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Post by Scarlett Lehoux on Nov 26, 2006 22:47:21 GMT -5
Who's to stay Scarlett didn't go kind of crazy when she wasn't in the glare of the spotlight, when she didn't have the weight of expectations on her back? Maybe crazy wouldn't be the right word, but she sure as hell got a little hilarious. So right now, she was posing in front of her mirror, striking random, dramatic positions and dancing.
Conceited? Maybe. But don't say you don't pose in front of your mirror as well.
Her attire consisted of a short dark red satin Cosabella negligee. Now, normally this would be kind of considered grandma lingerie. But Scarlett wasn't about the over-sixty scene--obviously. Hopefully. Lace edged the top of the cleavage-baring v neckline, and dusted the hem, which barely covered her tiny, flat ass. Spaghetti straps chased their way up her porcelain-esque white shoulders, sometimes slipping off. Scarlett would then pull them up. Shit, she had to get those taken in.
Sexy? We think so.
Her hair was down and straightened, the natural blonde streaks lighter than usual. Who knew why? Who cared? It was Scarlett, and right now she had one hand on her hip and, on the other, her fingers split apart in a piece sign, high up in the air. Chelo's 'Voodoo' blasted from white iPod speakers in the corner.
"The way you move--the look in your eyes, somethin' bout you got me hypnotized..."
The beat pounded in her ears and she resisted the urge to headbang, because then she would embarrass herself, which was on a new plane of pathetic. Instead she jumped up on the bed, doing a sexy wiggle and then doing a fake trustfall onto the red--well, scarlett--colored satin covers.
Hey, she's not alone for long. [/color] |
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Post by Paris Hamilton on Nov 30, 2006 15:58:41 GMT -5
Paris sat on his black leather sofa in his white living room, if you can call it that. He was being quite lazy that day, shirt was off and he only had on some baggy, Diesel, dark blue, faded jeans. Yum.
Across his lap was a big photo album, his portfolio. Some of his work and some of his own modeling. Running a hand through his messy dirty blond hair, he flipped the page of the album. On the page were two pictures. One of a beautiful, blond girl in a scarlet grown and the other of him and the same exact girl in matching sweat suits. Who's the girl you might ask? Scarlett. Scarlett Lehoux.
Paris smiled at the pictures. Man he missed her. They had been good friends, but he was much busy with work now that he hardly had anytime for anyone. Though right now he had nothing to do at all. Closing the album he placed it on the sofa, standing up he walked to his room.
It was cold outside, very cold. Snow fell down on his black leather Armani jacket. His arms were crossed over his chess as he walked down the crowded sidewalk. Finally Paris reached his destination, the large, beautiful, glass Fifth Avenue building.
Once inside he walked toward the front desk. A pretty plum man stood there, looking through scattered papers.
"Excuse me sir, I'd like to see Miss.Scarlett Lehoux. I'm an old friend." he said unzipping his jacket, revealing a red Armani shirt.
The man looked up, for second he just stood there with a blank, boring expression on his face. Finally he picked up the phone and dialed a couple of numbers.
Paris waited for a few seconds until the plump man finally spoke into the receiver. "Hello Miss.Lehoux. A young gentleman, um..." he started, but looked up to Paris holding his hand over the mouth piece. "Paris Hamilton." Paris said before the guy could ask. "..Paris Hamilton ma'am." he finished.
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Post by Scarlett Lehoux on Nov 30, 2006 16:18:28 GMT -5
Phantom Planet's 'California' came over the stereo. Scarlett would have to admit that she was absolutely addicted to the O.C. Adam Brody was so nerdy-adorable, Rachel Bilson was beyond fabulous, Ben Mackenzie was gorgeous and fucked up, the drama was unbelievable, Kaitlin Cooper had great shoes, and Scarlett wanted Autumn Reeser's hair. It was perfection, and the theme song only matched the show.
She stood up again, twirling in circles until the bedsheets circled her ankles.
"On the stereo, listen as we go, watching out for number one..."
The sheets had tangled her up and she fell into a flop on her bed. The phone rang.
She scrambled across to pick up the black vintage twist-dial handpiece. The stuffy man from the counter was there, the one addicted to Gauloises, those hardcore French cigarettes. "Um, hello?" She listened as he spoke. Paris Hamilton? She had modeled with him a few times, but recently they had lost touch and the friendship hadn't been rekindled. "Um, send him up, please. He's... safe." She laughed before hanging up.
"Shit, shit, shit!" She scrambled around, looking for clothes on the floor. She found a pair of slim-fitting black Rock & Republic jeans, and she paired it with a pale, pale blue pintucked linen Marc Jacobs blouse that matched her eyes, making them look bigger.
She waited. [/size] |
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Post by Paris Hamilton on Nov 30, 2006 16:25:53 GMT -5
Paris watched the man conversate with Scarlett. Watching him hang up the phone, Paris stood up.
"Miss.Scarlett is waiting for you, you may go up." the man said pointing to the elevators. Paris nodded, then walked towards the elevators. Presing the little up button he waited paitently as it slowly made it's way down. 'Ding' The elevators parted open.
Once inside, Paris press the highest number. Doors closed and soft, soothing melody played from the elevators music. Watching the top number go up slowley, he grew impaitent. Damn that elevator was slow. Finally the doors slid open, letting him to enter a luxorious hallway to a door.
Knocking slighty on the door, but not to hard, he waited. He could hear a slight sound of someone moving inside and maybe even music, or maybe the elevator might've been stuck in his head, but whatever.
