The Makeup Artist Ch. 08

The following is a fictional parody, not approved of, nor authorized by, the celebrities named.

None of the events are true.

This fictitious parody is protected speech under Hustler Magazine, Inc., et. al. v. Jerry Falwell.

No harm is intended toward the celebrities named.

Furthermore, publication of any and all trademarks contained herein are not authorized by, associated with, nor sponsored by the trademark owners.

~~~

Chapter 8: Kimora Lee Simmons investigates the rumors.

~~~

As I stood at the ticketing counter in JFK airport waiting for the airline agent to complete my transaction, my entire body tingled as I thought about what just happened.

I was in New York City and the gorgeous fashion mogul Kimora Lee Simmons had just set an appointment with me to check out my work. I had no idea whether she'd actually book me, but at least we'd get a chance to meet.

Getting the opportunity to consult with such a driven, successful and passionate woman was almost too much. I loved confident and glamorous businesswomen, and to see one so beautiful and so accomplished, up close, was a dream come true.

While the ticketing agent typed furiously on her keyboard, rescheduling my flight back to Miami to two days later, I chuckled at the test Kimora just put me through:

About fifteen minutes prior, I was at the gate waiting to fly back home to Miami. I had just styled Alicia Keys in Manhattan for a long day of promotion for her new movie and album.

While I sat there waiting for my flight, Kimora called my cell phone anonymously to get a list of my makeup artistry services and a quote for my rates. I gave her all the information and carefully explained my fee structure.

She then had one of her assistants call, in full KLS diva mode, to see if I'd raise my rates based on her "celebrity" status.

I didn't bite. I gave her assistant the exact same information. Though human nature tempted me, artificially inflating my rates just wasn't me. Besides, I gave such great service that I often earned substantial tips.

When Kimora called me back, she revealed that she had, in fact, been the anonymous caller from earlier, and that she was impressed with my honesty. As it turned out, she was so glad that I didn't try to gouge her assistant, that she set an appointment to meet me the very next day.

Fortunately for me, those three phone calls turned out to be the ultimate win-win situation!

Since Kimora was based in NYC, I decided to rebook my flight home for two days later. Thinking about her unforgettable style and her incredible body, I hoped I'd be able to do great, profitable work for a fabulous client and have a bit of hot and sexy fun too.

But first, I needed a place to stay. Smiling, I knew just what to do.

After I got my new ticket and my luggage from the airline agent, I set off for the rental car area to hire a car service for a ride back to Manhattan.

I noticed an airport transportation sign and headed in the direction of the counter. As I got closer, I saw a couple of customers already waiting. I hurried to the back of the line and patiently waited for my turn.

As I stood there, I watched the three rental agents behind the counter that were helping the customers. I smiled at the kindly, older woman, then nodded at the young gentleman on the phone. But when I saw the third rental agent, I gasped.

The woman was gorgeous.

She had silky smooth medium brown skin, the color of soft, rich caramel. Her lengthy dark hair was done up in a full, high ponytail. She wore a white silk v-neck blouse with a cute (and tight) cherry red sweater vest. The soft material caressed her ample cleavage and I licked my lips at the sight of brown skin peeking from the v-neck.

I sent up a silent request to the Universe that she'd be the one to wait on me.

As the patrons in front of me moved ahead and were waited on, I thought I saw her wink at me. Taking a chance, I smiled and winked back.

Finally, I made it to the front of the line. The gorgeous woman finished up with the last customer, then waved me ahead.

"Thanks Universe," I whispered as I walked to her.

"Hi there," she said with a warm smile. "My name is Chantal. How can I help you?"

"Hi. I'm not sure if I'm in the right place. I need a car service back to Manhattan, please."

"Certainly. Can I have your name please?"

"Nikii. Nikii Clarke. Clarke with an 'e.'"

She typed on her keyboard. I watched her slim, brown fingers. I shivered as I imagined them deep inside me, teasing me to the ultimate ecstasy. "Down, girl," I mumbled as I chided myself.

"Well, Ms. Clarke, with an 'e,'" she smiled, "I have a car service that's available. Sapphire Rose Transportation. Are you familiar with them?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm not."

"Well, they're great," she said. "I recommend them highly. I know the owner personally, so they'll take care of you."

"Thanks. I always appreciate extra attention."

Chantal winked. "We're certainly here to please."

I caught her saucy wink. I flushed as my entire body grew warm.

She took my license, credit card and other information and typed in my reservation. Then she called the agency to make the arrangements.

While I waited, I looked at her slim, brown fingers. It took me a minute to notice what was missing. "No ring," I whispered. "Good sign."

