3 Confessions

The Grand Gala of the 'Academie Francaise de la mode' took place in three vast rooms of the same building, sponsored by the famous Parisian fashion house: the largest, the central one, was used for fashion shows. A sumptuous red carpet stretched along the entire perimeter of the circular room, the décor of which drew that of one of the Court of Versailles' aristocratic halls.

The giant gold-plated chandelier gave the final touch to that place, making the atmosphere magical and the light neither too dim nor too strong. Perfect for enjoying every dress and every perfume, as if they were delicious first-class foods.

The second room, just to the right of the first, was instead that of the buffet: three tables were arranged to cover the largest possible area and provide the wealthy guests of the event with food and alcoholic beverages at will, with minimal effort. In addition to the genuine 'self service' buffet, dozens of waiters in suits wandered through the crowd with their glittering silver trays, ready to serve cocktails at will so as not to leave any of the guests empty-handed.

Finally, the last of the three rooms, the smallest, though slightly, was the one dedicated to leisure and fun. The hallmark of that room was the great disco ball hanging from the ceiling, with its smaller sisters, scattered here and there, tasked with amplifying the colourful bright rays that would be fired nonstop from the reflectors arranged along the walls.

Kora Night was in the second room, where in addition to the buffet, people were free to serve themselves at the tables and listen to the interviews that hungry journalists did to the big names that figured in that kind of fashion competition.

The colossal building of the event, other than to the Academie Francaise de la mode, had been sponsored by the hotel behind it, which in addition to offering a copious heritage useful for the general organization of the main event, had the important task of hosting the designers who would decide to spend the night in the French capital, the city of love: Paris.

"So? Kora? What's your answer?" the voice of the journalist said, whose microphone didn't stop swinging back and forth, waiting for a response from the neo-celebrity.

"Kora! She's asking you a question! Kora!" Naseefa whispered, speaking in a tone of voice so low that even the movement of her lips was imperceptible.

Her assistant's elbow hit Kora's arm, which awoke from that trance that lasted about ten seconds.

"I'm so sorry... I must have gone too far with wine! Hahaha!" she chuckled, who had not heard the last words of her interlocutor and wanted to play down, avoiding looking bad in front of everyone.

"I feel you, it can happen at all! In fact, I think I have to stop myself too, otherwise, I risk saying nonsense! Eheh!" Christine replied, handily returning the smile. "I was saying... it's time to move on to gossip, Mademoiselle! Viewers and followers of our social networks always ask us the same question: who is Kora Night's man?" the journalist continued, winking and expecting an ironic answer from the young woman interviewed.

"A man? You mean... a lover?"

"If you prefer to call him like that... yes. A lover. The question is quite obvious: you are a beautiful and cultured girl, very attractive. You have lovely taste in the way you dress, and the way you talk is fascinating. Besides, your career is at the most important stage of its rise... it is impossible that there are no men ready to do anything to conquer you! Am I wrong?"

The microphone stopped moving and remained pointed in the direction of Kora's lips. Before responding, she looked up for a moment, realizing that the people around her were really eager to know an answer to that dilemma. Despite their high social class, all those people were more interested in a scoop concerning her private life than in the actual art behind her essences' creation processes.

"How disappointing…" she thought.

"Men are buzzing around me, yes. As you just said, I think I'm a pretty appealing 'prey', that's true," Kora said, arousing even more interest from the men in the crowd, especially her blond-haired admirer. "However, I am sorry to disappoint your expectations... I chose that in my life, there is no room for a man if I really want to follow my dream, if I really want to focus on my job."

"Wowowo! Shocking revelation, friends! I never expected that! So, you're telling me that... don't you believe in love? Or rather... do you think the love for someone can somehow damage your career?"

"Christine, c'mon. We are two adult women, and I think the same goes for the people listening to us, so let's face it. The love people see in the movies doesn't exist. Romance doesn't exist. The only thing that exists and is tangible is sex, pure, violent, wild. A mixture of feelings of pleasure and smells ready to be discovered", Kora replied, looking out of the corner of her eye at that incredibly charming man, who continued to hold the empty glass in his hands and rub it softly with his fingers while his eyes could not detach from her.

"Carnal love is my only relief valve. From it, I draw the energy necessary for the creation of something unique in the world. Versace, Dior, Chanel, Armani... these perfumes are exceptional, but they are not perfect. None of them is. They are shelf products. My works are pieces of art. They are pure emotion, they are like holy relics", she replied, who with those words only accentuated her sensuality, despite having remained perfectly still in the same position for the duration of the interview.

All Kora Night needed was her words, and a glass of wine. An audience of a few people was enough to trap everyone with her charm, let alone so many people.

Naseefa touched her boss's arm again, pointing out that perhaps it was appropriate not to go further with words so as not to result in banality.

One last sip of the delicious white wine of that chalice accompanied the smile of the young woman who had just finished speaking, and just when a drop inadvertently fell on her lower lip, Kora's tongue took it in a hug, taking it back to the right path, towards her mouth.