The Starlet Contest

When she receives an exclusive email invitation to participate in a fascinating contest, Mariah Stanley feels like things might finally be looking up. At age twenty-five she is still single and unattached, and stuck in a go-nowhere job, when out of nowhere comes this exclusive offer. Personally addressed to her—it didn't seem to be your run of the mill spam. She wants to believe there is more to it. It's come at just the right time; just as she needs some good news. So, contrary to her better judgement, she takes it at face value.

"Be a Starlet!" the banner exclaims. "Exclusive offer! Grand prize—a career-launching part in a feature film! Plus €1 million!" According to the blurb, contestants must meet certain prescribed challenges, to be verified by digital video submissions. It goes on to say, "The challenges have been designed so that the contestants can demonstrate their 'confidence and courage, resourcefulness and determination.'" Curious, and flattered to be among the chosen, Mariah decides to respond. "Potential entrants," it reads, "must submit a short video entry form." So, following the instructions, Mariah pulls out her phone and begins.

Standing before her full-length before a mirror, she is not so pleased with what she sees. "Scraggly and grubby," she mutters. "Hardly starlet material." Flinging open her closet, Mariah selects carefully and changes into her nicest suit, all clean and pressed. Then she fixes her hair, which takes a while, and does up her face. It's been so long since she's worn any amount of make-up, that that takes the longest. Still, when she's done, and steps in front of the mirror again, she is pleased. "If you're going to do something, you may as well do it right," she mutters to herself, encouragingly. Mariah raises her phone, on camera mode, and deliberately begins again.

"Film yourself in front of a mirror," the directions read, "while providing a full description of yourself, including..."

To Mariah it seems sort of like a dating site profile. "Hello!" she begins, smiling broadly and carefully lowering the camera away from her face. "I'm Mariah Stanley; age twenty-five. I'm five four and weigh one seventeen. As you can see," she says, giving her head a shake, "I have light brown hair,"—she certainly wasn't going to admit to having what she usually called mousy-brown hair—"and hazel eyes. My vital statistics are: 32, 26, 34. My own favorite feature is my muscular legs, and least favorite feature is my bust, because I think my boobs are too small. I work as a retail clerk in an up-scale women's clothing store. I went to college for two years but haven't yet gone any further as I don't know, yet, what I want to pursue." Mariah really had to think about the next few categories. She doesn't want to sound as boring as she often feels. "My main hobby is drawing—art, and my favorite pastime is working out at the gym. I like romantic stories, and dislike rap music." Giving a little flourished curtsy, she giggles, "And that's all folks!" before stopping the recording.

Mariah hums as she downloads the entry documents that need to accompany her video profile. Entrants are required to check "I agree" to having read and understood the rules and regulations, as well as checking off the box that indicates which language they would like to receive their correspondence in. Momentarily struck by the vast array of language choices given, she thinks, "It really must be a global, international contest." She checks the box for English then doesn't give it any more thought.

There is the ubiquitous link to a jpeg containing a comprehensive explanation of all the rules and regs. It is a long, involved document that includes the following section: 'Upon elimination, the contestant agrees that all of the submitted material becomes the property of the contest organizers for use by them at their sole discretion.' It's unlikely that anyone actually reads through all of the legalese bullshit; certainly, Mariah did not.

However, if she had looked at it more closely, she probably would have realized that the whole thing actually seemed more 'con' than 'contest'. Certainly, to most clear-thinking people it was an obvious scam, but, as P. T. Barnum allegedly said, "There's a sucker born every minute." Notwithstanding, even intelligent people suffer the occasional lapse in judgement, and sometimes simple pride prevents them from admitting to, or even seeing, their mistake. Consequently, regular people often perpetuate a blunder by deluding themselves—believing that everything will work out fine in the end.

Really, it was a brilliant scam. Using legal and quasi-legal means they—whomever 'they' might be; some person or persons hidden deep within the labyrinth of the web—had compiled a list of over a million candidates. Every one of them women aged 18 to 28 who had: a) visited a certain on-line sex toy site—just visited, not even necessarily bought anything; b) checked out an on-line 'Find-a-friend' hook-up site; and c) visited one of several identified porn sites—sites focusing on MILF, bored housewife, and/or office sex. After that it was easy, in the modern world of telecommunication and social networking, to send out e-invitations inviting all of them to participate in "this exciting new contest!" If only a tenth of a percent of recipients responded that would be thousands. The mysterious 'they' must have been cackling with glee.

