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.
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Chapter 8: Kimora Lee Simmons investigates the rumors.
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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.
