As I stand at the threshold, my heart pounding, the door swings open to reveal a middle-aged man with a rugged demeanor. He's dressed in jeans and a simple black T-shirt, exuding effortless cool. His eyes rake over me, pausing at the revealing red dress that I purposely picked out for this audition, the fabric clinging to my curves and accentuating my hourglass figure.
My legs start shaking as I consider the implications of what I'm about to do, especially with him staring at me like that. His gaze feels like a touch, and I've never felt more exposed.
The guy steps aside with a gesture that's both an invitation and a test, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he waits for me to enter. "Good, you finally made it. I'm the agent. Step inside," he says, his deep voice matching the frenzied beating of my heart.
I pause for a moment, trying to steady my racing heart before stepping into what appears to be just another office. But I'm well aware this isn't your average workplace, and I'm not here for a standard job interview.
The space is filled with bright, artificial light that illuminates every corner with pinpoint precision. There are no windows to provide respite from the intensity. Cameras, their lenses focused and unyielding, are strategically placed throughout the room—some aimed directly at the desk, others mounted high on the ceiling, all capturing the area around the couch. Am I ready for whatever this casting—and this man—will demand of me?
I trail behind him into his office, where expectation lingers like an unpleasant perfume as thick as the worn beige carpet beneath my feet, marred by stains. "Just don't trip," I mentally tell my feet, completely unprepared for the challenge posed by these merciless black high heels. The weight of the cameras on me feels heavier than gravity pulling me down, making me hyperaware of every step I take.
Drawing in a deep breath to calm my nerves, I unintentionally inhale the lingering aroma of aged sperm and stale nicotine that has permanently seeped into the walls of this room, a reminder of the many indulgences that have taken place here. And I will soon be adding my own memories to this tainted space.
"You can sit down on the couch," the casting agent says, gesturing to the well-worn leather couch against the wall. Across from it, a desk stands like a silent witness to the countless auditions that have preceded mine.
As I lower myself onto the sleek black leather couch, I feel the skirt of my dress traitorously inching up my thigh. Without thinking, I adjust it, and I instantly regret the reflexive gesture.
He catches my momentary discomfort but stays silent, choosing not to comment. Casually, he offers to take my purse, and I hand it over, observing as he hangs it by the door with precise care that somehow unsettles me. Then he turns and locks the door, the sharp click of the lock echoing off the walls, freezing me in place.
"So we won't have any interruptions," he remarks, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, a thin veil of friendliness masking something darker.
Gawd. This is real. I'm really here, about to do this. My heart erupts into a wild, frantic beat. Could I find another job? But then, my lack of a degree always lands me at the bottom of the pay scale. A loan, maybe? On a minimum wage—yeah, right. Damn. My thoughts are racing, hitting dead ends left and right. I've already turned every stone and followed every lead a million times. That's why I'm standing here. I have no other options left.
He turns to face me, and the room suddenly feels smaller, with the walls closing in with each passing second. "Shall we begin?" he inquires, his calm voice at odds with my heart's wild beat. I manage a nod, swallowing hard against the knot in my throat.
His stride to the desk is measured and purposeful. He picks up a camera that has been sitting there, which causes a ripple of unease in me. My gaze wanders, taking in the panopticon of lenses positioned at every possible angle and filming my every move. There will be no secrets in this room, and there will be no hiding from the camera's unblinking eye.
He relaxes in his chair, in stark contrast to the tightness in my gut. As he leans back and activates the handheld camera, its lens focuses on me, its gaze feeling intrusive. I instinctively press my knees together, aware of how my dress reveals my lace black thongs while sitting on this leather couch.
"Can you introduce yourself to our producers?" he asks, his tone professional but barely concealing the evaluative gaze that comes with the territory of an audition.
Swallowing hard, I gather what little confidence I can muster. "Yes, of course," I say, my trembling voice hinting at hesitation. Clearing my throat, I begin, aware that what follows may permanently alter my life in the most public of ways. "My name is..." The words that follow are rehearsed. "Emma. I turned 18 just last week, and right now, I'm working as a cashier at a local supermarket," I say, my voice steady despite the nerves. What I don't say hangs heavily in the air—the fact that I had to drop out of high school due to financial and family obligations.
"18? You look more like you're 16."
His comment stops me cold, fear coursing through my veins at the prospect of him doubting me and jeopardizing the job I desperately need. I instantly begin to rise, intent on grabbing my purse. "I can show you my ID," I offer.
But with a dismissive wave, he stops me. "We'll document your ID later for age verification. Let's focus on your audition for now."
"Uh, okay." I sink back into my seat, feeling a twist of unease settle in my gut.
"So, Emma, what made you want to make a career in porn?"
His question, typical for these interviews, still takes me by surprise, forcing me to confront my true motives for being here. I can’t exactly say I need the money to pay for my mom's MS treatment, which has confined her to a wheelchair, so I go with something simpler. “I enjoy sex, and I heard it pays well,” I reply, trying to sound confident.
He nods, his expression turning more serious. "Just so you're aware, payment depends on whether the producers are happy with today's footage, okay?"
That statement makes me nervous, but I know I have to take the risk for my mom's sake. I just hope it all works out. “Yes, I understand,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady as I acknowledge I'm about to have unprotected sex with a man twice my age and may not even get paid for it.
"Have you ever done anal?" His question cuts through the tension in the room.
"No," I admit, really hoping it isn't something he insists we do for the first time on camera.
I'm not sure if I'm imagining things, but he appears to smirk at my response, making me even more uneasy.
"But you followed the prep instructions I emailed you?"
I can feel my face heating up as I recall walking into the pharmacy to purchase the enema kit he requested. "Yes, I did everything you asked," I reply quietly.
"Good," he says, his expression not revealing whether he intends to take my anal virginity.
"Are you open to doing girl-on-girl action?"
"Yes." Even though I had no prior experience, I have always been curious about being with a woman.
"How about double penetration, BDSM, gangbangs?" he says, tossing the words out as casually as if he's suggesting sandwich fillings to me.
"I am not comfortable with either of those scenarios." There are certain boundaries that I am not willing to cross.
"Hmph," he mumbles, almost to himself, clearly disappointed. "Guess that's gonna limit your options here. But hey, who knows? Maybe you'll think differently later on."
I just give him a look, pretty sure I won't.
"Can you stand up and undress?"
My legs quiver as I rise from my seat, the thin straps of my dress grazing my bare shoulders. Each heartbeat is like a drum, loud in the silence of the room. My cheeks burn with nervous heat as my shaky and uncertain hands reach for the zipper on the side of my dress. There's a hesitant pause before I slowly lower it, feeling a rush of vulnerability with each inch of exposed skin.
His gaze is fixed on me as if he's trying to remember every detail while the camera rolls. Prior to this, only my ex-boyfriend had ever seen me naked. Now here I am, about to reveal everything to some stranger, and potentially anyone who sees this film.