The Explosive Heart

by HyperFitched

When Katie's fiery temper causes her to lose her glamorous job she is forced to return home to work in her family's fireworks company. Her father sends her incognito to check out a new rival outfit - with explosive consequences.

16. Anna

For my lovely SJ. Here's your next chapter, and I hope it brings you entertainment where you can lose yourself in a different world.

For the rest of you my girl SJ, is still working very hard to try to get better, but it ain't easy, so why don't you all give her a smile and wave, and possibly a little shout out in a review to help share a little sunshine.

I have to give a little shout out to A Different Katie, for her most fabulously enthusiastic review. And no I don't write professionally, but I do get to do fireworks and circus and theatre so I'm fine…

So this is the kind of stuff I have floating round in my head as backstory to help me develop the characters and where they are now. And seeing as it was already in my brain, and you all seem quite fascinated by her, here's a little bit of Anna…

.

.

.

16. Anna

Katie

Anna Konstaninovna Markova, daughter of a tram driver and a psychiatric nurse, never wanted to be a supermodel. She wanted to be a dancer, but such lofty artistic ambitions were not met with much approval within Anna's family, and at the age of sixteen she ran away from home in order to pursue her dream. Unfortunately for Anna, she was good, but not quite good enough, and she was forced to look for other work as she attempted unsuccessfully to get herself enrolled in a dance school. At this point she was still a cheerfully optimistic young woman and had not yet developed the haughty ice-cool persona she would affect in her later career. Although she was yet to mature into the stunning beauty she would become, her good looks and bubbly demeanour allowed her to get casual promotional work on exhibitions and events, and it was at one such event when she was seventeen that she was to have the chance encounter that would change her destiny.

She found herself working on a stall at a photography trade fair in the Lenexpo exhibitions halls in the city. Also there to give a talk at one of the symposiums was Heike Osterhagen, the renowned German fashion photographer. Taking a stroll around the exhibition stands, Heike came across the young Anna, and was immediately taken with the girl. Though attractive young women were ten to the dozen in Heike's profession there was something about the Russian with her dark auburn hair and her compelling hazel eyes that drew the photographer in. She returned later that day and invited Anna to take part in a live shoot that would form part of her lecture. Although she had never modelled before, Anna's dancer's body awareness and performance energy proved the hit of the day, eclipsing the professional models that had been hired for the event. She seemed to have an innate ability to work with the camera, and Heike grew ever more enchanted. That evening the two of them went out for a drink, and by the end of the night, after an impressive amount of vodka had been consumed, Heike had invited Anna over to Berlin for a weekend, so that they could do a proper shoot in her studio. Anna, thinking some decent photographs might help her dance career, and feeling unthreatened because Heike was a woman, accepted the offer.

What Anna didn't know, was that Heike was a lesbian with quite the reputation for sleeping with her models. But the two of them worked fabulously together, and by the time the inevitable seduction came, she was sufficiently fascinated by the older woman to be happy enough to give it a try. She was surprised to discover that far from feeling strange and unnatural, sex with another woman fulfilled and excited her. Anna never went home from Berlin, and for the next two years she became Heike's lover and her muse. Even though half of the industry dismissed her as just Heike's latest bit of fluff, there were others who recognised her potential, and she was starting to forge the beginnings of an independent career. Her devotion to Heike had convinced her to abandon any thoughts of continuing in dance, and to stay in the fashion world to be nearer her lover. Unfortunately the photographer was a serial skirt chaser, and eventually grew bored of the relationship, dumping the poor girl for an eighteen-year-old Italian.

This was where Anna got her second lucky break. She had recently signed up to an agency where her handler was a young man called Pieter who was at the beginning of his career. He rescued her from the worst of her post-break up excesses, and persuaded her that the best revenge was to very publically show Heike that she didn't need her. Together, they re-modelled and re-promoted her image, channelling all her rage at her betrayal into presenting her as the gloriously sexy badass that now dominates magazines and billboards worldwide. Armed with this new ammunition and with Pieter's careful guidance her career exploded. She graced the cover of every magazine, and all the top designer's started clamouring for her to wear their clothes. Within a year Anna's earnings and status within the industry had completely eclipsed that of her former lover.

