The Makeup Artist Ch. 07

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 7: Alicia Keys models in Miami.

~~~

It was so good to be back home in Miami.

I stepped into my condo in South Beach's famed ICON Building and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. What started as a one-day job in Las Vegas turned into over a week, and it was one of the most enjoyable weeks I'd had.

Doing makeup for Christina Milian, Amerie and Nicole Scherzinger turned out to be some of the most incredible days of my life. I had a wonderful time hanging out with three of the most beautiful and most recognized Black starlets in the business, but I was pretty exhausted from working and needed a bit of rest.

After the doorman took my luggage to the bedroom, I bid him goodbye with a generous tip.

Still holding a stack of letters that I'd gathered from the front desk, I went into the kitchen for a tall glass of apple juice. Sipping the sweet, cool liquid, I went out to my spacious balcony to read the mail and enjoy the peace and serenity of the Miami sunset.

Since working in Miami with Gabrielle Union, I discovered that I really loved this city. As such, after only a short period of time, I decided to relocate here. Thankfully, I'd earned enough from that job and others, to start looking for a permanent home in the Magic City.

However, for convenience, I decided to lease a condo until I found the perfect place to live. After careful research and negotiation, the ICON Building was the perfect choice. The breathtaking view of the Miami skyline sold me immediately.

In addition, tonight, just as when I first moved in, a grand mix of colors danced across the skyline. I loved the cool blues, hot pinks and vibrant oranges that wafted across the sky. I heard the gentle roar of the ocean and smelled the tang of the salt water in the air. I took a deep breath and relaxed, ever so grateful to be home.

Settling into my plush lounge chair on the balcony, I flipped lazily through the envelopes in my lap.

Then I saw it: The correspondence I'd been waiting on.

It was in a brightly-colored pink envelope, a definite representation of the wild personality who sent it.

Excitedly, I ripped it open, anxious to see what decision had been made. I swiftly read the bright pink stationery.

"Yessss!" I shouted. "I'm in! Heyyyyy!"

~~~

Señora Françesca Torres was a world-renowned makeup artist based right here in Miami. Her works of art, usually beautiful African-American models and celebrities, were prominently displayed in fashion magazines throughout the world.

Her Afro-Cuban roots were clearly evident in her appearance. Her long, curly, reddish-brown hair, wild and tousled, her smooth and creamy soft olive skin, her rapid-fire speech and her seductive Cuban accent were all unmistakable clues to her rich heritage.

She was also a true beauty. She was statuesque; standing a full six feet in height yet was extremely shapely. Her curvy, hourglass figure was an absolute dream. She had full, round breasts that sloped into a taut stomach and thick, sultry hips.

Señora Torres was known for her makeup artistry. No one else that I'd modeled myself after had such a passion for the beauty of women of color.

I first studied Señora Torres back in high school. In fact, her work was one of the main reasons why I picked this profession. Her understanding of ethnic skin, particularly darker skin tones, really resonated with me.

According to the letter I now held in my hands, I was chosen to participate in one of her exclusive makeup artistry training sessions. Not only that, the event would serve as a soft launch of her new cosmetics line, Spanish Rose.

I'd gotten the invitation to attend over a month ago and was ecstatic that a solo artist as new as I was had even been invited. I immediately submitted my RSVP along with my payment and waited expectantly for an answer. Her classes were only held twice a year, and they filled up immediately. However, I could now rejoice because I'd actually gotten in.

This exclusive class was for one day only. The class would meet this Thursday, with a three-hour session in the morning, a break for lunch and then a three-hour session in the afternoon.

Since it was already Monday evening, I only had a couple of days to prepare. Since I had been out of town longer than expected, my mind swirled with a list of all the tasks I had to complete before the class.

First I had meetings scheduled on Wednesday with my lawyer and my accountant about the recent work I'd done as well as my upcoming projects. To be fully prepared, I'd have to organize and make copies of all of the contracts for the work I'd done in Vegas. Then I'd have to sort through and copy all of my receipts. Finally, I'd have to print out the production notes I'd made on my upcoming book and DVD series, along with the sample pages and packaging designs.

I also had a number of other tasks to complete. I had to clean and dry my brushes, replace all of the product I was low on, clean and organize my makeup case, update my portfolio with all of my Vegas pictures, brush up on a few techniques...

