The Modeliser Read Online Free Page B

longer than Nina had known her intended. She
hoped it would work out for them. As for her fears about moving again, perhaps
it was the perfect time for her to look into getting her own place. With the
promotion to the writing team, she’d get a raise and surely that would be
enough to fund renting alone whilst she built up a deposit to buy her own flat.
As the train headed Northwards to the outskirts of London where the Encounters
studio was located, Talia felt happier, her life was finally starting,
everything she’d worked for was coming together; it was only right that she
moved on from Nina’s flat. Across the aisle from her, a fellow commuter reached
into her bag and dug out a copy of Soap Lives magazine. Talia smiled and felt a
moment of pride as she spotted the cover of the magazine. Two of the characters
from Encounters stared back at her, the stars of a storyline that she’d
created. Finally, Talia allowed herself to relax, everything she’d worked for
was within her grasp.
     
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
    Tamara
Fearson was coming down from a blissful orgasm.
    An all-consuming, earth shattering, lose all sense of time
and place kind of orgasm; the kind she’d never been able to reach with any man.
Once, there’d been a man who’d been able to push her buttons, push her close to
the edge, almost make her forget who she was, but that was a long time ago and
the less Tamara thought about him, the better. Men made women weak, she thought
and she could not afford to be weak. Slowly, she allowed her boneless,
enervated body to sink deeper into her silk sheets and chuckled quietly to
herself. The triumph of the night before was still in her blood. She lifted a
limp arm to wipe at the sheen of perspiration on her forehead and then, she
rolled over on to her side, feeling her heartbeat finally start to slow down.
With a languorous move, Tamara kicked the thin sheet to the end of the bed,
exposing her nude body to the coolness of her bedroom.
    Hazy sunlight flickered through gauzy curtains, which hung in
the window of her Primrose Hill mews house. Across from the bed was a floor to
ceiling mirror and Tamara lay perfectly still, luxuriating in the reflection of
herself that greeted her. She stared at herself critically but with a measure
of pride. At 36, she looked better now, than she had at 16, when she’d first
boarded a plane out of the small Australian town where she was born. By 21
she’d been modelling in Sydney before she’d landed in an Aussie soap that was
watched all over the world.
    Tamara rose slowly from the bed with unhurried movements,
uncaring that her driver would soon arrive to ferry her to set. Tamara always
slept in the nude, so that every morning she was greeted by this full-length
reflection of her body – no wrinkle, no unsightly extra inch, no blemish
would be missed. Ruthlessly she hunted down, dissected and where necessary
rectified her own faults before anyone else could take her to task about them.
    Standing directly in front of the vanity mirror, Tamara
stared at herself, taking a deep breath. Her natural golden blond hair was a
silken wave down her back. Her eyebrows, just a shade darker than her hair,
were thick, fashionably so for this season. Her eyes, a unique shade of
green-blue, were the same aquamarine of the sea, where she’d been born. Her
frame was small but her breasts, pert with dark raspberry nipples, were a touch
larger than one would expect on her frame. And at 5’9, Tamara was tall. Men
often said that it was a toss up with Tamara Fearson, legs or breasts, for she
had both in abundance; the siren who could lure both breast and leg men. Her
look was that of the angelic blonde, a princess and yet as her success on
Encounters showed, her public loved her best when she was playing a bitch from hell.
Tamara stretched her arms high above her head, luxuriating in the feeling of
her body being stretched almost to the edge of pain. With a series of deep
yogic breaths, she slowly