The first time I encountered Anna was back in St Petersburg at a photoshoot on what I now knew to be Effy's mums's bridge. Even to the untrained eye it was a stunning piece of architecture, with gleaming white towers and cables arcing ambitiously up into the sky. I was working for a company that location scouted, set up and ran photoshoots all over Europe, and the bulk of my work was logistics and liaison. Most of the models had arrived the night before, where I had settled them into their hotels and given them their schedules. But due to previous commitments, Anna was arriving that day and was due to meet us directly at the bridge. I didn't even need to look up to know that she had arrived, the excited chatter that erupted all around me told me that. Even people who earned their living in the business got a little giddy in the presence of a superstar. I glanced up from my clipboard to witness the approaching diva. She walked with the extreme confidence of someone who knows that her every movement is being scrutinised both with wonder and with jealously, but she was smiling and drinking in the adoration of those around her. It was quite an entrance. Time to put a stop to that.

Intelligently she sought me straight out, somehow being able to discern that I was the person most likely to know what was going on.

"So where do you want me?" she asked, in English but with a heavily accented Russian tone. Already there was a hint of flirtatiousness in it, as though she was used to her beauty getting her what she wanted. I continued flicking through my lists and itineraries.

"And you are?" I said casually.

Of course I knew who she was. She was one of the most famous women in fashion. I made it my business to always know everything about everyone who was working on one of our shoots, models, technicians and photographers alike. But it was a little trick of mine to make sure nobody got too big for their boots on my watch. And it worked as well, cause usually underneath those massive egos lurked a whole forest of insecurities. The talent might think they are God's gift to fashion, but on my sites there was only one woman in charge. I stared her in the eye, looking for the flinch, that little shiver that told me I had set the alarm bells ringing in her fortress of self-belief, but there wasn't one. If anything, her smile grew wider.

"I'm a very lucky woman," she said. "My name is Anna Konstantinovna Markova, and I'm not too stupid to remember where I came from."

She looked around her, as if breathing in the city.

"But for one chance encounter," she said. "I'd still be here, working my butt off in low-paid jobs whilst I watched my dreams die slowly. And you are?"

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I had to admit she had me floored. Most of the people I encountered in my working life weren't even close to being that self-aware. In the light of my failure to answer her, Anna took it upon herself to complete the question.

"Beautiful," she said.

"Excuse me?" I said, finally finding my voice.

"You are beautiful," she repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Um, thanks," I said uncertainly. Fuck, I was the one supposed to be unnerving her, not the other way round. This was not going to plan. Fortunately her manager Pieter showed up to save the day.

"Good morning," he said politely. "Could you tell me where I might find Katie Fitch?"

"That would be me," I smiled, grateful for the distraction.

"Katie Fitch," repeated Anna, rolling my name around her tongue as if it were fine wine. "I like it."

Throughout the rest of the day, I began to realise that the fearsome reputation that had preceded the Russian supermodel was nothing but a fabrication. Ours was a world where rumours flew more quickly than a military jet, where back biting and jealously ruled supreme. And everyone was jealous of Anna. I had grown used to the reality behind the airbrushed images, but even without the assistance of Photoshop, Anna was truly stunning. And as soon as she was in front of the camera she became electrifying. There are reasons why some people rise above the crowd in their field, and Anna was one of those people. Whatever the mystery x-factor was, she had it in fucking spades. Our photographer David was grinning his stupid little face of every time she stepped in front of his lens. He knew his problem would not be trying to find a good shot of her, but trying to find which ones to discard. But there was more than that. Every time she wasn't working I could feel her gaze upon me. Whenever I could work up the balls to look back, I caught her grinning unashamedly. She had beaten me at my own game, and I respected her for that.

It was a long and tiring day of being on the ball and sorting out everyone's shit, but the shoot had gone pretty smoothly, and I was just wandering down the hotel corridor, wondering if I should slip down to the bar for a quiet drink, or just go back to my room and crash, when I bumped into Davy, one of our lighting guys. He persuaded me, much against my better judgement to come out with him and some of the other techies. I liked hanging out with crew, their down to earth ways were a welcome relief from the high drama of the clients, but what I hadn't expected to see amongst the gaggle of boys congregating on the pavement outside the hotel was Anna, dressed down casually in jeans and a vest top, leaning against a car smoking a cigarette.

"Katie Fitch," she said, her eyes lighting up with mischief as soon as she saw me. "Now we can get party started."

"I didn't expect to find you here" I said, as we waited for our taxis to show up.

"Why not?" she asked me. "It's normal."

"Anna's going to show us the sights," smirked Davy.

"I'd like to see some of Anna's sights," whispered one of the boys behind us, thinking he was out of earshot.

"Show some fucking manners," I said, rounding on him and smacking him round the head. "She's right here, you know."