Just then, I heard the light chime of my cell phone. Picking it up, I smiled. It was a text message from Fran, who I'd met a few weeks ago on the Gabrielle Union shoot. She was checking to see if I was back in town and if I was, did I want to hang out.

I grinned as I pictured the petite, brown beauty. I licked my lips at the thought of her tasty, wet pussy.

Work could wait until tomorrow.

~~~

Thursday morning, I found myself seated in an elaborate hotel conference room. The Shore Club was one of South Beach's most luxurious properties, and I was extremely excited to be there.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you so much for coming today." A sexy, honey-brown woman addressed the small group of us seated in the room. "My name is Kayla Donovan, and I'm Señora Torres' assistant. Welcome to her class. Thank you so much for coming!"

She beamed at our applause. "She'll begin the class at 9am sharp. Until then, please feel free to mingle amongst yourselves. Also, please enjoy the refreshments in the back of the room. Thank you."

I looked around, pleased to see all the people present. There were about twenty of us seated in the spacious conference room. As we walked in, at the far end of the room, a large stage had been constructed, and a large mirror sat at its rear. Also on the stage sat a podium with a microphone attached to it.

The front of the stage was connected to a long runway that led down the middle of the room and into the audience.

Also, two large video screens were set up on either side of the stage. I noticed a number of camera operators setting up the cables and checking the video, audio and lighting equipment.

In the room, to the right, were three long tables. On each table were several individual makeup cases. Each case was open and brimming with various beauty products.

The rest of the room consisted of several rows of chairs along with two refreshment tables at the back, providing us with a light, continental breakfast.

After Kayla's welcome speech, I rose to grab a bite to eat. Filling my plate with fresh fruit and a couple of hot, flaky croissants, I chatted briefly with some of the other participants. I found that most of them were as excited as I was to finally have a chance to learn the art of professional makeup application from Señora Torres.

A few minutes later, I glanced at the clock. It was just before nine. As I took my seat, Kayla walked up and sat next to me. I was immediately enchanted with her bright smile.

"Hi. Nikii Clarke?"

"Yes?" I couldn't help but smile at the gorgeous creature.

She extended her hand. "Hi. I'm Kayla Donovan. Señora Torres wanted me to welcome you personally. We've seen your work. You're pretty amazing to be such a new artist."

Kayla had a warm and inviting smile that put me instantly at ease. Her jet-black hair fell in wild ringlets that complemented her rich, honey-brown skin. The soft spirals caressed her face, framing her almond-shaped eyes perfectly. Her cute, pert nose and smooth skin made me smile, but I decided to focus back on her full, juicy lips.

As we shook hands, touching her smooth and silky brown skin gave me a delicious shiver.

"Well, thanks for the invitation," I said. "As soon as I got it, I filled it out and sent it back immediately!" We both laughed. "I wasn't sure if I'd gotten in, but I'm definitely glad I'm here now."

She shook her head. "Oh no. You were fine. Rose Grandon from Essence magazine gave us your name. Constance Sharpe called us too. They both said you have natural talent." Her voice lowered. "Actually, I heard you were fantastic on the Gabrielle Union shoot."

I flashed back to my conversation with Rose in the Las Vegas airport. That's what she was talking about? She'd referred me for this class? I grinned, pleased at my good luck.

However, I paused for a moment. Rose was only commenting on my makeup skills, right? She couldn't have known about "my other skills," could she?

Then Kayla eyed me up and down and winked at me.

Wait. Did Gabrielle tell Rose about me? Did Fran? I sighed and shook my head. If one more person spilled my personal tea–

Just then, I heard the first few bars of a popular Latin song come through the speakers.

Kayla jumped up. "Uh oh. I have to go. We're ready to get started. It was nice meeting you. I'll talk to you later," she said as she hurried toward the stage.

A few moments later, the entire room darkened. The Latin music grew louder, and a forceful guitar solo pulsated from the speakers. All of a sudden, wafts of smoke rose from the back of the room.

I turned toward the back just in time to see the doors fly open.

Then two by two, twenty of the most incredibly beautiful women of color emerged through the doors. Each woman carried an elaborate hand-held fan, made out of hot-pink ostrich feathers, and waved it wildly. Their complexions ranged from the lightest golden brown to the richest expresso. The slender and svelte models were as gorgeous and regal as the lush and curvy ones.

Each model wore a hot-pink cropped halter top and matching tap pants. Gold sequins trimmed the silky material. Each wore gold high-heeled shoes that were at least four inches in height. Their makeup was flawless, and each woman's hair was styled beautifully.

Their procession continued up the middle of the aisle all the way to the runway. Walking up the length of the runway, the ladies continued strutting toward the stage. Once they all hit the stage, they gracefully fluttered across and took various positions on the raised platform.

Finally, in unison with the musical crescendo, a wildly dressed figure entered from the doors and strutted down to the middle of the runway.

Señora Françesca Torres, in all her glory, seemed to glide straight up the runway to the stage.

