The Dangerous Game Read Online Free PDF Page A

leave. And you said you don’t have anything until lunch, right?’

THE INTERIOR OF the hotel was designed in an austere, modernist style that presented a stunning contrast to the details remaining from its factory days. They entered a lobby with a gleaming stone floor and a ten-metre-high ceiling. A lovely blonde woman standing behind a small counter built into the wall welcomed them and handed out the room keys. Then they each went off in a different direction. Markus was going to scout photo locations with Sebastian, the art director. Jenny barely had time to drop her things in her room before she had to head to make-up. Every minute counted.
     
    Two hours later, she was ready for the photo shoot, for which she would model ten different outfits. Markus was waiting for her in the main lounge, where he would take the first pictures. As luck would have it, at the moment there were no other guests staying at the hotel, so they could work in peace.
    It was a large grey room that seemed to exude quiet harmony. The furniture consisted of severe-looking steel-framed armchairs upholstered in a leaden-grey woollen fabric, low concrete tables, stainless-steel lamps, and white leather sofas. Black curtains, white limestone walls. A beautiful shimmer of light flooded the room from one wall that was covered from floor to ceiling with little glass cubes. Outdoors, a few scraggly pine trees were visible on the rocky shore, and beyond was the sea – dark, foaming, and at the moment inhospitable. Along the walls of the room stood heavy log benches with sheepskins in various hues of grey. In one corner of the bright room a black bicycle had been parked; in another stood a big fan on wheels. A large TV was fastened to the wall. From the ceiling hung an overhead crane with long chains, recalling a time when the building had housed a factory.
    Markus wanted to use only natural light. He needed daylight for these photos. Nothing else. The photos were for a fashion spread to be published in one of Sweden’s biggest fashion magazines. Jenny was wearing a short checked skirt and a purple top with a wide belt around her waist. Grey tights and purple suede boots that reached to her thighs. She wore a light amount of eye make-up and clear lip gloss. Her hair had been curled to look natural and had then been classically styled.
    Jenny was the only model, and everyone was giving her their full attention. Hugo, the stylist, checked every fold of her clothing. He wore a belt that held safety pins, tape and various clips. Maria, the make-up artist, had to stand on tiptoe in order to touch up Jenny’s lip gloss and to dab a bit more powder on her face. Jenny was cheerful and relaxed, happy to let everyone do their jobs, whistling softly and chatting as she stole glances at Markus. He took a few test pictures of her in the room. The purple of her outfit stood out nicely against all the grey.
    Then the photo shoot officially got started, and the change in mood was instantly noticeable. There was a different vibe as everybody focused on what the model was doing. Jenny’s eyes took on an intense look as she stared into the cold lens of the camera. She struck various poses and flirted with the camera, sometimes with a trace of a smile and a mocking expression. In between shots the make-up artist and stylist stepped in to powder her face, to push back a strand of hair that was out of place, or to straighten a fold of her skirt. Occasionally, Jenny would hum and dance, clowning around to keep up her energy. She didn’t want to freeze up. Although there was no real risk of that happening with Markus as the photographer. He inspired her. They were a perfect team. With small, delicate movements, she altered her poses, moving her hand from her hip, raising one leg, changing the way she sat on the edge of the leather sofa. The grey, modern furniture, the industrial setting, the high ceiling, the polished floor, the sheepskins, the concrete – everything