Courtney's Ebony Goddess

As the cruel beauties strolled away, I realized all the more the power of great beauty and wondered why it was so exciting to give it up. My employee was sipping daiquiris poolside while I was sent to fetch her dry cleaning and I was loving every minute of it!

"I'm going back home to prepare for your next video shoot," said Tomyka after we had been away for two weeks.

"You are remaining here...but not on vacation. You are going to work as a member of the housekeeping staff for the rest of the month. The manager of the housekeeping department in this hotel is a friend. I have made arrangements for you to be on her staff (it's amazing what you can arrange when money isn't an object). Here's her card. Report to her office at 8:00 tomorrow morning. You will receive training regarding your new duties and uniforms be be worn while you're on duty.

For the next two weeks I found myself pushing a cart down the halls of the hotel as I cleaned rooms. Towards the end of my "working vacation" I was cleaning a room that had been trashed by some college kids on spring break. The little brats were out at the beach as I cleaned the room in which they had partied hearty the night before. There, on on the dresser, along with empty beer bottles, crumpled snack bags, and a used condom (Yuck! I know you're on vacation, but have a little consideration for the staff, for God's sake!) was one of my CD's.

I looked at the photograph of myself on the cover of the CD, looking oh-so-hot in a red latex jumpsuit, my erect nipples and camel toe displayed to great effect. That cover generated a lot of buzz when it first came out. The poster made from that photo hung in as many bedrooms as Farah Fawcett's ramous red bathing suit pinup did a generation earlier. My gaze drifted from the cover of the CD to my reflection in the mirror. The frumpy hotel maid I saw looking back at me bore no resemblance to the sexy pop tart on the cover of the CD.

I felt a wave of pleasure sweep through me as I savored my degradation. I still didn't completely understand why I found humiliation and surrendering power to be so sexually exciting. I assumed it had something to do with the need to strike some sort of balance in my psyche. I guess it's just as unhealthy to always get your ass kissed as it is to always be a doormat.

Disguised as Evelyn, I flew home when my two weeks of employment as a hotel housekeeper ended. As I stared out the window of the plane I wondered what Tomyka had been up to while I was away. I would learn soon enough that she was about to take things to a whole new level!

Chatper VI

As I stepped out of the limousine and onto the red carpet, I entered a storm of flash bulbs. I was attending the very high-profile National Cancer Research Foundation's (NCRF) annual televised fund raising dinner and show. I have raised millions of dollars in charitable contributions for the foundation over the years, and I am an honorary member of the foundation's board of directors. Tonight I was scheduled as both a speaker and a performer. There was a lot of interest in the program because tonight I would be premiering my new single, "I'll Pull You Through." The TV audience was projected to be huge.

I stopped along the red carpet to be interviewed by all the usual entertainment and fashion TV magazines. My gown got an A+ rating on various fashionista's blogs, but that was not the biggest splash I made that evening.

When my turn came to address the room full of distinguished guests, I was escorted to the podium along with Emily, a young cancer patient who was bald due to chemotherapy. She covered her baldness with a jeweled kerchief that matched her gown.

"Thank you all for being here tonight and for being so generous in your support of the NCRF's wonderful efforts. Tonight I want to tell you about a new program the NCRF is beginning that we are calling "Locks of Love." Our goal is to provide high quality wigs to our sisters who have lost their hair during chemotherapy."

"Our sisters should not have to feel they are unattractive because their therapy renders them bald. They are beautiful no matter what they look like because they are our mothers, wives, sisters and daughters. We love them and support them 100% in their fight! So, if a wig improves their self esteem, we will make sure they have wigs. Understand though, that there is a larger question here...we need to redefine our concept of beauty. Our sisters are beautiful whether they have hair or not!"

"For the time being, though, the girls need the wigs. I stand in solidarity with our sisters as they fight their battle...but I know that talk is cheap. That's why I'm putting my hair where my mouth is!"

The audience and Emily gasped as I pulled the wig from my head. My bald and shiny head positively glowed under the lights.

"This wig is made from my own hair," I explained as I held the mass of golden curls aloft. "It is being donated to the Locks of Love program along with my promise to remain bald for as long as Emily does. When her course of chemo is completed and her hair grows back, I will do the same."

The crowd rose to a thunderous ovation as Emily and I embraced. She cried and whispered, "Thank you," as she removed her kerchief for the slew of pictures that were taken of our matching bald heads.

