the make-up artist’s Disco Fiasco – extension #4 eyelashes on. I scrambled and got up looking for any type of vase, bowl, or tray to ditch, and why had I started smoking in the first place? I needed more time to get dressed because when I removed the eyelashes, I would have a giant glue line across my eyes. I wanted to take the makeup completely off with hot water before going outside, but I also wanted to hurry up and follow the other girls.
“Addison, do you have those eyelashes hun?”
I was aiming the deodorant spray nozzle hastily towards my underarm areas through the sleeves, “Yes I do!” I yelled. Surprisingly, he was standing right behind me. Throwing the can into my bag, I carefully removed the lashes and placed them into the outstretched hand. I then scooted over to the mirror to look at the glue, which was paving a nasty little trail of gunk across my lids, and just decided to cover it with my sunglasses. I had the moisturizer out, but I didn’t want to delay any longer, so I rubbed some over my hands and put my gloves on. I took one last look and decided that the remaining make-up did not seem too overly extreme, only to get from where I was to the apartment. All of the make-up, with the exception of the eyes, had basically been the natural, nude look; a bit of the ingénue, and some smiley. I finished packing up my things and took a moment to relieve myself of a couple of the tightest hairpins that were stuck inside the super tight 60’s-style coif. I then gave my head an orgasmic rub, and ended up with a reasonably tolerable bed head look. Finally, I was out of there.
My New York abode, which I had been renting for 2 years now, used to be one of the model apartments. When the agency decided to move the apartment to 29th street, it was arranged for me to finish out the lease. Both places were in Chelsea, mine on 22nd St. It was a two-bedroom with a few sparse furnishings, exposed brick wall, and a daytime door attendant. It was TURN PAGE