She held the phone away from her ear and looked up. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," I smiled.

Chantal gave me a wry smile and went back to finish my reservation. Once all of the arrangements were made, she printed out a confirmation and handed my license and credit card back to me.

"You're all set," she said. "A black Lincoln Town Car will be right outside within ten minutes. In the meantime, you can wait over there." She pointed toward the waiting area facing the windows near the door.

I looked outside. The sun had set and the brilliant stars lit up the night sky.

"Thanks. But before I go, tell me more about, what is it, Sapphire Rose Transportation?"

"Yes. The owner is Mischa Konstantinov. She's a friend of mine from school."

"Mischa Konstantinov? She's Russian?"

Chantal nodded. "African -- Ethiopian, I think -- and Russian."

My curiosity was piqued. This Mischa woman sounded beautiful and exotic.

"She runs a thriving transportation business." Chantal added. Then she leaned in close. "And she's a beast on the road. She'll get you where you need to go in no time."

"Thanks," I laughed. "And thanks for being such a big help."

"Well, it was very nice meeting you, Ms. Clarke with an 'e,'" she said as she handed me her business card. "I hope you enjoy your stay in New York. And if you need any other assistance while you're here, don't hesitate to call us again."

I glanced at the card, making a mental note of the number, then slid the card inside my purse. "Thanks, Chantal."

She looked down at my bags. "Oh, let me get a skycap to help you with your luggage." She waved over a strapping, young man.

I smiled as the handsome skycap gathered my bags. As we started to walk away, I turned back to her. "You've been a big help. And if I need anything, I'll most definitely give you a call. And who knows? Maybe we'll meet again."

"I have a feeling we will," she smirked as she waved goodbye.

As I stood in the waiting area looking out the window for my driver, I pulled out my phone, quickly dialed a number that I knew by heart and left a brief message:

"Hey Sam! It's Nikii. I'm still in NYC! Where can I crash? Call me..."

Five minutes later, my phone rang and I answered quickly. "Hello?"

"Nikii!" the soft voice exclaimed.

"Hey Samantha! How are you?"

"I'm good. I'm glad I didn't miss seeing you! You're still in town, right?" she asked.

"Yes. My plans changed and I scored a big meeting tomorrow morning!"

"Oooh! Congratulations!" she beamed.

"Thanks. I'm at the airport. I was about to fly back to Miami. But I just got a car and I'm on my way back to Manhattan."

"Good," she said. "You'll stay here, so get your ass over here now. I'll be looking out for you."

"Thanks, hon. See you soon," I said, hanging up.

On a whim, I walked outside to enjoy the warm New York night air. As I stood there, a jet-black Lincoln Town Car pulled up in front of me at the curb and a gorgeous woman hopped out. She had soft, light brown skin and long, dark, wavy hair that flowed from underneath a limo driver's cap.

"Ms. Clarke?"

"Yes?"

She held out her hand. "Privet! Dobriy Vecher! I'm Mischa, with Sapphire Rose Transportation," she said with a thick Eastern European accent. "I'm at your service."

While I loved the feel of her soft, silky hand, I really loved her firm, confident grip. "Nice to meet you. And the Russian? What did you just say? At the beginning?"

She laughed. "I said 'Hi and Good Evening.'" She looked at my luggage. "Where can I take you?"

"I'm going to Manhattan. Trump Tower. The hotel in midtown. At Columbus Circle, Central Park and Broadway."

Mischa quickly grabbed my bags. "I know exactly where that is."

Her thick, sexy voice continued to seep right into my consciousness. "And, by the way, I love your accent," I said.

"My dad is Russian. And Jewish. My mom is Ethiopian. I think I got the best of both worlds."

"Wow," I whispered as I eyed her slim, fit body. "You sure did." Though she was dressed in a dark blue uniform, her figure was noticeable underneath her clothes. I licked my lips at her beautiful face, hair, skin and figure.

After Mischa put my bags in the trunk, she turned to me. "I know the rental agent, Chantal," she said in her beautifully raw accent.

"I heard. She said you were a great driver. And she said that you'd take good care of me."

"I will. I promise," she said with a wicked grin.

I smiled back. Things were going to get wild now.

Once I was settled in the back seat, she hopped in and pulled off. She was careful and cautious at first, but we quickly picked up speed once we got to the expressway. Too much speed, in my opinion.

Suddenly, she swerved to avoid a car that had veered in front of us. "Bljad'! Whore!"

I began to get nervous.

