#halene

Maybe it's a tightrope, and any imbalance means they smash upon the hard, unforgiving ground.

Helene had convinced herself that this was her own conception, that her lover, her boss, her Harry, didn't feel it as well.

Until she heard the album.

She'd been at the Paris listening parties, so she'd heard snippets, and she'd been in the studio a time or two, so she had heard rough stones being polished to diamonds, chord progressions and roughed out lyrics and melodies. That was all up until this point.

Helene was offered a choice, the whole of staff was, to hear the album early or with everyone else.

She had declined. Because she had a very clear picture of what it was about, who it was about. It stung. Not because she was unaware of his sorrow, or how he missed her, the other French girl, the one worthy of homage, but because, she had been there too- with him too. Every step of the way and through Paris and Rome, and Japan and Australia too.

It hurt.

As much as her eyes were open, muscle memory of the drill, the words cemented on her brain to console herself. He was in an open relationship, Helene was not in that relationship, she was simply a reason for the unbolted window. Always making cameos, never the headliner.

So, the album, as great as she kept hearing it was, would be confirmation of her role, or lack thereof. She wasn't ready for that truth.

She'd better get ready. Helene would be hearing it soon no matter what, and seeing him. It had been a little bit since Cancun, but the show was going on, and she was involved, expected. It wouldn't do to cry over her lack of lyrical odes in front of the fans, they all knew her name and face, and she wasn't so good a liar they'd believe a disclaimer of happy tears.

Before the first show went on, her own show needed to get on the road. It was time for her to break a leg, or her heart as it were. Her set up was optimal for a breakdown.

Empty hotel room, qui Tissues on the toilet seat, qui Full hot bath, qui Goblet of red wine, tout a fait.

Helene was as ready for heartbreak, or it's residue if that's where she was now, as ready as one can be.

Her clothes are easy to quit, sweats and a TPWK tank exclusive to crew. The water is hot, her skin will redden to match her tear streaked face.

The level of melodrama she's reaching for this is impressive to even herself.

"Allons-y" she mutters and presses play.

And Clairemeant, she loves it. From first cord, she can imagine being in his stupid convertible driving to Shanghri la. Helene wishes he had played this when they went, a moment of California dreamin. She knows the next couple, as everyone does, in his world at least. Soon the whole world probably. They were radio besties, not just friendly.

It's the next few tracks where her preparations pay off. The tears come. For him, for her, and for Helene herself. The worst part isn't even her own pain; the waterworks are for Harry. She can hear his broken heart and bad decisions.

God, she hopes he does not count her among those.

But She, She is a new place to be. It's exactly what she would expect him to make and miles beyond expectation.

Then Sunflower, god, is it ridiculous to feel like there are glimmers of them? If kraft services counted as kitchens. It's the toothpaste. It's the fact that on their first go, they didn't know each other. Not really. She was his employee. She knew him, intimately, from all the watching, much less creepy than it sounds when it was her job. But she was somewhere between an insider and an outsider. Always an observer, never a participant was the lot of a photographer.

Except when Harry pulled her into the shenanigans, onto his lap, or some other harmless flirty gesture she couldn't forget.

Helene never lived in a canyon, though all of Paris seemed to rise around her some days. That one was nothing to do with her, and after a couple songs reprieve her heart seized all over again.

Helene loved that he'd made a song for his motto. It had all the silly he made cool. Even if he broke her heart sometimes, she loved how her kindness grew watching him cultivate and sow his own. The harvest was in the venues, and her heart.

After that happy high, she's not ready for the closer. Though she suspects she may never have been, no matter practice or preparation.

Fine Line throws her, thrills her, and makes her think.

Is it her? Is it them? Is it like most of the rest,  Camille?

Helene is aware she is simplifying. Music isn't exactly clear in its inspiration or intention. There may be shades of her throughout.

In this last song, she feels more than shades.

Had they ever been anything besides a fine line? Somewhere between one thing and the next.

She hesitates to think something more, that denigrates their friendship. Romance isn't necessarily superior, that's a bought and sold fairy tale she has tried to unlearn.

But, if she is honest, being together would have felt like more, better. Because she wanted him, wanted him to want her.

Some of the lyrics trouble her.

She didn't think she was unknowable though. Maybe at the end, when she let him open her completely everywhere, and then promptly hopped over into one territory and only tread their old familiar line  accidentally once.

Could she ask him? Would she? Tomorrow?

Non, that's not like her. Helene's direct in desire, but not in definition. Probably why they got stuck walking the line.

But they were alright. What a comfort that was.

Whatever the truth, the inspiration, when she heard it live, tomorrow, she would pretend or hyperextend. Believe. She'd believe it was about her.

———————————————————————————

Helene always forgets what it's like to see his face in person, be in a room with him. On paper and in her mind when she is away, she can rationalize. 'He's handsome. But not extraordinary. You know better looking men, have shared more time with some.'

And then he is nearby, and her entire body is aware of him.

Moreover, so is everyone elses. That is his power, super prowess. He has this energy that galvanizes every libido in range. The hell of it, it turns on a dime and you want to ruffle his hair just after riding his face. He's so sexy and frustratingly endearing.

His gap between adorable and sexy is so small, and bowtied to perfection.

"What's new pussycat?" He whispers near her left shoulder before she can even fully take him in.

"Enfin!" She could see the rear of her brain case. Harry turned her body into his hug and was responding to her exaggerated exclamation.

"See Jeffrey, I told you she had the best eye roll!" He giggles a bit and holds her long, in that way anybody else probably couldn't get away with. Someone might rightly think they'd tasted every part of one another if he didn't hold everybody like this.

Helene takes the opportunity to smell him. He always smells good to her, even his stink. Sweat drenched and ball's empty or dandied up and stage worthy, he tasted like her first meal out when she returns home to Paris.

" I cannot believe you remember that conversation." She said into his neck.

It quelled his laughter.

"How could I forget the look of disgust on you and Sarah's faces. Too good to not use!"

"You gonna use it on Sarah too? Or would Mitch put your nose between your pretty eyebrows?"

"Don't mock my eyebrows!" He pulls back, but she's still within the walls of his body, bracketed by his arms. "They just grow like this."

"Qui," she snorted. "Don't forever I've photographed you being groomed, ma belle."

"She's  just cleaning them up! I swear."

"She just took your man card Harry." Jeff 's snickering.

"He didn't have a man card since long ago." She and Jeff laugh together.

"Heeeey!" His offended face goes soft around his smiling eyes. He tilts her body away from the small backstage crowd and she wonders where they are going. She's still going; her toes have all but left the ground while he leads her with his whole body.

She follows her heart.

Helene always feels small, but he makes her feel deliciously tiny. He leads her down a corridor, past people he waves to and she would have stopped to hug in other circumstances. She'd missed this circus family. Finally, she just has to ask, "Harry, where are we going? I don't have my equipment." If he wanted her to capture the moment, she needed a camera. He did this sometimes, this drag to a piece of personal history or set up he saw well in his mind's eye. His enthusiasm always contagious.

He didn't exactly have that energy going on now, he seemed nervous rather than excited.

"That's a bit unfortunate. S'ok though I only want a mental picture of your face. When you tell me." He pulls her through a door, a different dressing room from last time, which she realizes upon entry is actually an office.

"Where are we?" Helene asks as he positions himself between her and the door like she might make a break for it.

"Irving's office." He explains off hand. "Now tell me, what' d you think?"

"Quoi?" She can feel the screw of her face to the left. She has no idea what he could mean, she'd been so busy keeping up with his footsteps, she had no idea what he was on mentally. They didn't always connect easily, he wasn't always an open book, but she'd figured out how to crack him a time or two. It was easier with a camera at her eye, or both of them naked.

"Of the album, my album." He pinches his bottom lip and wrings his hands a tad.

"The album?" Her brain's slow. Why were they talking about this?

"You' re the only one who hasn't text me, or responded. That's included I mean."

"Included?" What?

"Please stop repeating me in one word questions, Helene!" He looks up and blows out a breath. "Did you like it? Are you upset?"

"Upset?"

"Helene!"

"Harry, lower your voice."

"Apologies." He takes her hand. "Now, did you like it?"

Ah, it was easy to forget how praise was like water on a neglected plant to him. He just wanted assurance that her love of his work would fill her photos again.

"Qui, clairement, it's gorgeous."

"And?" He looks, she couldn't quite place it, Like a puppy trying to sneak into your bed. Hopeful but preemptively scolded.

"And?" She opens her palms to him, subconsciously trying to release his nerves about whatever he's asking her opinion of.

"Did you hear it? At all." He rolls his eyes, but it was so clearly at himself that Helene takes no offense. "Hear us I mean?"

"I didn't want to presume." She starts after a pregnant pause.

"Presume, tournesol, presume." He leans close and she can really smell him. Not pungent like Mexico after hours of sun, or after a night on stage. But, days lazing or loitering in Italy under warm skies.

She shakes her head at him. She felt a spark of recognition that she'd classified as hope during that song, but, "that one is not all me."

"No, not entirely. It is an idea, a feeling fleshed out, but an ode none the less." He assures her, all eye contact and vulnerability.

He's closer now, enough to touch. And she could have? Would, but she had a more important question, a deeper song to address. Though she had to admit, most days Sunflower was her favorite. "Am I in any others?"

"Glimpses. Though one is mostly you." He gives her an encouraging smile, mischief around its edges.

She sucks in a breath. She really wants to know, she's become so much more that she was since she met him. Braver, kinder, richer in many ways. Could she be direct as well? What would Dominique, her most forward friend, do? "And the ending. That feels like a beginning?"

"Fine line?" His dimple's out. Helene might feel upset that he's a cat and she's the mouse if he wasn't a Tom to her Jerry.

"Qui, fine line?" If she just lifts her hand, his jaw will fit just so, always has., or the beautiful curve of his shoulder.

"That one," he's smiling like the time he presented her cake on her birthday. "I realized in Mexico is you!"

"Not until Mexico?" Now she didn't want to touch him, not even his fine shoulder.

"I knew while writing, the glimpses of you, but only one part was, her, was" he swallowed. She hoped it wasn't still pain slicing his throat as he forced the feeling down. She'd even take regret. "Camille" he took her hand. More friendly than the conversation. "The rest, the hope, is you." The nerves were foreign to him when he was with her, he didn't wear them well, his only awkward fit.

Helene let's her eyes fall closed while his breath wafts over her face. That was more Harry. The taste of caffeinated mint. The familiarity messes with her head, it's a bit false but never forced.

She wants to accept his compliment, even though he's undercut it with an inconvenient truth. Their relationship was not one. They were friends, they slept together sometimes, he was her boss and her muse. But they were never together, and  "that's nice, Harry, but, forgive me if it seems, well convenient."

"Convenient?" Oh, his brows are as tangled as his growing curls. Damn him.

"Me belle, it's hard not to notice who is not here, but everywhere on the album." He narrows his eyes in response to her observation. "And I also have someone else to call baby."

"You're with someone?" His pretty brows nearly touch above his nose.

"Qui." It was a bit of a stretch, really. A man she is dating, fucks occasionally. They're not exclusive, and she likes him, Rene, but no more has developed With anybody else, since she gave Harry Carte Blanche with her body. She had liked him, them, a few of them, thought they had potential. She supposed they still did, it just hadn't developed. Helene has never pushed them down the hill.

