” I showed him out the door, waving goodbye.

  13

  MARSHALL

  As soon as I boarded the flight with Brenna, she gave me a detailed list of what events would take place, where I should be seen when we got there, and any other information I’d need before she took her seat. We were flying first class with the pods for sleeping, if you needed.

  For now, I stayed sitting up, staring at the papers.

  “Feeling okay?” she asked.

  “My ankle is back to normal,” I replied, dodging the question even though my thoughts were all over the place. What utter stupidity it had been to go to Stuart’s. Completely reckless, really. I didn’t dare tell her. Well, I couldn’t tell her, even if I wanted to confide in someone that I had butterflies in my stomach over Stuart.

  We arrived in New York City, and after Brenna and I checked into the hotel, we arranged to meet downstairs in the lobby the next morning at 9:00 a.m., and then we said our good nights.

  I went through to my room, hung up all my clothes, and collapsed back on the bed with a sigh. I wasn’t in the mood to sleep even though my body’s clock was all messed up. I stared at the ceiling and then turned on the television, but nothing caught my attention. Then I checked the side pocket of my leather satchel, smiling at the crossword puzzle book Stuart had brought me when our worlds collided.

  I ordered room service and then did a few puzzles while I ate. Checking my phone, I found myself wondering what he was up to. It was middle of the night in London. Maybe I should try texting. No, that was stupid. Well, I could text him and he’d see it in the morning.

  When had I become this person? These trips were second nature to me; I was either on my own or with Brenna. Sure, I was lonely, but I had always been lonely, and I missed Jess too. I pulled a pillow in front of me and hugged it to my chest.

  I woke up hours later, obviously having fallen asleep, and looked at my phone. Only 4:00 a.m. New York time. I was going to be so fucked later. Sighing, I picked up my phone and, on impulse, dialled my house. I didn’t know if Stuart was housesitting and dog-sitting Jess. I was too afraid to bring him up again in case Brenna got any idea of my feelings. Plus, when had I ever asked who was at the house. It was always just a business transaction.

  “Hello,” I heard the heartwarming cadence of Stuart’s voice. “Easton residence,” he continued, sounding very formal.

  “Hey, ah, it’s Marshall.” I held my breath, feeling more vulnerable than I had in a long while. I paced the room and twirled my finger on the desk at the end of the bed, then went to look out the window.

  “Oh, my gosh. Hey, Marshall,” I heard his voice float across the line. “Did you get to New York safely?”

  “Yes, I hope it’s okay I called.”

  “Of course. Jess is fine too. I’ve made myself at home.” He laughed before continuing, “Well, not too much. The owner has a reputation for being a bit grumpy.”

  I laughed despite myself. “Yeah, don’t wanna get on the wrong side of him. It’s, ah, good to hear your voice.”

  “Yours too. So how was your flight?”

  “Good. I have to be downstairs in the lobby by 9:00 a.m. for a full day. Press, cameras, and everything. I, ah, wanted to say …” I started.

  “Why did you wait so long without contacting me before you came to kiss me? Did you just come because you were about to leave again?” he questioned me.

  I sighed, pushing my hand through my hair as I looked out at the glittering lights of the city. Well, I hadn’t expected that. No one ever questioned me on anything. Hmmm.

  “I, uh—” stuttered while I tried to think of a reply. “I don’t know. I just knew I wanted to see you before I left, and—”

  “What if you hadn’t left for New York,” he interrupted. “Would our week just be cast aside. You’d just keep going about your life? Wait days? Weeks?”

  If I was in the same room as him, I’d probably be huddling behind a couch, I was sure. Coughing, I cleared my throat and paced again. “I’m sorry, okay? Yes, I left it too long. I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know I said I wouldn’t tell a soul, and I won’t. And I won’t force you to come out. I never would. But whatever we are—or what we’re doing, please at least keep in touch. And not just because you’re about to leave the country.”

  “I’m sorry. I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m, ah … should I not have called?” I said, sounding forlorn even to my own ears.

  “Of course, you should have. I’m glad you called today.” He laughed and my stomach was unnervingly light. “Me and Jess … well, the house isn’t the same without the grumpy guy on the couch.”

  “So, ah, we’re good?” My muscles felt tight and knotted as I awaited his reply.

  “Yes, we’re good,” he said. “Go knock ’em dead, okay.” I heard him blow me a kiss.

  “Will do.” I smiled into the phone and hit End.

  I slept for a few more hours and then had a shower. While I was getting dressed, I idly wondered what Stuart would think of my attire—a three-piece suit with thin blue stripes woven through the grey houndstooth fabric—made by the designer whose name I’d signed on to advertise.