My bald head caused a sensation. My "stunt" as some called it, was the lead story on every news broadcast and in every newspaper. The publicity actually started a fashion trend. Many newly bald (and I might add, very beautiful) women were seen in every major city for months following my grand unveiling.

What I found most gratifying during the months following the NCRF show was that a real conversation was started in society about how we define the feminine ideal and how unhealthy it was for so many young girls to be fed a constant diet of totally unrealistic airbrushed and photo shopped images that no one - not even the model who posed for the pictures - could possibly attain in real life.

As if my introduction to the world of my shiny bald head wasn't enough excitement for one night, the furor following that evening's performance of "I'll Pull You Through" made an even bigger splash.

My performance caused a sensation. The S&M - themed costumes, coupled with suggestive movements made for a hotter show than was typical for prime time TV. Things got really out of hand when one of the dancers, while sliding between my legs, accidently caught a piece of my costume and tore it away - leaving me naked from the waist down. For a few seconds it was obvious to the national TV audience that the carpet had been as thoroughly removed as the curtains and my gold lacing and dangling bell caught the light perfectly.

Being a consummate professional, I didn't miss a beat and was covered again in a few seconds. It wasn't fast enough for the talking heads on 24-7 cable news.

"An outrage!" screamed the media. The FCC levied a record fine against the network because of my "wardrobe malfunction."

It didn't matter. In this business, any publicity is good publicity. The net effect was that I sold an incredible amount of records. The notoriety may have caused initial interest, but it was the quality of the music that grabbed the fans and the music critics. I had worked very hard to bring the music and the lyrics up to another level (a girl can't stay a young pop princess forever - ask the Spice Girls!). Critics and fans weighed in very favorably saying the music was the most sophisticated melding of African and Caribbean musical styles that had been heard in quite some time and that the lyrics were a thoughtful commentary on living in the era of a crumbling empire.

The title of the hit single was "I'll Pull You Through," a promise by a friend or lover to be there when times are toughest. We sold millions of copies of the song and almost as many digital downloads of the video.

The video for "I'll Pull You Through" left peoples' mouths hanging open. In it, a phalanx of fifty pony girls pulled their passengers on a trip around the world past great landmarks. The pony girls pulled their passengers past everywhere from the Eiffel Tower to the Great Pyramids to the Great Wall of China. It was not lost on the audience that all of the ponies were white and all of the passengers flicking the riding whips across the ponies' bottoms were women of color. Ethnic princesses from a world-wide range of cultures, each dressed in beautiful traditional clothing her country were pulled in their elaborate carts by their white pony girls in full equine regalia, each with a tall feathered head dress (which still made it obvious she was bald) body harnesses, tails anchored securely in their bottoms and bits in their mouths.

The DVD of the video contained a "making of documentary," in which each of the 50 models and actresses portraying the ponies squatted around the perimeter of my pool as each was attended by a team of Asian and Black stylists who shaved and polished their heads, did their makeup and nails, got each pony dressed in her pony gear and attached each pony to her respective cart. This scene included a hysterical sequence of the expression on each girl's face as her tail was securely planted into her bottom! All of the girls' hair was of course donated to Locks of Love.

The fuss over the video only increased as the DVD version went on sale. In addition to the official video and the behind the scenes "making of" documentary, I also insisted on including the European version, in which, while all of the ethnic princesses retained their elaborate traditional costumes, all of the white ponies - with me at the head of the pack, pulling Tomyka - were quite nude except for our headdresses, our swishing tails and the stripes placed across our churning bottoms by the princesses for whose benefit we toiled.

The video was a sensation. Some saw it as a comment on the end of the era of European colonialism and exploitation. Others saw it as bringing kinky fashion further into the mainstream. Everybody had something to say. A blowhard on Fox News actually had a heart attack on screen while fulminating about the immortality of it all. On the other end of the spectrum, Rolling Stone said I was the greatest thing to happen to popular music in quite some time, bridging the gap between pop, art and politics in a way few artists have.

The wrap party was a sight to behold. All of the ladies of color were allowed to keep their costumes. Each of the ponies was required to attend the party in the nude. The price of admission for each white girl was her eyebrows, removing the last bit of hair left on their bodies. It was quite a sight. A roomfull of beautiful women of color in elaborate traditional costume being waited on and attended to by a bevy of hairless pink droids.

Tomyka looked out on the scene as I knelt at her feet and said it was a dream come true. I felt the same way.