It hadn't stopped her from being with Harry in Mexico.

Helene talks about him now, hoping it will slow down the ball rolling from the top of the hill in Harry's mind. If he'a just realized he wrote about her and still believed sharing that notion just after she spent several hours marveling, begrudgingly, over his words to another woman, her clothes would fall off over one song for herself, well, he might be right. But she needed some kind of defense mechanism.

She's lacking a chastity belt, Rene's specter would have to do.

"How long?" He asks quietly.

"A bit." She wasn't going to give him details. That was showing him the chinks in her honor.

"Oh, ok, well, that's good." He clears his throat, looks at her with murky eyes. "I'm happy for you."

"I'm happy for you, as well." She hugs him, to touch him and reassure him. "This album, tour, will be a great success."

"Yeah, yeah." He says trying to believe it. "Now that it's out there, I hope so. But we are going to make it fun. You up for some fun, Helene? This time out?"

She's  confused, last time was fun, but she supposed her life was changing so fast, she had no grand expectations to carry on her shoulders and no one broke her heart during tour.

That came after. He must be going into this round with a different attitude.

"Yeah, fun sounds good." He high fives her and she can't help but laugh at him. It turns into another hug, and all the distancing she'd done during this conversation ceased when he kissed her flaxen hair.

"Break, break a leg, Harry." He smiles, the nerves making it quiver just a bit as they go their separate ways.

—————————————————————————— The album closer is approaching and Helene is suddenly nervous. Sunflower kinda made her shake, luckily it's such a damn happy jam, her feelings didn't sweep her away. It's already been a magical night, and she knows the magic doesn't end with the album. Harry has some amazement up his pink sleeve.

His outfit had been distracting, not like Paris or Madrid, but it's so pretty and such a cute silhouette. Helene realizes while she is snapping away. It was distracting because she wanted it herself. It might overwhelm her small frame, but that pink would look good on anyone. He might loan it to her, Sarah and Mitch wore his clothes sometimes.

She's at least as close.

Closer.

He says something before he begins, and it's loud so Helene has to translate it twice, figure out his words and then think them in French. The song's started before she realizes he's said its a difficult song to perform for the first time.

She can't put her finger on why, but she feels for him, for herself. Her brow is knit up like that time she tried to make a Christmas scarf and the little piece of her heart she took back from him breaks free from its stitches and goes to him, right where he stands on his big stage.

The music starts and it's the build that gets her. Just like the first time. She admits she listened to this one repeatedly, Listen one- physical experience, listen two- listening for the glimpses she thought she had caught of herself. Listen three- cry time.

Helene does not want to weep, but it seems she might be in good company. Harry's doing his closed eyes thing. She teased him about that onetime.

"Is it easier to hear how good you are if you close your eyes?" She'd asked this from the head of the bed while he lay across the bottom rubbing her feet.

"What?"

She supposed it was a nonsequiter. "When you sing and when you fuck, you close your eyes sometimes. Is it so you can focus on the screaming?" She pushed him with her foot and gave him a flirtatious smile.

"I don't need to hear the screams to know I'm good." He'd smirked at her and she would have kicked him off the expensive high hotel bed, but he continued too quickly, "To be honest," oh he was serious now, "It's when I get emotional. Or I need to focus."

"Like to hit a note?" She likes his explanation. He keeps his eyes closed sometimes when he's inside her. She hopes that, she, makes him feel; she's too afraid to ask him about that though.

"Or to make you hit a note!" He'd dropped his emotional temperature quickly, grinned and tackled her. "Let's see if we can get you to a G7!"

She did not hit any whistle notes, her orgasm had actually been pretty silent, but the build up had been harmonious.

The conversation came back to her now. His eyes were definitely closed, as they had been during Falling, and a few other times. But, he'd said this was hers, theirs, and he seemed to be feeling, if her memory served, and she remembered so much about Harry, she trusted it.

And then, as her eyes are unquestionably about to spill over to wet the forum floor with her fellow Harry fans, his open. They find her like he's been tracking her all night, and that may be true, though that is more her job, to always be aware of him and his location. But she's rooted there now. She may never leave this spot, Because there is emotion in his eyes, it's not humid like hers, but it's intense.

He eventually shifts to connect with a paying customer, but Helene is a mess. She has to go back stage to collect herself.

She almost misses Stevie, and even if he wrote songs about her, Helene is fairly certain she would get fired for that. The rest of the show is a blur. She snaps it by muscle memory.

Helene also doesn't stay for the after party, it's all to much. It's a departure from her normal behavior, she would almost always stay, with her camera, and to be with everybody. Tonight she's planned to. She missed them dearly, she just couldn't after that moment.

Harry doesn't have that luxury, it's his party, which is why he doesn't knock on her hotel room door until 3am.

She thought she'd got away with it.

Helene's still awake, barely, and when she answers the door, she knows she's mussed. He's seen her like this before, he's caused it. She's too tired to care much.

"Harry," she sighs. "It's late, Cherie."

"You left, and I needed to talk to you." He walks in like he owns the place. She supposes he did pay for it. He just turns to look at her, and if she didn't already feel exhausted beyond measure, those eyes on her may have sparked the fire he lit long ago in her belly.

"Go ahead." The sooner he unburdens himself the better, she looks longingly at her bed.

And then he just sighs and says, "are we?"

She's doubts the face she makes is attractive, "are we what?"

"Alright? Are we alright?"

God, that's a major question. What they are is a shadow of existence, some half way place between what they could have been, what they should be, and then what they are. It a very strange set of loops, like the comparison charts from school. They are colleagues, no doubt, friends, thankfully, and lovers, occasionally. Do any of those designations mean they are alright?

Because she doesn't want occasional lovers. She's put distance between them because she wants more. Halfway is not alright to her.

"Helene?" Oh, she's just been biting her lip this entire time. She really wants to go to bed, but, they should get this done before tour. Does she tell him she wants to be the dead center of his life, or just leave it at they are alright and go to dreamland.

Either are scary in their own right and he's distracting.

He's wearing comfy clothes, the yellow shirt and large trousers she'd snapped him arriving at the forum in. The shirt hugs his body and it makes it difficult for her to pretend she doesn't want to be really open about her feelings. Sometimes isn't enough, not anymore, maybe not ever.

"Let's sit."

"Uh oh." Harry exhales.

"Uh oh?" She looks up at him.

"Is the next sentence 'we need to talk?'"

"Well, we do, or you wouldn't be here on the wrong side of the sun."

"Fair enough." He sighs and sits back, his head hits the back of the couch. He's stretched out, and her small frame would fit well between his hips and chin. She's tempted to do it, to straddle him. Then the talk won't happen, and all these things will be left up in the air. And she will be narrative adjacent, still.

But she's in his narrative, right? If the song is about her? Is that enough?

So she sits with him. "Harry," she takes his hand and he looks so hopeful. "What does it mean to be alright?" Helene is surprised by her own question. It's direct, perhaps not as direct as it could be. She's unsure what he's asking. Is he asking her for more of the same? Today's same, where they are flirty friends and colleagues. Or the alright of yesterday, where she's his friend and employee with benefit.

That's not alright.

Or does it mean something else, something more. Like the feeling after the build in the music, hopeful, open ended: a chance taken.

He finally yanks his eyes open, and Helene remembers he performed an entire concert and went to an after party. That he is center stage in many peoples life. Is she insane to want to be his locus? Harry opens his mouth, then closes it.

"I guess, I don't know."

Helene nods. It's not a surprise, he just wants harmony and everybody happy. He may not have thought beyond them being ok on the surface. He's not ready for the conversation she thought he was asking about.

"We're fine Harry. You're tired, you should get to bed." She stands to show him to the door,  is suddenly back to wholly exhausted herself.

He's shaking his head.

"Harry's it's 330. We need sleep."

"I didn't like that you left."

"You don't get to make me stay at a party. It's not part of my duties."

He's still shaking his head. "No, I'm not saying this right. It's not alright."

"What isn't?" God, she's frustrated, wants him to be clear.

"That you don't want to be around me. I miss you." Well that's obvious for him, and wrong.

She closes her eyes. "Did you ever consider, maybe it's that I want to be around you too much."

"What do you mean?" He looks puzzled but there is light around his eyes, blue skies and clouds.

She sighs. Someone has to be vulnerable, Might as well be her. She knows how straightforward he just was must pain him. "I mean, I don't want to be with you at the party," he's cringing. "well, not just." She takes a fortifying breath. "I miss you too, but I miss what we could have been as well. And I can't," she could do this. "I can't just sleep with you when you are feeling lonely anymore. We are either friends or we are more. It's not fair to me. I can't walk the fine line anymore."

He's looking at their interlaced fingers. A drop hits her hand.

"Harry?"

"I'm sorry." He whispers

Her heart breaks. He doesn't want this. She tries to take her hand from his. Dammit, why did they have to do this in her room? She can't run away now.

"No, no." He looks  up. Why's he sad when she's getting rejected? "I'm sorry I took you for granted, or made you feel like you were my second choice."

She'd not said that.

"I can read between your lines, Helene." He touches her cheek. "I had feelings for you, but I was already with Camille. And then, I was mourning. And it takes me bloody ages."

She wants to role her eyes. She supposes it's kinda true, but he was mourning his rejection.

"I've realized since then, my heart was bruised, but my ego was what got broken. And I wasn't in a place to offer you anything. Not until Mexico, but then things just got busy and we didn't talk."

"We never do." She purses her lips.

"We need to." He holds her chin in his hands. "So, I'm asking. Will you cross the line with me?"

God, her heart is swelling, and she's afraid to look at his face. Is he really asking what she is hearing? "Harry, amor, what does that mean? I can't speak in metaphors." She can, but it's trouble with him. He's a metaphor himself with his figurative edges and blurred meanings.

He sighs, chuckles to himself, and lets go of her hand. He cups her face and draws her eyes up to the tide pools of his. The tides in, he's teary. "I want to do it together, not have you cross the line hoping I follow, or me waiting on the side for you thinking you understood what I was asking for. But together."

She huffs, she stilll, always, doesn't know what the fuck he is talking about. "What line Harry?" She assumes when someone is holding your face gently you shouldn't be yelling in their face in return, but he is so frustrating. "I still don't know what you are saying."

He laughs at himself, or at her, or them. "I'm saying, we should do this, you and me. Like a real relationship. Not just when we are together on tour or meeting up for me to work. But you come home with me to London, or Malibu, or wherever. Or I go with you to Paris, and we don't leave."

"Are you suggesting we move in together?" She's smiling, finally. The edges of her lips would be at her  earlobes if they could be. "You may want to ask me to be your girlfriend first."

"We've been moving at a glacial pace for years. But that's not really what I meant—"

"I know." She shakes her head fondly. "So?"

"So-" he takes a big breath. "Will you be my girlfriend, Helene?"

Oh god, this is what it feels like to look at the sun. To be the sun. "Yes!" It's a whisper, but full of emotion if not voice.

She's not sure why she is so overcome by it that she can't speak, but she can move, she's straddling his lap a moment later.