"Watch out boys," laughed Anna. "I have tiny fiery bodyguard."

"You'll be safe then," said Davy. "Nobody messes with Katie Fitch."

Anna took us to some crazy local bar, where she bought the first round. And the next, and the next. I soon discovered it was something she did on a regular basis, taking out the crew from her jobs and getting them drunk on vodka. It was another little quirk of hers that showed that she realised just how privileged she was, although removed from the fawning of others, you quickly began to forget that she was famous at all. A couple of hours later and we were all grinning and giggling like idiots, and it reminded me of some of the crazy nights out I used to have with my friends back home. Anna took us to a succession of bars, each one seedier than the last, and the increasing amount of alcohol in our bloodstreams, made some of the guys a little bolder.

"So do you have a boyfriend, Anna?" asked one of the guys who had been driving the massive Russian ex-military trucks we had rolled onto the bridge for the shoot.

"No, boyfriend," said Anna assuredly.

"What about a girlfriend then?" asked Davy.

It was an open secret in the industry that the model swung both ways.

"No girlfriend either," declared Anna.

"Yeah, well don't get excited boys," I snorted at the sudden round of excited puppy dog faces that surrounded the table. "None of you stand a fucking chance."

"She's right," smirked Anna. "Only Katie Fitch can come in my pants."

I spluttered so violently that the vodka I was sipping went right up my nose. In the moments I was trying to recover I was greeted with a chorus of jeers, wolf-whistles and shouts of 'get in there, Katie', from the lads. Anna was beaming, obviously pleased with the results all round. I had tried to get one over on her, and she had exacted the perfect revenge. I made a fast exit to the ladies to recover what was left of my dignity. Anna had totally played me, but for some reason I couldn't be angry with her. I decided to lose the challenge graciously and on my return to the bar, I bought the next round. It wasn't until we were back at the hotel in the lift, that she decided to stir it up again.

"Alone at last," she purred as the last two lads got out at their floor.

"Seriously Anna, you won. There's no need to milk it," I smiled.

"Milk?" she frowned in confusion. "What is this milk?"

"The shoot's over, and we're alone," I explained. "I admit defeat. You don't need to play me any more."

"I don't want to play, Katie Fitch," she said calmly. "I want to make love with you."

"See, that's what I… oh…"

I ground to a halt mid-sentence as the realisation sunk in. She was serious. She was actually fucking serious. Holy fuck on a bicycle. Anna Markova wanted to shag me. She stared at me intently, and I thought of all the thousands of people who would give their right arm to be where I was now.

"You can't be serious," I stuttered.

"Why not?" she said insouciantly. "You are very beautiful woman. You are clever and fiery and efficient and tough. I have strong desire for you from moment I saw you."

"Ok, well I'm very flattered, thank you," I said cautiously. "But I'm not gay."

"I don't mind," shrugged Anna. "I think about kissing you all day."

The lift stopped at her floor, but she made no attempt to get out.

"Come to my room, Katie Fitch," she said.

"Um… no." I insisted.

"Why not?" she repeated undeterred. "I have many skills. I will give you majestic orgasm."

The door closed and the lift continued its ascent, but I was still saddled with a horny Russian.

"Much as though a majestic orgasm does sound lovely," I said. "I am not going to sleep with you Anna."

I was grateful for the ping that announced our arrival on my floor. And I sidestepped her and escaped the moment the doors were open.

"Like I said, I'm flattered," I said turning back towards her. "But it's not going to happen.

She shrugged. She didn't even look disappointed.

"Then I am going to have to woo you," she smiled as the doors closed on her.

She wasn't fucking joking either. Anna's wooing of me began the very next day, when I was woken up by a knock on the door. I answered it to find one of the hotel's staff presenting me with a most beautiful bouquet of flowers, the like of which would have had me swooning had I not known exactly who they had come from. It didn't stop when I left Russia either. Suddenly she seemed to be fucking everywhere. At all the same parties. And repeatedly cropping up on shoots that we had organised. Every time I saw her, she would be wearing that cheeky fucking smile, and I knew it wouldn't be long before she would try to get me into bed. She seemed to treat the enterprise as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and as if I was the crazy one for resisting her efforts. There was a glorious innocence about the way she dismissed all of my excuses.

"I'm not into girls."

"You don't have to be into girls. You just have to be into me"

"I don't fancy you."

"Why not? Everyone else does."

"I'm not looking for a relationship, right now."

"Then we can just have sex."

"I'm looking for something more serious."

