I always felt like I was in the ocean swimming against the tide on a bleak, dark night. Snorting drugs between walks on the runway probably isn't the way I should deal with my depression, but it's the only thing that enables me to do this modeling thing at all. I'm introverted, shy, and maybe even aloof. I often see that Valentino dickhead snorting in the dressing room, too. When he's not busy snorting Oxy or kissing his own muscles he's bragging about how he's going to be in the next Lars von Trier movie. He's exactly the kind of guy who would want to be in a von Trier film.
I saw him on my way into the Hotel Cortez. He was probably thinking about how much of an ugly dyke I am. Ha ha. I do love women. Being a model means getting to see beautiful women in long, elaborate gowns. Tonight was a fashion show at the Cortez, and I was looking forward to meeting the women there, if I can work up the courage to talk to them.
Upon stepping inside the Cortez, I noticed how beautiful it was to me. It could use some renovations, sure, but it was still just as ritzy as the other hotels I'd been in. I went and sat at the bar.
"I'm Liz Taylor," said the person behind the bar. I thought about how cute it was that she was named after the movie star while admiring her dress and her eyeliner. "What can I get for you, honey?" she asked. I smiled and ordered a Vodka soda.
"Haven't seen you in here before," I heard a voice beside me. I looked over and saw a woman clad in cheetah print smoking a cigarette. She also had grungy 90s makeup that I like to do on myself sometimes.
"I'm here because I'm going to be in the fashion show," I explained.
"Lucky you. I never get to do anything fun. I'm Sally by the way." she said.
"I'm Isabelle," I said, smiling at her. "Who owns this hotel?" I asked either of them who wanted to answer.
"The Countess," answered Liz Taylor. "She is beautiful, cold, charismatic. You will probably see her at the fashion show. She loves all things glamour."
I thanked Liz Taylor for the drink, said goodbye to Sally, and got up to head to the dressing room. I couldn't help wondering about The Countess as I was changing into the black dress I would be modeling. I liked the way my tits looked in the dress. My long, black hair cascaded across them. I also liked the contrast of my black hair and the black dress against my pale skin. I was so glad I got to keep the dress after the show. I applied my makeup— I'd decided on smokey eyes and red lipstick. Then I snorted a line, and got in the line of models for the runway.
When it was my turn, I began walking, and just hoped my strut was good. I knew employers only liked me because I was eccentric and a tortured soul or whatever. I had no confidence and it probably showed in my walk. I surveyed the audience as I walked down the runway. Toward the end of the runway was the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen. She had light blonde hair, and green eyes that burned through me. Her makeup was done to look like she had tears running down her face, but I couldn't find any signs of vulnerability anywhere else. I knew at that moment I wanted her to be cruel to me. It was so hard to tear my eyes away from her so that I could walk back up the runway.
I sat down in the dressing room and thought about the woman. I thought about what her strong, toned body would look like under that white dress. I knew that I was wet and would probably spend the night masturbating in my hotel room. As I was about to get up and leave the dressing room I heard a voice behind me.
"Well hello there," they said. I turned around and was surprised to see the woman standing right behind me. "What's your name?" she asked, resting a manicured hand on my shoulder.