Her long, curly reddish-brown hair was wild and tousled as usual. She wore a vibrant orange sundress that fit every luscious curve on her body. Her full breasts, nearly bursting out, were accentuated with a bit of delicate, orange lace trim on the bodice of the dress. Several antique gold bangles adorned her slender wrists, and four-inch stilettos decorated her tiny feet.

Grabbing the microphone, her voice boomed. "Señors, Señoras y Señoritas! Bienvenido! Welcome!"

A burst of applause erupted around the room. I, too, was caught up, clapping wildly.

She continued. "Gracias! Gracias! Me llamo... Françesca Torres! And today I am going to teach you about...beauty!" Her hand extended upward into a grand gesture.

We began clapping again, caught up in the festive atmosphere.

She threw her head back and laughed heartily. The grand spectacle was mesmerizing.

She extended her hand, with a grand flourish, toward the young models on the stage. "And please welcome mi Rose Petals!" We clapped wildly as the lovely ladies took a bow.

Señora Torres continued her introduction in a delicious blend of English and Spanish. She quickly regaled us with tales of the photo shoots she'd done and the celebrities she'd worked on.

Then she paused. "Enough about me. Let's get on with the class! Primero, I need a volunteer."

She looked around the room. "You! You there in the red! Señorita! Bella!"

Huh? I looked around. Me?

"Yes, you!" Françesca waved me up. "Let's hear it for the pretty lady in red!"

I heard the wild applause as I tentatively rose to my feet and made my way up to the stage. I relaxed, however, once I saw my reflection in the large mirror behind the stage.

Thankfully, I knew I looked great. I wore a scarlet red short-sleeved wrap dress, cinched tightly around my slender waist. The soft jersey material swung freely, and the hem fell just at my mid-thigh. I was also grateful that I wore my secret weapon: A pair of black patent leather peep-toe pumps. The extra inches of height not only gave me a more regal look but also made my calves look fantastic.

"Sit here, Chica," Señora Torres said as a member of the hotel staff placed a chair in the middle of the stage. "¿Como se llama usted? What is your name?"

"Nikii. Nikii Clarke."

"Señorita Clarke! Welcome!"

She addressed the group. "I'm introducing my new line of makeup, and Señorita Clarke is my model today. The line is called Spanish Rose by Françesca Torres. Each of you will receive a sample of the line to use throughout the duration of the class, and it will be yours to keep." She paused. "Now, I shall work my magic on this Bella Chica!"

I sat perfectly still as she quickly removed my makeup with one of her new products. The rose fragrances swirled and tickled my nose delightfully. I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face.

"Ahhh, Señorita Clarke likes it," she teased.

All I could do was blush.

Then she quickly blended a set of marvelous golds and soft browns and deftly added them to my eyes, cheeks and lips. I noticed that while she held the brushes, her pinky finger kept brushing against the side of my face, stroking it gently. I hoped that it was on purpose, and I hoped that no one else noticed.

After only a few minutes, she stepped back. "He lo aquí! Here it is!" she exclaimed.

The audience oohed and ahhed at my transformation.

She handed me a small mirror. When I looked at my reflection, I gasped. The change was incredibly dramatic. I instantly looked more sophisticated and more polished. Now I knew I had skills, but this woman was truly an artist.

"You like?" she whispered.

"It's wonderful."

"Gracias, Señorita Clarke. You can take your seat. Adiós Bella Chica! Everyone, give her a round of applause for being such a good sport and such a beautiful model!"

As I went back to my seat, Kayla came to the microphone and announced a short break.

Quickly, and seemingly out of nowhere, the hotel staff entered and changed the setup of the room. In the middle of the room, just at the foot of the runway, they arranged twenty chairs into a tight circle. Outside of that circle, they placed another twenty chairs in a slightly larger circle. The double circle of chairs took up most of the center of the room.

Once everything was ready, the real program began. First, Kayla instructed us to take a makeup case filled with Señora Torres' beauty products from the tables located on the right side of the room. Then we were directed to take seats in the outer circle of chairs.

At that point, Señora Torres announced "Here come your models!"

At that moment, the twenty "Rose Petals" reappeared from the back of the room. Kayla informed us that the models had been pre-assigned to us by a number on the back of our makeup cases. Turning mine around, I chuckled. I had lucky number seven.

Just then, an incredible 5'9" beauty strolled over to me. "I have number seven. Are you mine?" she said saucily.

She shouldn't play with me like that.

"Yes," I said. "I'm Nikii. Nikii Clarke."

"Yes. I know who you are. I'm Dayanna. Dayanna Lewis." Her skin, the color of rich milk chocolate, absolutely gleamed. Her long, dark hair lay sleek and straight down her back.

Dayanna's curvy figure was neatly dressed in a gold silk top and a pair of fitted white pants that clung to her lusciously full hips and thighs. As I admired the chocolate beauty, her fragrance wafted into my nostrils. I immediately recognized her scent as the latest offering from a mega popstar.

Then Kayla instructed our models to take a seat in the inner circle of chairs, and turn them around so that the models sat directly in front of us. Once everyone was situated, Señora Torres began the instruction.