"Then we can be together."

"Anna, I just like cock."

"I can get strap-on," she shrugged.

For the next four months she chased me across half of Europe, and I was convinced that the increasing frequency of our meetings was nothing to do with coincidence. I started giving in to some of her requests to take me out just to shut her up, and I was treated to dinner in the most fabulous restaurants, and nights at the most exclusive clubs for my pains. When she wasn't trying to fuck me, she turned out to be excellent company. She was sharp, witty and intelligent and had a wicked sense of humour and a healthy cynicism for the excesses of our trade. I laughed a lot when I was with Anna, and even her repeated attempts at seduction became more amusing than irritating. Nevertheless, I was quite glad of a break from it all, when I went back home to Bristol for a week to celebrate my mum's birthday. Emily was the first Fitch I saw when I rocked up at Mum and Dad's, and she immediately flung herself into my arms.

"How are you doing big sis," she said. "Jetsetting treating you well?"

"Not so bad," I said squeezing her back.

Despite all the excitement of my travels, it always felt special to be reunited with my twin.

"Fancy a glass of wine?" she asked me.

"Starting a little early, aren't we?" I replied.

"Hell no," she laughed. "We've got a Fitch Family dinner to get through, remember?"

"Good point," I said, and followed her through to the kitchen.

"So," she said, once we were suitably refreshed. "Anything exciting going on?"

"I have a stalker," I told her.

"Oh God, are you alright?" said Emily, concerned sibling written on her brow.

"I'm fine," I laughed. "She might looked pretty fierce, but underneath it all she's harmless, even if she won't stop trying to charm her way into my pants."

"Whoah. Hold on there. Rewind," said Emily. "SHE? You have a female stalker?"

"I do," I said, laughing at the way my sister's interest had perked up exponentially at the revelation.

"What's she like?" she asked me.

"Rich, successful, fit and gorgeous," I smirked. This was going to be fun.

"What's she look like?" asked Emily, even more intrigued. I could hear the little lezzer cogs in her little lezzer brain whirring furiously. I reached into my bag for the copy of Elle I had bought for the flight over, where I just happened to know that Anna had a six page spread.

"She looks like this," I said, handing over the magazine.

I watched Emily's eyes pop out on stalks.

"No dribbling on my magazine now," I smirked at her.

"Seriously, Katie?" she said. "A woman who looks like Anna Markova wants to go to bed with you?"

My sister may be some kind of alternative art wanky idealist on the face of it, but she is such a fucking sucker for a pretty girl. I was so going to enjoy this.

"No Emsy," I said smugly. "Anna Markova wants to go to bed with me."

You could almost hear the clang as her jaw hit the floor. Even if I didn't want her, the idea that I could pull a fitter girl than Emily was endlessly amusing to me.

"And you're saying no why?" drooled Emily helplessly.

"I'm not gay, remember?" I laughed.

"Then go gay immediately, you fool," she said "It's Anna Fucking Markova."

The pair of us collapsed in giggles over our wine. It was Emily who recovered first.

"Unless…" she said with an evil glint in her eye.

I knew exactly what she was thinking, and an unpleasant knot started forming in my stomach. In hindsight it was easy to identify it as jealousy, but at the time I couldn't work out why the idea of palming my stalker off onto my more than willing sister would make me so uncomfortable. It should have been the ideal solution. I would still get to keep Anna as a friend, my sister would get to shag one of the most beautiful women in the world, and Anna would get to sleep with a carbon copy of me who, judging by the sounds I had unwillingly heard emanating from her bedroom door on many an occasion, was no stranger to the majestic orgasm. But even then, an unconscious thought started forming in my brain that I had to keep Anna as far away as possible from Emily. It was on the trip back to out offices in London that I finally admitted to myself that I was a little turned on by the idea that someone so famous and as fabulously gorgeous as Anna was so into me, regardless of her gender. When I walked through the door to the offices my heart sank as I saw my boss Damien sporting the special smile he only wore when he was about to tell me something he knew I wouldn't like.

"I'm pulling you off the DeGrassi shoot," he said apologetically.

"Why?" I questioned.

"I need you to come with me to Bulgaria," he replied. "Felipe asked for you personally. It seems you're getting quite the reputation."

"Don't try and sugar coat it, Dames," I said. "Either way I'm swopping a week in the Canary Islands for four days up a fucking mountain in Bulgaria"

"It's the Vogue Winter Cover," insisted Damian. "It is a big deal."

