PART 2 PARIS CATWALK
Six months later...
With one more outfit to go, Bridgette could see the sunlight beyond the
trees. This was the last fashion show booked for the season, and she
was looking forward to some fun in the sun at Cannes.
The last nine months had been a whirlwind world tour of fashion runway
shows, magazine shoots, TV talk shows, and raucous parties. Bridgette
had climbed the ladder to Supermodel status with amazing speed, even her
agency had to admit their surprise and happiness that she was being
offered some of the largest contracts in the business at such a young
age. But the plain truth was, this sixteen-year-old model had a
sophisticated look that belied her age and, on another level, Bridgette
had some accessible quality that captivated the camera and didn't let
go.
On paper, her measurements were 32B-22-30, 110#. Without heels she towered
over many men at 5'11"and she melted those men and most women with her
gorgeous blue eyes and shoulder-length blonde hair.
This last dress design was set to accentuate her blue eyes, and as she
slipped hurriedly into the tight-fitting fabric, Bridgette noticed a
face she hadn't seen in years. It was her sister Jennifer dressed
conservatively in a dark navy suit. Odd wardrobe for Jenn, Bridgette
thought, but then it had been almost two years since the two had seen
each other. Maybe Jennifer had come to patch things up; to congratulate
me on my success.
The chaos of the backstage was kicking into high gear again as the final
wave of dresses were lining up for the runway. Bridgette knew she had
to go soon.
Jennifer negotiated her way through the busy crowd of near-naked bodies
and addressed her younger sister.
"Hey, sis, I know you've got to run up next. But I thought if we could,
you know, talk after the show. Kind of talk things out. It's really
great to see you again, Bridgette."
"Yeah, yeah, oh, um, just let me make this last walk---you know how
these things are. I'll be up and down before you know it. Don't go
anywhere, I'll be right back," Bridgette said, her voice fading as she
made her way back into the backstage curtains.
Jennifer took a cursory look around and decided that even with people
looking in her direction, there was too much craziness for anyone to
figure out what she was doing. She leaned down for Bridgette's spring
water bottle and quickly unscrewed the top. She belted back a quick
taste and, just before replacing the lid, dropped two pellets into the
water that immediately dissolved in the liquid.
Bridgette was tearing off the last dress even as she was receiving the
tremendous applause. By the time she returned to her spot backstage, she
was running lounging around topless, wearing only her borrowed thong.
Bridgette hugged her sister properly and collapsed in her chair.
"Whew, that was exhausting. But it's so much fun sometimes. Remember how
much fun we used to have at home in the hallway. You let me be your
makeup girl and I dressed you so you could walk down the long hallway."
Bridgette finished her thought and launched into the water bottle.
Jennifer watched closely and kept track of the minutes that passed.
"Yes, you were a really great helper then. How old were you, Bridgette?
Only six or seven, as I recall."
"Yeah, and I mean I never thought I would actually be walking down the
catwalk someday. Hey, and it's all because of you, Jenn."
Bridgette raised her water in a toast.
"To my older sister, Jennifer. Without her help, I never would be where
I am today: the world's newest Supermodel. Cheers!"
Bridgette finished the remainder of the spring water and started to wrap
a tee shirt over her body.
"Listen, listen, sis, I came all this way to Paris because of two
reasons. One, I wanted to catch up on your life. And two, I , well, I
brought somebody with me."
Bridgette's mouth went wide open.
"You're getting married!? You brought him so I could meet him, right?"
"Well, maybe...come on, he's out this way. Just down this hall. Follow
me, sis, you'll be so surprised to see him."
Bridgette took up after her older sister through a maze of hallways and
staircases, through several floors, and in those few minutes, she began
to feel the effects of a drug-induced disorientation. Jennifer looked
down at her watch and smiled at the perfect timing.
Bridgette was now a jumble of arms and legs, her coordination was
confused. She reached out to Jennifer on the steps for help, and then
fell hard against them, her hands barely breaking her fall.
At that moment, a tall, bulky American emerged from the top of the
stairs.
"Did it take 10 minutes to work?" He asked.
"Yes, you were exactly right about the dosage, and about her weight. How
did you figure it so exactly?"
"Oh, when I was in high school, I used to drug all kinds of 16
year-old-girls. I know her body type." He walked down to the unconscious
Bridgette and played with her pouty lips. "As I recall, I think I
drugged you a time or two when you were growing up."
They each smiled wickedly about their mutual history.
"Sleep now, sis, you've got a long flight ahead of you. I'm taking you
back to America. I'm taking you to your new home."