He laughs, "it's hard to kiss you when you are giggling." But he's vibrating along with her and his bunny teeth clack against hers just as much. His hand is in her hair and it's not until it slides down to cup her jaw that she can't laugh anymore.

Not when he is looking at her like that. His heart is in his eyes and her face is in his hands. Harry's eyes always sparkle, but the combination of mirth and awe shakes her like an earthquake.

The kiss goes better then, or it more closely resembles a kiss, in that their lips form to one another, going from right angle to straight line to acute in time. His tongue has always been devilish and she wonders if it's vocal training that renders it so.

She's more vocal than him, as always, and she's panting his name when his hand engulfs her throat before sliding her silk pajama top off her shoulder to kiss her neck, collarbones, the tops of her breasts. Her nipples stand high on her plum sized mounds and they always trill along the roof of his mouth deliciously. His other hand is around her hip and he's gripping it fiercely to move her over him.

She's halfway there on his question alone, but their venue seems a bit uncomfortable. Helene almost reconsiders her position on their positioning when Harry has that perfect mouth between her breasts and below and the back of the couch is perfect to hold onto while she arches back, back, back. She's bent in two when he pulls her up to his mouth.

This time she is getting his teeth. Why's he giggling again, this is serious business? If she could just concentrate, get him to focus for a moment, she can have her first orgasm of the night.

"Harry, Cherie." She tríes again, her tongue ready to slide over his lips and into that pattern that makes her shiver when his teeth block her again. "Please kiss me!" She's frustrated.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to move to the bedroom, girlfriend, but you're very focused." He's still smiling and her ire melts at the appellation.

Does she want to go to the bedroom? She won't have the back of the couch to hold onto, but she will have Harry.

She stands and drops her loose shorts. As is usual, Harry has most of his clothes on and she's suited up for her birthday.

"Alright." He breathes and she's in his arms and he's finally giving her the tonguing she loves en route. Her in the altogether seems to have finally got him from mirth to girth, pressing against her and filling the void at the apex of her thighs the way only he has.

She's happy Harry seems to have been enjoying their bodily arrangement as much as she is, when he sits on the side of the bed and maneuvers to the middle with her still draped around his waist. He's said before he loves how maneuverable she is, and she is loving her tiny stature at the moment too.

Her hands are pulling his t shirt free and tossing it away. She loves the golden hue of his skin, he's always a little tan, even in winter. The milk and honey of their bodies against one another always delights her. She goes for the button on the jeans she'd like for herself. They won't fit her, but he always fits, snug at first and then just right.

He kicks them free and then she's back on top of him doing the wiggle to get his inside her, pressing over the largest part before the pressure keeps up and then everything slips into place, the audible pop of his tip still her favorite part.

They both exhale, and smile into each other's eyes. Helene touches the corner of his eyes and they twinkle back at her. "Hi boyfriend."

He chuckles and she moans over the tiny vibration it causes. "You're ready then?"

He already knows the answer to this question. Helene braces her hand behind her while she nods and then his hand is beneath her ass flexing her pelvis over his own.

He really is her prince of rock and roll. She rolls up over him and rocks over his dick until he's closing his eyes and drilling her hips. He's split her open, bottom up and it's intense.

"Give me a minute." He chokes after less time than she expected.

"Too much?" She likes that the shoe is on the other foot, usually she needs a break from his unrelenting physicality, Harry the athlete in the bedroom as well.

She supposed it takes emotion to force Harry to a quick release.

She's keeps flexing around him until he puts his head to her collarbone and then looks up to glare at her. "You're walking a fine line!" He says before he laughs at his own joke.

"I'm not waking anywhere. I'm loving you." She let's that sit there while her hips are quiet. That's all she's going to say about that. He stares at her intensely.

"Let me see you love me, then." She likes when he gives orders, even when their sex is closers to making love than fucking.

Helene obliges him, caves her belly back and starts the ride again, notches her head next to his, like the teeth of zipper, so she can watch with him.

It gets her there, but he's a little ahead of her. He's stilling her hips again. "Stop." It's a beg.

"Just come bebe." She whispers into his sweaty skin.

"You're not ready." He protests.

"We have all night, you can spread me open, all. night. and all day tomorrow, and after." She smiles at him. "All the time in the world to know me!"

"Yeah?" He's gleeful like a kid finding tooth fairy money.

She nods and starts moving, directs his gaze down. The edge of pleasure closer than she expects. Harry is rarely wrong about pleasure. Helene's happy her climb surprises them both.

She reaches the peak and plummets with him on the rollercoaster of emotions tonight's brought. Screams with the thrill.

It's more than fine, the white light explosion behind her eyelids. They've found the right side of the line.

 Ada didn't really mean to say that out loud, but as she looked down between her thighs, spread around a bench and sat atop Harry's, her grip on her self control was not strong. Not while she watched the fluted head of Harry's cock come out of its sheath as it went into her. She could see the friction, God, there was absolutely no doubt she could feel it. The way he split her open was impressive. And she knew, rationally, that human anatomy worked. That with a wet pussy, patience and will, it fit, it always fit.

She just wondered at times. When she occasionally felt double stuffed, how did Helene?

They had been playing their game. Ada wasn't really sure when it had started, but when they'd decided to keep it open, while Harry was on tour, after communication and boundaries, occasionally she'd slip, when she was horny. She was always curious. So she started asking about it. His fantasies, experiences. It had started with men. She'd ask harry who he'd fucked, how, who he'd like to be inside, or have inside him.

Men were safer. She felt less threatened by them. They could give Harry things she couldn't give, simply. It wasn't her failing she had no cock, and Harry clearly liked what she did have. Enough to come home, to their home. So, men were first base. Girls for her.

The game went both ways, Ada shared some stories about times in college, and they'd get off to it.

They didn't talk about Helene. Because there were things she didn't want to know. Feelings there she wasn't entirely sure of, but could sense.

And Ada had almost, almost said 'not her!' When they'd finally discussed some poly logistics. He would be away, they were good, impossibly inevitably, good together, but they would not be physically together for months at a time. Ada was a sensual girl herself and, well, she didn't actually expect to use it, their widened boundaries. She may have done it to save herself feeling betrayed. In her head it was for him.

And then months went on, and she did. She indulged.

She used the free pass. Ada had sex, with a man. A friend of a friend at a dinner party. When they were introduced, there was that charge. So, unlike any other time before, she leaned into it. she'd been sleeping alone in her and Harry's big bed. And it had changed from alone to lonely, dry.

She didn't sleep with Raul there, of course. They got a hotel.

She left right after, and didn't get his number. And he thankfully understood what she could not say, and didn't get her number from Thandie. He never contacted her again.

She called Harry crying the next day. He was as he always was, loving and kind. Open, a talker.

She had slept with someone before him.

He didn't make her feel guilty about it. And he was honest when he slept with someone, didn't point out it was not just someone. He explained it though, without naming the name. It was harder for him, he explained. Required great trust, rules, and paperwork.

Ada knew who then. Why she couldn't preclude her.

Helene was safe at least.

Except for to her heart.

Ada had tried to puzzle it out. Why she set all her alarms bells ringing. She'd come down to a few reasons.

One, she was so different from Ada. A funhouse mirror image, opposite. Small, blonde, foreign, soft footed, soft spoken. Was that the appeal, the variety? It smarted, chapped her ass, sometimes uncomfortably, other times like a good spanking.

Because the other part, the flip side, Helene was nonetheless attractive. Ada could admit that. No matter how they differed. Ada could sometimes admit she was attracted. To herself.

Once more, they were both successful creative women though, for all their physical differences, Ada figured they must have more in common. More than Harry, to be the two women to occupy his time and bed. Some Je na sais quoi, yuck, some something in the way they moved.

But they talked about it, in their own bedroom, fantasized together.

They discussed The Who, not the band, but past lovers, but didn't talk about Helene. She never featured in their game, the soft spot, blind turn they were both afraid of.

Ada wondered about her. And what their sex was like. Because there was something about the mirror that was sexy. Also, Harry went back to her. Ada only had the one off. Harry, even with his more complex situation, did not have to go back. He had a world of opportunity.

So, she wondered why, and how, and when, mostly why. And it slipped out while she was about to come that first time. The thoughts came to her at other times, and instead of being a mental sojourn that made the friction uncomfortable as she got drier, even though she was doing the unforgivable and comparing herself to the tiny blonde, it was not a turn off. In fact, it got her off. Thinking about Helene. That was the confusing thing, she was into it. And it didn't get her in her head about how much bigger her ass was, not too much. Harry made sure she knew just how much he loved the way she filled his hands. And maybe, the way Helene's dimintutiveness appealed to her, her slim-thicc self was attractive the other way to Harry. Variety.

But what did he like about Helene? That he could man handle her well? He was strong, Ada got thrust against walls and tossed on beds enough to know. Must be easier with the 5'0" wonder? She wondered.

Fortunately, she lost control and asked that first time when they were both vulnerable, and open, her literally, and him in his heart center.

"What?" Harry stuttered over the thrust and Ada had to hold his shoulders and work back on him to not lose their rhythm. She was on edge, wanted to tumble. Could feel the image in her head, the blonde over his lap in her place making her skin too small, the bloom already in progress.

"Helene. How can she handle your dick, babe? You're so big!" She moaned at the fullness, "and she's tiny."

He caught her eye and narrowed his gaze a moment, but must not have found any danger. "She just wants it, Smokes. So she takes it. Like you." He caught her neck and pushed deeper, sideswiped her cervix, caught her spot on the way up her front wall. "Want it babe?" He didn't need the answer. She gave it anyway.

God, did she want it. "Fuck, yes! Give it to me!" Her head lolled back, and he laid her on the bench next to their kitchen table. Pulled her over his lap until she erupted all over him. Pulled out to add to their mess.

Later, over the dinner they burned a little because of the fuck break, Harry smiled at her and shook his head.

"What?"

"Nothing." And he suppressed a laugh.

"Not nothing, at least give me the chance to laugh with you!" She gave him her evil eye look. Her dimples matching his.

"Nothing, you just," And he did that high pitch laugh she found boyish and cute, charming. "You came really hard talking about me fucking Helene. You usually just avoid it. I though it was verboten."

"It's not forbidden I just...." Well it wasn't explicitly not allowed, but maybe it was. "I don't know I feel," she searched for the right word. "I don't know?" She shrugged.

"You feel jealous?" Harry supplied. He was usually so much better with words than her. But that seemed inadequate. And right.

"Kinda, But I don't know..."

He did that head thing that was infuriatingly cute, like a golden retriever. With a slight cock to the side and pensive expression complete with lip bite.

"Say it!" She finally filled the silence.

"Do you want to know what I think?" He waited for her nod. "Ok. And you won't get mad?"

"That's a promise nobody is ever able to keep...." she felt exasperated and knew she was wearing it. He probably knew some of how she was feeling, but how could he possibly get it, she was all over the place. Didn't really know what she was feeling. She sighed, "but I'll try."

"Um, like," he exhaled. He did not want to fight, she could tell. Well, he brought it up. Kinda. They certainly could have left it in the bedroom, or the kitchen, whatever. "You are jealous, because I think you thought of our arrangement as a way to keep me."

She didn't nod, but made contact when he waited for her to. "But I'm not going anywhere, and I never would have if you wouldn't have. Helene and I could have been together before, and I have feelings for her."