"I know," I pouted. "But I've already been shopping for the Canaries."

Bless him, Damian was happily married with two kids, but even he was not immune to a Katie Fitch pout.

"Why don't you take the afternoon off," he suggested. "Go buy yourself some nice designer ski wear on expenses."

Result. I might have to go and hang out in some uncivilised former communist hell hole without proper amenities, but I sure as hell was going to look fucking fabulous when I did it.

It was two days later when my assistant Sarah handed me the list of personnel for the shoot. I had been shopping and basking in the fact that I had been headhunted for one of the most prestigious shoots of the year, but when I looked down at the names on the paper, I realised that all was not what it seemed. The official request for my services might have come through the photographer, but one look at the model rosta revealed the heavy hand of Markovian manipulation. Anna had a fuck of a lot of clout, and friends in some very high places, and it was no surprise at all to see her name jumping out at me from the schedule.

"Fucking Anna," I hissed under my breath.

"Who's fucking Anna?" asked Julian, from across the floor.

"Katie, if she plays her cards right," laughed Toby from the desk next to him. Yes, Anna's little obsession had become the office joke, and I had to maintain the upper hand.

"Trust me boys, I wouldn't have to play any cards at all, I'd just have to show up," I said seductively. "But it's just not my thing.'

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it, not even once," said Toby, in a voice that told me he thought about it constantly, probably with a box of tissues to hand.

"No," I lied.

The journey to the remote Bulgarian ski resort was fairly arduous even by our well-travelled standards. Damian and I arrived a couple of days before everyone else, just to make sure everything was in place. Which was hard, cause even though our translator was enthusiastic, she wasn't exactly used to the demands of high fashion. Admittedly the place was fucking stunning, with breathtaking views wherever you looked, but at the end of the day, snow was fucking snow wasn't it? And I failed to see the reason why we couldn't have done the whole fucking thing in France. But mine was not to reason why. If the creatives wanted Bulgaria, then Bulgaria it would be. It was on the day that the models were due to arrive that I noticed Damian taking a phone call with a shifty look on his face. When he finished he looked over at me with that stupid special smile on his face.

"Out with it," I said. "What was all that about?"

"Um, one of the model's manager's mother has been taken ill, so he won't be coming with her," he said sheepishly. "I'm assigning you to special liaison for her. Sarah can taking over general duties for you."

"One of the models?" I said sceptically, knowing instantly who it was. "Jesus, if she was any more transparent, she would have to be made of glass."

"Don't make a fuss, Katie," he pleaded. "You know how important this job is for us. It's only for a couple of days."

"Fine," I replied placatingly, but I would be having words with Ms Markova when she got here.

Of course Anna was all smiles when she arrived.

"Katie Fitch," she grinned enthusiastically. "How lovely to be working with you again."

"Cut the bullshit, Anna," I replied. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with Pieter's mother is there? He's probably in Italy right now, shagging his boyfriend as we speak."

"So I wanted to see you," she shrugged, abandoning the pretence. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"No," I said grudgingly. "But lying to my boss because you want to get me naked probably puts you on the borderline."

"Well I am supposed to be badass, you know?" she said, completely unrepentantly.

"Oh come on," I scoffed. "We both know that that whole badass persona is a sham."

"Busted," she said, and grinned her cheeky grin at me again.

I could never quite work out why I let her get away with it. Why I continued to hang out with her, and why I didn't just report her for sexual harassment at work and get her off my back. But the purity and even innocence of her persistent repetition of her desires had somehow gotten under my skin, and I felt a little shiver run down my spine when I saw her look at me like that again. Thinking about it, she and Cook affected a remarkable similar approach. A refusal never once dented their enthusiasm for the task, and they continued their assault regardless, brimming with childlike charm. Somehow I managed to let Anna persuade me to go out to dinner with her that night, telling myself it was just to keep Damian happy, and that once the shoot got going tomorrow we'd all be too busy for our little drama. Anna managed to behave herself during the meal, and I actually had quite a pleasant evening with her. So much so that I didn't resist when she dragged me into a bar for a nightcap. That said, I was relieved when we bumped into a bunch of the crew there, and Anna started on her customary vodka party early. That way I could slip away, leaving her with the others and the inevitable question of sex could be avoided for another night.

It was all good fun until I noticed that Anna seemed to be drinking even faster than usual. My professional brain kicked in. I knew from experience that she could handle her drink, but we only had a two day schedule and I didn't want the star of the show turning up hungover on the first day. Question was how to handle it? I knew if I challenged her directly, she would just rebel and probably end up drinking even more. I sighed inwardly, there was only one thing for it. Though I was no supermodel, I had enough weapons of my own that I could use to manipulate men, and one delightfully obsessed Russian girl.

