The Bella Donna Woman

Chapter Three

Kourté kicked off her shoes immediately she stepped into her condo.

"Fuck!"

She screamed in frustration and threw them both at the couch feeling little satisfaction when they bounced off the leather and landed on the floor. Then she pulled her hair out of it's restraining band, wincing when she tugged just a little too hard. It did her no good when she was pissed off but at this moment, Kourté couldn't help it.

She couldn't believe that she, Kourté LaRae, was being dropped for some unknown, naive little nobody. Who the fuck chose some copy cat over the real thing?

She'd rolled out of bed late morning to see the e-mail pop up on her phone. She'd hardly been able to believe her eyes and it had taken about three reads for her to fully understand what it had meant. She'd gotten ready in thirty minutes, a true record for her, and had stormed out of the house with every intention of committing bloody murder.

Now it appeared she was going to have to go through with this stupid plan because her manager was too much of a dildo to do anything about it.

She headed towards the bathroom fighting the urge to throw something more breakable. Even though it would make her feel better, it wouldn't change the fact that in about two weeks, she would no longer be the Belladonna woman. Instead some newbie slut would. Gritting her teeth, she ran furious fingers through her hair shaking the curls out.

Her blue eyes caught her reflection in the mirror and a long buried insecurity reared it's head.

Why wasn't she enough anymore? Had she lost her appeal after eleven years? Was she getting old? Was she, god forbid, washed up?

Carefully, she examined her features in mirror. Her appearance was something she took a lot of time with. It was her selling point, her meal ticket. She needed to look good otherwise people wouldn't want her like they did. She wouldn't be as important as she was without it.

Her hair, a long mass of honey blonde curls, spilled down her shoulders to her back. Some covered her full, round breasts which were thankfully still high on her chest. Her stomach was flat with well defined abs but no less feminine. Her legs were miles long and toned from the thirty minute runs she had nearly every morning.

No; surely she wasn't old. Not yet. Not at twenty nine. But it was something she constantly dreaded. Her secret fear.

What if more brands dropped her? Carson was working on a contract with a major designer in Paris. What if she lost it because she was no longer the belladonna woman?; because she was aging.

It seemed to Kourté that the older she got, the less secure she was and the more paranoid she became. She loathed the day when her boobs would sag and wrinkles would appear on her skin. She was almost sure she'd rather die than look that old!

Annoyed by her thinking, she turned firmly away from the mirror. Those assholes didn't know what they were doing. She wouldn't let that dick-head Bowman and his stupid label spoil the rest of her day. It was her fucking birthday for crying out loud. She'd pamper herself today with spa sessions and treatments, buy an amazing new dress with matching sexy heels and look stunning in it. She'd celebrate her twenty ninth birthday find a beautiful woman at the club and proceed to fuck the living shit out of her. Kourté LaRae was still gorgeous and she was going to prove it.

Satisfied with her plan, she turned off the shower and started on her hair blowing it out pleased that it's curls were still present. She hated that she avoided looking at the mirror as she headed out the bathroom to put something a bit more casual on.

One of her snug levis and a black crop top, all designers of course, would do. She matched those with high boots and not bothering with make up because she intended to get a face lift, headed out of her condo.