Ada deflated.

"Wait! Hold that reaction, Smokes." He took her hand. "I like her, and she is a great friend, and fun in the sack. But I did not fall in love with her. I have a great affection for her. But it's different. I loved you right away. But it would be a lie to say I don't go back for a reason. I think you are worried that I am getting something with her I don't have with you."

Intuitive, empathic asshole. She nodded.

Harry continued, "I'm not. You are all I need. But you are far away. I know she looks different to you. But that's not a sign of me being unfulfilled, so does Xander!" They both giggled. "And you know you set me on fire, Smokes. Made me trip over my tongue, and my own feet, literally, on meeting you." He squeezed her hand. "If you have any questions- ask. Anytime."

She had questions. But, shit she thought she was getting better at this vulnerable stuff. He was too good at it. She tried to match him. Just as he rose to her occasions, she would to his.

"Is it better?"

"No, because my feelings are different. And I'm not lacking in excellent sex." He grinned at her until she smiled and rubbed her hand. He gave her a beat to digest. "But it's good. really good."

"Do you think about her when you are with me?"

"No, but you do!" He laughed.

"I just wonder!" Ada felt reassured and as always, seen. Intuitive ass.

"I know- that's why I offered to answer your questions." He dimpled and smirked. "Unless you wanna watch?"

He was being cheeky, she knew it. Completely thought that would shut down the conversation.

But she kinda did. Want to watch.

Though at the time, she just smacked him upside the head.

But it came up in their play time after that, occasionally.

And never failed to get her off.

So that's why the next time she met him on tour, she saw the little blonde photographer with new eyes. Now all those ways they were different were no longer sources of insecurity, they were sources of lust.

If Harry could slam her against the wall after fucking her upright for longer than she could stand, what could he do to shorty? And she'd been watching Helene's hooping videos, god help her. The lady could move. She'd adopted, or revisited the swivel hours in his hotel room before just from watching her Instagram on the plane over.

Harry had made her stop, couldn't take it. It was forever in the repertoire then she decided. A borrowed move, an homage.

She didn't ask him if Helene used the move she inspired Ada to try out. She wanted to see for herself. Their own little hooping competition. Harry was a fan of competition. Could play judge.

The thoughts, a little hip to hip action, fuck off, captured her imagination the entire way to the show that night. She'd gotten in very early and woken Harry up with his dick in her mouth. The denouement may have been quick because they'd been separated.

Though she knew he hadn't been lonely. Maybe he just missed her, and her dsl's. Or, maybe Ada was inspired. It may have been because of his on tour company.

Helene was just across the room backstage, now.

His partner was lovely. Seeing her with new eyes, lusty rather than jealous, Ada found herself watching.

She got caught staring. Right at Helene's ass when she bent over to take a pic of something she spent a fortunate amount of time arranging. Helene turned her head, must have felt Ada's voracious gaze.

Harry must be changing Ada's personality by injection. Every other same sex liaison she had not been the aggressor. But when Helene caught her, she smirked and then looked down the blonde's shirt, checking her out, a full body scan, intent. Helene's eyes dilated. And she didn't frown, but her mouth parted half way. Ada smiled, bit her lip.

When was this show over?

She heard the Kiwi chords and smiled. A couple minutes now. That song was a capper, going out with a bang.

Ada had wandered side stage then, mesmerized, waiting for him to come off. He was a magnet for the eyes, and a few fortunate hands. Hers included.

"Shit!'" She gripped her thighs to his hips as quickly as she could. He loved to pick her up like this, had since their "first" time.

She loved it too. The way the world sailed by in her peripheral vision while she clung on and buried her face. This time he was sweaty and his musk had mixed perfectly with the Gucci scent he'd had a hand in creating and was effectively hawking.

"Mmmm, you smell good!" She nuzzled into his sweaty neck and looked up to see Helene watching them.

Ada scanned her face for jealousy, but was surprised to find the still blown pupils and then a flirty smile.

"Helene is watching us."

"So," she felt his shoulders rise. "You don't want me to stop, do you?" He nibbled her ear a little.

"No, never." Then she realized he meant to start and finish now, just passed the door bearing his name , just the two of them. "Wait." And she found herself in his dressing room, on the ornate couch. "Wait."

"Wait?" He looked at her crazy. "Like, really Wait?" He started to untie her wrap top. "This looks amazing on you, Smokes!"

"I know." She shook her head at his chuckle. "I mean I like it, um, can you stop touching me so I can focus?"

"Nope!" he pulled her up and wrapped the ends of her shirt around her wrists behind her back.

For the love of god. "Mmmm, babe." His head was in her cleavage, and he had her bound and she wanted the gag too. "Wait," She could hear the green light in her vocal stop sign. But Ada couldn't stop thinking about that invitation.

The one in Helene's eye. From Harry's lips.

"Yeah?" He looked up from the place he'd made her bra sheer over her dark nipples.

"Do you remember when you told me I could watch..." Ada hoped he filled in the rest of the sentence on his own. She wasn't sure she could say it.

His eyes were blank and he was still panting. The front curls of his hair curling and a drip hitting her collarbone, still cooling off, coming down from rocking out on stage. Then his head tilted to the side and a grin dawned on his face.

"When I said you could watch what?" He narrowed his eyes but didn't wipe the pussy eating grin off of his face.

Ada rolled her eyes and would have let her surprised mortification keep her quiet. But then Harry rolled her hips over his pelvis, their point of contact gave her focus.

"You're kinda a Jerk."

"A sexy jerk!" He looked at her.

She slapped at his face a bit. "You know what I mean!" She protested.

Harry leaned up and whispered in her hair. "Yeah, but I would really love to hear you say it."

She sighed while he went back to her neck. She needed to be able to say it is she had a hope of doing it. Ada felt the chill bumps rise and pucker. "What you said about, about, Helene, about me watching. How she," This was the hard part, but he was rutting against her. So he was into it. And the fleshy tension between her thighs indicated that she was interested as well. "About how she takes you."

"I do." He breathed heavy and she felt his dick flex on her words, the idea of the three of them. Harry pulled back and looked at her. "Are you sure Ada?" He stared like she was a puzzle he had to figure out.

Was she? Fuck if she knew, but it was a continuous image in her mental movie so often lately, the three of them really, she needed them to cross the finish line so the damn marathon could end, her cerebral legs were tired from running through her mind all the time.

"Can we try?"

"Yeah, we can try, and you call the shots, ok. I want you comfortable and happy. Anything not comfortable, we send Helene to her room. Oh, that is a shot I need to call." He sighed, scooped out his dressing room, and looked at his erection like it was an offense. "Not here."

"Not here, ok. and I'll call time if I get weirded out. No matter how mortifying!"

"Embarrassment is not a sexy feeling. If you feel it, or anything bad, we shouldn't. And I want you to feel sexy, as hot as you are, all your fire. Are you anxious?"

"A little, I'm mostly..." She squirmed. "Turned on. Yet nervy."

"I can work with turned on but nervy."

"I know! I've seen it, felt it." Ada but her lip and nodded, watched his eye blaze emerald.

So Harry sent the text to Helene. "Night cap?"

And now Ada was standing in the bathroom of their suite in her top with no bra and some casual shorts that she could sleep in, or could come off easy. She was pulling on the hem when Harry walked in.

"Babe, she said she's leaving her room." He was looking at the message, blank faced.

"Yeah, ok." Ada looked over her shoulder at Harry. He was wearing a white wife beater- vest- as he always reminded her- and Gucci joggers. How was he always sexy? His arms were more defined. His shoulders too, and his ass was.....she had personally thanked his tour trainer. He had laughed his head off. And Harry had chuckled and pinched the shit out of her rear end for the slight embarrassment. Tour was stressful, she loved that he worked that stress off training. She reaped those benefits

Harry snugged up behind her and looked at her in the mirror. "I ever tell you that your face is a marvel?"

"What?"

"You're just so symmetrical." He kissed the round of her shoulder.

"You know you've dated models babe, several of them." She smiled at his raised brow. She could see he had a counter. "And you have your face." So did she.

"I have a wonky eye, and I have dated models, so I know symmetry. And you are perfect. Steal my breath when I see you, first thing in the morning, perfect without a stitch of makeup or clothes, or right as I nod off, better still- below me moaning, above me, smiling. And the way the rest of you fits into me, fills my hands. I just." He waited a bit, and held her eyes in the mirror. "I love you and am intensely attracted to you. Don't forget it."

"You scared?" He was over-explaining, like a six year old in trouble.

"A bit." He pressed against her. "But still willing and I'm really turned on."

Ada flexed back against him. "Me too."

His phone dinged and they heard a knock.

"Will you get the door?" Harry asked.

"Ok". She thought about that message on the way to the door, her being the face to greet Helene.

"Hey." Ada put on her I belong here face, the one she used when she was among execs who weren't as sure of that fact as she was.

Helene smiled at her, with a cocked head and sweeping gaze. "Bon Soir."

Ada might have misjudged the lean if Helene hadn't already done the double kisses on her upon their first meeting. She might have pretended to misjudge it if she was braver. "Drink?" Her voice came out low as their cheeks coasted along each other's. Helene smelled deep and spicy.

Helene looked bemused. "Sure."

"Hey babe." Harry walked out of the bedroom, crossed and kissed both Helene's cheeks, kept his arm around her waist and took her over to the mini bar. "Pick the red, you are better at it than me." He left a hand on her hip as he walked away, a longer he'd never allowed in front of Ada. And Ada suppressed the frisson of jealousy when his hand rested on the top of her butt. She was gonna have to get over it. Their familiarity and them touching.

If she got what she wanted.

Helene bent over and her tiny waist and round as moon hips hit Ada's eyes. She found herself walking over. She slid the goblet from Helene's hand and waited for it to be filled, watched the red color in the cup, the way Helene's hand joined hers on the glass. Ada didn't think her hand was actually too unsteady. Maybe it was an overture?

"You want?" Helene nodded at the glass.

"A little more." Ada licked her lips. Kept her eyes on Helene while she poured. Felt an impressed smile on her lips when they maintained eye contact and her cup didn't runneth over. Just her fount.

"Sante!" Helene handed a glass to Harry. His only mid way full. Like Helene's. And clinked the glasses, the rims glancing off each other, catching the light. Ada and Helene maintained their stare.

Ada took her gulp, felt the rich berry flavor in her mouth and pulled Helene by the hand to the couch. Took another sip before setting down her glass on the low marble table top. She went to take Helene's when she noticed the French woman sat her glass down herself. Their inside shoulders faced each other, their outside deltoids open just enough to include the room, Harry.

Their commonality.

Helene rocked her head back on her neck and Ada watched her tongue touch the corner of her bubblegum lips. Her own lips were closer to the color of the wine. Then they were closer to Helene's, geographically.

The first touch is cautious, timid. But Bordeaux scented and intoxicating.

She's thirsty, so she dips her tongue into Helene's mouth. The play of their tongues, the dips and rolls wet her whistle but only make her want to sing, louder. Ada's fingers are moving into all that blonde hair and Helene flexes like a cat back into her hands, baring her delicate throat.

Her jugular pulses under Ada's tongue and the life there is thrumming. Ada's pulse double times to catch up. The hollow where her collarbones meet is deep, and Ada licks the bowl of it.

