A/N: This is a work of fiction meant to be used for the nonprofit entertainment purposes only. This did not happen and it is a product of author's imagination. I don't own them. This contains explicit sexual content. Comments are welcome.
***
Came upon a stranger in the night
Filled me up with such a fright
This little boy ain't what he seems
Too much grease behind the sheen
Yeah yeah yeah *
I adjust the lapels of my red silky shirt and shift my legs, shivering slightly as the leather scratches delicately at my thigh. The runway is illuminated by the warm, blunt lights that cast a silvery trail in the center of the narrow, long podium. Heels clicking expertly and sensually against the black licorice floor, mingling with the hypnotic, drowsy music in the background. I strain my neck a bit further, as the music takes the upbeat and the final model sashays with a cool confidence, slicing the runway as it were silk drapes against the sharp scissors. I scan him, observing, making the seconds as long as the minutes, hours perhaps?
Trying to capture a series of photos with my eyes, for my private, little hidden collection. Not that, being a Saint Laurent show and white hot flashes all around me showering the runway wouldn't capture his stunning figure and make it available for later on the Web. I watch as he turns, and I feel a swish of an air hitting my exposed collar bones and neck as I gaze at him, and I could have sworn that there was a wink, cast in my direction, almost obscured by the shiny fashionable shades. Sometimes sitting front row has its benefits, but tonight it makes me feel rather exposed, making me feel transparent. As if everyone can see that I am not really interested in that, beautiful though, tight red leather trousers, but the model who wears it. Crescendo of an applause and cat calls startles me as the designer takes a final bow and I sit up, feeling a bit uneasy on the stocky heels of my boots. I swiftly pass the mingling crowd, photographers and editors and fashionistas luckily unmolested on my way backstage. I stand in the corner, not making my presence fully intruding, but enough for him to spot me as he turns around from a light chatter with another model. They hug and part with a pat on the shoulder, all careful moves not to wrinkle the expensive garments. That's what I am here for I almost dare to think. I turn slowly when I hear a cool voice calling me, swiftly followed by a click of a lighter.
"Alex"
"Hey" I chirp and flash him a smile, offering a cigarette that he picks for me from the pocket of his leather jacket. I am grateful that I can inhale for a moment and focus my mind on something other than his sexy frame, and the way him slightly raspy voice is making me tingle. This time it is somehow more smokey, subsided and reminding me of Paris in the 1920's and nostalgia. We shuffle in the quieter corner, but there is still too much models, and make up artists and photographers around to make this moment more private. I see a dark chocolate, slightly slick strand of hair pressed at the back of his neck and all want to do is to delicately push it away and press a soft kiss at the smooth skin followed by a sharp bite to match the colour of the leather. He asks me something that I shyly must tell him to repeat.
"Do you want to go over to my flat?" The show is in Paris, and he tells me it is not too far. I shift, not really knowing what to say. There have been some subtle subtext and a sensual overtone in our texts and over the table, the last time I was in Paris for a promo photo-shoot and we met up for a dinner. We parted with a soft kiss on the cheek and a tang of regret as he closed the doors of his flat and I went off to hail a taxi to drop me at my solitary hotel room. That night when I curled in the bed, with a hand between my thighs I thought of the round, dark, down turned eyes.
"Yeah, sure" I smile and he stubs his cigarette in a small ashtray, throwing a last effortless pose for an overzealous photographer. Upon spotting me, he urges me to get in the frame and I feel Miles placing an arm at the small of my back, pressing his shoulder against mine. He parts to take his coat leaving me for a moment stunned in a floaty cloud of his cologne and my craving. He smirks and pulls my arm, pulling me closer smudging his lips against my neck with a whisper and a tease.
