Free Pleasure Seekers by Rochelle Alers Page A

knew were into heroin, injecting themselves between their toes, under the soles of their feet, or in their pubic area, but Ilene was too vain to mar her body with needle marks or even a minute tattoo.
    Her body and her face were her greatest assets, and although her modeling career was winding down, she’d diversified and begun a new one in music videos. She planned to dance, strut and shake her behind until she found a man with enough money to indulge all her fantasies.
    Tossing a profusion of freshly braided human-hair extensions, hair that had cost her more than she could afford to pay for at this time, over her shoulders, Ilene smiled atAlana, then Faye. When she’d entered the penthouse Saturday night and saw the two black women, she’d viewed them as her competitors until she felt the overt hostility from the preening blondes and redheads.
    “Miss Fairchild.”
    Ilene turned and stared at Astrid. “Yes?”
    “I’ll test you first, then Miss Ogden and Miss Gardner. Please come with me.”
    Please, Lord, help me, Ilene prayed again as she stood up and followed Astrid to a bathroom where she was handed a plastic cup with her name printed on an affixed label.
    “Don’t tell me you’re going to watch me piss?”
    Astrid’s solemn expression did not change. “Yes, I am.”
    “Enjoy the view,” she mumbled, unbuttoning the waistband of her fitted jeans and sliding them down her hips.
    As a model, modesty wasn’t in her repertoire. Her gaze locked with Astrid’s as she eased her thong panty below her knees, squatted over the commode and urinated into the cup while Astrid slipped on a pair of latex gloves. She half filled the cup and left it on a low table beside a vase of fresh flowers.
    “How soon will I know?” Ilene asked, adjusting her clothes and washing her hands in the black marble sink.
    “When you get the phone call,” Astrid said noncommittally. “Please let Miss Ogden know that I’m ready for her.”
     
    Enid made her way through her office and into a space that had become an office within an office and her inner sanctum; she sat down on one of two facing deep-cushioned maroon tapestry club chairs, rested her feet on a matching footstool and waited for Astrid to bring her the scores from the personality profiles and drug-test results.
    Floor-to-ceiling glass walls brought the outdoors in regardless of the hour; the gurgling sounds from a Zen fountain, lighted scented candles and the distinctive sound of Gregorian chanting coming from concealed speakers provided the perfect environment for total relaxation.
    Enid closed her eyes and inhaled a lungful of air, held it, then exhaled slowly as she opened her eyes. Lengthening shadows came through the glass with the waning daylight. It would be dusk in a matter of minutes, her favorite time of day, a time when she loved to sit on her rooftop terrace and watch the neighborhood settle down from the frenetic daytime bustle to the leisurely nighttime hours.
    She glanced down at her watch. She’d promised Marcus she’d be home before ten because they’d planned to walk over to the South Street Seaport for a late dinner. Under another set of circumstances she would’ve left following the orientation, but tonight was the exception. Waiting until the following day to go over the outcome of Faye’s, Ilene’s and Alana’s drug tests and personality profiles was not an option for Enid.
    Sitting up straighter, all of her senses on full alert, Enid stared at her assistant as she entered the room cradling three folders to her chest. The glossy curls framed a dark-skinned, youthful face that would’ve belied her actual age of twenty-eight if it hadn’t been for Astrid’s full, womanly figure.
    “Let me know now if what’s in those folders is going to make me upset.”
    “Quite the opposite.” Astrid smiled, handing her boss the data she’d collected from P.S., Inc.’s latest social companions.
    Enid gestured to the facing chair. “Please sit down