The Executive & The Artist (H.S)

[diseases]

this is probably one of the things i'm most proud of as a writer, so if you could comment your thoughts, that would be lovely :) also, it's really long, so make sure to stick around for the end...

*sexual content*

vi.

Harry feels uncomfortable.

His fingers are tapping on the bone in his knee and his eyes are darting about the beach, searching for a place to land that doesn't have half-naked women lounging in it. Like, usually he'd be fine with half-naked women lounging about a sunny beach but that's only if the half-naked women are named Nat and if they have those pink little lines stretching across their hips and if they say his name like exhaling smoke from a cigarette.

And Harry feels uncomfortable because all these half-naked women lounging about the beach aren't Nat and that's uncomfortable.

Harry himself is far from half-naked. A heavy jumper hangs from his shoulders, covering a long t-shirt stopping about mid-thigh. Almost mutilated jeans showcase what's become of his bony legs and the sinewy muscles that course through them and he's far from half-naked because the last three shoots he's done were completely naked and he wanted a bit of a change.

There's a photographer yelling things from behind the camera, putting syllables together that all sound like "make more money" and Harry would like to think that making money doesn't rely on how much skin he's showing, but some of Harry's thoughts are wrong and that would be one of them.

Harry feels uncomfortable because they want him to go to Italy and take more nude shoots but these half-naked women lounging about the beach aren't Nat and that's uncomfortable.

"You need some more water?"

It's a high-pitched voice with a nasally undertone that makes Harry think she got a nose job. Her hand is on his shoulder, tapping at the fabric of his jumper with fake nails, and he doesn't really want to look back and face her but he does anyway. She's all blonde hair, blue eyes, make-up melting in the heat of the sun and it's what he expected. Something in him was looking forward to pink little lines stretching across hips and names that sound like exhaling smoke from cigarettes but it seems he's out of luck.

"Oh, no. No thank you" he smiles, turning back to look at the water. A seagull swoops down and takes a fish from the sea - Harry thinks he knows what the fish feels like.

Blondie doesn't take the hint, instead plopping down ungracefully into the beach chair beside Harry, legs spread and one hand resting on her stomach while the other brushes (blonde) hair from her face. She's pretty in a traditional kind of way. Nat's beautiful in every kind of way.

"I've been slammed with exams this week" the model groans, peeking over at Harry to check he's listening. He isn't - not really. He's hearing the words but nothing's registering. "Medical school expenses kind of suck as well, so I'm here to pay that off. What are you gonna do with this money?"

It's an odd question. No one really discusses money around Harry simply because he has a lot of it, and when something becomes increasingly obvious it also because increasingly elusive in the mouths of those realizing it. Most tiptoe around the subject, afraid of tripping on that one wire that will set him off, afraid they will come off as greedy and manipulative.

And it's an odd question that should make Harry more uncomfortable but it doesn't and he's not.

"Probably buy something for the kids."

The model nods and bites at her thumb nail. It's painted the bright pink that matches her bathing suit and Harry wonders if she feels the grit of the varnish between her teeth as it chips off into her mouth. When she speaks, he thinks he hears a pink hue in the way she curls her tongue at the 'r's. She asks "how old are they" and it sounds like candy floss.