Kate Moss Does Heroin With The Help Of Chanel - Part One

Kate Moss stood in the elevator of the Hilton on Park Lane in London as it rose to the penthouse suite floor. She was alone, wearing a black skirt cut about six inches above her knees and white tank top with string shoulder straps. The top was tight, hugging Kate’s round orange-size breasts. Her left hand held the top of a half empty bottle of Moet and Chandon Dom Perignon champagne, her left arm hung low burdened with the bottle, her back leaned against the rear of the elevator cab. Her right hand gripped the brass rail that ran around the cab. Kate’s drinking this evening had gotten a bit out of hand. The champagne bottle in Kate’s hand was the second one being worked on. A Gauloise cigarette was burning in Kate’s puffy lips, the non-filtered tip in Kate’s mouth, the smoke rising into her face. She glanced up at the “No Smoking” sign and smiled. Signs did not mean anything to her. They had become silly. There did not seem to be any consequences to her behavior, bad or otherwise, and so she had decided to do whatever she liked.

The elevator doors opened and Kate walked down the hallway, occasionally tipping toward one side or the other, touching the wall as she moved to prevent herself from falling. She giggled. I mean, afterall, she was celebrating. That bitch Scarlett Johansson actually thought Chanel was going to use her instead of the great and beautiful Kate Moss. When Kate had received the diamond earrings from Alain Wertheimer, the Chairman of Chanel, apologizing for the unfortunate initial decision made by the Chanel CEO, Francoise Montenay, to cancel her modeling contract, Kate smiled. She called her agent, who called Chanel, who renegotiated her contract, upping Kate’s compensation by a million pounds per year. That stupid little photograph of her snorting cocaine led to a series of events that made her more money.

Kate’s cigarette was burned down to its last quarter centimeter, with a good two centimeters of burned ash still protruding from the front, sloping down. Kate removed the Gauloise from her mouth and tossed it onto the corridor rug. It hit with a little bounce, but continued to burn. So what. Let it burn. There are no consequences, and she was celebrating. Kate removed the key card from her hidden skirt pocket and opened her hotel suite door. The lights turned on automatically in the hotel suite. That’s cute, thought Kate. The hotel room was being paid courtesy of Chanel as an additional gift for welcoming her back to the perfume company. The French; Kate loved them. As if the one million pounds were not enough. They had to give the hotel suite for a week as well as the earrings. Like she really needed it. But hell, with the Zeta Bar downstairs giving her the two bottles of Dom Perignon for free, plus the bowl of strawberries and the two Pina Coladas, which she asked for, Kate had decided to make a nice celebratory weekend of it without the intrusion of Pete Doherty or anyone else.

Kate closed the door behind her and took a swig of champagne directly from the bottle. She placed the bottle down on the thick glass coffee table that sat between two large leather couches. The window beyond had a commanding view of the Mayfair district of London. A wicker gift basket with a card attached was on the coffee table. Another gift? She leaned down, but then lost her balance and fell to the floor. Kate laughed. In public, such moments were embarrassing. But in private, she could be sloppy and drunk and silly, and it all amused her. She noticed that the left string strap holding her tank top snapped, causing the top to fall below her left breast. She hoisted herself up and felt no modesty about her exposed breast. Why should she. She was alone with herself. She was sitting on the floor next to the coffee table. She pulled off her black pumps and massaged the bottom of her feet. This made her laugh too because she felt nothing. Her feet were numb but for some reason this did not bother her. It was the champagne, Kate concluded.

Kate turned her attention to the gift basket and opened the small white envelope and removed a note card. On the card was written with a fountain pen in blue ink “Please accept my apologies.” No signature. OK. Now who is this? More people apologizing to her. Alain Wertheimer had already showered her with expensive apologies. Maybe this was Francoise Montenay, the Frenchman that decided to fire her, then was vetoed by the boss, Alain.

Kate reached into the basket and pulled out a bottle of Chanel No. 5. You’ve got to be kidding me. This is what whoever sent me to apologize? She doesn’t even wear the stuff, except when she has to. The idiot. Wait. Wait. What’s this. Kate pulled out a plastic Ziploc bag which contained a white powder, a healthy amount of white powder, possibly the size of a large cigar.

To Be Continued.

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1 Comment »

1. [...] Continued From Yesterday [...]

   Pingback by Parodical » Kate Moss Does Heroin With The Help Of Chanel - Part Two — June 2, 2006 @ 9:46 am

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