2nd stage is interviews

Bria stayed quiet as the group waited, listening for clues, but all she heard was snarky comments about how other people were dressed, and excited giggling about what it would be like to be famous. Most of it was drowned out by a dark-haired girl standing behind her talking into her cell in some foreign language - french probably, she thought.

At long last the curtains at the end of the room parted and an enormous black man stepped out, folding arms that belonged on a wrestler as he glared across the crowd.

"Listen up!" he bellowed, and the volume lessened, but didn't die. "Hey! Shut up or get out!"

All but one girl went silent; this unfortunate girl - with her dyed hair and surgically assisted bosom chattered merrily on her cell phone, rolling her eyes at the theatrics of the ridiculous request.

"Get her out of here," the man ordered, and the girl's eyes widened as two other gorilla-like men came up behind her, lifting her completely off her feet as the hustled her to the door.

The girl's squawking protests and threats faded, leaving the rest of the girls staring at each other and the big man at the front of the room.

"You will be admitted past this curtain and directed into a cubicle. There are four cubicles, each with an interviewer. They will take your information and portfolios. You will go where they tell you. If they tell you to fuck off you will either leave on your own or we'll throw you out. Got it?"

A room-full of women nodded as one.

"I'd like him to put his hands on me," one girl murmured, drawing a disgusted look from Bria. She thought the man looked like an ape, and that wasn't even counting the muscles that bulged to deformity-like size.

Steroid user, she thought, knowing that meant he had a dick like a hamster. She fought back a giggle, but couldn't keep her eyes from checking out the package. A moment later they widened, shocked by the length of the bulge travelling down one pant-leg.

"You," the gravelly voice said, and the bulge moved toward her. Bria snapped her eyes up to his, realizing that he was talking to her. A slight sneer told her that he'd spotted her and knew she'd been inspecting him. "Go to the first on the right."

"What? I was here first!" the girl beside her protested.

"You can be the first to leave if you don't like it."

Gulping, the girl shrugged, stepping back and glaring at Bria.

"You. Go in," he told her again.

Giving the crowd a triumphant smile Bria used her best on-stage sashay to go through the curtains, turning left before abruptly reversing. With a slightly red face at her gaffe she entered the cubicle. A paper-card table and a pair of folding chairs were the only furniture and thin white sheets ending six inches above the floor were the only walls between her and the interviewer next door and the room of girls on the other side.