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Post by Scarlett Lehoux on Dec 1, 2006 12:31:05 GMT -5
Shit, shit, shit. She was so bad at getting ready quickly. A glass-edged mirror was in the hallway, and Scarlett slid across the gunmental gray marble floor getting to it. She put her hand up to her mouth, letting puffs of hot breath warm the skin. Then she twirled slight curls in her hair as she waited for the soft, melodic ding! of the elevator.
Ding!
There it was.
On her way to the door she swiped her index fingers under both eyes to rid herself of offending Urban Decay eyeshadow. It was a rare occurence because the base she applied each morning kept it where it was supposed to be, but you could never ever be too sure.
Knock. Knock.
There came the sound of a fist on wood. Scarlett stepped quickly over to the door and pulled it open, seeing Paris standing there. His name was pretty damn chic, and it was odd that a guy should be able to pull it off without that unnamed blonde party animal coming to mind. His jacket was amazing as well, perfectly cut and tailored, undoubtedly high fashion.
"Hey! It's so great to see you." She put a customary kiss on his cheek. "Come in." Scarlett took a step back, allowing him to step into the gunmental gray marble floored foyer. [/size] |
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Post by Paris Hamilton on Dec 1, 2006 13:48:32 GMT -5
Paris waited for Scarlett to answer the door, hands were in his jacket pockets as he let his eyes wonder around the hallway. It was nice, real nice.
Turning his attention back to the door, it finally open, and there stood a beautiful Scarlett. Very beautiful, more beautiful then he remembered. Allowing her to kiss him on the cheek, he smiled and walked inside to fabulous foyer.
"Hello, Darling." he said, like he usually said to all his female friends, pulling off his jacket and resting it upon his arm.
"Your place is gorgeous. I love it." he said looking around with eyes. "And you look absolutely great, as always." he added looking back over to her light, porcelain doll face.
"I hope you weren't busy with anything. I just wanted to see you."[/color]
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Post by Scarlett Lehoux on Dec 1, 2006 14:50:03 GMT -5
"Aw, you're so sweet." She said in response to his compliments and the reason for the visit. She made her way toward the kitchen, which consisted of a double-height ceiling. This featured a skylight. The weak winter sun strained through, leaving dancing imprints on the black marble countertops.
"Do you want something to drink?" She questioned, not intending to make it seem as if she was drinking. Just to prove her point she took out a bottle of Perrier for herself, pouring it into a Baccarat crystal glass. "I have pretty much everything, because of all these fancy parties my parents like to throw." Scarlett rolled her eyes, and her tinkling laugh echoed through the hall. [/size] |
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Post by Paris Hamilton on Dec 1, 2006 17:21:58 GMT -5
"Thank you." Paris said, to her sweet comment. He always herd that, he doesn't know why, but he just is. Watching Scarlett walk into the kitchen, he followed slowly behind, making sure his shoes weren't tracking snow on the clean floor. Thank god, they weren't.
Walking into the kitchen he caught a little bit of sun, from the skylight. Squinting his eyes for only a second, he moved over to a counter and slightly leaned on it, as he watched hr pour herself a drink.
"I'd love a drink. Perrier will be fine." Paris said standing up straight as he waited for his drink. "Scar, do you remember that photo shoot we had? It was fun, wasn't it? I had fun." he said questioning her about the one of the photographs he had in his album.
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Post by Scarlett Lehoux on Dec 1, 2006 21:04:25 GMT -5
She opened the fridge again, wrapping her fingers around the neck of a green glass Perrier bottle. Scarlett placed in on the counter next to him, sitting down on the glass stool opposite. She folded her hands in front of her, smiling. It was great to see him again.
He asked about the shoots they had done together. There were a few actually, one an evening shoot at a ritzy France country club, and then another where she had had to wear a Juicy tracksuit in Central Park. God knew why.
"Yeah, I remember a bunch. Which one were you talking about?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. Scarlett tended to do this when waiting for an answer to a question she had asked. [/size] |
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Post by Paris Hamilton on Dec 2, 2006 14:34:11 GMT -5
Paris watched as she toke out the glass bottle and place it in front of him. He picked up the bottle with his hand and put it to his mouth, taking a rather large gulp before placing it back down on the counter.
Running a hand through his hair, it was a habit, he waited for her response.
"The Juicy Couture one, the one we both posed for." he said as he to remembered there were many photo shoots, but only some with both of them as models. His favorite being this one.
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Post by Scarlett Lehoux on Dec 3, 2006 12:31:43 GMT -5
"Oh! The Juicy one, yeah." She generally didn't wear Juicy, but the ad had been fun. All pink, with tons of curls in her hair. She pretty much admired Paris for being able to retain his manhood while doing a shoot for a brand entitled 'Juicy.' That took some definite skill.
"I liked that Badgley Mishka one better, though." Scarlett had gotten to wear a red satin dress, custom tailored by the designer himself. It had been at some country club, possibly in upstate New York. The whole affair was excellent, shot in black and white--except the dress and his tie, which were colorized. |
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Post by Paris Hamilton on Dec 5, 2006 15:44:20 GMT -5
Paris clearly remembered that he was a little shy on wearing the tracksuit, he almost hated it. It took him about 5 minutes to come around, but whatever paid the bills was fine with him.
And trust me, it did pay the bills, greatly.
He took a quick sip of his drink as Scarlett refereed to the other photo shoot, the Badgley Mishka one.
"Yeah I enjoyed that one a lot as well. I loved how they did the effect with the pictures. Plus you looked so beautiful in the dress, if I hadn't told you at the shoot." he said to her with a little smile. |
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Post by wowposter on Sept 17, 2008 5:37:11 GMT -5
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Post by wowposter on Oct 30, 2008 6:47:59 GMT -5
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x 
x 
