In the bright lights of Tokyo Stacey glowed like a full moon. The hot summer evening air whipped up under her short hem as she strutted down the crowded boulevard in a tight creamy silk dress cut to below her ribs. Pushing her chest out, the fabric caught only an inch from either nipple. Tonight she would meet one of the biggest movie producers in Japan.

To think that only three days ago she had just arrived and walked this very street for the first time, afraid, alone, and worried that she had made yet another mistake by coming to Japan. It had been nine months since her fiancée called off their wedding because he had fallen in love with a mutual friend. Stacey had just graduated from business school, ready to dive into wedding plans and finding a house. Suddenly, she was alone and without a job. She ate herself sick, ballooning to 158 pounds from the low 140s she usually maintained at. At only five-foot-four, she wasn't just full-figured anymore. When her ex-fiancée saw her the day before her aunt's death, he couldn't conceal his relief at not being stuck with a fatty.

Stacey's aunt left her an equal inheritance as her two cousins - just over fifty-thousand dollars each. The aunt was her last living relative that knew Stacey was alive, her parents having died when she was a teenager. It hadn't been easy living with her aunt, her cousins resenting her long before she took a third of their inheritance.

Stacey's life changed with this last gesture of love. She started exercising and controlling her diet. Then the idea to take ten thousand of the inheritance and travel came to her and she let her dream of seeing Japan take shape. Six months later, she had learned enough Japanese to get by and trimmed off thirty-four pounds, the lightest she had been since fourteen, ten years before. Still, three days ago, she doubted the wisdom of traveling alone to such a foreign country. Then she met Yasumo; he had simply come over to her in the restaurant and introduced himself. Within minutes, she was telling her life story to him in English. Yasumo was incredibly handsome and so intent on her Stacey blushed at all the attention. She shared things with him that very few people knew. When he leaned in to kiss her at two in the morning outside her room, she pressed into him and pulled him through her doorway. It wasn't until the next morning after two more hours of sex that he told her his full interest in her. He was a movie producer and they were in need of a replacement for a foreign actress that had some contract disputes and returned to Copenhagen. The actress needed to be very beautiful and talented. They would need to reshoot all the scenes with the blonde actress and then a few more. Speaking parts were small. Would she take a look at the script? They would pay her a thousand dollars a day and put her up in a suite.

Yasumo brought the script up from his car and left it with her, saying he would pick her up after lunch and begin that day, if she agreed. Stacey poured over the script, her heart racing at the marvelous turn of events. A starring role in a movie! This gorgeous man drenching her in attention! The movie was of the spy thriller genre. The heroine was a CIA agent fronting as a top fashion model. Lots of sexy scenes alternating with snooping around. Quite a few fighting scenes, too.

Stacey wanted the part as soon as Yasumo mentioned it, but she asked him questions about payment and the contract as they ate lunch, not wanting to appear over eager. Yasumo agreed to all her little demands. They must really need someone right away, she thought. She finished her sushi and cucumber salad, declining desert; she wanted to be under 120 before the end of the month.

Yasumo drove to a large warehouse in a dingy industrial side of Tokyo Stacey hadn't seen yet. She couldn't read any of the signs to know where they were. It dawned on her that she really didn't know this guy, but it was too late now.

Stacey was relieved to see the large crew with lights and cameras inside; this was legitimate. When they saw her enter, everyone stopped working to shake her hand and, to Stacey's nervous amazement, stare at her. She had worn a beige knit skirt that molded tightly on her now firm butt. Stacey had left several buttons undone revealing her bra, as well as lot of the soft flesh of her C-cup breasts. She would have some fun teasing these guys.

Yasumo took her to her dressing room and introduced her to Diso who would assist her with make-up and clothes. Diso was a short slightly built man in his twenties. "Don't worry," Yasumo whispered in her ear, "Diso is very gay. He would rather see me naked."