"Mmmm." She hears above her and kisses the point of Helene's chin, her full bottom lip bites Ada's teeth. back with its ripeness. Ada's shirt finds its way behind the couch and the air hardens her nipples further. As does the circuit of Helene's thumbs on her peaks.

"What does she like, Harry?" Ada hears the French slur to her English words. "A tease or firm touch?"

She'd almost forgotten his presence from the sensation.

Almost.

She wouldn't be able to after her neck wilted and her eyes rolled over him.

What a picture he made, reclined on the arm chair, his hand covering what it could of his bulge. His shirt off. His other hand cradling his wine glass like he did her breast. When that was her mood.

"She goes crazy for a tease. But I think she's been teasing herself thinking about you for awhile. So..." he blinked slowly and Ada's eyes closed when Helene tweaked her nipple then licked it to further tumescence.

"Fuck!" Ada said when Helene's teeth closed.

"Mais qui." Helene's laugh was sultry as the fingers that slid down Ada's tummy, dipping into her navel and then up her loose tie dye shorts. "Humide!" She slipped her fingers through Ada's cleft and looked at Harry before kissing her mouth.

"Yeah, she gets wet, slippery like an eel, non?"

"I love eel." Helene moved a pink feverish mouth down Ada's body. Her shorts pooled on the floor a moment later.

"I know you do. Bon appetit!"

Ada could hear him moving, but her eyes were closed hard, and her bottom lip was caught tightly between her teeth.

It was like Helene had a map of her pussy inside her tongue. She hit all the right spots. From the clockwise opening exploration to the flat tongued strokes. The feathery clit teases were making Ada thrash her head until Helene's nose mashed into her mons semi uncomfortably and Helene groaned tunefully.

It wasn't bright in the room, but the overhead lamp backlit Harry, where he held Helene's hips to his pelvis at an angle off the couch. Her downward dog was impressive.

"See Smokes. No problem." And he stroked in.

"No." Ada heard herself say.

The whole room stopped. Held a collective breath. Helene's covered her flowing center. Ada pulsed. A seconds flex to touch Helene's bottom lip. What was the hold up?

"Do you want to stop?" Harry's voiced was strained, like the muscles, veins standing out on his forearm and hands where they held Helene still.

"No." She shook her head and lifted her hips Up. An offering, suggestion. "No, I want to watch it go in. Let me see." She was panting.

So was Helene.

Harry blinked like it hurt and Ada felt Helene gasp. Planted his opposing foot on the couch, calf against the arm, angled his body, open to her view. He pulled back his hips. His dick glistened. Wetness in the folds.

"Watch." He commanded. Didn't even use a hand to guide himself. Bottomed out, with his laurels against Helene's ass. "Like a glove." gave a smack.

Helene's teeth grazed Ada's clit on impact and they both moaned. Ada kept Harry's gaze while he rolled his hips, he wasn't inside of her, but they were connected, nonetheless, always. She watched him, and he watched her, her reactions to the beauty between them, until the tongue undulations closed her eyes.

The pressure between her thighs had increased so much it was a job to not hump Helene's face. "Fuck, I'm so close."

"Qui!" She felt a smile then a sucking kiss to her thigh. "I can tell." Slim fingers, foreign but familiar, at least with the terrain, entered her and Ada seized, kept contracting when Helene found her g spot, and sucked it's exterior twin.

"How's it feel, honey?" She could tell Harry was staving it off, maybe needed a break, his voice was as tight as she imagined Helene's pussy to be. Which was the problem.

"God, so good," she directed her attention to Helene, smoothed her brow. "You're so good!"

Helene preened and stood up, no matter the arch of her back was able to achieve with those flexible hips, it unseated Harry.

"Ada." He looked down at himself and stroked. She knew that tone. Rolled off the couch dragging a cushion with her for her knees. He tasted like lemon and hot honey while she licked Helene off of him.

If a face fuck could be gentle, Harry achieved it, the hand in her hair to hold her steady into his easy thrusts. The new flavor of their adventure all over him.

Her hand found her clit without a thought, and she felt Helene's hand at her nipple again, slim hip against her shoulder. Harry loosened his grip and Ada took the opportunity to kiss across Helene's hip. The blonde, mostly natural it seemed, turned easily into Ada's mouth. Her tongue slipped into the top of her slit, just below the groomed triangle of dark blonde hair. She tasted better at the source. The bottom of Ada's tongue slid over her swollen clit down to the deliciously dicked pussy below. Harry was right about how it spread the flavor around. She swirled her tongue there and brought the flat of her tongue back up, slow. Then used the tip of her teeth to nibble until a flick seemed necessary.

Helene liked that.

"She's good Harry." Ada brightened up at the accented comment, and Ada looked up before taking Harry back into her mouth. She could hear them kissing while she alternated between pleasuring them. Harry directed her to Helene for a moment, she may have missed him, without such a taste to savor. Ada was distracted until she heard a loud scrape. Harry had carted the bench from the bedroom out. That was a perfect surface, soft but firm. She loved when nothing soft stole his impact.

"Ada, on your knees, here." He pointed in front of him, and the promise of his presence inside her, she wet her thighs over it. She did as told, and arched when fingers slid inside her. "Smokes, you are burning up."

"I'm on fire, honey." She moaned at the thicker fingers inside her.

"I have something for you. Helene, lay under her, lick her out to cool her off." Helene slid beneath her, the grey leather highlighting the curves off her body by contrast. She slid her feet to the floor revealing another contrasting color, deep pink.

In tandem, or sync, Ada delved between the swollen lips of Helene while she responded in kind. Ada mirrored her actions, and the moans below her told her it was exactly what Helene needed. Just as she felt the tremble of her thighs, the beginning, Harry entered her. So Ada used her fingers, took inspiration again, and gave Helene deep strokes and hooked g spot rubs like the full cock deep inside her did.

Harry was moaning above her and was hard as nails within her. She loved when he was too turned on to quiet himself. She'd never forget this feeling, all this stimulation. "Fuck, Yeah, fuck me honey!" She bit into Helene's thigh to stifle her babble. She squeezed Ada's fingers over that.

Whenever Ada got close, Harry pulled out, and she would have a break, too long, where she could hear Helene suck Harry off, and Ada could only fill her mouth, plunge her fingers. It was killing her, softly, that cruel edge of love between pleasure and pain. She was swollen and needy and saying so.

By the third delay, Ada was sliding her pussy along the top of Harry as he went into Helene's mouth.

"Please, babe, please." She was begging, he liked that, when she was outta her head too.

He slid two fingers into each hole, "make her come, it's hard for her, and she deserves it, then I'll give you everything you want."

Her mouth got to work, and she copied Harry's finger moves, slid wet fingers into Helene's anus and pussy, sealed her mouth around her clit and rubbed it with her tongue until Helene pushed her away, three times.

Ada kept her fingers busy, kept Helene coming until she had to be held up by the hands at her hips at the serious deep dicking along with the finger fuck of her ass and the tongue on her clit.

She'd come hard before, but the blinding white light and noise in her ears were new. She gripped Helene's thighs hard enough to leave fingermarks and nearly stood up at the whip snap at her center. She may have apologized for sitting on Helene's face, had she found words to.

She must have passed out. When she comes to, back to herself, she's on a bed, the blanket gently around her hips. Her body is pleasantly sore, and heavy with pleasure. It takes her a minute to orient herself. She's sad she is alone, not cuddled to either lover. She places their voices, nearby, Ada follows them.

Helene and Harry are sharing wine, the Eiffel Tower between them. They make a romantic scene.

Ada expects to feel jealous, but she just feels affection when she hears what they are saying.

"Will She be ok? When the sexiness of this wears off?" Helene asks after rolling her wine around her mouth.

"I hope so, she, well her interest, in you, she wanted too, initiated." Harry shrugged blithely.

"Oh, and you had no interest, in both of us, your best of both worlds girls?" She's cheeky and beautifully lit up from her orgasm. Ada hopes she looks like that, and not like she woke up from a nap.

"Oh, I was deeply interested, but..."

"You want her to really be ok, oui?"

"I do." He looks soft, in that way he does, when his heart's on his breast pocket.

"She will be. She has you." There was longing in her voice, but no green.

"She has me." He nodded.

"If she's ok, do I get to still have you, sometimes? Maybe both of you?" Helene asked, Ada brought in a breath, louder than she intended. She hadn't thought of that.

Now, it seems she has a choice, because both lovers are looking at her like she's a magic eye image.

Her face must be a picture.

They, the three points of a triangle, do make a lovely composition.

Helene had to confess, at least to herself, that he looked better here. She wondered if it was because their first tryst had been after the Bologna show. And their last one had been in Umbria. Maybe she wore colored glasses filtered through that special Italian light. The light that was concentrated on the steps of this museum in the eternal city. They'd barely kissed cheeks when she arrived, and she had been communicating with his assistant and Jeff, mostly.

They hadn't talked.

She told herself that was best because, well, boyfriend in the interim or no, she wasn't really over him. He was never really out of sight, she had memory cards full of him, plus the general obsession with him. So, Harry was never really out of mind.

But she had been effectively distracted before she got here. Hadn't even given herself a Harry pep talk. "He likes to fuck you, but doesn't want you for more. He's a good man, but your feelings for him are not the same as his for you," etc. Helene really hadn't thought she needed it.

Rene was home, had been in her bed until two days ago, satisfied all the itches Harry had mapped for her to show to a new man's fingertips.

Helene was sure she didn't need it. That she was Over it, and him, the elusive them. She wondered who Harry had been seeing, offhandedly, without an emotional attachment she reasoned. A man that attractive and skilled deserved a lovely boy or girl to keep him warm.

And that was the last thought she had had about it, she realized. As she cursed her heels and crouched down to shoot an up angle on the steps of Harry driving the crowd gathered for him on the steps wild. She imagined if anybody was looking they could see right up her little skirt. Thank God for opaque tights.

Now, well the all white was striking. And was he always this tall? He smelled different, she'd noticed immediately. Not like a gorgeous wood paneled office and faint cigar, but instead something undefinable and alluring.

Fuck, she was fucked. And suddenly thankful she and Rene had had a open discussion early on about the logistics of sex and two people whose career took them around the globe more often than not.

He'd brought it up, and she thought it was a great idea, though she didn't admit to herself until this moment, watching her boss in beautiful Italian sunlight, that it might have been so sweet to her ears because it would allow her to fuck Harry.

She really wanted to fuck Harry. He flashed his pastel nails at her in a wave and she captured it, in the viewfinder there were trails in the light. Magic.

Magic fingers.

There wasn't time to think much on that. The show was starting and Harry disappeared as he did at public events sometimes. So, she was free to watch the show. By phone light. Apparently, Alessandro was less captivated by light than dark.

The night progressed and she found herself with Harris in the show and later at the party. She was surprised he didn't know Harry was performing, she supposed that was great for him. He still got to be a fan. Helene had long since crossed a line there. She was so much less, his employee. Harry's thought out plans didn't catch her flat footed, because she was documenting them. And so much more, because she knew smell of his inner thigh and taste of his neck.

She really wanted to lick the strong veins in his neck watching him hit that high note with Stevie.

