A
AnnieD
Guest
It really was something to be living in Los Angeles. I mean, you constantly hear so much about it, but for somebody like me who has lived here for her whole life, you just don't think that it will happen to you. I am talking about ending up like 'one of those zombies', as my mother would put it - barely getting by, working overtime and spending any remainder of life in you, to just obsessively search for your fifteen minutes of fame. Often times, I would wonder to myself just how did I manage to get myself into this predictament - to go from a well off family, with some connections, to living completely on my own, debt and all. I found myself in perhaps one of the least glamorous regions of the city, 7th Street, but it was not like it mattered much anyway, seeing as I spent most of my time at Hollywood. Not that I've made it, mind you. Just going by as a zombie.
I worked part-time at this little cafe; a small place for more zombies like myself, just spending hours upon hours writing whatever screenplay they had in mind, and hoping to become the next big thing. I suppose that the owner of this place, Donatello (or Don for short) Rossi, preyed on their hopes, what with putting pictures of famous people who've stopped by for a cup of coffee here, once in their life. My boss was a middle aged man, but so incredibly nice. Honestly, I felt bad for acting a little snappy at him from time to time. We'd argue a lot, but that was just the way we interacted. We didn't hold grudges or anything.
Anyway, you might be wondering why I was working part-time. After all, I did say that somebody like me should be working overtime to get by, and given the fact that I dropped out of high school, I don't exactly have a wide array of choices. Well, it started with Don introducing me to this club owner, Zack Gold; a tall, skinny man around the age of 40. We hit it off and he offered me a job at the joint, with a modest pay well above minimum wage. It was a good gig, if somewhat illegal, given that he paid me under the table. All I needed was to serve drinks and act all pretty. Which wasn't hard, mind you - I had the perfect body. I was tall, standing at about 5'10, long dark brown hair, green eyes, pale skin and wonderful hips. Of course, my curves got the most attention, with my strong butt, what with all the morning hours that I devoted to yoga, and a pair of massive 36F cup breasts (all natural, thank you very much). Zack acted like a sleaze most of the time, but I always held him at bay. I was a fighter, after all.
One day, as I was working, Zack called me to his office. As soon as Amy, my less endowed co-worker showed up to replace me, I found myself going to his office; a large, suave room, pool tables and all. He offered me a preposition; he had a contract ready for me to join some cast of an upcoming sitcom, and all he needed from me was to help keep some of his...customers, entertained. I was one of the lucky few to be part of this, he said, and all I needed to do was wear some outfit that he picked out and humor them at this pool tournament. Needless to say that I agreed, and he obliged me to sign the contract right there and then, as to get the ball rolling. Not bad. Hell, I could end up winning the whole thing, given my years playing the game.
And so, I grinned gleefully and thanked him. I later changed into the outfit and saw myself dressed in the most scandalous outfit imaginable; a tight dress if you could even call it that, what with the fishnet fabric going up all to the way to my bust, where it stopped, only for whatever modesty to be cut short, was with how my cleavage practically spilled all over the place. Needless to say, that I couldn't even wear a bra underneath. Obviously, this outfit was picked to show our bodies off to the men.
The party was supposed to take place at Zack's office in an hour or so. Thankfully, we had the luxury of sticking around and 'test' some of the champagne. Hell, once we got cozy enough in our outfits, we began to play some pool between ourselves, just for practice.
"God damn it Melissa." Amy said to me, just as I beat her again at pool "Let me win once!"
"What can I say? I've got this in the bag." I said with a grin, spinning the cue stick about.
Our lighthearted laughter was paused, as we heard the slick wooden doors open and our guests arrive.
OOC:
Need one dominant male. If you're interested, let me know. Thank you.
I worked part-time at this little cafe; a small place for more zombies like myself, just spending hours upon hours writing whatever screenplay they had in mind, and hoping to become the next big thing. I suppose that the owner of this place, Donatello (or Don for short) Rossi, preyed on their hopes, what with putting pictures of famous people who've stopped by for a cup of coffee here, once in their life. My boss was a middle aged man, but so incredibly nice. Honestly, I felt bad for acting a little snappy at him from time to time. We'd argue a lot, but that was just the way we interacted. We didn't hold grudges or anything.
Anyway, you might be wondering why I was working part-time. After all, I did say that somebody like me should be working overtime to get by, and given the fact that I dropped out of high school, I don't exactly have a wide array of choices. Well, it started with Don introducing me to this club owner, Zack Gold; a tall, skinny man around the age of 40. We hit it off and he offered me a job at the joint, with a modest pay well above minimum wage. It was a good gig, if somewhat illegal, given that he paid me under the table. All I needed was to serve drinks and act all pretty. Which wasn't hard, mind you - I had the perfect body. I was tall, standing at about 5'10, long dark brown hair, green eyes, pale skin and wonderful hips. Of course, my curves got the most attention, with my strong butt, what with all the morning hours that I devoted to yoga, and a pair of massive 36F cup breasts (all natural, thank you very much). Zack acted like a sleaze most of the time, but I always held him at bay. I was a fighter, after all.
One day, as I was working, Zack called me to his office. As soon as Amy, my less endowed co-worker showed up to replace me, I found myself going to his office; a large, suave room, pool tables and all. He offered me a preposition; he had a contract ready for me to join some cast of an upcoming sitcom, and all he needed from me was to help keep some of his...customers, entertained. I was one of the lucky few to be part of this, he said, and all I needed to do was wear some outfit that he picked out and humor them at this pool tournament. Needless to say that I agreed, and he obliged me to sign the contract right there and then, as to get the ball rolling. Not bad. Hell, I could end up winning the whole thing, given my years playing the game.
And so, I grinned gleefully and thanked him. I later changed into the outfit and saw myself dressed in the most scandalous outfit imaginable; a tight dress if you could even call it that, what with the fishnet fabric going up all to the way to my bust, where it stopped, only for whatever modesty to be cut short, was with how my cleavage practically spilled all over the place. Needless to say, that I couldn't even wear a bra underneath. Obviously, this outfit was picked to show our bodies off to the men.
The party was supposed to take place at Zack's office in an hour or so. Thankfully, we had the luxury of sticking around and 'test' some of the champagne. Hell, once we got cozy enough in our outfits, we began to play some pool between ourselves, just for practice.
"God damn it Melissa." Amy said to me, just as I beat her again at pool "Let me win once!"
"What can I say? I've got this in the bag." I said with a grin, spinning the cue stick about.
Our lighthearted laughter was paused, as we heard the slick wooden doors open and our guests arrive.
OOC:
Need one dominant male. If you're interested, let me know. Thank you.