The first shoot was a fashion runway. Stacey's character's front was a model. Diso wheeled over a rack of sexy clothing. At first she was nervous stripping in front of this stranger, but he really did seem harmless. Everything was flimsy, risqué, or barely there. She paraded down the runway in see-through blouses, shirts completely unbuttoned, tiny tube skirts with a bikini top, and lingerie without underwear that didn't even cover her butt. Three cameras swept up and down her body, zooming in from below and above. Smartly dressed men stared at her in seats by the runway. Her hands shook as she changed, or rather, as Diso slipped the scanty outfits off her and set on a new one. She couldn't show her nervousness though - didn't hundreds of models do this everyday?

"Diso," she asked in Japanese, "where are the other models?"

"We already shoot them."

"No women in the audience either?"

"Special Japanese runway for men only," Diso replied as he applied a stickum to her nipple that held the dress from falling all the way off.

Okay, she thought, I'll give them what they want and have them eating out of my hand. She took to the runway with a strut, two cameras zooming in on her chest. She came to the end of the runway, threw her arms back popping the dress off of her nipples, both breasts uncovered. She didn't look down, pretending not to notice and walked back, the dress starting to rise up her butt, the only fabric she had on.

"It didn't stay! I'm sorry," Diso said.

"Oh well, no problem," Stacey replied.

All afternoon she posed in outfits that nobody but a whore or a mega-star would wear on the streets, wondering if she should have asked for more money.

"Everyone is very happy with you," Yasumo said, "and talking about the next film after this." He came closer. "You can make five times as much after they see how good you are."

Yasumo, the director, and the financer took Stacey to a very expensive restaurant. She wore a creamy silk dress Diso gave her from the shoot that was cut in a deep-v to her belly. This time, she left off the bra. They ordered a $200 bottle of sake and kept her glass topped-off. Courage came with the alcohol. Stacey straightened her posture, smiled, and answered every question. They seemed so concerned at her not having living parents at such a young age, or even brothers or sisters. She hadn't even told her friends where she was staying yet. Next week, they told her, she could call home and brag about her new movie role when she had signed the contract they were sure was coming.

From dinner they took her to a loud disco full of very well dressed Japanese. She saw that the cover was $30 for men, women free. Man after man fixed on her chest, maybe darting a look at her face before returning to stare at her exposed breasts. Yasumo took her on the dance floor. He would hold her close and then back off. She put her hands above her head and let the fast rhythms bump her around. She saw two men in the balconies with video cameras pointing her way. Take me in, she thought. In a few weeks you'll realize that the disco gal you've been masturbating to is a rising star.

Yasumo said he needed to make a phone call, would she be all right on her own for a while? Sure, she answered. Instantly, she had offers to dance as guys tried out their English. She let them edge close, staring down her front before she'd push back and shake it out. She had more sake and a pitcher of water to replace the sweat all over her back and chest, clinging to the thin silk. She could have any one of these men, she boasted to herself. They all want the American blonde. They could all pay $10 a piece soon to see her in the movies. She'd do calendars and talk shows. Soon she'd be rich with her keys to Japan. She knew she was drunk too, but she had a thousand dollars worth of yen in her purse and much more to come.

Yasumo drove her to her new suite. He had insisted that she let the movie company move all of her stuff from her little room. Everything of hers was there, neatly hung up. The bathroom was as big as her entire last room. Stacey didn't wait for Yasumos advances. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her open mouth against his while opening her legs around his thigh. "Every man wanted me tonight, but I want you," she said.

At seven in the morning, Yasumo kissed her sleeping cheek and said he'd be back for her at nine-thirty. Be showered and wear the outfit on the dresser. A hot breakfast was already on the table.

The outfit consisted of a sheer black micro top that would get her arrested in Iowa and a 12-inch jean skirt. No undergarments. She fluffed up her blond hair, drank the juice, and ate one egg. He was on time.

"We want you to leave through the side door, like you're trying to sneak out, but the cameras find you anyway," he said.

Yasumo and Stacey rode the elevator to the third floor before changing to the stairs. Two European men rode the elevator with them. One of the men faced the door while one kept his eyes moving up and down Stacey. She pretended not to notice, looked over her shoulder, pushed her chest out, and kissed Yasumo's cheek. She reached behind with her hand and laid it on Yasumo's erection. His expression didn't change, the other two men none the wiser. Alone in the stairs, Yasumo pushed her against the wall. "You are a nasty girl," he said.