His own, real, high note was throatier. The one she could recall and still felt between her thighs. He'd been resting, his skin glowed and his voice shone.

"Fuck!" She muttered to herself. She was gonna have to decide whether to telegraph her need to him, or steer clear.

That idea went out the window, the left turn away, when Harry made a beeline for her not long into the after-after party at the hotel. Harry was officially off duty now, posted a picture with his new cast mates, including Harris, which explained the young person's excitement. Harry was immediately handed a drink by Jeffrey, in a fetching suit, and his head came up to where she was standing, stashing her camera.

His eye contact was compelling, so she returned it. So much for making herself scarce, if not unavailable. He was walking to her with his fresh drink, resplendent with Italian summer.

"Been a while, love! Look smashing! Like the Yin to my Yang!" He bussed her cheek, then the other. Full continental. And she swore he sniffed her hair. Fucker.

"Yes, you do stand out in all white. I almost feel...boring!" She felt like that sometimes, she was used to being the pretty one in her male/female relationships.

He looked at her sheer blouse. Scoffed, "Hardly!"

"Well, you're hard to one up, fashion wise. Though this look, definitely inspired by the Met gala." She teased gesturing to herself. He'd been nervous, she'd heard, though she had had another gig at the time.

"Oh, well, I'm sure the people would rather see you in a see through top than me." He shrugged modestly.

Helene tapped her temple and raised her brow.

"I'm inclined to disagree." She gave a pointed gaze at the sparrows and was immediately distracted. She wasn't sure what compelled her but, well, it was crooked. Without a thought, she centered the cross in Harry's chest hair.

And further damned, when she'd taken her hand away, she had caught his nipple. It hardened. She wondered if anything else did on him. She knew the effect on her.

He gave her that look, the one that always got her all wet, and her tights were suddenly uncomfortable, sodden.

And then, as always, he'd been spurred away. She's saved, and pressing her thighs together with new all white visions swirling through her head to put her to bed.

She caught up with some singer and Harris. It's a laugh. Something of a distraction. She'd been able to put away her libido, mostly, until would not doubt demand attention in her hotel room.

More distraction was the good wine seemingly self-refilling in her hand.

It was not long before she had to find the toilets.

She’d been washing her hands, when there was a knock. Bold, two rapid taps. Patience was her wish to whoever is out there, or maybe they'd had too much wine as well she thought in sympathy. Hopefully not too bad a stomach.

"Un instant, si vous plait." Came out before she can think in Italian.

"Helene." The voice was unmistakable.

She unlocked the door.

He slid into the low lighting. She wondered if Alessandro had that as a standing order. All dark all the time.

Harry was a bright white spot.

He locked the door, then. Helene watched him do it in the mirror. Immediately, with the sound of it sliding home, he was crowding into her non existent space. The ridge of the sink undoubtedly would bruise her hips. She may have minded, but He’s already caught the back of her blonde hair, turned her mouth to him.

It's less a kiss than a shared breath. He tasted sweet, from minty gum as always, and spicy from the tequila he'd been sipping. Redolent. His new scent, that already made its place in her memory, surrounds her.

His hand was also beneath her skirt, rubbing over the juncture of her thighs. She knew she was wet through. "Fuck, you're hot, wet." Harry breathed against her lips, and it's a kiss too. Their mouths continued to whisper over each other. He gripped her throat and look at her in the mirror, a white field with her tiny frame as a black dot.

"Yes?"

God, that he always asked, sooo hot.

"Yes," leaked out of her mouth.

She felt his finger on the stitching at the side of the white section in the middle of her tights, there at the juncture of her thighs. Where the fabric was weakest, where she is weakest. His painted nails opened a whole. She squirmed to get the finger near the money spot. Anything to get him there.

"Yes?"

He asked again and she wondered if he didn't hear her, or if her verbal agreement wasn't enthusiastic enough. Her bodily concurrence was running into his palm she was sure.

But saying "YES!" To him was so hot.

He agreed, if his "Fuck me!" was anything to go by.

And then the crotch of her tights were an afterthought and she could hear his zipper going down, and keened when his fingers left her.

The sound became a moan when he pushed her forward, arching her back and pressing her cheek to the mirror. Her heavy breath left a mark before retreating a bit.

The fog grew and didn't recede when his ample tip, her favorite inch of him, though the place between his sparrows was giving it serious competition, pressed into her.

"'Arry!" She could have written his name in the exhalation, it was so heavy.

"Helene!" He grit out as he glanced to the side of her cervix. God he was big, and that move alone, that she'd walked Rene through, was worth it.

The next one was definitely more for her than him. If he was looking to shoot his load, he'd maintain those deep, evocative strokes, but instead, he pulled her ass back a little, she grabbed the faucet to support herself now- the mirror wouldn't bear any weight at this angle. He used the distance between her hips and the sink edge to press her belly down, arch her ass up.

"Sweetest little ass. I dream about what you let me do to you last time we were in Italy!" He said between his teeth.

"Ahhh, me too!" Helene moaned when she realized the new angle was all about hitting her spot, that root part of her clit.

"Mon dieu, Harry!"

Her forehead touched the cold metal of the faucet. She couldn't support her neck while he tapped tapped tapped away, nudging her senseless, until her entire body tensed, and released, the flood of energy sizzling in her veins and out her mouth in curses.

"Yes!" he answered himself and switched to the longer strokes while she whined and pulsed out of rhythm around his cock. Aftershocks after he shattered her earth. One proved to be his undoing, and he blew along his own fault line, heaving to a heavy stop

His head, she could feel the sweat through the tight mesh between her shoulder blades, rested on her while they caught their breath and he wilted. She heard him tie off the condom. Laughed when he tossed it into the trash and seemed to not care it was on the top, so the next bathroom user would know somebody had fucked there.

From the look of her, they'd know who.

"Merde." She breathed after she'd straightened her hair. She loved her sex hair, though it was obvious, but when she smoothed her skirt, she saw the growing trails where her stocking were running. She pulled her skirt back up.

"What're you doing?" Harry asked after he'd tucked himself back in. Helene laughed. He hadn't even taken off his rose colored glasses.

"Taking off my tights, they're ruined, and, well, anybody will see the bullseye they are making and....guess?" She shrugged. She didn't really care, but hated to be so indiscreet, obvious.

"No, I can help!" He flashed his brow, and the switch back to boyishness after sex god was forever jarring. Lovely. He picked her up and sat her on the sink and produced the purse she hadn't seen him bring in. She supposed that was where the condom had come from.

"You're carrying nail polish?" She laughed.

"Yeah, when they chip I pick at them, unless I have clear coat." He smiled at her amusement. "Now, quiet, I have to concentrate!" He bent his head and she sympathized with his knees from the crouch he was in. He definitely couldn’t get his white knees on the bathroom filth.

Later, She snapped a phone pic of them as yin and yang. It was their thing, the pictures, and he'd rolled his eyes, but gave good face in the mirror behind her.

She catalogued her changes in her own hotel bathroom when she excused herself not long after, a quick escape to her lodging close by. The sex hair.

And all the tiny dots of clear polish, that she ran hands over like Braille. She almost threw them out, the tights. But they deserved a pictures, or five, to capture Harry.

The boy who'd fuck her over the sink in a public bathroom, then spent 20 minutes preserving her modesty by fixing her tights.

In the morning, she was sad to not see him in the Italian dawn, but was thankful for the Roman night.

Helene figures that always noticing the light was an occupational hazard. It was really bright in here, lovely, and her hoop was here, and she just hadn't had time to practice in ages, tour was either really busy or entirely boring, and it flipped on a dime, she liked to be ready. But, in effect, she had not hooped or filmed it for her insta in forever. It would make a good addition to her story.

His room wasn't set up, and she thought she had heard a rumor that the boss man, big man, was volunteering or doing something with or for March for our Lives. She had the room to her self.

The movement is familiar and Helene finds that so many things are like riding a bike. Muscle memory turns on, and you go with the motion, and all the rust falls off and bam.

She took a few turns, found her rhythm and her sass and decided she needed a song to make it better.  The scan through her phone found her in the Harry section. Wild Thoughts would be perfect, Harry's version, with that riff to turn to off Mitch's guitar, but there was only the video. She couldn't film and listen to it. Maybe just as a warm up.

His voice, it made her warm all over. Her first poetical rabbit trail was that it was a warm bath. But that was way to relaxing of a comparison. Harry's voice did not relax her, though it did raise her temperature. Maybe that was a better comparisons. It was like a chemical reaction- exothermic. Like making caramel, he was sweet to taste.

Hearing his voice, asking her if she wanted to see him naked was like lighter fluid on the flame of her libido. He was incendiary.

It would make for quite the swivel in her hooping video. Too bad she could only listen and not film.

She had just settled for Shawn Mendez, Particular Taste, and cued up her set up, shook off Harry's deep, depth plumbing question, and found her rhythm when his real voice startled her enough to drop her groove.

Her hoop was weighted, so it didn't make a jingle, more of a thud when it hit the ground.

"What're you doing?" When she turned around he was just inside the door and he walked with a wide stride with a hand at the waist of, was that a towel?

Was he wearing a towel?

"What?" Her gaze hadn't made it to his face yet, she was never higher than his shoulder level, looking at him gave her a crick in her neck most times, and now she was starting from the floor and working her way up. Socks, the high white ones he wore when he worked out. And then his pigeon toed legs and his mole on his thigh. It was just below the hem of the towel, definitely a big towel, a thick one. His hand was at the knot, his fingers down over a suspicious bulge, but he often had one of those, he was a shower..

A grower too if the crystal clear memory she tried to dim wouldn't shut up. It hadn't been that long since, they slept together, but long enough. A couple continents at least. Lots of pictures, too many songs.

"Um, I was, well. The light was good and my hoop wound up in here. And I haven't done a video in a while. I'm rusty." She shrugged. "Sorry, I didn't think you would mind."

"I don't." He hit the t like he was singing it, clear with emphasis. "But I've just never seen you do it. It's really cool." He shook himself a little. "Can we look at the photos from the other night? Since i have your here all to myself."

Deadly dimples, damn.

"Yeah, hold on. I have to boot up."  Helene put her bag down and slipped her computer from its sheath, flipped open the lid. Was glad her habit was to upload everything while she was sleeping after a show. So she had something to show him. Helene felt a little shaky, like she'd been caught out, and ever since their....repeated whatever, She vibes off him. She was never sure if she was reading him for real. Like he was turned on by her or if it was just wishful thinking.

Just because smelling him was enough to ruin her panties didn't mean her effect was as strong on him. If it was, he would probably be sleeping with her more than once and occasionally again.

He must know her attentions were available always.

Helene focused on her iBook, and not how close he was standing to her. Harry had no concept of personal space. It drove her crazy, she loved it.

"last night." She looked over her shoulder at his over sized Head. This was a thing she had noticed about celebrities, their heads seemed oversized, literally. Sometimes, in the worst cases, figuratively, thankfully not with her current employer.

She wondered if it somehow looked better in film.

Harry was tapping at his favorite photos, transferring them to another folder, like she had taught him, wordlessly, and she was bent over to grab her cord.

She swore she could feel his eyes on the back of her legs. Gooseflesh rising up to meet the gaze.

