Ishould have driven home. I should have just swallowed my pride or whatever it was that had me staying in this hotel overnight, because I’ve had little more than two hours of broken sleep, and most of it was in a corner of the gym. I did manage a half hour or so in a chair in the lobby, but I kept getting woken up by returning revelers, vacuum cleaners and security staff reminding me this is not a place to sleep. Not to mention how I wasn’t exactly at ease in my body being a Black queer masc-presenting person trying to effectively sleep rough, especially not when my thoughts kept returning to what was happening with Harley.
Thankfully, the security staff were satisfied when I proved to them that I was a guest, and much to my relief they didn’t ask me to leave the premises. However, it quickly became clear I wasn’t going to get any sleep in the lit up, noisy lobby, which is why I went to the gym. But after managing a quick nap on the mats in one corner, I was woken by some strange human deciding to pound the treadmill at three-thirty in the morning. After that,I returned to the lobby and reluctantly, and very foggily, did a few hours of work, until breakfast was being served. There, I ate some fruit and yogurt and drank approximately a gallon of coffee in the hope it would keep me awake for the rest of the day, or at least until I find somewhere to get some decent sleep.
The reason I didn’t go back to my hotel room was because Miko had kept me updated on Harley and it was not… good. Harley was still freaked out and Miko said another batch of abusive messages had come through on her MyFans account. Harley didn’t know about them, but Miko was also starting to get freaked out about whoever was behind all the abuse, if indeed it was the same person. When I returned to the hotel with Maeve – and watched her disappear into an elevator with only a very quick and mumbled goodbye – Miko had texted, saying Harley had only just fallen asleep and if possible could I give them space so she could sleep. I’d messaged back instantly telling him that they had my room as long as they needed it and I’d go home for the night.
That’s what I should have done, but I didn’t. And I have no clue why. Did I want to stay close to Harley and Miko? Or was it something else? Or… someone else?
I shake that thought off as I head back to the gym with the bag Miko left outside the room with my clothes, my laptop and chargers. I have several hours to kill before my call time for the underwear photoshoot so I take my time doing a full hour of cardio, and just over another hour on weights and resistance. I then sweat out whatever’s left in my pores in the sauna and steam room before taking one of the longest showers of my life.
Exhaustion still has its claws in me as I get dressed again, but the clean clothes bring some comfort and relief. As does moisturising, doing skincare and brushing my teeth. In the gym bathroom’s mirror I check my locs that are now completely dryafter I washed them yesterday. They’ll need oiling later but who knows where I’ll end up doing that?
I manage a smile when I video call Jessica as I leave the gym and find her awake and throwing Prince an old chewed-up tennis ball. She’s lying on the couch and we both laugh as we watch him attack it like it’s his greatest enemy.
I don’t keep her long as she is about to do her physio, but it’s long enough for me to feel reassured she’s okay. That she’s doing just fine without me there, which is… good. I think.
Once I’m back in my new temporary home, the lobby, I’m clueless how I can go about killing the remaining two hours before my photoshoot but I do my best by returning to the breakfast buffet for another round of fruit, plus some oatmeal. And I spend some time on social media, replying to comments and DMs until my thumbs ache. The whole time, I keep half an eye out for Maeve, although I know she’s already at the shoot.
When it gets to eleven – an hour before my call time – I say “fuck it” out loud and gather my belongings. I’m at the conference room being used for the shoot two minutes later.
Once I’m checked in and told I can wait inside, I walk through two large double doors. They lead me into a ballroom-style space with a stage, large seating area that is mostly clear but for a few rows of chairs, I can imagine it’s a room normally used for large-scale events like wedding receptions, conferences and presentations.
Today a makeshift photo studio has been set up in front of the stage – three large temporary white screens arranged in an open square with a number of lights pointed at them – and there is a hum of activity around the area. So much so I can’t see who the photographer is – some apparently well-known British guy called Jim Harlow who normally shoots popstars apparently – or who is being photographed.
I take a seat in the last row of chairs and look around. I don’t see Maeve, nor do I see anyone I recognize, and there were a few names on the model list I did know, other content creators, but fortunately none I’ve fucked. Not that I mind seeing people I’ve fucked again. Well, most of them.
“Okay, okay, enough fucking faffing.” A voice rises above all the others and a short, white man wearing jeans and a leather jacket emerges from the crowd holding a camera. His accent is undeniably British. Like Michael Caine, on steroids. “Her hair looks fucking great. Her make-up fucking flawless. And that bod. Fan-fucking-tastic. But let’s get a fucking move on, shall we? As beautiful as you are, Mae, my darling, I’m a very busy man and I’ve got a long fucking list of other beautiful people to shoot today.”
I guess he’s Jim Harlow. And I also guess he’s a giant jackass.
My lips curl as I watch the crowd of people busying themselves within the white screens, disbelieving that nobody is even remotely fazed by the way he just spoke to his model, who O see now is Maeve.
Maeve, who I now see sitting on a high stool in the middle of the open square, her hair done, her make-up done and her clothes off.
Wearing just a pair of briefs and a cotton bra, both in white, her body hunches over a little and she looks down at an indeterminate spot on the floor. She looks exhausted and defeated and lost and… like she needs me to run over to her, pick her up and carry her out of here. Which I’m pretty sure Maeve would tell me is very unfeminist of me.
Fuck.
My stupidity continues when I allow my eyes to roll over Maeve’s body. It’s a fucking mistake of epic proportions. Even in her hunched over position, the basic cotton set does little to minimize the curve of her hips, the pinch of her waist and thefullness of her breasts. Instantly, and a bit depressingly, I’m reduced to little more than hormones and horniness. My dick gets fuller. My head feels lighter. My breathing becomes shallow.
She’s fucking stunning. She’s fucking stunning and she’s totally off-limits.
And that’s okay. That’s completely okay.
I just wish my body didn’t notice her. I wish my temperature didn’t change. I wish my breathing didn’t alter. I wish my heartrate hadn’t sped up. And I especially wish my dick wasn’t steadily filling with hot, thick blood.
My back straightens. I am suddenly very, very awake.
“Alright, Mae. Look lively!” Jim barks and Maeve straightens up. She shakes out her hair and by the time the waves of golden blonde have settled she’s got an almost convincing smile on her face. Almost.
I watch as Jim approaches her and I feel every muscle in my body tense when his arm reaches out to arrange some of her hair.
“Yep, just off the shoulder like that. And I need you to be looking up, Mae, not down at your fucking toenails.”
Maeve gives a quick nod.
“And smiles. I need some fucking smiles. You’re supposed to like the undercrackers you’re wearing.”
Her smile stretches and it looks almost painful.
