|
|
|
|
CHAPTER 54 New York Her name was Gabi. She should have been the one posing for the camera, because Kim was sure she looked at least as amazing without her clothes as she did with. A mass of auburn hair that never seemed to end, striking eyes that were almost violet, delicious curves, and a permanent pout. She was wearing a white tank top and faded blue jeans. Kim guessed that there was more or less nothing underneath. Since being left behind in her hotel room by the half-American bassist, Kim had decided she wasn’t going to try to fix things. She’s already lost Elke as a friend because she was a hypocrite about dating inside the band. Not that anything with Jessie Founders had been dating or anything. It had just ... been. Maybe. Sometimes. And those maybe and sometimes, no matter how amazing they were, just weren’t worth everything she would have to give up. Like her pride. No one should be allowed to attack her choices like Jessie did. Or her image. Who needed someone always telling you to be tamer and tamer? Who needed someone who had to talk more with her pretty little brown eyes because she couldn’t face actually standing up to someone? But no... Her eyes hadn’t been brown. Kim had never really realized that before; she’d looked and all, but never noticed. Maybe there had never been the time? Now that things were over--not that there had been anything to end--Kim had a lot of time to think about it. The fact that there was that subtle hint of red in Jessie’s eyes, making them mahogany, not brown. If Kim had told her she had mahogany eyes, would Jessie have walked out that door? Not that it mattered. Because Kim was here with Gabi, who was chatting quite openly about the fact that she’d fucked every single guy she ever photographed, and a lot of the girls. “Excuse me; grrls. It’s just that I usually get the real model types, not anyone with a personality to speak of. I’ve found, actually, the more intelligent ones are afraid people won’t want their pictures. But believe me, there is a market out there for more and more pictures of any celeb. Especially the bitches.” Gabi grinned, then she reached out and ran her hand down Kim’s bare arm. They were both sitting perched on the ledge of a mirror that was taller than Kim. Gabi had already explained that this mirror, along with creative angling so the camera and photographer weren’t seen in the pictures, was what she wanted to use as the set for this shoot. Kim could always say no, or give helpful suggestions, since pictures just didn’t work if the subject didn’t want to do them. “So the magazines like bitches.” Kim put her hand over Gabi’s. “How about the photographer?” “Prefers bitches.” She licked her lips. “And I must say, a bitch in a vinyl bikini goes a long way, both to sell a skin mag and get my interest. Though I’m sorry if I’m leading you on too quickly, since I believe in business before pleasure.” “Then by all means, let us begin the business.” Kim let go of Gabi’s hand. She’d never laid a redhead. Admittedly, Gabi only had auburn hair, but it was satisfactory. “My one regret,” Gabi was saying, “is that your blue streaks appear to be faded. The Kim Kissably trademark, and all... I guess it can be airbrushed in, huh?” Kim nodded vaguely. Part of her was saying it was high time to get rid of the streaks anyway, since everyone was copying them. Just like Robert Smith chopping all his hair off when all his fans showed up with his ‘do. So if there was no on to reapply the streaks, fine; she’d just stick to the bi-monthly red dye that she applied herself, and that would be that. And if no one was dyeing their hair funky colours anymore (aside, of course, from Chatha), then maybe Geneveve would grow her hair out and start again. It would be good for the band’s image. “Now smile for me. That’s right, give me that taunting smile. ‘Come and get me, boys; or at least come and try.’ Oh, do you practice? You must.” Kim found herself wondering, as she automatically posed and pouted, if it would show in their gig tomorrow night. If the audience would hear how separated the bass and the voice suddenly were. She asked herself silently just how much longer this band could last. “You know, when you take your two very tiny pieces of material off your body, it’s going to be hard for me to keep my clothes on.” Kim forced herself back into the real world, and gazed at Gabi. The auburn waves, the violet eyes, voluptuous figure. This wasn’t just posing nude, this was a sex shoot. So Kim let it be. *** There was no way to keep track of how many pictures had been taken. Only a fraction of them were ever going to be used, of course, and Gabi assured Kim that they would be used at quite the price. Gabi even offered to set up a roll that would auto-shoot as they made out, since most money was in the tabloids, but Kim declined. She told herself there wasn’t really a reason why she declined, but of course she knew. Gabi was at least as amazing under her clothing as Kim had imagined. And at first she was almost hesitant, too aware that she had only been with two girls. What if Gabi could tell? But if she could, she didn’t mind. And once they were done and began the process of removing makeup from places it wasn’t supposed to be and applying fresh makeup to their faces, Kim got up the guts to say something. “I think,” she posed carefully, “that I may have a bit of a sex addiction.” Gabi rolled her eyes at Kim. “As if it weren’t already obvious.” “Do you think maybe ... I should try to get help or something? I mean, aren’t all addictions bad for you?” Gabi shook her head, looking much like a mother humouring a child. “Sometimes it’s necessary to indulge to stay human. Excess is good. Especially if you’re a rock star.” Kim was about to protest, but she didn’t know what to protest with. She wasn’t rock, but she’d lost punk. And she would never let herself be goth. “I don’t know what I am,” she admitted. “You’re hot and rich and talented. Does the rest matter?” Gabi smiled, kissed Kim on the cheek, then sent her on her way. In
the cab back to the hotel, Kim found herself wondering if the band knew yet. She
would probably have nightmares about how Heather would react. |
|
|
Talk to LL,
the author. |