Well...

You stopped at the door and said, “I’m not really sure. There are a lot of girls trying out for this position, and plenty of them have far more experience than you do. Some have already been in TV shows and movies; others have racked up credits back in their hometowns.”

As you glanced over at her, you caught that same hungry glint in her eyes you’d seen in countless young women before—raw, desperate, willing to trade anything for a shot. You knew she meant it when she said she’d do whatever it took. That was probably how she had clawed her way this far. The truly gifted ones, the ones with real representation, never had to sink to the couch. It was always the interchangeable, decent-enough-but-nothing-special types who had to prove they were worth the risk.

So you stepped away from the door and moved back toward her. “It’s nothing personal,” you told her. “This is just a dog-eat-dog world in Hollywood. You need something that sets you apart from the pack, and right now, I’m not seeing it.”

You closed the distance as you spoke, watching her shoulders sag, her confidence fraying with every inch you erased. When you were right up against her, you lowered your voice. “But I’m not completely heartless. I’m open-minded. If you’ve got something—anything—that you think makes you different, show me. I’ve been wrong before. Maybe you’ve got the spark I’m missing.”

With that, you slid your hands along her shoulders, letting your palms linger, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric. You let the heat build in your shorts, your cock swelling until it was just grazing the curve of her ass. Then you leaned in, lips brushing her ear, and whispered, “So, is there anything you can think of to set yourself apart? It’s not my job to spell it out for you.”