Stacey closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and licked her lips. "I just do what you tell me to." Yasumo thrust his hips into her with enough force that he shoved the breath out of her. Three more times he slammed her back into the wall with his groin and grabbed her head in his hands lifting to her toes. He was taking in giant rapid breaths. She never had teased any other guy this way. The look in his eyes wasn't gentle anymore and she knew she couldn't possibly protect herself. She was afraid with him for the first time, but she couldn't show it now. She stared back into his eyes. He softened and eased her down.

"You are too sexy to fool around," he said at last.

"I only want to please you. I thought you liked it."

"Yeah, I like it. C'mon, they're waiting for us."

As they walked down the two flights, Stacey regretted having gone so far. She'd at least act more modest, even if she was being dressed in such outrageous clothes. The bottom door opened to a side street. As soon as they exited four cameramen swarmed her. "Just smile and act like it's normal," Yasumo whispered. "This is just for publicity."

Yasumo opened the backseat to a waiting limousine. "We have a very busy day of filming. You need to do exactly what the director asks. All right?"

"I'll be a good little star."

The first scene of the morning was a love scene. Stacey was to seduce one of the villains while her accomplices stole something from the next room, the scene in the next room having already been shot. The villain was a thin angular Japanese man with a goatee. He didn't smile when they were introduced. In fact, not nearly as many men were smiling as yesterday.

They kept her in the denim mini-skirt, exchanging the see-through top for a flimsy pink cotton blouse with one button just above her navel. It was too tight on top causing her breasts to push open and expose a wide cleavage. The bottom flared way to the side showing her belly. She was to walk into his office, say hello, and slow dance him into a frenzy. For a couple of minutes Stacey twisted and jiggled for a man she had just met, while thirty strangers in a warehouse watched and worked several cameras. In an instant he grabbed her blouse and ripped open the front, shoving her down onto a conference table, and pinning her legs open with his hips in one swift movement. "Cut!"

The violence of the moment startled her and she was trembling. "I want less dancing and more touching him," the director said. "Let's have her wear something different, too." Stacey covered her bare chest on her way to the dressing room.

"You are the best yet," Diso said. Stacey didn't answer. She was still shaking. Diso didn't seem to notice. He brought out a red lycra tube top that molded over her breasts like cellophane. Diso rubbed her nipples until they stood out a half inch from her full C-cup chest. Stacey was amazed that he didn't even ask. She also wondered why she didn't flinch, just held her tits out while he pinched and aroused them to attention.

This time Stacey moved close to Mr. Goatee right away. She held her shoulders back and rubbed her hard nipples up and down his chest. She wasn't going to let him spook her. She took her hand slowly down his body until it came to the bulge in his pants. She stroked, licking her lips and twisting her hips. At first he smiled, then his expression hardened and sent a chill into Stacey; this was not a gentle man. Again, he lifted her, throwing her on the table. Though Stacey didn't really fight against him pinning her, she doubted that she could stop him from doing anything to her that he wanted to. He held her arms above her head with one hand, pushed between her legs, and opened his pants. His cock was against her leg. With one hard thrust he shoved inside of her and clamped his hand on her mouth. He was raping her in front of an entire film crew and no one knew it. She couldn't move or speak. He took his hand off her mouth only to smother her with his lips. Clamping his hand on her forehead, Stacey couldn't turn her head away. He banged into her with such force that she had to time her inhales to breathe. Couldn't the cameramen zooming in from the sides see? After three minutes of pounding her, she heard the director yell cut again. Her rapist slipped out of her and back into his pants in one motion, turned around and walked off.

"You are fantastic, Miss Stacey," the director said walking over to her. Several men hovered close by, one still filming. What was to keep them all from raping her, she thought, then dismissed that idea as quick as it came, wondering whether to tell anyone what just happened. Now was not the time, she thought. She'd tell Yasumo tonight. "Fifteen minute break."

