A gig’s a gig, right? That’s what they say. That’s what they told her when she first ran away from her little no-name town to Los Angeles. Any work is real work. A background appearance here, one spoken line there. It’s how the game is played, how things work, and how you get recognized. Once you’re a star, then you can be picky. Until then, a job’s a job. Any job.

At first, as a young fresh face, she could pay rent with bit jobs and waitressing. At first. Money became an issue quickly after that. She stayed in more, but that just reduced her chances to get recognized. And the rent was coming up fast, money was tight, and hey, a gig’s a gig. Right?

Her agent set it up. An amateur shoot, skimpy stuff, nothing she couldn’t handle. She had that “girl next door” look to her still. So she took it. It would keep her in her apartment for another month at least. The shoot was at a dirty, ran down place that smelled of sweat, sex, and urine. She almost bolted when she arrived, but the photographer handed her cash upfront, and they got to shooting. At first, it was as advertised. Lingerie, swimsuits, miniskirts. But then, of course, she could earn a little extra. Just show some more skin. Another fifty was waved in front of her, and with a deep breath, her top fell to the ground. She put on a plastic smile, sexy but empty, for the camera.

The camera flashed dozens of times, and then, more money for more skin. She needed the money. She had her dreams, so she did it. She wouldn’t be the first woman to be naked in Hollywood, she told herself. The shoot eventually came to an end. As she was sitting there, sweating under the lights, the photographer’s put his hands on her shoulders. Rubbing them as she covered her chest. As he told her to relax, that she could get more opportunities, he could recommend her ... if she played along. It’s how the game was played, he told her. Then without waiting for her answer, his hand gripped her hair and pulled her head to his crotch as he unzipped, ready for her.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth. He wasn’t gentle. She had never gagged on a cock before, as he pushed down and thrust hard. Telling her to take it, that she was a whore, as drool coated her naked chest, gagging harder and harder. Makeup ran down her face, crying, as her throat grew raw until he spasmed. She choked on cum as snot and white leaked out her nose. She hacked some up as he pulled away. Then he patted her head and told her she did good work and that she would hear from him soon. She doubted it as she dressed and left. Halfway home, she pulled over and threw up, sobbing. An hour later, emptied out, she got back to her shitty apartment and threw the cash on the floor. Part of her wanted to burn it. Instead, she went to sleep.

To her surprise, a few days later she got a call. He had been honest about that, about the work at least. It was even real work, a movie. She felt so excited for a moment and then he followed up with what kind of movie it was. A simple shoot, he said. She would be the star of it. They wanted someone young and fresh, that hadn’t gone through the motions a hundred times. They would even pay her a couple grand for it, just for a single scene. She hung up on him, crying. She hadn’t come here for porn. She wanted to be an actress. She just needed a chance, just one chance and she could be famous. She slid down the wall and stayed there for over an hour, tears stinging her face.

Slowly, she picked up the phone. Hit redial and apologized. He understood, he told her, but it could open doors, and it would be one day’s work for a couple thousand dollars. She sniffed but told him yes. She stood up, not wanting to leave the city a failure, so showered and readied herself.

It was at the same place as before, which now explained the stink of sex. She arrived there, the only woman, to be met by two large men and the cameraman from before. When she asked them what the scene was about they laughed and told her not to worry. They even gave her the money upfront and told her it would be a fantastic shoot. She was scared. Nervous. She’d only had sex a few times, but she’d seen porn before. A cheesy ditsy shoot, fake moaning, bad music. That was how those things went, right? She asked about her costume and they laughed again, tossing her fishnet bottoms that covered absolutely nothing. She meekly changed into them, feeling exposed and naked, since she basically was. Then she asked when the filming would start and what her lines were.