Tamsin was on hand with her brushes, powders and creams, ready to go at him in between takes. The lights burnt into his skin, making him perspire. Tamsin saw to that too, patting him down with towels and reapplying the toner.
Finally it was over. Dylan had given the performance of his life, for the whole two minutes the advert played for.
‘It’s a wrap!’ yelled Dickie, signalling all to pack up and go. Dylan was back in the make-up room, having Tamsin clean all the caked up foundation off his face. What an ordeal. Never again. The only consolation was the money he’d made for a few hours’ work – that, and Tamsin’s chest, which had been a welcome comfort.
‘You were fantastic, Dylan,’ she said, rubbing hard at his face.
‘Thanks.’
‘Are you heading straight back home?’ Her eye caught his and she gave him a sexy smirk.
‘Not sure,’ he answered, stalling for time.
‘I’m meeting a friend later. She’s a big fan of yours.’
‘Is she?’ He could feel something start to stir.
‘Yes, she’d love to meet you. Why not join us for dinner?’ She winked at him again.
‘Well, if you insist.’ Maybe it hadn’t been too bad a day after all.