Stacey douched in the bathroom sink as best she could. Her heart was still racing. She would get him for this, but she'd have to pick her time. Couldn't he just deny it? The next scene was shot with him too - a very different scene.

They walked through the next scene slowly. Stacey would supposedly pick the door lock to Mr. Goatee's house. She'd sneak from drawer to closet, looking for something she didn't even understand. It didn't matter; she wasn't to find anything anyway. Mr. Goatee was going to catch her in the act. They would fight, she landing more punches than him, until she missed with a roundhouse to his head and he drove his fist into her stomach. Then he would strangle her until her accomplice rushed in and shot Mr. Goatee, saving her. They choreographed all the kicks and punches, showing her how to just miss, as well as appearing to take a blow. They rehearsed the whole thing a few times at increasing speeds until real tempo. Diso dressed Stacey in painfully tight black leather pants that hugged well below her hips revealing every bit of her belly. The black leather bra top was half the size of her tits. Stacey glanced in the mirror before going out to the set - another week or so and she'd have the last couple pounds off her waist, but for now, she could suck her tummy in. Stupid outfit for a spy job, she thought, though she knew this couldn't be a very serious movie.

Stacey thought that her crawling nerves might be a help to act out this scene. She snuck around the apartment in her spy-whore outfit, the bra barely holding her breasts when she leaned over. She didn't know if it would have been so scary to be caught, if Mr. Goatee hadn't just raped her. He rushed in, throwing her against the wall, harder than rehearsed. Stacey ducked his swing, then landed a real punch to his jaw. He staggered back, just like they practiced. Give him back what he's dishing out, she thought. Her hand hurt. She kicked. He swung and she blocked it, kicking him again. She brought her hand back for the roundhouse, but before she swung, his fist rocketed up into her stomach. The impact drove her crashing a foot back into the wall, his fist still buried in her. Her legs gave and she collapsed on his balled up hand, her ribs resting for a moment on his wrist, before he pulled it back like retrieving a spear that's skewered an enemy. He fixed both hands around her neck, lifted her onto his desk and started squeezing. Stacey had lost all the air in her lungs from his punch. She gasped a couple of small inhales until he griped tighter and cut off her windpipe. She beat at his arms and tried to reach his face, but he had her in a death hold. He stared down into her eyes and watched as her chest convulsed and shook as she strained for air that wasn't coming. He was killing her and she couldn't stop him. The last thing Stacey saw before the blackness took her was the corner of his mouth twist up.

Stacey came to with another man blowing air into her lungs. Mr. Goatee was standing while the director yelled at him. She didn't think he looked sorry though. They said they shot the whole scene, including the shooting. When Stacey didn't get up, they figured out what happened. Mr. Goatee was fired.

Stacey's breath was still no more than a constant hiccup. Her stomach was screaming and her neck throbbed. She felt weak and light-headed. Several men attended her, offering water, rubbing her back, belly, and arms. Her bra was completely gone leaving her topless. One of the men twenty feet away was zooming in the camera; probably checking out her tits, she thought, thinking no one would notice. She didn't have the strength to complain. She better not hear of film circulating about this.

They took an hour break. Her neck didn't hurt anymore if she didn't touch it, but she ached at the bottom of her ribs with every breath. Yasumo said that four guys beat up the man that hit her and told him to never show his face around her again.

Stacey picked at a tray of sashimi and salads that were brought to her dressing room. Two pain pills let her move around normal again. Yasumo bounded into her room, "We have a great opportunity. We have an interview for you this afternoon with Da Ashi!"

"Who or what is Da Ashi?"

"Only the Howard Stern of Japan. You can talk about your new movie and become real famous overnight. Three thousand cash, just for interview. What do you say?"

Howard Stern wasn't David Letterman, but she agreed to do the interview. If she was going to make it, she should take every opportunity. A satchel was delivered. Yasumo opened it for her. "Look, three thousand dollars."

"Isn't it odd to get paid in cash, especially before I even do the interview?"