"Don't worry," she said, glancing at me in the rear view mirror. "I just get a bit...how do you say...excited?"

I laughed, but remained cautious. "I trust you," I said. "But I have to admit, you're a bit too pretty to be such a beast on the road."

We drove in silence for a few minutes, then she looked at me in the mirror again.

"So," she asked, "why are you in New York? Work?"

"Yes. I'm having a business meeting."

"With whom?"

I was silent.

"You aren't gonna keep secrets from me now, are you?" she chuckled. "I thought we were better than that?"

A wicked smile spread across my face.

"You know...we Russians have a way of finding out secrets..."

"Whatever," I said as I rolled my eyes in mock disgust. "Since you're all in my business...it's with Kimora Lee Simmons."

"Mrs. Simmons?" Mischa said, her voice rising an octave. "The fashion girl?"

"Yes. Her."

"I drove her last month. Long legs, that one."

I smiled. Thinking of Kimora's long, lean and luscious legs started a deep tingle between my own legs. "Yeah," I whispered.

She was silent for a few moments before speaking again. "Ti takaya prelesnaya," she said. "You a Rozovuy?"

Huh? "Excuse me?"

She laughed. "I said, 'You are so cute.' And I asked if you are a Rozovuy?' Means you like girls. A lesbian, no?"

I smiled. "Yes. Da."

She laughed. "I teach you more Russian very soon. In my bed, da?"

Then her cell phone rang. She clicked into her earpiece, listened for a few seconds, then launched into a spirited conversation with the caller in Russian.

"Mne nasrát', chto ty dúmaesh! (I don't give a shit what you think!) I'll be back when I'm ready!" She listened for a few more moments. "Vali otsjúda! (Fuck off!)"

Again, I had no idea what she was saying, but I was sure it involved more than a few curse words.

She clicked off the phone, then looked in the rear view mirror. "I'm sorry. I own the company. Sometimes I have to settle disputes."

We rode in silence for a few moments. Then she spoke.

"I have a confession to make. After you left the desk, Chantal called me back and said that you were a gorgeous woman that needed a ride back to the city. And that I should come myself." She winked. "I'm glad I did."

I blushed. "I'm glad you did too."

"Interested?"

Interested? Just like that? "Ummm," I stammered.

"Don't worry. Sometimes I'm too direct. I'll give you time to think about it," she said confidently.

Forty minutes later, the car service pulled up in front of Trump Tower in Manhattan. As Mischa let me out, a slim bellhop grabbed my luggage.

"Is Samantha Reynolds here tonight?" I asked the handsome gentleman.

"Yes, Ms. Clarke. She's expecting you."

I looked up, surprised he knew my name.

He read my expression and smiled. "Ms. Reynolds told me to look out for a gorgeous woman who'd ask for her directly." He eyed me seductively. "It was definitely an understatement," he winked.

I blushed.

"Ms. Reynolds is inside. I'll radio her and let her know you're coming," he said as he took my bags and went inside.

I turned to Mischa. "I had a good time. Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime." Her thick, dark hair gleamed under the bright lights outside the hotel.

I couldn't leave her quite yet. "Actually...I need a car tomorrow..."

"What time, Mat'?"

I frowned. "Mat'?"

She grinned. "It means "Hot mama."

I suddenly grew warm. "Um, 10:30. In the morning. I have a meeting at 11."

I'll be here." She leaned over and planted a soft kiss on my cheek. "Dobroy Nochi. Good night, Króshka. I'll see you in the morning."

"Króshka?"

She leaned in close. "It means Baby." She kissed me again, then quickly hopped into her car and pulled off.

I rubbed my cheek as I watched her leave.

Coming back to my senses, I walked inside, through the beautiful gilded walkway, toward the smiling brown face at the front desk.

Samantha sprinted from behind the desk to hug me hard. "Nikii!" she exclaimed.

"Samantha!" I cried. "What's up, Cousin?"

"Nothing much, hon!" She hugged me again.

"Damn!" I looked around, stunned at the luxurious opulence of the hotel. "I have to admit, Cuz. I love your damned job!" We laughed as we hugged again.