"I'm feeling a little tired," I said, leaning over towards her, and putting my hand on her arm. "Do you think you could walk me home?"

Anna stood up immediately, and far too quickly and she was forced to grab onto one of our catering team's shoulder to steady herself.

"Fuck. Headrush," she laughed as she pulled herself to standing. "Come one then, Katie Fitch. Let's get you home to your bed."

It had been a warm day, and the top layer of snow that had melted had now refrozen into a treacherous layer of ice. We hadn't taken two steps out of the door before she slipped and grabbed at my hand to stop herself going flying.

"Careful Anna," I said automatically using my strength to keep her steady. "We don't want you breaking your leg or something."

"Nonsense," she said dismissively, unusually not taking the opportunity to keep her hand in mine. "I am Russian. I can handle little ice."

"If you say so," I shrugged.

We were staying in chalets that were a little further down the mountainside, and I decided to take Anna at her word and concentrate in getting myself down there in one piece. It was tricky, but manageable, but unfortunately Anna wasn't having as much luck. She tottered unsteadily for about five metres before she lost her footing again and landed on her arse. She unleashed a set of incomprehensible words that I could only guess were some sort of Russian swearing, and tried to get up, but the task was clearly beyond her.

"Fuck's sake Anna, are you shitfaced?" I shouted, running to her side and trying to help her.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.

I was taken aback by her dismissal, but I decided to hit back in typical Katie Fitch fashion.

"Well there must be something wrong with you," I said sarcastically. "You're usually gagging for me to touch you."

"Don't," she said, suddenly quiet.

"Don't what?"

"Don't yell at me, Katie. I can't stand it."

I had never seen her drunk like this before, or seeming this unhappy. I was a little stunned by her unprecedented show of vulnerability, and I attempted to cover it with humour.

"You usually like it when I yell at you," I said. "You say it turns you on."

"It does," replied Anna, rising to her knees and facing me. "That's why I can't stand it."

She reached one hand out towards me and gently stroked my hair.

"I'm in love with you Katie Fitch, and it's driving me crazy," she said. "Every time I see you I want you more, but it's not just about fucking you any more. That's why I get so drunk tonight. To stop my heart from exploding. But it doesn't work. I have the spell of you on me. I cannot escape."

I felt the ripples going through my body as if they were real. Shivers that I could no longer attribute to the cold. Lust I could cope with, after all I'd been dealing with it since I was a teenager. But Anna loved me, and it suddenly scared the hell out of me. Because I believed her. It had been easy to dismiss her when I had thought she just wanted me to be her latest little sex toy, but her eyes were burning into me, showing me that that was the lie. The truth was that someone who I respected and admired, who's company I loved, and who made me laugh, somebody who treated me wonderfully but could call me out on my bullshit, somebody who stimulated and inspired me, well… that somebody loved me, and was it really a question of anatomy any more? I was shaking from the sudden onrush of emotions, but it was all too much to handle, and I bottled it.

"Come on," I said, dragging Anna to her feet. "We can't stay here all night, we'll fucking freeze to death."

I wanted to get home. I wanted to shut the chalet door behind me. I wanted to bury myself beneath a mountain of covers and not come out again until this confusing bombardment of feelings had gone away. But we still had a treacherous mountain road to negotiate, and Anna's balance showed no signs of improving.

"At least let me help you down the track," I said, attempting to put my arm round her waist.

She tried to shrug me off, but it only made her lose control again, and the next instant she was grabbing at me, trying to stay upright. But I was already off-balance from her pushing me away, and the pair of us went down together, Anna landing heavily on her back with me collapsing on top of her. But that wasn't the end of it. We had somehow hit an extra icy patch and began sliding down the hill.

"Stop us, stop us," I screamed as we began to accelerate.

"I can't," she cried, flailing her limbs uselessly against the ground.

I looked up to see if there was anything we could grab to stop our momentum, but it was hopeless. We were spinning down the middle of the street like some kind of demented human toboggan and there was fuck all we could do about it. Anna seemed to catch on to the absurdity of the situation and she suddenly burst out laughing. It was a glorious release, not just from the immediate peril of our situation, but also from all the tension she had been holding inside since her arrival. She looked even more beautiful than ever and the devil rose up in my brain. If I truly was hurtling towards my doom, it would seem a shame to die having never kissed a girl. I leaned down and took her lips with mine. I was amazed at how wonderfully soft they felt, at the way her lipstick tasted on my tongue, but mostly by the fact that I couldn't tear myself away from her. I kept on kissing her, pushing my tongue into her mouth and feeling the consequences burning through my body. Suddenly our death slide had transformed itself into a timeless wonderland, where this delicious kissing was all that ever mattered.