That initial email proclaims that the recipient is one of an exclusive group that has been chosen to receive this invitation to apply for entry into the contest; implying that each of them is one of the lucky few who have been personally selected as potential candidates. It promises the eventual winner riches and fame. Claiming to be funded by 'the industry', they require no monetary outlay—unlike some scams making the rounds. No, they ask for no money—no entry fee, only video-documented evidence of the entrant having completed the challenges.

The accompanying blurb only hinted at the nature of the challenges, saying they will foster and promote confidence and courage, resourcefulness and determination among the contestants, as well as helping them 'establish attitude'. The challenges are—allegedly—designed to allow each participant to demonstrate his or her—of course, there were no male entrants—self-esteem, pride, sense of adventure, bravery, resoluteness, and further the development of same. The description went on to describe how the contest would proceed.

The challenges will be issued individually, once the participants are successfully registered. Faces, in the images, of anyone except the contestants must to be avoided or obliterated. All challenges are time limited—entrants are instructed to, "Send your verification of task-completion within 72 hours of the challenge being issued." The video-clips are to be uploaded to the contest site via a secure link, and receipt of verification will be confirmed with the issuance of the subsequent challenge.

When she receives the confirmation of acceptance, accompanied by her first task, in her inbox, Mariah is rather flattered and encouraged by the apparently personalized remark.

"Your profile suggests that you are an ideal candidate. Best of luck!"

Indeed, Mariah is trim and fit, her body evidence of hours spent in the gym. She wasn't completely happy with, what she considered, her small bust—she wore a B-cup, and had, from time to time, considered implants—still, the size of her boobs was more than made up for by her very prominent—and extremely sensitive nipples. She was—sometimes to her chagrin—almost always on high-beam. Very alluring in the minds of most male passers-by.

"And here it is," she thinks as she reads through the email. "Challenge #1!" Scrolling to the end, she reads the directions out loud, surprised at how short it is, how succinct. "Your first challenge: French kiss someone unexpectedly! Catch them by surprise." The very last line was just a reminder. "Don't forget to get it on video—at least ninety seconds—selfie or third party!"

Mariah thinks of all the possibilities she can come up with, but there just doesn't seem to be a suitable target in her immediate network. So, the next morning, at work, she confides in Lacey, her gay friend and colleague, asking for her advice, and explaining, as briefly as she can, the details of the first challenge. "You complete dummy, you," Lacey reprimands. "Isn't it obvious?" She throws out her hands and pouts. "The ideal target is—or would have been—right in front of you, if you hadn't just ruined the element of surprise."

Mariah feels stupid. She hadn't even considered that the target could be a girl. Still, Lacey waves off her apology. "That's okay," she says. "I can be your videographer, instead;" then, she sets to helping identify a suitable candidate. "I know," Lacey announces. "How 'bout Garth, the new guy—you know, the geeky kid?" The young new hire, Garth, is a twenty-one-year-old computer whiz—the new IT tech and office gofer.

With minimal planning, the two conspirators intercept Garth at the coffee machine. Mariah strides up to the unaware young fellow, and, without hesitation, pulls him into a full-on kiss. One hand behind his head, the other cupping his neck, she works her lips against his, smooching with an impressive faux passion. She, then, partially releases him momentarily to reveal her probing tongue, hoping fervently that Lacey is catching it all on video, before continuing for what seems like a very long time—Garth relaxing slowly—getting into the mood, his head spinning. He is totally puzzled, but doesn't complain.

When Mariah finally lets him go, he is almost reluctant to quit. Mariah exchanges a knowing nod with Lacey, confirming that she has video footage. Garth raises a puzzled eyebrow, which finally prompts Mariah to explain to him what just happened. He, graciously finds humour in the explanation, leaving Mariah with an open offer to help again, if necessary.

