THE SOLDIER

My extremely hot, very dominant focus.

One that I’m not willing to give up, even for one weekend.

Kayla

I drive through the gates and park my car in front of Director Blake Ensign’s Hollywood mansion and pull my mirror down to check my make-up again. This is it-the biggest audition I’ve ever had.

Apparently Ensign is leaving for Europe soon and wanted to get this part-a leading role-cast before he left. The casting director scheduled twenty-seven call-backs, all at his mansion for his convenience since he’s leaving town. The simple fact that I get to see the inside of Blake Ensign’s house makes it feel like I’ve finally arrived.

And I’m auditioning for a leading role!

It finally feels like things might be happening for me. Maybe Pavel was right-my dreams will come true.

I head to the door, where I’m met by an assistant with a clipboard. “Name?” She doesn’t even look at me.

“Kayla Winstead.”

She finds my name on her clipboard and makes a checkmark. “You can wait in the living room. Mr. Ensign is seeing people in his office one at a time. He’s running about two hours late.”

Gah. Two hours late. Pavel will be waiting for me at the Four Seasons.

“Can I get you some water?”

“Um, yes, please. Thanks, that would be great.”

My heart is already pounding, and I’m only meeting the assistant.

“Water,” she calls out to what must be her assistant and ushers me into a giant living room area. The floor is some kind of expensive tile, and the domed ceiling is vaulted-at least forty feet high. Great marble pillars define the perimeter.

“Hi,” I say nervously to the six other women waiting. Two I recognize from other casting calls. Only one answers me with a “Hello.” All of them look like I do-petite, blonde, early twenties.

My looks aren’t enough to land this job, not that they ever have been here in L. A. Back in high school, in Wisconsin, they got me every acting and modeling job I tried out for. But here-I’m the proverbial small fish in a very big sea.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

I pull out my phone to text Pavel. I’m so sorry-I’m at a casting call that may run late.

He doesn’t reply, but he’s probably in the air already.

I put my phone away to do some deep breathing and get centered.

Nearly three hours later, I get called in. I’m the last one for the day, and it’s already 5:30 p. m. Pavel will already be waiting for me at the hotel-not that I can think about that now.

I draw a steadying breath and walk in.

Blake Ensign is not behind his desk, but on a loveseat. He’s in beachwear-shorts and a Tommy Bahama type shirt. One bare foot is crossed over his knee.

“All right, come in. You’re the last one, right?”

“Yes.” I look around, not sure where to stand. Or do I sit? I have no idea how this works.

“Read the lines,” he commands with a wave.

I stand directly in front of him and hold the script. I had enough time to memorize the part while I was waiting, but I’m afraid I’ll screw up, so I keep it at the ready, my trembling fingers making the papers shake.

He reads the male part in a monotone voice, and I pick up my lines. They don’t come out nearly as well as they sounded rehearsing in my head in the living room. Nothing like the way they sounded at the first casting call.

Still, I give it my best, making it through a couple pages before he stops me.

“All right, Kayla. That’s enough.”

I screwed the pooch on this one.

“I’m sorry-I’m just nervous. I did a much better job at the first audition. Can I try it again?”

“Come here.” He crooks a finger at me.

I walk closer, but he keeps beckoning. I stop when my toes hit his, then sort of look around, trying to figure out where he wants me. To sit beside him? Kneel at his feet? “I’m a very hard worker. If you give me a shot, I will do everything it takes to please you.”

As it turns out, my choice of words were all wrong.

Ensign sits back and adjusts his cock like I just gave him a boner. No-he’s not adjusting it. He’s holding it. Squeezing it.

Oh God-I can’t take my eyes away!

My heart hammers in my chest.

“Everything it takes, hmm?” he says, his voice suggesting. “I like that in an actress. One of the most important characteristics, really.”

Oh my God. I’m going to #MeToo right now. This is not happening. Please no.

He catches my wrist and tugs my hand down to his dick, covering my fingers to make me squeeze it.

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

I don’t know what to do. I mean, I do. I slap his face and leave. Right?

Of course, that’s what I should do. But burning bridges in Hollywood would be a terrible mistake. So I need to get out of this nicely. If that’s possible.

“Show me how you’d please me,” he says.

I want to barf. Literally. The contents of my empty stomach churn as I pull my hand away.

I stumble back. “With my talent,” I say quickly. I will please you with my talent. I p-promise.”

“Yes, and I’d like to experience that talent right now.” He says it like he’s totally sure of himself. Like every other actress who came in sucked him off.

Did they?

Or am I just the lucky one at the end of the day?

Wait-why am I even wondering? It doesn’t matter-I just need to get myself out of this.

“Well, that’s not…” I try to swallow. “I need to go. I’m sorry this isn’t going to work…” I make a beeline for the door.

“You sure? I could open a lot of doors for you, Kayla Winstead.”