We eventually slid to a halt by slamming into the side of someone's shed, but even that didn't distract us from our liplock. Anna wrapped her hands into my hair as if she was afraid I would make a sudden break for freedom, but I had no such intentions. Kissing never felt quite like this before, and I wanted to undertake a thorough investigation. The only thing that stopped me was the rising heat within my insulated clothing. Both of us were wrapped up and protected against the harsh winter cold, and I felt a sudden need for flesh. I looked down into her somewhat shell-shocked hazel eyes, and I could feel her start to panic. I kissed her briefly again to calm the storm.

"Take me home, Anna Markova," I whispered in her ear.

She caught her breath as she realised I wasn't talking about my home.

"Yes?" she questioned, not quite able to believe her luck.

"Yes," I assured her, not quite able to believe mine.

Anna's sobriety returned with a vengeance, and she practically leapt to her feet, offering her hand to pull me up.

"I will make you feel beautiful," she promised, and led the way back to her chalet.

By God, she wasn't lying. That girl could do things with her tongue, I hadn't even dreamed were possible before that night. And it turned out her offer of majestic orgasms was no false promise either. The way she felt when she was fucking me was sensational and by the fifth time she had made me come, I couldn't believe I had wasted so much of my time whining about cock. Not that it was all one-way traffic mind. I became fascinated by learning the way her body worked and the things I could do to her that had her crying out in pleasure. I failed spectacularly in my mission to deliver her in a fit state for work tomorrow, and we pretty much fucked all night. I couldn't even remember going to sleep, but we must have collapsed into each other's arms at some point, because I woke up in a most glorious tangle of limbs.

"Fuck," I whispered to myself, as my brain started flashbacking furiously the second it had dragged itself back to consciousness. Any lingering doubts I may have had as to the nature of the encounter were dismissed as soon as Anna's eyelids fluttered open.

"Morning beautiful," she said, her sleepy eyes brimming with lazy morning desire, and before I knew it I was immersed in high quality kissage once more. She rolled on top of me and pushed her leg between my thighs. I felt myself starting to ache for her, and could feel use slipping inexorably into another round of fucking, when the sound of my phone going off in my bag across the other side of the room brought me harshly to my senses. Jesus, Fuck, what even fucking time was it? Fuck, I hope we weren't fucking late. I clambered out of bed and hurried to retrieve the offending object. Seeing it was Damian, I swiped the call on before even properly registering the time.

"OH MY GOD, KATIE," he said dramatically. "Have you seen what it looks like outside?"

"Yeah," I said, hurriedly rushing over to the window to see what he was on about, only to discover I could barely see anything at all. There was a full on Siberian blizzard raging outside the chalet.

"Where the fuck did that come from?" I said.

Our forecast had promised us sunshine. I felt Anna's arms slip around me from behind as she came to join me at the window.

"I don't know," said Damian, and I could swear he was almost crying. "But I know we're not taking any photographs today. I need you to check in with Anna, make sure she's ok. Keep her entertained. I know it's not want you want to be doing but…"

"It's ok," I assured him. "I'm with Anna now."

"Oh," he replied. "You're brave. I've barely been able to poke my head out of the door. Well then, good luck. And Katie… be nice."

"I'll do my best," I laughed, and shut of the call.

"So I'm guessing we're not shooting today," purred Anna. "Whatever will we do?"

"I'm supposed to entertain you," I said spinning round in her arms and walking her back towards the bed. "He wants me to be nice."

"Do you think you can manage that, Katie Fitch?" smirked Anna.

"It's my job. And I take my work very, very seriously," I said, and shoved her back onto the bed.

The blizzard lasted for another two days, during which I executed the demands of my job with extreme thoroughness, and Anna and I developed an intimacy which both surprised and delighted me. Locked away in our little mountain loveshack, it was easy to forget the outside world and any pressures or demands it might have otherwise heaped upon us. It was glorious and beautiful, and it wasn't until we woke up to the sunshine streaming through our window that Anna's demeanour changed. She was bratty and uncommunicative all throughout the shoot, and started snapping at the hair and make-up girls for no apparent reason. This was the Anna of the whispers and the legends, but it wasn't my Anna, and during the next break I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to one side.