In the evening Mariah fusses about, ensuring the video is all it can be, editing it for best effect. She submits the file that night, and waits, but not for long. The response comes the next day. "Nice job!", it begins. "You're well underway!" The missive explains that all contact with the contestant, additional contest info and news, as well as encouragement—if warranted—will generally accompany each new challenge. It goes on to reiterate the rationale of the contest; that allegedly being, to foster confidence and courage, resourcefulness and determination within the contestants, helping them to establish a personal attitude. And, in doing so, to inspire the development of positive self-esteem, pride, resoluteness, and a sense of adventure.

Finally, of course, comes the meat of the matter: "Challenge #2: Get caught baring your boobs at work. Get someone to record you!"

"Easy-peasy," Mariah thinks. "A quick flash. Give Garth another thrill." She smiles at the thought, but her smile fades. "On second thought that might not be so smart—for two reasons; a) I don't want Garth getting any ideas, and b) maybe a quick flash is too—what? Ordinary? Timid? Modest? A longer one might be better—might better fulfil the contest expectations. Yeah. Show more confidence, more self-assuredness—assurance—whatever. Show more tit!"

The next day, at work, in the interest of expediency, she confers, once again, with Lacey; who thrills at being given the job of official videographer. The two of them, then, lie in wait in the lunch room, Mariah sitting with her back to the door and Lacey sitting across from her. It doesn't take long to 'get caught'. At a nod from Lacey, Mariah almost lazily flips up her bra cups and top as one, then laconically turns to eye the pair of male sales personnel who have just entered, a tingling flushing over her. She pauses long enough for them to get a good look at her bright red areolas and her standie-uppie nipples. Her audience—victims, if you will—are speechless; bemused. Mariah feels a curious tingle as she holds their gaze, watching as their open mouths morph into leers, then hesitating for just that extra moment she turns back with a smile, calmly covering herself, once again, adjusting her garments, then, muttering insincere apologies, she stands, with Lacey in tow, and saunters casually out of the room, belying her fluttering heart and quivering bosom. She can barely discern Lacey's stifled giggles following her.

That evening, after a bit of editing, Mariah 'submits her verification in a timely manner.' And the next communication arrives forthwith. The response to the second challenge, that accompanies the details of the third. is very encouraging. "The creative thoroughness of your task-completion indicates that you can be a contender in winning this contest!" "Keep it up!" Mariah beams, believing the comments to be sincere and personal.

Challenge number three reads: "Let someone grab your tits—and get a real 'feel' for them. Someone who's never done this before!" Of course, when approached, Lacey gladly, excitedly, agrees to help out. She jumps at the opportunity to actually do the groping, and is pleased when Mariah encourages her to seriously maul the proffered boobs. Lacey had always held that anything more than a handful was a waste—and here she was getting to confirm that. Indeed, Mariah's tits are each a wonderfully shaped, generous handful.

Lacey produces out of nowhere a GoPro camera on a headband, and announces the they can record it POV. Retiring to the staffroom, they putter about until the rest of the staff has left, then they get down to work. Standing, feet apart, leg planted, facing Lacey, Mariah begins. "Hi! It's Mariah, here." She smiles, grasping the front hem of her top. "And this is Challenge number three!" At that, she smoothly lifts her top, catching her bra cups as she does and flips it all up and over her bust.

She nods as Lacey's focus drops to her tits. Lacey's hands slowly come into view, as she shuffles forward, reaching, tentatively to start, for the bare boobs, and gently cupping them. First offering a sensuous twist and swirl and heft, Lacey's thumbs and index fingers lightly pinch onto Mariah's plump nipples—synchronized. Holding tight to those erect buds, Lacey's manipulations increase in intensity, gripping and squeezing, her tit-flesh, then pulling and twisting the nipples in turn; alternating her attention in a growing frenzy.

Mariah is surprised, indeed, delighted at how good the rough handling feels. Inasmuch as there is no urgency to finish, they take their time and get plenty of raw footage, which Mariah expertly edits down to two minutes. She feels good about her clip—feels good about the whole business—proud of how good her boobs look and how well the video entry has turned out—indeed how well she's done on each of the first three challenges. Echoes of the exciting, intriguing—and, let's face it, incredibly arousing—sensations pinball about her consciousness as she heads to bed after submitting the clips.

