Lacey Bryce (23 years old)

Lacey sizes herself up in the mirror and doesn’t like what she sees. For someone who’s about to audition for a bikini ad, she just doesn’t fill out the top the way she wants. The yellow fabric feels loose on her perky B cup girls. She’d suspect the bratty receptionist of giving her a size too big if not for the bikini bottoms having the opposite problem: the bottoms have to stretch to try and accommodate her wide hips and round butt. She turns around and looks over her shoulder to the mirror, her ginger hair bound in twin braids down her back. The bikini bottoms are losing the fight to cover her bubble butt. She wiggles her hips to get an idea of the fit and mutters as they ride up, exposing the outer curves of her pale and rounded ass.

“If you can’t even fit the bikini, I don’t know how you expect to score the part,” says a leggy blonde in a white, clingy dress as she enters the dingy public restroom. “Why even bother to show your face out there?” The smirking woman looks down. “Or that fat butt?”

Lacey frowns. She snaps the bikini bottoms back into place, the thin fabric again hugging her cheeks. She turns to face the blonde and has to look up to meet her gaze with her own sea-green eyes. At 5’3, Lacey has always been on the short side and looks up to most people, literally. “Look, I didn’t ask your opinion. I’m just trying to get ready. And I’ll give it my best shot. You’re welcome to butt out of my personal affairs.”

The blonde shrugs. “Be rude all you want. I know talent when I see it, and yours is wasted here. I work for a place that would love to have you, curves and all.” With a smile, the woman adds, “You can call me Ms. White.”

Lacey visibly relaxes and stops fiddling with the bikini, looking up to Ms. White as she nibbles at the inside of her lip. “Oh, you’re offering me a part somewhere else? Another ad?”

“A part in an ad? Oh no girl, my offer is so much better than that. How would you like to compete in a game show where the prize is $100,000?” Ms. White leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “The show is called Fucked or Fortune. Win and the money is yours. Lose and well, let’s just say that we live up to our name in a big way. We'll have you sign a waiver of course, agreeing to whatever consequences come of your foray onto the show.”

Lacey doesn’t know what to say and twirls a braid as she thinks about the offer. She needs the money, bad. Rent won’t pay for itself. If she doesn’t get this part with the stupid swimsuit ad, she doesn’t know what she’ll do. A shudder goes through her at the thought of her beer-bellied landlord Mr. Carl and all his offers to let her pay the rent with her body. She couldn’t bear the thought of the fat man grunting on top of her, much less finishing inside her.

Ms. White clears her throat. “Well? I haven’t got all day.”

“Sorry! When you say ‘fucked,’ I assume you mean by some kind of male performer, right? Someone chosen for his looks and uh other qualities?” The 100k would be worth the risk if Lacey could just be sure there wasn’t another Mr. Carl waiting for her at this seedy game show.

“Our staff are of the highest caliber. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.”

Lacey nods and bites her lip again, a nervous habit. She toys with the side of her bikini bottoms. “I’m in then, I suppose. I want the 100k.”

Ms. White turns on her heel and starts to walk out, saying over her shoulder, “Excellent. Follow me and a van will take us to the studio.”

Lacey follows Ms. White out the building and into the parking lot. She’s still wearing the bikini, too distracted by the offer of 100k to remember she’d brought a change of clothes with her to the swimsuit ad audition. With every step, the bikini bottoms ride up a bit more, and she can’t help the blush coloring her cute, freckled face.

Ms. White stops at a white van, its windows tinted. She opens a side door and looks to Lacey. “Hop in. It’s not far, so we’ll be there before you can say ‘fucked senseless.’”