She doesn't, but the neighbor finds something for her.

"No!" Rachel cried out, watching helplessly as her only clothing landed flew away from her. Though it didn't go far it might as well have been on the moon.

"Oh God, now what do I wear?"

"Wear?" a voice repeated, and she jumped with a shriek.

"Wow, you've got a pair of lungs on you," her elderly neighbor said, his little dog yapping its agreement. "Still not wearing anything, huh? You must be one of those nudists. You know they have a beach not far from here?"

"What? No! I..." Rachel stopped, confused, instinctively covering herself in front of the old man, though he seemed more interested in playing with his dog. he did sneak a few glances, and his remark about her lungs seemed to co-incide with a glance at her sizeable breasts.

"I have a job to get to and I have to leave. Right now."

"Well you'd better get going."

"But I don't have anything to wear!" she wailed, flinging her arms up.

"Well, pick the best you have, and..."

"That was ALL that I had! The airline lost my clothes and that was the only thing in the apartment!"

"Well, I guess that is quite a pickle you've got there," the old man agreed.

Rachel's eyes snapped to him and her eyes lit up. She dashed to the railing, startling the elderly man.

"I need clothes! Do you have clothes?"

"Uh...." he stared at her as she reached across to grab his arm, her big breasts still jiggling from her mad dash across the balcony and hanging down in the two-foot gap between their balconies.

"Please?" she said, shaking his arm, which was busy holding his precious dog.

"Let go!" he snapped, and her fingers unclenched. He took a step back, breathing deeply. "Poor snookums could've fallen to his ****. Are you okay, snookums?" he asked his dog, holding the little animal up in front of his face to check.

Snookums pasted his face with doggy-kisses, tongue moving like he was on meth.

"Please?" Rachel asked, pressing her hands together like in prayer? "I'm sorry about shaking your dog, I didn't mean to."

The man glared at her for a moment, looked her up and down, then sighed. "I'm afraid I live alone, young lady. My wife died awhile ago, and it's just me now."

Rachel's head drooped, joining her breasts over the side of the balcony. Her eyes closed upon the view of the ground so far below, and she felt almost like it was calling.

"Ah," the man said. "I'll be right back. Don't move."

Rachel was too dispirited to move. To think she'd come all this way to Hollywood only to have one cruel twist of fate after another rob her of her opportunity to join the big glamorous Hollywood industry.

She sighed deeply, then again before she heard the pitter-patter of claws feet.

"Got something!" the man exclaimed.

Rachel's eyes opened and her head snapped up.

"What...?" was all she could say as she stared at a green shirt with a number on it.

"It's a basketball jersey. My grandson's a real tall, slim fella. Loves basketball. Tall enough to play it himself but he just doesn't have the skills. Anyway, he's going to university in Boston and left this here last week. Boston's his favorite team and this is his favorite player."

Rachel tuned out the man's words as she assessed the shirt, measuring its length with her eyes. True, it would probably look hideous, but she just had to get to the shoot; they'd provide the clothes she had to wear when she arrived.

"Can I see it?"

"Sure. You can keep it if you want. Well, for the day. I need it back. He loves that Shaq fellow. I hear all about him. Started out here in L.A. as a Laker or some such thing, and then left. Big strapping fellow. I bet that number 36 would fit like a dress. Just be careful of those giant scooping arm holes."

Once again Rachel tuned him out as she slipped the shirt over her head.

"Hmm, not exactly a snug fit," the old man said, and Rachel had to agree. The neck of the shirt slipped off one shoulder and the arm holes left the sides of her breasts exposed if she moved her arms. Still, it reached just past her butt like a loose minidress.

"Ahhh, you're going to use it, aren't you?" the man asked, and she looked up at him, eyes gleaming as she nodded.

Feeling choked up by the man's kindness she nodded her thanks and squeaked out a 'thanks' before dashing in to find her shoes, throw her phone in her tiny purse and dash out the door in a **** bid to reach her first Hollywood modeling shoot.