As your bad luck continues you scramble for any job whatsoever, even B-movie roles. You're at an audition for one such movie, nervously tugging on the skirt you're wearing, wishing you hadn't dressed quite so much in character.
The role being that of a hooker, who meets a grisly end, you came in character; caked on make-up, a miniskirt that's practically a microskirt, thigh-high boots over fishnet stockings, and a top that manages to bare nearly all your cleavage and the entirety of your taut belly.
With long fake nails and chewing gum you think you've nailed the look, especially with the cheap perfume and bad dye job. Admittedly the last two were because you were running out of money and had to go with the cheapest you could get, but for this role you think it works.
Thanks to the bus running late you're a bit worried to find the waiting room empty, and it depresses you to realize that once again you're the last girl there. It's like the universe is telling you to give up, that you're like the last kid picked in gym - a loser.
"Hello?" a voice says, snapping you out of your depression.
A big smile cracks your face almost painfully. "Hiya," you say, giving your gum a few loud smacks. "I'm your hooker," you tell him, laying into the character with abandon.
"Damn," he says, eying you up and down with lascivious delight. "You sure are. Let's, uh, get inside."
Giggling you sashay your way ahead of him, certain that his eyes are on your aerobics-toned butt.
"So what do you want me to do?" you ask as he closes an office door behind the two of you. |