When she looked back, her temperature was up, but his eyes were down, focused on her laptop and the photos. Her job. Why she was here. She wanted to shake herself. Those few nights with him had ruined her. It was one thing to want a taste, it was another to crave the flavor.

She sighed and he looked up.

"You alright?" He asked, a gentle smile.

She assumed this was the American question, not the British. "Qui. I just slept funny last night."

"Doesn't help we have vampire schedules on tour. Are you a morning person or night owl?" He had a lovely friendly smile too.

"I guess I'm more of a night owl. Unlike you, I think by the time I'm up and drinking matcha you have written, checked emails, run..." she rolled her eyes at his productivity, but you had to admire his work ethic. "What are you looking for?" He was rifling around.

"The cord, to get the ones I picked to my phone." He gestured at both phone and laptop and she nodded and got it for him. This time she more than felt his eyes.

He touched the back of her leg. Right beneath the hem of her skirt.

Helene looked over her shoulder at him.

He smirked at her, "you had some lint!" He lifted his hands up by his shoulders. The picture of innocence.

Except she knew better.

Damn him.

She gave him the cord and they flicked through the pictures together.

"Harry, can you give me just a little bit of space! I can feel your breath on my neck." It was so distracting. If he was gonna just tease.

"Sorry," his smile was audible, "I was just trying to see the background on that one, it's hard on the little screen. Hey! Did you notice we match!" God he was such a cute kid sometimes. They did coordinate.

"We do!" She smiled over her shoulder.

"Let's take a picture!" He glee-ed.

It turned out good. She'd keep that one for herself.

"That one picture, can I see it on your laptop again?" He asked, over her shoulder again.

"Yeah, let me," and she sat the computer down and opened his folder, checked the timing again. "Here."

This time, he stood right behind her. Put his hands on her hips to look over them. "I don't like that you can see my dirty clothes in that one, but it's a shame, I really like the picture." He started rocking her hips back and forth against him.

"Harry?"

"I really liked watching you hoop. Your hips move...." he rocked her a little wider. "Is it like this?"

Helene was about to swallow her tongue. "Um, no, that's too much, too big a motion." She contracted the circle, moved just like she would to keep the hoop aloft. "Then you just have to keep the rhythm." She could feel him through his towel, it was a towel, she didn't know if he had boxers on under it.

"Well, we know how well you can keep a rhythm." His mouth found the sliver of skin between her hoodie and hair. His hands were at her hips, under her skirt. Fingers between the cotton and her skin.

"Do I have more lint?" She was a little breathless, but could hear her own grin too.

"Haha!" He bit her jawline. "There was no lint." He caught her mouth and licked her bottom lip, and she felt her panties fall from her knees. "I just wanted to see your skin get all excited again." Then he really kissed her and Helene day down her phone and her laptop to get her hand into his hair over her shoulder.

"So, I heard a term the other day." He murmured between kisses, "a spinner." He lifted her hand and danced her to face him, held her to him, got his hands on her ass. Under her skirt. "Ever heard that?"

"Non," Helene leaned up on her toes to kiss him, save his neck, and felt for the knot on his towel. He did have boxers, she started working on getting those down. Filling up her hands with him. He was hard as a rock.

"It's a term for a petite woman, so small you can spin her on your cock. I couldn't help but think of you....." he groaned at the place she was biting on his neck.

"Yeah, me?" She smiled like his nameplace cat. "I am pretty small. Ughh!" His hands were on the low part of her ass cheeks now, fingers extended between her thighs. His long finger quickly slipped up to his second knuckle inside her. A second finger joined it before she had gotten used to the first.

"Can I try it?" Helene pulled back. Course he could try it, she liked all of the things he'd done to her. He rarely asked, once she'd consented, he went for things, took her places. What did he have in mind?

"Will it hurt?" She bit his lip a little.

"I don't think so, maybe me if I bend my dick wrong." They both laughed a little, that was one of those uncomfortable unsexy things that happened during a fuck. Like queefs.

"Sure, I might like it if it hurts just a little."

"Yeah, I like that about you." He leaned into kiss her and she screamed when he missed her mouth and removed his fingers and grabbed her hips quick to flip her upside down. It was disorienting for a second. A rush of blood to the head. She felt his tongue move through her now exposed folds a second later. It brought her back to reality. Though gravity was still suspended. "Put your thighs on my shoulders." Harry groaned, and when she bore some of her own weight, it was better. He kept licking her top to tail. She was moaning and the uncomfortable blood rush feeling disappeared. But not the rush. Helene could hear herself moaning. This was out of body. He sucked her clit in.

"Fuck!"

He shook his head with the folds of her in his mouth, brought them in against his teeth harder, released with a pop. "Helene, Suck my dick."

Oh, his hard length was bobbing in front of her. She just been really distracted, by being upside down, and his mouth full of her pussy. She licked the tip, the pearly liquid that had collected there. She was lucky it hadn't smeared on her forehead in this position. She may have laughed at that, if Harry's moan at Her follwojng his directions wasn't so encouraging.

She got her mouth around him and moved up and down, made her neck work. She braced one hand on his thigh, to steady herself. She was glad he was so strong and had his arms banded around her hips to keep her up.

This was hot, though she always found 69 very distracting. But Harry ate pussy better than any other lover she'd ever had. And before long, she was having to use her free hand to stroke over him, because she needed her mouth free. "Fuck, Harry, I'm gonna come."

It was the fingers that slid inside her at that moment that did it. She clenched down on the filling digits and he sucked harder until she was squirming. There was nowhere for her to go. He had her powerless in this position. She'd fall if she fought too hard to get the over stimulation to stop.

He didn't, stop, but he gentled his mouth, licked over where she was juicy while her thighs shook on his shoulders.

She grabbed his hips when he started walking. "Shit!"

"That worked." He sounded a bit stunned, she wondered if it was her weight or his erection. "Let's see if we can do the other thing I was thinking about. "Brace your arms out, Helene."

She did as he asked, and felt him rather than saw him sit on the edge of the couch. He picked her up then, at the waist and slid her down to his lower stomach. Helen caught the table in front of her when he brought her weight down.

"This is working nicely!" His voice had never been lower. "The view is....." she imagined he could see everything open and wet from her waist down. He moved her hips up and then her sodden place over his aching cock until she took up the rhythm. She could hear the condom wrapper and wondered where it had come from.

She decided she didn't care and only yelped a little when he used a hand to lift her hips up. "Help me."

She held his cock while he rolled down the sheath.

"There!" He groaned, and brought her hips back down, spread his hands out to open her. "Now, show me how you rock when you do that hooping bit again?"

"Did you like that?" It was more than obvious he did, she could feel the evidence, and hear his groan as she slid the first few inches of him into her. She was soaked, but it was never an easy fit, so she slid up to his tip and down again a couple of times to open herself up. The pop of his head and squish were musical accompaniment to the moans he was panting out.

"Yeah," he barely got the word out, and sucked in a breath before he spoke again. "think that's the first time I got hard over you" he rocked into her. "Was looking at your Instagram to see if I liked your eye, discovered I liked your ass. Which looks amazing all spread in front of me right now. Fuck!"

"You'd have better liked my photos!" She tried to sound stern, but mostly sounded turned out. If this looked like it felt.....

"Almost as much as your ass." He gripped her then, and bounced her up and down. His hand covered her from the bottom of her waist to where his thumb reached her crack. "Loved the way this looked, your little waist and flared hips. I love your ass." He grasped it then, almost a slap, except his huge hand wrapped around her flesh. His thumb landed near her seam again. And then drifted down to where his cock went in and out on the rhythm she had established. She was keeping them both suspended, like she did her hula hoop. He caressed where he was stretching her and both holes flexed. When the tip of his now wet thumb went in where she had been empty, the no man's land ended. Her body plunged into battle.

"Oh fuck Harry!" This was gonna make her come. Him bouncing her ass up and down his nearly too big cock while he fingered her ass.

"That's it, a little more Helene. Take a little more." His thumb went in deeper, but she lost her rhythm and had to grab his knees when her arms collapsed on the force of her climax.

Her awareness came back a second later when both his hands were sweeping up her back. She realized she was sobbing a little when she heard his shushing noises.

"Almost there baby." He stood up then, with her still on him and her legs came down on their own, her toes touching the floor. His knees bent and he pressed down at her neck until her forearms reached out to meet the table. "Relax. I got you."

And then he gripped both hips and took over the cadence until she had to hold the table with both hands.

She could hear herself babbling. God he was such a good fuck, and she felt so small and dainty and sexy. And powerful, taking every inch on him.

"Fuck, yes, fucking fucking me." That was in English.

He was increasing in volume too. And speed. She felt the contraction inside her and his nails dug in a little at her shoulder.

Again, she was coming again, at the bite of his nails, and groan of her nail, and pulse of his cock.

They were both breathing heavy a moment later. He sat down with her still in his lap and Helene realized that while her shirt was tucked up over her tits, they both still had their tops on. He brought her skirt down over her naked bottom half while he wilted inside of her.

"Well, if there was any doubt, I'd say you are a spinner."

She would love to see him. It's only been a month. It's been a whole month.

He didn't say much in LA, just rocked her socks off, mentioned doing it again, or at least wanting to, and then she got on a plane and posted pics for him that were so bittersweet it was like drinking real hot chocolate in Mexico. She's trying to think of  a response. Something funny, and that lets her appear available but not desperate.

If those merde gray dots didn't appear every time she would just write something out and then erase it until it sounded right. But before she can decide between, 'Nothing set in concrete', or 'you?' another message pops through. He had his grey dots turned off, how did he do that? That was handy!

"Come to Italy?" he put a winky emoji at the end, so she flirted back.

"Bologna?" she had major nostalgia for Bologna, vibed herself to oblivion with her face in her comforter to remember the feeling.

"No, we've done Bologna. Let's try Umbria..." her heart raced. He wanted to kiss her everywhere, everywhere it seemed. But-

"Why Umbria?"

"I have a job for you." Her boss man, former/current lover sent. Oh, she deflated, a job. Well, things had been quiet, not really, but certainly in comparison to the whirlwind her last nine months had been.

"Ok, how do you want me to book the flight, what exact dates?'"

"Already booked it." She'd be pissed, but she knew somebody else had done it at his nod. He'd pitched an idea, nobody had a better one, or big enough balls to counter him, he got a yellow light from her, nod, boom, done.

In some ways it was very good to be Harry Styles, in others it was a lot of pressure. But he was easing into himself as he was allowed to be just that, himself, and follow his own lead, build his own brand.

She'd watched it over the course of tour, him stepping back from social media and his sex appeal and his cheek to find it again, anew, as he got more comfortable. And she got to be his eyes, or lens. It was a rush.

A rush she'd been missing acutely. That's what had been missing. Something was playing on the back of her mind most days. She also may miss the family they had all become, the Harry Styles Circus. Full of freaks and music geeks, all kind and lovely, from the top down.

She was always gonna go to Italy.  So she'd better get herself together, her go bag was empty right now, she had nothing for a few weeks when her next tour picked up. It needed to be stocked. Maybe slightly differently than her average weekend job.

As she packed, well, it was still hot in Italy she assumed, and he said weekend, and work, but gave her very little details, so she slipped in a few things, her trainers, trackies, a tank. And also a few sundresses, some lacy pink things. In case.