"What the fuck are you playing at?" I asked her sternly. "You know we're behind schedule, so why are you being such a cock about everything?"

"I am not being cock," she pouted.

"Oh, you totally are," I asserted. "You nearly made young Tiffany cry. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You're what's wrong with me," she grumbled.

What the fuck have I done?" I said incredulously. "I'm fucking sleeping with you aren't I?"

"Is that all for you?" said a miserable looking Anna. "Experiment sex? Then if shoot goes well, we go home tomorrow and it finishes. I don't want to finish. I don't want it to stop."

I felt an enormous surge of affection for the grumpy-faced Russian, and knew that what I was about to say was what I truly wanted.

"You know, if you're going to be my girlfriend you're going to have to learn to talk to me and stop taking your moods out on other people," I informed her.

"Girlfriend?" she said stunned.

"You told me you loved me, Anna," I said gently. "And that's why I slept with you, not for some lame-arsed experiment. I would never fuck you around like that. It's not going to stop, babes. It's going to be tricky, managing to find time for each other with all our commitments, but it's not going to stop."

"Everyone will know," she warned me. "There will be paparazzi, nosy bastards. There will be no hiding from it. All your friends, your family…"

"I don't mind," I assured her. "I'll be proud to be your girlfriend."

And I was. Anna was a wonderful girlfriend and we had two amazing years together. And yes, it was difficult with the two of us moving around so much, but somehow we always found each other, and found time for each other, and I was happy. I even brought her to meet the family, which didn't go so well due to Jenna's rampant xenophobia, and her conviction that Anna was either going to steal the television or start moving her relatives in. But whatever obstacles life seemed to throw in our path, we somehow managed to glide over them with ease. I suppose things changed when I moved jobs and started taking on the runway shows. They were a lot more complex to organise than the shoots. There were a lot more people involved, and you only got one chance to get it right. I started working longer hours, and it started proving harder to get away. One time Anna turned up on a surprise visit, but I had to stay in a meeting till gone eleven. By the time I got home to the flat, she had crashed out. She had to go the next day, and she yelled at me for not waking her up, but she had looked so cute, I couldn't bear to disturb her.

It wasn't that I didn't love her. I did. I really did. But I was excited by my new job, and I guess I let it take me over a little. At the time I thought she was just getting whiny, after all she had a fairly demanding schedule too, and after the break up I had been too demented with rage to even consider that I might have contributed to her feelings of dissatisfaction. It wasn't until after my talk with Naomi that I had started to even wonder what it had been like for Anna. I realised that as I got more and more involved with my job, it must have seemed to her that she was the one making all the effort. I started to remember conversations, where she had asked me if I still had the same feelings for her. And again, I had dismissed them as obvious. In my mind I had loved her just as much as I always had, but I had begun taking it for granted, and I had forgotten to keep showing it to Anna. It was only because we had scheduled a last minute meeting with a designer in Berlin, that I had decided to pop in and surprise her at all, and that's when I had found her with Anton.

The pain had been so intense, I had severed all ties and never given myself the chance to forgive her. I thought she didn't love me. How could she and do that with someone else? It had all seemed so clear, and so black and white. Anna had done wrong, and I was the justifiably wounded. But ever since I had met Effy, all those beliefs that I had been so sure of had slowly crumbled around me. Had my worldview been so naively simplistic all this time? Was anything ever just black and white? Considering the complexity of the universe and its billions upon billions of possibilities, could the whole spectrum of human emotions be placed so easily within such elementary building blocks? Emily had been a player, and now she had found true love. My brittle morality had been shattered by my desire for a promised woman. And Anna had strayed even though it now appeared she had loved me passionately all the time.

But now she was back. At least the possibility of her was back. I had been so happy with her, and this thing with Effy was powerful, but it was only causing me grief. I was still hesitant. Naomi seemed to have been charmed by Anna and was convinced she was the way forward, whilst Emily was far more cautious. And me, I just didn't fucking know. Could I forgive her? And what would it fucking feel like if I did? Could we really reclaim the happiness we had known before? I know some couples did it. Some people even tolerated full-blown affairs as long as the equilibrium of the unit was maintained. I racked my brain over these matters for the whole of the drive back to Bristol, but when I arrived, I had nothing but a head full of questions. I needed advice. I needed to talk to my best friend. And oh yeah, that was Effy.

Fuck.