  Downstairs, with minutes to spare, I got a coffee for Brenna and me and waited. And waited. Fashionably late had always been her stron
g suit. I moved anxiously from side to side. We’d go to the Ted Baker show, then I’d do an interview with a magazine and get a lunch break.

  “Ah, the princess returns,” I said gruffly, handing her a coffee.

  A huge smile appeared on her face, and I had no idea why. “Thank you.” She reached up to kiss my cheek.

  “What was that for?” I asked in a cool tone, taking a sip of my drink.

  “You’ve never got me a morning coffee before.” She smiled. “So, thank you. Now, let’s go.”

  I followed her to the cab and it zigzagged through the streets to bring us to the auditorium. We were directed to our front row seats and just in time too. The show started quickly. I admired the tailoring and colours, paying close attention to the details that would be on trend for the upcoming season.

  This I could do. I was fully in the zone: no distractions and absolute admiration for the talented models and designers. It was a fantastic show, and soon enough the designer walked out with the models.

  Next, I was whisked away to do an interview with some fashion magazines. I was serious and professional and answered the rapid-fire questions and then posed for photos.

  Brenna made her smiley face impressions, pretending to make her lips turn up to her eyes behind the cameraman as she’d been doing for years, though I didn’t crack a smile. Serious and broody was my trademark after all.

  After a hectic morning, finally it was lunch. Brenna and I sat in the restaurant and I noticed some fans gathered just outside. I gave them a quick wave.

  We were served pasta and after I started to eat, I asked her, “Ah, silly question, but can you show me how to text?”

  Her fork stopped mid-bite and she looked up at me. “Uh, what?” she said, looking confused.

  “Oh, I just need to figure out how to send a text. No big deal.” I looked back down and continued eating. When I looked back up, Brenna was still staring at me. It looked like she was about to speak but something stopped her until she finally said, “Of course, hold up your phone.”

  I held it up and she pointed to where I’d enter a number and to a few other things to show me how to text.

  “It’s simple really. Now, keep eating—we have to go across town for the next show.”

  I tried to hold my excitement and happiness, then excused myself to go use the washroom. When I came back, Brenna had paid and we were ready to go.

  In the cab, I was itching to get my phone out and send a text to Stuart. But I couldn’t dare without a million questions from Brenna. I’d already risked a lot by asking for her help. Luckily, she hadn’t asked too many questions … yet. Given time, I’m sure she would.

  We arrived to cameras flashing and a red carpet at the next event. After we’d eaten, I’d gone to my hotel room to change into the specified brand’s clothing that I had a partnered with and would be seen in for photo ops. There was a thin V-neck cashmere sweater to wear over a collared shirt, crushed velvet trousers, and then a long beige jacket with impeccable tailoring, all on hangers and hooked to the outside of the closet door.

  I waved but didn’t smile and briskly walked inside. This setup was different to the one before. We were in sort of an old house or mansion and there were mannequins everywhere. People would stand or sit on vintage trunks in the room as we watched the NeoNode models walk through the house.

  Waiters walked by with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. I had to compliment them on this setup. It was unique and new. Brenna agreed.

  That night, when we finally made it back to the hotel, I was absolutely exhausted. I went to my room and wondered if I could text Stuart. Needing to get past my anxiety, I decided to go for it. Maybe Stuart was right that I only needed the connection because we were so far apart, but I couldn’t help it.

  Me: Grumpy checking in.

  Stuart: Snow White is asking who this is?

  Me: Oh, I guess I have the wrong number …

  Stuart: Ha. Ha. No, you don’t. How was your day?

  Me: Can I … will … I call instead of all this?

  I typed and deleted, and then typed again, trying to figure it out.

  Me: It’s taking me forever to figure out all this texting.

  Stuart: Oh, I know, we could FaceTime.

  Me: I told you about my track record with technology. I was serious.

  Stuart: Okay, I’ll call you in two.

  Then my phone rang.

  “Hey, it’s me. Jess says hello too.”

  “Hey. So good to hear your voice. Ah, was your day okay?” I asked cautiously. It was hard to know exactly where we stood. Heck, I didn’t even know what we were doing. I stared out at the New York City skyline again, feeling much more at ease than last night.

  “Really good. Thanks for asking. Walked Jess a couple of times then watched her favourite vet show. Did some drawings. The usual. You? I’ve never been to New York before.” I couldn’t stop rambling.

  I sat down on a chair and stretched out. “Wait. Drawing? I didn’t know you did that.”

  “Ah, it’s just some sketching, that’s all. I’ll do your self-portrait. Naked, if you let me.”

  I laughed, which I hadn’t done since I’d spent time with him. “Oh, will you now? And how do I know it won’t end up in one of the gossip magazines?”

