You are an Aspiring Actress

[IsabellaRose]

The receptionist’s polite smile never falters as she taps a manicured finger against something on the desk, her gaze flicking over you with clinical precision, as if measuring your worth before she’s even spoken a word.

"You're the last audition," she says, her voice smooth, devoid of any real warmth. She tilts her head slightly, studying you in a way that makes your skin itch. "Please come in, Miss Hastings."

Miss Hastings? The name sits uneasily in your mind, unfamiliar yet somehow expected. Like an old coat slipped over your shoulders without you realizing it. But you don’t correct her. You don’t ask who she thinks you are. You just stand, feeling the weight of her gaze on you, assessing. Judging.

You look down at yourself and see that you are a young woman with an attractive figure. You're wearing a skin-tight bodycon dress that hugs your curves, barely containing your breasts, and is short enough to make you worry about bending over. Your heels are high enough that you have to concentrate when you walk. You wonder why you'd dress like this for an audition. If it's not specifically for the role, then you must be trying to impress someone, or seduce them. The receptionist clears her throat, calling your attention back to the here and now.

The door beside the reception desk clicks softly, unlocking on its own. Beyond it, a hallway stretches into dim lighting, the end obscured by shadow.

"The director is waiting," the receptionist adds, folding her hands neatly on the desk. "He has… specific expectations for this role. But if you impress him, you may find yourself in a very exclusive circle."

Something in the way she says it makes your stomach tighten. This is wrong. But your feet move anyway, your heels clicking on the marble floor. You step into the hallway and the air grows cooler. The door shuts behind you without a sound. At the end of the hall, another door waits, heavy, made of dark wood, unmarked.

You walk down the hallway and place one hand on the doorknob. It is cool beneath your fingertips, but you hesitate. 

Then, a voice from the other side, deep, smooth, almost hypnotic, calls out. "Come in, Miss Hastings. Let’s see what you’re willing to do for the part."

A cold sweat prickles at your skin.

• If you turn back, demand answers from the receptionist, try to leave before you step any further into whatever this is, click here. <link forthcoming>
• If you decide to play along and push open the door to see what’s inside and see just how deep this rabbit hole goes, click here.
• If you refuse to comply, let them know right now that your dignity isn’t for sale, click here.

Edited February 11 by IsabellaRose