Alex Turner Imagines 2024

Ménage à trios: Part 4

Margeaux's POV (NSFW)

With the SUV's engine settling into a hushed purr, we hastily spilled out, our movements betraying a shared urgency that left my head spinning. The townhouse in presented a modest yet well-maintained exterior. Constructed with red-brown bricks, its facade displayed typical Georgian architecture. The rectangular sash windows, featuring white trim, lined the building in a straightforward manner. A practical entrance, arched but unadorned, stood framed by neatly trimmed hedgerows. The doorstep, worn from use, displayed a brass house number. Minimal embellishments marked the exterior, with only essential elements such as a wrought iron lantern for illumination. Situated within the active streets of Camden, the townhouse blended into its urban surroundings. While lacking grandiosity, its exterior was of functional design and the passage of time within a historic neighborhood.

The lingering effects of alcohol pulsed through my veins, creating a dissonance between my body and mind. The unmistakable sound of the car door closing reverberated against the building, prompting Louise and me to turn in unison, awaiting Alex. I certainly felt colder now than when we all stood outside of Anabel's for the smoke, which meant the alcohol blanket was wearing off.

"You forgot your purse darlin'," he uttered with a charming smile, holding it in his right hand. The dim glow of the street lamps cast minimal light on the Camden townhouse, and as I accepted my purse, a blush and an eye roll were directed solely at myself.

"Thank you, sorry about that," I said, a slight embarrassment coloring my tone. Only I would've forgotten it given the amount of sensual tension in the car that made my mind all foggy.

"No need, love," he responded quickly, waving off my apology with a casual raise of his hand. The dimly lit surroundings revealed an air of mystery as we stood on the unassuming doormat. As he fumbled in his pockets, the jingle of keys resonated in the quiet night. When he finally produced the keys, his fingers danced over the metallic surface, searching in the dark for the lock with his fingertips.

"I haven't stayed here myself in a while," he confessed, his eyes meeting mine as if unveiling a part of himself. "I have people come in to look after it and clean every now and then. Someone swung by earlier in the week, so things are all set up for us."

His body language embodied a blend of ownership and detachment, a silent dance that unfolded with the keys suspended in midair. The slight lift of his eyebrows and the contemplative gaze toward the entrance mirrored a quiet acknowledgment of the space. Despite the darkness, he swiftly unlocked the door, displaying familiarity even in the absence of light. He gestured for Louise and me to enter before closing the door behind himself.

Louise started turning on lights and closing curtains, revealing the space. I followed her, eager to assist and acquaint myself with the surroundings. Sensing my intention, she swiftly turned to me, a hint of offense in her expression at the thought of a guest helping. Alex had darted off to set the security system, disappearing into the kitchen afterward. The gentle hum of swing music began to weave through the house, emanating from unseen speakers. I recognized the song as The very thought of you by Al Bowlly. it was certainly one of my favorites from childhood.

Acknowledging the unspoken cue, I gracefully removed my coat, relishing the sensation of shedding layers of warmth. The rack by the front door extended a quiet invitation, and I took my time, appreciating the deliberate act of hanging up my coat. A sense of calm settled as I then eased into the center seat of the couch. Despite being their guest, a slight twinge of guilt accompanied my reprieve from helping. It was ingrained in my nature to assist, regardless of the circumstances of being a tester third- at least that's what I think the role was that assigned to me only moments previously.