  “You know I’d only do that if the bid was high enough.”

  I let out a gasp, knowing he was completely joking. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Hey, I don’t kiss and tell. Or in this case, sketch and tell.”

  Man, he is a breath of fresh air, I thought.

  “Back to New York. Tell me about your jet-set day.”

  I gave him the rundown of my day. “Busy, busy. I’m exhausted really.”

  “Sweet dreams. Get some rest. Unless …”

  “Yes, well not that exhausted,” I said, perking up.

  “Tell me what you want, Marshall,” he said in a demanding voice.

  I fucking loved it and went with it. “You, naked, rubbing your cock.” He didn’t speak and I was worried he’d hung up.

  “Put it on speaker and lie on the bed.” There was no room for argument. I did as he ordered. Suddenly, his voice was louder. I guess I figured out how to put the speaker on.

  “Take your clothes off. Everything.”

  “Ah, what are you wearing?” I asked as I stripped off my boxer shorts.

  “Fuck, Marshall, nothing. I’m imagining you undressing and my cock is hard as fuck. Are you lying down and rubbing your cock?”

  I panted and growled. “Yes, yes.”

  “Caress your balls too,” he said. “I want to hear you, Marshall.”

  “Fuck.” Precum was dripping from the tip of my cock.

  “Yes, oh yes, Marshall. Imagine me riding your big, hard cock. Facing you.”

  I sighed and continued to rub. “Oh … oh yes, baby.” Baby, where had that come from. The sheets were rustling and I could hear a loud television from a neighbouring room as cars went by on the road. None of that mattered as I imagined Stuart riding me.

  “Push your hard cock into me. I’m riding you.” He breathed heavily over the phone line. “How close are you? Pump faster.”

  I listened to his every breath, every word. “Yes … yes. Oh god, Stuart, I want you. Ride me.”

  “I bit your nipple. Now come. Come … and let it all out for me.” He panted and moaned. “I’m coming with you inside me, all over your chest and chin.”

  “Oh, oh god, Stuart! Yes, yes,” I chanted. “I want to so bad.” I lifted my ass off the bed and moved.

  “Give it to me.” And I exploded, yelling and moaning, my torso tightening as I sprayed all over the sheets and my abs.

  “Holy fuck,” I breathed out sporadically.

  “You were so good. So fucking hot. Now go wipe yourself off and I’ll do the same. Check your texts when you come back.” I could still tell he was out of breath. “Goodnight, Marshall.”

  I could barely move but managed to reach the nightstand, get a tissue
, and wipe myself down, still feeling blissfully exhausted. I grabbed my phone and saw that Stuart had texted a photo of his abs with come all over, and it was the hottest thing ever.

  I fell asleep dreaming of Stuart and when I woke the next morning, it was one of the best sleeps of my life.

  * * *

  The alarm sounded, and I got up, went in the shower quickly, then dressed.

  I wore crisply ironed trousers, a casual denim shirt and a leather bomber jacket to go downstairs for the day. I quickly checked my phone and saw a text message from Stuart. I was shit at technology, but I could get used to this.

  Stuart: Be nice today.

  I smirked and put my phone in my pocket just as Brenna came up beside me.

  “And what’s got you smiling this morning? It’s not like you,” she said, teasing me. Snooping for information, I was certain.

  “Oh, ah—” I rubbed my neck and looked down at my shoes. “It’s nothing. I just read something funny on the news.” There. Saved. “Let’s get some coffee and go to the breakfast. Will Carter be around? I think I’ll see if he wants to come to my mum’s event next month.”

  “Oh, you really are wanting to stir the shit, aren’t you.” Brenna’s words were more of a statement. “What has she ever done to you? No wait, don’t answer that one. I know. You’re playing with fire here.”

  We ordered coffees and went to the meet-and-greet with other press, models, designers, and photographers. It was a crowded ballroom. I stood with Brenna and tried to act nice. I was used to nodding and glowering every so often. I was an expert at it.

  Be nice. It sounded so simple. Instead, it was a complete disaster. Smiles came out forced and anything I tried to say that was kind made people back away as if I’d scared them. “Fuck, I can’t do this.”

  Brenna rubbed my arm. “Do what, hon? We can go if you want.”

  Growling, I turned to her. “No, it’s nothing. Never mind.” I’d even fucked that up. Jeez.

  Later that evening at the hotel bar, I saw Carter there and sat down beside him. “Hey man. How did it go today?” I took a moment to admire him. Tall stature and a square jaw with stunning lips that completed the package. He was dressed casually tonight in a hoodie and jeans. A far cry from his look on the runway.