“This is it, sweetcheeks. Wander around, but don’t get lost.” Cliff put the car in park, the rumbling leather seat beneath you stilling. The blazing sun shone over the dash, slightly blinding you with it’s light, hugging you with its warmth.

This was your chance.

A small hint of guilt trickled and seeped into your brain as you stepped out of the car. Cliff closed his door soon after with a thud that slightly shook the vehicle. His jeans clung to him slightly as he made his way to the set.

The set was full of people. Directors, actors, stunties, assistants, etc. A buzzing set of busy people rushed and fumbling. You had never been on a set before and your guilt muffled by the smell of excitement dripping in the thick, hot, sweaty air.

You had been dating Cliff for about two months now. You had met Cliff and once you found out he was somehow slightly intertwined with the means of Hollywood…you knew you had to get a date with him.

You, for as long as you could remember wanted—no—needed to be famous. You knew you were destined for the silver screen and you did virtually everything in your power to do get there. Even if that meant dating an old stuntman so you would have an excuse to get on set with him; see real directors and actors that might give you a shot.

Thankfully, you were young enough for the plan to work. Did you love Cliff? Hell no. But he was good in bed. And he spoiled you. And you stayed at his place more often than not these days. You didn’t love him…but you…enjoyed his presence you supposed.

“You comin’?” Cliff turned to see you still standing by the car, running a hand through his sandy colored hair, eyes squinting as he moved to put his red tinted visors in. His tough work boots kicking up the dusty ground with every lazily taken step.

You’ve never been the most moral person, but this seemed wrong. You were using him. But…you do what you gotta do to get far in Hollywood. To get fat in life in general so feelings of guilt need to sit on the back burner of your mind for now.