Scarlett's Audition (DeRe & Mando'ad)

High above the Hollywood skyline sits the Producer's office. Like a modern Olympus of glass and steel it looks down upon the world it controls. From there, thunderbolts of fame and failure are sent forth and powerful careers are little more than playthings. The Producer runs this town, the sleazy factory of dreams, and his will is the will of God's.

He is a lanky man in his late 50's, with a weathered and sallow face that speaks of years of sleepless work. Cold, deep set eyes, pronounced ears, and a messy haircut give him a considerably unattractive look. His personality more than match his face in ugliness - but he hadn't become so powerful because he was handsome or kind.

The setting sun was burning bright red on the horizon as he checked the time yet again. Tonight he had arranged a particular meeting - an elite audition, as it were. Scarlett Johanson was coming to his office to trial for a part in his latest production. It was a challenging role sure to win her accolades and he knew she would be unable to resist the temptation. This was despite her noted and outspoken distaste for him personally, and the fact most other A-list actresses in town had turned it down. The part was that of a nymphomanical stripper, and numerous starlets baulked at the gratuitous sexuality of it all.

But the Producer knew that the truly narcissistic actresses would be drawn to such obvious Oscar-bait. As an able manipulator he knew exactly how to provoke the powerful pride and vanity of women like Scarlett. Once she was within his lair, their little game could begin. The insolent tramp would have nowhere to run, and he would make her the star in a private feature of his own...

She hated going to see that man. Hated it with a burning passion. But she had to admit.. He was good at what he did. And this movie guaranteed to get her an Oscar. She'd do anything to get an Oscar even if it meant working with him.

Of course being a stripper wouldn't be easy either. She had an incredible body and showing it off sounded great. But having to audition meant having to strip for that disgusting man. She almost gagged as she searched her closet. "Oscar Scarlett. Just do it for the Oscar." She forced him out of her mind as she put on the black lingerie. She had to look the part in her audition which meant a skimpy, lacy black bra and a thin black thong. She couldn't go out like that though, even if her character would. She grabbed a pair of blue shorts, a black flowy tank top and her favorite white jacket.

Slipping on her heels and sunglasses, she grabbed her purse and headed to her car. Her driver opened her door as she slid in then drove her to the large building. As she checked with the front desk and entered the elevater, she had no idea what would await her upstairs.

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Being a natural voyeur the Producer had cameras everywhere, throughout his building, all piped to his monitors. He watched Scarlett every inch of the way as she headed up towards his office. He savoured the way she swung her ass, like only a woman certain of her sexuality could. The naturally sour expression that so often clouded her beautiful face was clear, and amused him greatly. This one's vanity made her so much fun to play with, he thought. Getting her naked wouldn't be half as appealing as the humiliation it would cause her.

He was a great fan of the casting couch and had used it many times. But it was not an option with Scarlett, and despite several lewd advances and ass-grabs she seemed immune to his charms. He needed to bait the hook with something serious - the supposed legitimacy of an Oscar. Once he had her alone in the office, her clueless narcissism would do the rest.

Everything was in place. Every angle of the room was being recorded. The soundproofed confines of the office meant any sounds would not escape. Before a long leather couch a table had been set with Kristov, a script, and an Mp3 player. The Producer was a man used to arranging things like a military expedition and tonight's indulgence would be no different.

A gentle tone rang from his desk. "She's just entering the atrium now, sir".

The Producer licked his lips and straightened his tie. "Send her through".

She stepped out of the elevator and walked purposefully to his desk, her breasts bouncing slightly with each step. She didn't bother stopping to talk to the receptionist, knowing she was expected. Scarlett opened the door and plastered a smile on her face. "Good evening." She tried to hide her disgust as she looked at him.

A grin, white and wide as a shark's, cut across the Producer's leathery face. "Scarlett, excellent! Hello! Do come in!" He waved her past, quietly locking to door and taking a moment to enjoy her natural curves.

"Would you like a drink? Kristov on the table, or maybe something from the cabinet? It may help you get in character." His voice was a oily as his grin. Sitting down on the leather couch with a satisfied sigh, he sipped from his own crystal glass and said "Let's see your costume, too. I'm sure it shouldn't be too hard for you to play at being a slutty stripper, eh?"

She poured herself a small glass of Kristov, taking a quick sip. She was too focused on making sure she got the part to realize he had locked the door. She kept her smile letting it turn into a smirk. "Well now.. Being a stripper is easy enough. But a stripper wouldn't just kick off her clothes on a whim would she? She takes her time to... enjoy it." She winked, taking another sip as she barfed inside. She hated what she was doing. But she had to impress him. Convince him she was the right girl.

He was loving every minute of this forced flirtation. Behind the artificial smile he could she her distaste blazing in her eyes. That was a pleasure all of it's own.

With a casual flick of a finger he activated the office's sound system, and a fat, sleazy beat thudded around the room. He leaned back into the creaking, drinking in her ample cleavage.

"So then, get into character and we'll have a quick look at the script, shall we? And help yourself to the vodka, it'll provide inspiration I'm sure!"