Free First Kiss by Kylie Adams Page A

instrument panel, and ther she was gone.
     
    Haunted by the encounter, Kiki just stared blankly at the closing doors, listening as the elevator made its descent. Finally, she meandered back to the room feeling more anxiety than she had before leaving it in the first place. As if she needed additional problems to tackle. But this human conundrum would drive her insane until she solved it.
    Women like you make me sick.
    The bitter words turned over in Kiki's mind. What did she mean by that? Kiki had always considered herself a true feminist, a champion for the female race in general. After all, that's why she was writing the book. To give something back. Even in high school, Kiki had demonstrated the sensitivity to be inclusive. Most beauty queens operated in a rarefied orbit. But Kiki believed in reaching out. Example: Lindy Wiatt. She was teased unmercifully for being fat and ugly. But Kiki recruited her as a personal assistant. Getting ready for pageants could be so hectic, and what a godsend to have someone at the ready to fetch Diet Cokes, make an emergency hair spray run, and keep the makeup case fully stocked and in tip-top shape.
    Suddenly, a dark memory surfaced. Hmm. Thinking back, there had to be a better example than Lindy. After all, the girl had tried to run over Kiki in the school parking lot. They said the attack had been stress-related and triggered by extreme dieting. At first, Kiki had felt so guilty. But how was she to know that the seven-day celery and water fast she recommended to Lindy might trigger such a random act of violence? Cosmopolitan had raved about the diet. Luckily, Lindy had been back on the job in time for the Miss Fredericksburg Hospitality Pageant. Nobody had a better system for maintaining makeup brushes. Lindy had kept them as clean as surgical instruments. Today she was assisting neurologists with complicated brain surgeries! Maybe working with Kiki had inspired her to help others.
    The jingle of Kiki's cellular rang like sweet music. It couldn't be Sarah Ann. Bitch! But it might be Keith. Feeling hopeful, she rushed across the room to see. No such luck. Bastard! To no surprise, suzi-suzi calling lit up the screen.
    Kiki deep-sixed the hello formalities. "Why did you pack for a year abroad? You do realize that I'm only going to be here for three days, don't you?"
    Suzi-Suzi sobbed into the receiver. "I've got the worst luck in the world!"
    Kiki climbed into the bed and got comfortable. Probably trouble with Chad, the married boyfriend. And that could mean a marathon phone session. "I'm here, sweetie. Tell me all about it."
    "That shoot was for a sexual fetish catalog! They wanted to paint my body with latex. They wanted me to squash bugs in high heels, too!"
    "Oh, my God!" Kiki screamed. "How disgusting! What is going on in America? Sex used to be so simple. Remember the innocent days when freaky meant vibrators and fur-covered handcuffs?" She hesitated, allowing buzi-buzi a chance to compose herself. Well, what did you do?"
    "I told them to just forget the idea of painting latex on me. But I did stomp on some bugs. What else could I do? I needed the money."
    "You don't have to explain to me," Kiki said, trying to sound supportive. "You know, I don't get it. How does a guy get turned on by watching a girl kill bugs? I mean, what happened in this man's childhood?"
    "I know. It's completely retarded. Like those people who dress up as stuffed animals to have sex."
    "The plushies!" Kiki said. "Or is it the furries? I can't remember. CSI did a show about it once."
    "This is so wrong!" Suzi-Suzi shouted, her voice brimming with frustration. "I just want to model something normal for once. A push-up bra, an ugly sweater, a nurse's uniform anything !"
    "Maybe you should consider leaving the agency. They goofed and let you sign those horrible modeling releases. Ever since it's been one bad gig after another."
    Suzi-Suzi expelled a defeated sigh. "Tell me something I don't know. But where else can