"We want you to see how much we want you. Da Ashi will reimburse us later. Plus, we added one thousand extra for what happened today. We are very sorry. Soon, you get money like this every day as a beautiful supermodel actress like you should."

Five thousand in one day, Stacey thought as they drove to the interview. They must have really felt bad for what happened earlier. Did she really get raped, punched, and strangled in front of a camera? Everything was moving fast. But the money was next to her, along with Yasumo.

Yasumo and Stacey entered a high-rise office building and rode the elevator to the eighth floor. Stacey still wore her short denim skirt and the see-through top from this morning. The bare hall, no frills floor of Da Ashi's studio was definitely more like Howard Stern than the uptown TV hosts. The woman receptionist led them to her changing room. Another woman helped her change; they wanted her to wear a bright pink silk dress with a draping cowl neck that dipped to the bottom of her belly, hardly any back. She stood in front of the mirror, her breasts visible to the edge of her nipples and tried to voice her concern to her helpmate, but the woman didn't speak much English and was wearing a low-cut dress herself, though not quite as low as Stacey's.

Yasumo returned. "You are the most beautiful woman of all." Stacey just smiled. "You need to act like the big star you are, not like shy girl from little town USA. A prompter will help you. Say what you can in Japanese, otherwise someone will translate. You are a model, a star, with lots of boyfriends every week. Lots of sex."

"I can't... what will people think?"

"They think you like big star from America - Madonna, Britney, all them. You can just read prompter. Very big show. Make you famous overnight."

The light blinked. "Time to go!" They ushered Stacey into the recording studio. Two men sat in chairs who she had been told were just interviewed. Da Ashi shook her hand and led her to her chair. No audience, just six cameras.

"We are so lucky to have such a rising star on our show," Da Ashi said. "Do you think of yourself as more of a movie star or as a supermodel?"

Stacey blushed and saw a camera man point to the prompter. She read, "I think of myself as a sex princess first, getting whatever and whomever I want." She couldn't believe what she had just said on national television.

"Indeed. In your current film, you play a very sexy secret agent masquerading as a supermodel, am I right?"

Stacey nodded. "And lots of sexy scenes I'm very proud of."

"Do you use any stand-ins for the sex scenes?"

"You must be kidding. I love sex, onstage and off." Stacey's heart was racing. How would men look at her now?

"Do you have anyone special right now?"

"Well,..." She was going to talk about Yasumo when she noticed the prompter. "I like lots of men every week, maybe even at the same time. Whoever I'm with is the special one."

"Maybe the three of us could get lucky?" One of the other men said.

"Maybe tomorrow. I'm booked tonight with the men's gymnastics team. Or is it the women's?" Stacey knew she didn't read the last line very convincingly. More came on the screen, "I like women but I especially like teasing men until they pounce on me." Stacey hoped to hell this would never be broadcast in America."

"Stand up so the viewers can see just how sexy a supermodel is up close."

Stacey stood. The prompter said to put her hands on her hips and push her chest out. Turn around. Walk to seat and sit down leaning forward letting dress fall off chest. All three men were staring at her breasts when she looked up.

"You are a hot chick," Da Ashi said.

The prompter said, "Wait until I show the three of you everything," but she wasn't going to say it. Instead, Stacey said, "I'm glad you think so."

"Take your dress off and show us how you like to tease."

The prompter said to lap dance the man next to her and strip naked. No way, she thought. "You'll have to wait for the movie for that, unless you're the lucky one tonight."

"I can't believe what they wanted me to say and do," Stacey told Yasumo as they drove to the hotel. "I hope I didn't say too much already."

"You did perfect. They want you even more since you didn't strip for them."

Yasumo left her in the hotel lobby with instructions to be ready at 8 o'clock for a very important party; she was going to meet one of the biggest movie producers in Japan.

On her bed was the skimpiest black dress she had ever seen with a note to wear it for this evening. It was only 5 o'clock; she had three hours. First, she stashed all the money in the room safe. Stacey rummaged through her clothes, which didn't all seem to be there, at least not the sweat shirts and regular blouses. There were lots of clothes though, all showy. She needed to get out on her own for a walk. She found a creamy silk dress that wasn't quite as short as others, though still very low cut, dressed, and left the hotel.

