Tryst

Umbria

"What are you doing this weekend?" The text comes through from a known number very late on a Tuesday night a month after tour ends.

Helene's mind starts racing. He said he wanted to do that with her in Paris, she is in Paris.

Is he coming to see her?

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.