She'd let it be known she wanted him, but follow his lead. Helene loved being on his lead.

A lot could happen in several weeks though. She'd been busy, dated, been dicked, been disappointed. That was down to Harry, too. As her life had sorta revolves around him for a while, and her pussy seemed to want to too.

Henri was a frequent partner. Safe, fun, no drama. She'd come back from a disappointing date and called her fall back friend. They were both casual about it and could hook up and remain friends. They'd been doing it since art school. It had always scratched her itch.

But, his eyes were blue, a pretty blue, and he didn't have dimples, and his dirty blond hair was straight and though she'd always loved his body, he was softer than she'd like, and bulky above her.

His dick too. It didn't feel like it used to. Like more than enough. She didn't come, and dammit, she expected to now.

Harry might have ruined her.

She knew no other tour would feel as crazy beautiful while also family fun after that one- but she didn't know he'd risen other expectations too.

Helene impatiently waited for Italian summer.

The flight was so quick, she was stumbling off the plane before she'd finished her glass of wine. And there was a man with a placard with her name. She got the hotel without an agenda though. There had been in the past a printed itinerary at the desk or in her email. Neither were present. Helene was alone in an unknown place, with no work yet, so she did what she always did, grabbed her camera, her wallet and walked.

Umbria had been idyllic from the air, Perugia awaited and promised to be a treasure. The city felt like a fortress, there on a hill with its stone walls. They must be hiding goodies behind all those rocks. She was gonna find them.

The streets were old, cobbled, like the oldest parts of Paris. Her trainers were a good choice, any kind of heel and she'd be on her ass. And walking the medieval streets were a good choice too, she wouldn't even want to be in an cab, definitely not a Nike. She'd have to tell Harry. No handy face masks in Italy though when forced to walk. But the smells and tastes might be hindered by a mask. Those were golden.

And she found treasure, red gold in a tiny wine shop. She bought a bottle to ship to Mitch and Sarah. He'd love it. And a bottle for herself since she already loved it. She'd have a glass now. Helene didn't save experiences. She tried to live them as the came. Take the picture now, eat the eclair, drink the wine, fuck the boss. These were her raison d'etre. It's how she found herself alone in Umbria on two day's notice.

And there was a lot to find to capture momentarily in Umbria. Beauty in the air, literally. The light glowed. The air here danced, the sun was a presence, everything had a golden hue.

Whatever she was shooting would be like a constant golden hour, less filters and fiddling needed. It made her excited.

She took so many pictures come for herself, waited on Instagram. Was flipping through them as she walked into the hotel.

"Helene!" She heard Jeff's voice go up and her feet picked up speed quickly. Where Jeff was Harry was, or vice versa. Almost always.

"Jeff!" She kissed his cheeks and he bear hugged her, and he caught her looking for Harry immediately.

"He's already up in his room, this is kinda an incognito trip for now. We don't want too many people to know where we are exactly. Did he tell you that?" Jeff knew she liked her instastories.

"No, but I was using the big guns, the light is so pretty here. I didn't really use the phone, or take any video. I was caught up, lucky." She smirked and he smiled back.

"So what are we being sneaky about?" She asked when Jeff got distracted handling some logistics.

"Well, Harry's got this Gucci thing."

Helene made a face, then what was she here for? Gucci would have contracted their own photog.

"You're here because Harry requested you for behind the scenes stuff, in case he wants to use it for his next, who knows, he seems to have an idea." Jeff was good at mind reading, face reading.

Part of Helene hoped the idea was to fuck her in a new place, but it would be weird to be paid for it. Not so weird she wouldn't do it, but strange.

"I'm gonna go to my room, what's the plan for dinner?"

"Harry mentioned he wanted to sleep," they both chuckled, or course. "so I may go out, may just do room service."

"K, if you want company?" She said while she headed to the stairs.

"I'll give you a shout."

Her room was lovely, and she ran a bath to ease all the muscles from climbing the hilly streets. Once she was out, she stepped onto her balcony in her robe, she loved a good hotel robe and caught sight of curly hair and wind of garlic from the next one over. She and Harry shared a wall. He was leaning out over the balcony watching the sun go down and Helene pulled her phone from her pocket and took a picture.

By the second one, his neck had lolled around and he was looking into her lens. He wasn't smiling, not even a smirk, his lips gaped just a bit and a slick of wetness caught the light.

She caught that on camera too.

When she put the phone down, slid it against her hipbone to find the square pocket of the robe she hadn't tied tightly, she kept her eyes on him. His dimples grew then as he smiled at her and she was sorry she had put the phone away.

He looked dreamy in the Umbrian light.

"Hiya Helene, have a nice bath?" He smirked then, let his hot eyes slide over her chest, if it wasn't already red, she was sure it was now.

"Oui, it's a really big tub, you seen it?"

"Big enough for two?" His cheek heated hers.

"Not sure."

"We could test it? If you wanted..."

"Think we'd make it that far?" Helene moved her shoulders back, felt wind caress a nipple.

He looked down. "No."

"I bought a bottle of wine at this beautiful shop. I could show you tomorrow."

"Or you can come over right now. We can drink it after our bath." He bit his lip. And hers parted.

"I just had a bath."  She reminded him.

"It's a ruse, I want you to come over so I can take off your robe, Helene." His hand ran over his baggy track pants, her eyes followed, they'd lingered on his face, it was enough to wet her thighs. "Bring the wine and yourself, leave the robe if you're brave enough."

If she was brave enough? She was plenty brave. She undid the poor robe and relaxed her shoulders down. She wondered how she looked in the light.

"Don't move." He pulled his phone out and her back arched. He looked at the screen. "Now come."

She almost did.

Helene turned around and grabbed the bottle of wine and her key, carried them in one hand so she could knock.

There was no need. He had the door open and an impressed look on his face. "Ballsy!" he said with a wiggle of his mouth.

She looked at his crotch, "you'd know."

He canted his chin to the side. "Can I say what an absolute pleasure it is to see you, Helene."

Her nipples hardened to diamonds, round cut, from his gaze. Her knees were drunk. "Yeah, boss man, you're a sight for sore eyes."

"Hopefully sore thighs too." And he reached out and caught her hand and pulled her to him. His other hand caught the long hair at the back of her neck and cushioned her press against the door. He tasted like Italy, like basil and decadence and she lifted a naked leg to wrap around his clothed body. He leaned back from her and his chin caught her mouth, she opened her lips over it and he kissed the tip of her nose. It was a sweet moment before he picked her up so fast she was lightheaded.

He eased back on the couch and spread her body over the top of him. With her lips against him, her toes barely passed his knees. The immediate groping grip over her ass and his hands splitting her thighs around his hips had her forgetting how unequally they matched in height. Because the way his bulge swelled to fill the negative space between her thighs was all that was important right now. He rocked her over his hips and she unbuttoned his shirt hastily.

"Don't rip the Gucci!" He cautioned with a twinkle in his eye.

"Alessandro will give you more tomorrow," She thumbed his bottom lip.

He bit it and said, "there are these grey trousers I want."

"Harry, can we take off your trousers instead."

"Oui!" He pushed down his pants, put his fingers in her mouth which she dutifully licked, wet his tip, and spread her open. She slid down with the help of the grip he'd resumed on her cheeks.

"Ugh!" She got out when she got over the tip, raised back up over the snap of it. Tucked her hips to brush her spot inside.

When she tried to do the shallow penetration a third time, Harry shook his head, "uh-uh." and used the hands full of ass he had to push her down to the last inch.

"Fuck!" She clenched at the fullness and had barely adjusted around it when he set her rocking.

"C'mon, Helene. Take it."

Her response was to make him sit up, so she could lean back with a grip on his neck and use his hold to ride him at a gallop. "Like that?"

"Yeah, that's fucking perfect. Too perfect!" He stopped her pace. He grunted and let her bounce over him until he suddenly grabbed her hips to still them. "Hmmm, M'gonna come like that."

"C'mon, Harry, take it," She bit his bottom lip, licked the indent.

"What's gotten into you?"

"All of you, apparently!" God, he was fun in bed.

"Yeah, can you handle more?"

She narrowed eyes at him and he laughed.

Harry unseated her and slid her over his face. The full flat tongue over the ripe redness he'd exited made her pull up. That was a lot of sensation. He'd just pulled her down onto his tipped tongue, seemed to have no qualms with her motion putting his mouth at back door level. The wiggle of his tongue and the slide over her perineum and up under her hood made her shiver. "Like that!" She begged and he gave her a couple more head waggles, before splitting his fingers to fill both empty places and sucking her to orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck! Yes!" He had the craziest hit rate, she always came with him. No wonder everybody else previously adequate was now lacking.

She was still shaking when he slid her over his weeping erection, and she whined when he passed her over it a couple times, responded by gripping his hip, then got hold of his cock to angle it up, so he couldn't graze her sensitive clit again. She needed to get him inside again, that she could take.

He laughed at her move.

"Fuck you!"

"Be my guest, love." He challenged, and she leaned her body back, grabbed his knees and didn't stop when he needed her to. Just fucked him and her to completion at a rough deep rock. She'd have laid back over his legs when her arms went out had he not caught her.

The bath was big enough for two.

And the wine was so good he wanted her to show him where she bought it after the shoot the next day. "I want more of that when I don't need to worry how I'll photograph for it!"

She'd agreed to see him wine drunk and silly.

And the next day, after seeing his softer side, arms full of baby animals and her eyes full of hearts, Harry got the grey trousers and they took them for a walk around Perugia.

He did look lovely in the light, and she knew he'd noticed that she hadn't worn panties just by the look he cast down her lens. Her thighs'd be wet from it alone, let alone the hand full of rings she'd felt the clink of on her ass yesterday afternoon, but the smirks and smug look he kept giving her when she took his pictures were making her ready to find an alley, bench, streetcorner, side walk cafe table, wherever. He looked as ready too.

Her suspicion was confirmed when after a stiff breeze as she was walking in front of him in her sundress, she'd heard him groan. He'd caught up to her, his hand coasting over her ass cheeks beneath the fluttering hem.

She'd copied his signature smirk. And he'd gaped.

The next hour was a game of grab ass she loved. When they were anywhere near cover, his hand was up her dress, and she was skating away out of reach.

"Hands to yourself, boss." She'd tsked.

"Nope, don't wanna." He'd pinched her cheek then, the right low one.

Helene turned her back and brush her back against his front, but took off before he could get his hands on her.

Every time he got close, she let him touch, or she'd get close and cope her own feel, leave herself open to his hands, beringed fingers.

He got one between her legs in the back on the wine shop and she stepped on his vans to stop him. Bit her lip to keep from moaning.

Harry had them open the bottle and they gave him glasses, because he'd shipped 10 bottle, their entire stock to the azoff's and Winston's and his mum.

He'd asked where a good private place to enjoy it and a view was too.

He was boiling when they found the isolated picnic table. But he'd sat down so she could get his magnetism on film.

Taking the picture had her rolling and popping too.

The wood table top was low, but Harry hardly complained when he had to stay in a squat to get the right angle. All that exercise had to have another benefit.

She was the happy recipient.

She'd remember Umbria for more than just the light.