Stacey stayed to busy streets - she just wanted to walk and not have to worry about getting attacked on some side street dressed like she was. Five thousand dollars in one day! And much more to come. She was earning it though. Pay her dues in this low budget film and she could be more choosey. If not, she'd just take her money and enjoy herself. She wondered what time this afternoon's television show would air. Would she be recognized? She avoided back streets.

Every man, the young ones at least, turned their heads to follow her down the street. Never had Stacey felt such attention; dangerous attention maybe, but she had the power to attract. For now, the attraction meant money. She could make five years of a good salary in one month at this rate. As the men stared down the open vee of her dress, Stacey wondered about the cash. What am I to do with a suitcase of cash? She would ask for a different payment for the next movie. The sidewalks at rush hour were ten deep with people from the buildings to the street. She brushed shoulders regularly. Stacey turned sideways just as a large woman's fleshy arm slid across Stacey's chest, pulling her dress open off one breast. An older man watched with wide eyes as Stacey quickly adjusted her front. Turning, a young man blocked her path smiling. "You want to party?" he said.

"No thanks. Excuse me." Stacey put her back to him as she slid by. He squeezed her butt. She didn't respond and kept walking. Tomorrow she would use some of her cash to buy some elegant, but more conservative outfits.

Stacey was ready for Yasumo, wearing the slinky half-dress that covered about an inch either side of her nipples, round breasts pushing out on both sides. She rubbed her flat belly, not having eaten much in many days. She'd be under 120 lbs before the next movie. Her stomach was still tender just under the ribs from the deep impact of Goatee's fist. Stacey suddenly felt light-headed and slipped into a chair. She needed to eat, but there wasn't anything in the room. Looking down between her legs she saw her shaved labia, exposed from the ridiculously short dress and the way she had slid when she sat down. She'd have to be careful about that. When her movie career was more secure, she could choose her own outfits; they didn't have to be this risqué.

Stacey opened the door for Yasumo. He slid his arm around her waist, closed the door behind him, and pushed her back onto the bed while kissing her incessantly. "You'll mess up the dress I'm supposed to wear," she said. He shoved the dress up over her head in one move, holding her arms wrapped in the dress with one hand. His second hand undid his pants. Stacey knew by the look in his eyes that the only thing stopping this from being a rape was that she didn't try to stop him. He was her lover, after all, and the one man in Tokyo she felt she could trust. He rammed into her for a violent three minutes before suddenly pulling out.

"You shouldn't smell of cum. Fix your make-up and we'll go."

When she came out of the bathroom, he was easy and gentle again. He drove them to what Stacey guessed was a very expensive restaurant. A hostess guided them back to a private room with a floor table. On the way, every waiter and all guests at three tables turned to stare at the blonde American who barely covered herself. Three men waited inside - the director and two she didn't know. One was introduced as the owner of the movie company, the other his assistant. A camera on a tripod was running unattended in the corner. For publicity, the director said.

Like the night before, they kept filling her sake bowl and toasting her. Delicacies were laid-out like she was a queen. Stacey guessed that the bill must be well over $500 for the meal. She forgot her diet for a night - what was a half pound? When she slurred a word, they laughed, but just as quickly they were quiet, eyes wandering to her chest. Stacey kept the large napkin over her crotch which was completely exposed, her butt naked on the mat.

She needed to pee badly. Yasumo got up to let her out. She slid, holding her napkin to cover herself. She stood up holding Yasumo's hand and pulling her dress down over her butt, though not before they saw everything. She pulled on the front hem and one nipple popped out in the middle. "This dress isn't the right size," she said to Yasumo as she readjusted.

"You are the sexiest woman in Japan tonight," he replied.

Stacey had to concentrate hard to make the bathroom. The walls wouldn't stay still as she held herself up. She felt warm and pleasant enough though, just terribly drunk. When she made it back to their dining room, Yasumo and the director were gone. They had gone to check on a friend and would be back for her soon. Come sit and try the desserts. More sake.