The fourth challenge arrives in Mariah's computer mailbox early the next morning. The affirmations accompanying it tout inner- and outer-beauty, creativity, and the virtue of always embracing a challenge—specifically, Challenge #4 which reads: "Bare your beaver—surprise someone by displaying your naked pussy."

Initially, Mariah wonders about this. "It's a bit much, isn't it?" She pauses to contemplate. "I mean, how does this fit into the contest? How does it enhance the contest entry?"

Seeming to anticipate her questioning, in a thinly disguised effort to stave off any reluctance, the contest administrators reiterate the absolute need for a star to have unfettered self-confidence; how being unconditionally proud of one's self is imperative to success in the movie business. Reading this over, Mariah shrugs, "Okay!" accepting the argument with little further consideration. "After all," she concedes, "I've come this far..."

Then, reading it again, she suddenly jolts under a flash of inspiration. "Hey," she announces to herself, paraphrasing her dear old granny, "If you're gonna do something, you might as well do it well!" Still reeling from her own surprising insight, she decides to go one step further—beyond the nine dots, as it were. "They said, '...displaying your naked pussy,'" she purrs. "I'll show them 'naked pussy'!" That morning she shaves her entire snatch!

Employing the office lunch room once again, Mariah strategically ambushes a couple of her younger female colleagues, as they stroll in to grab a cuppa. Unceremoniously flipping up her skirt, she shows off her bare cunt, unencumbered by panties or pubic hair, and fully exposed. "So, what do you think?" she asks with a sort of coy innocence, pretending to be oblivious to her howling indiscretion. Looking down at her own handiwork, she adds, in a very matter-of-fact voice, "I did it last night—on a whim." Mariah, then draws one hand up he slit and over her smooth pudendum, as if assessing it. "You know," she purred, "I'm still not sure." She pauses, considering, then, looking up directly into the wide eyes of her office-mates, she asks mildly, "D'ya wanna feel it, it's a bit weird—but kinda cool."

Initially shocked, the 'victims' stare silently, their jaws sagging.

"Come on, we're all girls here," Mariah chides.

One of the women leans slightly forward, seriously considering the invitation, but changes her mind at the last moment, breaking her silent with an ambiguous, "We-e-ell, I don't know..."

Mariah shrugs and, eying her bald pussy once more, mutters, "We'll just have to see," as she drops the front of her skirt, and stands, shaking it back into place. The other two give their bemused heads a shake and turn to the coffee-maker, apparently accepting the incident as simply a rather odd quirk of a co-worker they didn't know all that well—lewd, perhaps, but mostly just curious—and, in the final analysis, harmless.

An open-mouthed Lacey has been surreptitiously filming the whole exchange—amazed. When Mariah finally glances her way, the look of astonishment on Lacey's face sends tingles up through Mariah's core.

As always, the next missive, once the clip has been submitted, includes notes of encouragement and affirmation along with the next challenge. While the people behind the contest, whomever they were, have stated repeatedly that each entry is scored simply on having met the wording of the challenge, or not, there is an underlying implication that entries showing initiative, those contestants who go 'above and beyond', receive a more favourable evaluation.

Regardless of the scoring system, the contest continues with the issuing of the fifth challenge. "Have someone suck your nipples at work. Clip must be a selfie!"

Again, Lacey is more than willing. As the challenge specifies "...at work," they loiter about for a bit the following afternoon before occupying the lunchroom again.

Mariah pans about the room before filming herself baring her tits, then shifting to Lacey's expectant face she stage-whispers, "What are you waiting for?" Lacey dives in with such relish, Mariah's selfie twists and jolts for a moment before fixing once more at Lacey gleefully noshing at her breasts. Lacey's attention becomes active and loud, and Mariah is startled at how good it feels—how really, really good! Perhaps too good! She begins to gently push Lacey away, sighing soothingly, "Okay! Okay! That's enough. Thank you. That's enough."

Mariah is beginning to worry that she might be giving Lacey the wrong signals. She has never been sexually attracted to women, although, she's starting to see how that might happen. Cooing, and stroking Lacey's head, Mariah tenderly disentangles herself from Lacey and pulls away. "Thanks!" she breathes. "That'll give me lots to work with, all right."