NOTE: There is very little actual sex in this story. It was written for a competition on another site where the story had to involve a holiday, have a happy ending, and be 1,000 words or fewer. If you're looking for a stroke story, this isn't it.
Maggie's '95 Corolla rumbled to a stop in the underground parking garage of the downtown office building. The only available spot amid the rows of SUVs and luxury sedans. On the third try of lifting and slamming the car door finally latched. As she walked toward the elevator bank, she pointed her key at the hubcap-less vehicle which held all her earthly belongings, and made a beeping noise, pretending to click a nonexistent fob.
She checked herself out in the mirror while she waited for the elevator. Ripped jeans, yellow halter, and dirty crocks, she felt as out of place as her car. She double-checked the suite number on the business card and punched 36, thankful that no one else was on the elevator.
Maggie sat on the leather couch in the small office and filled out the paperwork while the man photocopied her license. She thought long and hard before coming here, but she still was a little nervous.
"To be honest," the man said as he returned her license, "when you reluctantly took my card at the club, I never thought you'd call."
"I had no intention of calling," Maggie replied while tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, "but with the holidays coming up, I really could use the extra money."
"Well, with your petite frame, and small chest, you're perfect for a particular audience." The man clicked a button on the video camera and said, "Demo tape for..." He paused to check the intake form, "...Madge Willow...is there a significance to your stage name?"
Maggie giggled, "Madge was what I called my vagina as a kid, and Willow is the street I grew up on."
"How old are you?"
"I'm 22 years old."
"And why are you here?"
"To audition for a porn film."
