The next morning: Sean is late, Jessica has doubts

The L.A. sun fell into the large house’s opulent living room windows, bathing the room in a warm, beautiful light. Through the large glass doors that led out to the terrace and the large garden outside, the flawless, blue sky was visible.

Anxiously, Jessica checked the large clock on the living room wall for the twentieth time in as many minutes.

11:03

Sean was late. Fucking bastard. Even worse than before, Jessica’s nerves had been torturing her ever since they had ended the call last evening.

She felt like a wreck. After she had hung up, the nerves had come back pretty much immediately. Shock and disbelief at what she had just done had settled in and her evening had ended with the rest of the bottle of wine and some tears on the balcony as she had to come to terms that she had just compromised some of her most sacred, long-standing principles.

The night had been hell. Tossing and turning for half the night, she was haunted by doubts about her actions and she barely managed a few hours of sleep before she finally gave up before the sun had even risen and headed to her private gym in the garage. She had gone hard on the workout, pushing herself far longer and harder than she usually did until she reached a point of complete exhaustion and had crashed back into bed to finally catch another two hours of sleep. Still, she felt absolutely destroyed when she woke up at half past nine and dragged herself into the shower. She had **** herself to have a bit of breakfast, but her stomach felt like a knot, barely allowing her to get anything down.

She had brushed her teeth, then headed up to her dressing room and had spent the next hour picking out the outfit she would wear for Sean. Going through her spacious underwear drawer, she had dragged out almost her entire collection of bras, thongs, g-strings, camisoles, garters and corsets, looking for the right thing to wear. Fueled by anxiety, she had tried on numerous combinations in front of the mirror, wondering herself at the absurdity of the situation.

Ultimately, she had settled on a very light, lacy, cream-colored bra-and-thong set that she now wore. The thin cups had no padding and in fact the delicate embroidery was so thin that her areolas were clearly visible below. They lifted her breasts slightly, boosting her and presenting her cleavage in a spectacular way. Similarly, the bottoms were equally eye-popping. A wisp of fabric, the fine silk was barely noticeable on her skin and the intricate patterns allowed her caramel skin to shine through, only half-concealing the smooth lips of her pussy below. The back consisted of little more than a string, completely disappearing between the cheeks of her ass and putting her fully on display. If she bent over, the flimsy strap would hardly do anything to protect her modesty, hardly covering up even a third of her cute, little asshole.

She had then put on a full face of make-up. Inexperienced with what kind of look was appropriate for a casting couch experience like this, she had decided on a slightly sluttier version of her date night look. The lip stick was a little brighter, the mascara a little thicker, but she made sure not to make herself look like a complete prostitute. Her ego prevented that. After she had touched up her nail polish in an ivory color that matched her lingerie, she had used her curling iron to make her hair frame her face in wavy tresses to complete the look.

Now, she sat on the huge, white couch in her living room, staring blankly outside while checking the time on her phone every thirty seconds. An empty French press and a cold cup of coffee sat on the couch table in front of her, untouched and forgotten. With every moment that passed, the actress’ anxiety increased and she had to make a conscious effort not to scratch off the freshly applied nail polish as she nervously fiddled with her hands. For the last fifteen minutes she had basically run in a triangle from sitting on the couch, to walking over to the kitchen counter to stepping outside onto the patio, then back to the couch, never able to bear staying in one place for more than half a minute.

She still couldn’t believe she was doing this. Here she sat, a world-famous actress, founder of a company that had once been valued at well over a billion dollars, in the living room of her multi-million-dollar mansion, waiting to prostitute herself to get one more go on the big stage. It was absolutely ridiculous!