Harri was not surprised when the taxi pulled in front of a familiar hotel, a place she went often for press junkets, preview screenings. Neither was she surprised when the receptionist greeted him warmly, and by name. Still, he stared at her in the lift without blinking, even when Meryl Streep got in. And when they reached their door, and Harri said ‘Oh my God did you see…’ he held his index finger to her lips but did not touch them. And when he opened the door, he told her to stand in front of the window.

Where? One wall of the room was all window, broken into squares by a heavy iron framing. From here, Harri could see Old Soho in surprising detail. A venerable deli, tubes of cannoli stacked into pastry pyramids on the counter, old neon blinking and crackling overhead. She saw a door left ajar, a ‘Models Upstairs’ sign written in Sharpie marker.

‘The straps of your dress—do they untie? Are they real bows, or…no, don’t turn around. Keep looking out of the window.’

Harri could have walked away. Perhaps she should not have reached up to tug the bow. It came undone in her hand, like a boot lace. She didn’t know it would yield to her touch so quickly.

The bodice of the dress fell away to her waist, exposing her bare back. Soho moved silently, below her, as TBM’s breathing became more laboured. As instructed, she waited, listening to the sound of his stare. Then she reached for her zip and released the rest of her dress.

In that moment, she felt like a Model, Upstairs. In the full beam of his wanting, she was briefly able to escape herself. Harri knew he was objectifying her. It was reductive. Yet, she felt magnified, a moth made enormous in the projector light of his gaze.

Briefly, it crossed her mind that she really wasn’t wearing the right knickers for this. But if TBM wanted a lingerie model in silks, he could have summoned one in seconds. Sir was welcome to inspect the goods, but the final sale had already been agreed upon. He’d chosen grubby, hungover Harri, unshowered and bleeding. She felt feral. She could have pissed on him, bitten him.

Harri took three certain steps across the hardwood floor, but when she reached the rug, her confidence had failed her. ‘Changed your mind?’ he asked, as she stood beside the bed, and it sounded like a challenge, so she threw herself on top of him and kissed him hard, pushing her lips against his, like a teenager trying to win a dare.