She sighed. "Well, I love it too! Being the Executive Vice President of Guest Relations at Trump Tower is a bitch sometimes. But the perks are incredible."

~~~

Less than ten minutes later, we were chilling in Samantha's suite. Both of us were lying on the bed eating a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips and watching TV. As we lay there, she flipped through my photo book. "These shots are awesome, Cuz!" I'm so impressed!" She flipped to my new pictures. "And you just did these in the past week?"

"Yep."

"Cool!"

"So how's your dad?" I asked.

She looked up. "Why don't you just call your uncle and ask him yourself?"

"Smartass," I clipped. "So," I asked. "What's it like to work here? Is 'he' a fair boss?"

"Pretty much like anywhere else. Some good days, some bad days. But the experience can't be matched. I'm getting hands-on experience daily in one of the best hotels in the world."

"What I'm waiting for," I chided, "is for you to open up your own hotel. Your own spa, even."

"Believe me, Cuz, I'm definitely taking notes. One day soon." She picked up the bag of chips and reached in, taking a handful. "And I'm gonna hire you to coordinate the spa makeovers."

"Of course I will." I laughed. "And I want my percentage ownership interest in the business too."

She giggled. "How much do you want?"

"My usual. One percent."

Her head jerked up. "Why so low?"

"I'm not trying to gouge you. You're my blood. We're family. One percent is fine." Then I paused. "But I do want free spa services for me and a guest for life."

She burst out laughing. "For life? Damn, cuz. For you and your 'girlfriends'?" She laughed even harder. "And you say you're not trying to gouge me? Shit, your ass'll be there every damned weekend. Eating me out of house and home. Well, house and spa."

We laughed. Then she got serious. "But I'm telling you right now. You're not turning my spa into a brothel."

"What?" I had the nerve to act surprised.

"Don't even try it! You know what I mean. You like girls. I do too. That's cool." She grabbed more chips out of the bag. "But you've not had a shortage of girlfriends since you came out. And now the grapevine is buzzing about you and certain celebrities."

"What?" My eyes widened.

"Yes. So, again, you're not turning my hotel into a bordello. And that's final!"

We laughed, but an idea started forming in my mind. An exclusive resort where women can relax and be free? Free to explore themselves and each other with the strictest of privacy?

Cuz had just set my mind racing on a whole new track.

"I'm not playing, Nikii. I see your thoughts moving!"

I burst out laughing and hugged my younger cousin. "I promise I'll be good."

She looked at me sideways.

I think we both knew I was lying my ass off.

~~~

The next morning, I awoke, bathed and dressed quickly. Because I was so excited to meet Kimora, I barely slept. Needing some caffeine, I ordered a carafe of hazelnut-favored coffee from room service. Once I was fully awake, I carefully applied my makeup and checked my outfit. Feeling good about my appearance, I packed my makeup case and readied my portfolio.

A few minutes later, the front desk called to say my car from Sapphire Rose Transportation had arrived ready. I hurried downstairs and was quickly ushered outside.

"Good morning, Madame," Mischa said as she opened the rear door of the Lincoln Town Car. "How did you sleep?"

"Good, thanks." I smelled her perfume as I slid into the seat. Her soft, fresh scent immediately made me tingle.

"Please take me to 512 7th Avenue. At 7th and West 38th. The Navarre Building."

I settled into the back of the car as Mischa slid into the driver's seat and prepared to deliver me to the Baby Phat corporate offices. My meeting with Kimora was at 11am sharp and my nerves were on edge.

Just as she was about to shift into gear, my cell phone chimed. The number was unfamiliar, but it was definitely a New York exchange.

My stomach sunk. I hoped that it wasn't Kimora calling to cancel. I tapped on the headrest to keep her from pulling off.

"Hello. This is Nikii." I could feel my heart pounding.

A seductive voice came on the line. "Hi. This is Malia. Malia Lowe. I'm one of the stylists for Kimora Lee Simmons. We spoke yesterday, remember? How are you today?"

"Yes, Ms. Lowe. I remember. I'm just fine, thanks. And you?"

"Great! But Kimora's schedule is really tight today. I'm going to have to push your meeting back a bit."

Anything but cancel, I thought. Time for my backup plan. A pre-emptive strike, of sorts. I needed to get her attention.

"Well, Malia," I interrupted, "How about this? I'm staying at the Trump Tower while I'm in New York. Maybe Mrs. Simmons would like to meet me here? We can either have a quick lunch in the hotel restaurant, or we can have room service in my suite. That way, I can at least treat her to lunch for being gracious enough to even meet with such a new beauty professional."

I stopped talking and held my breath.

I sensed her smile through the phone. "Well that sounds nice. Very generous. Please hold for a moment."

She wasn't even gone a full minute. "I'm back, Nikii. Kimora thinks that's a fabulous idea. We'll already be on that side of town, so we'll meet you there at about 1:30pm."

"Oh. You're joining us?" I was so wrapped up in Kimora that I barely noticed the soft voice I was speaking to. Was she down?

Her seductive reply left no doubt in my mind.