~~~

Over two hours later, I was impressed with how much I'd learned.

Dayanna looked gorgeous in the new makeup I applied to her pretty face. Her soft, brown skin glowed with the satiny browns, regal coppers and rich golds I applied to her eyes. I also used a soft berry blush on her high cheekbones and a matching lipstick on her full, kissable lips.

Señora Torres was a patient instructor, walking around and giving private instruction and tips to each of the participants. And every time she instructed me personally, she rested her soft hands on my shoulders, squeezing them gently.

Once the morning session was done, Señora Torres called for the lunch break. "And make sure you come back after lunch!" she announced. "I have a special surprise at the end of our class!"

Suddenly famished, I remembered that there was an upscale restaurant on the first floor. As I was about to leave, Señora Torres and Kayla stopped me to chat for a moment. I quickly grabbed my newly updated photo book and let them flip through it. Both of them were impressed with my work, especially with what I'd just done in Las Vegas.

Señora Torres fawned over my work. "Muy buena, Señorita Clarke. I'm very, very impressed. I look forward to working with you in the future."

"Gracias Señora Torres," I beamed. "I've loved every minute so far."

"Well, we've taken up enough of your time. Enjoy your lunch, Bella Chica!" she replied. She and Kayla left with a wave.

As I headed downstairs, I heard a light voice call my name.

"Nikii?"

I turned. It was Dayanna. My heart pounded at her exquisite beauty.

"Hey girl!" she beamed.

"Hey Dayanna."

"You did an awesome job on my makeup. I love it a lot."

"Thanks."

"Hey, are you busy? Want to have lunch together?"

Just like that? "Sure."

Ten minutes later, Dayanna and I were seated at the bar in the Shore Club waiting for a table. In that short span of time, I learned that she was originally from Indianapolis and that she'd been modeling for a little over four years.

Finally, the Maître d' came over and showed us to our table. As I walked behind her, I watched Dayanna's full, plump ass wiggle in front of me. I smiled as I imagined my lips and tongue licking and caressing her soft, dark skin.

Once we were seated, it only took a few minutes for the waiter to come and take our orders. As he scurried away, she leaned in and looked me straight in the eye.

"Nikii, I'm not really hungry," she confessed. "Or at least not for food."

She grabbed my hand. "Are you game for some fun?"

I nodded. She was moving fast, but I was definitely game.

She motioned for the waiter. "Excuse me, sir? Please send our order up to Room 507. Thanks!"

I was floored. "You have a room here?"