Interview with Christina Jolie

The lights warm up. Christina Jolie steps in, still new enough to feel the weight of the microphone in her palm. She smiles once, uncertain, a young blonde whose breasts sit heavy beneath a thin top. The man behind the desk watches her closely. He wonders aloud how the black microphone would look if she held it between those tits, and the room seems to shrink around the idea. Christina glances down at the cold metal in her hand, fingers tightening. She lifts it slowly, testing the thought, pressing the rounded head against the soft cleft between her breasts, letting it rest there. Her breathing changes. The nervousness lingers, but something else slips into her eyes as she slides the microphone lower, brushing her cleavage, then higher again, tracing lazy circles against her skin. She catches herself, blushes, yet doesn’t stop. The crowd stays quiet, watching every small motion she makes with that simple black object, wondering how far she’ll take the moment before she has to speak.