You are in an office. A very big and very sparsely furnished one. A desk with a Mac computer, two chairs, and a couch, that's it. But this is the kind of streamlined minimal all-white shit that bears German last names and probably costs more than your house and everything in it combined.

The room s perfectly air conditioned and the floor to ceiling windows offers a magnificent top floor view of the smog-shrouded city of Los Angeles.

It is in moments like this you have to pinch your arm and remind yourself of who you really are.

Then again, there isn't really that much to remember.

Your name is John Smith. And yes, your parents are the two most boring people on earth, and not just for naming like an alias in in a hotel register.

But your bland name suits you quite well though, because there isn't much special about you. You are a just an average, normal white guy in your mid 20s. Just your average unemployed no good slacker climbing the social ladder in the wrong direction-kind of guy.

In your pastime (which is pretty much all of your time awake) you indulge in pot smoking, all night video gaming, interactive erotic stories online and a rampant addiction to masturbation.

Your looks, height, weight, IQ, cognitive skills, sense of fashion and haircut are all average. At best. Your only real trait, besides knowing every singe line from Caddyshack, is your cock.

Yes, you are quite the cocksman, packing an impressive rod, both in length and girth. But that has been a well kept secret from the female species for way to long. You have actually forgotten when or how you last got laid.

But all this is about to change.

A glass door opens and woman enters.

Her name is Julia Jennings and this is the second time you meet at her office. She is the head of recruiting at this well-reputed personal assistant agency.

"Hello Mr. Smith, sorry to keep you waiting, how are you today," she says and shakes your hand with a smile. "Thank you for coming in on such short notice".

You sit down at her desk and while she gets your file from her briefcase you take the chance to study her closer.

She's in her mid 30:s, very cute face with blue eyes and full lips, long champagne coloured hair, high heels, hourglass body shape amplified by a well-fitting business suit that brings out the most of a pair of stunning legs as well as a pair of trade mark Californian double DD tits. Even your cock would agree that she's a cliché.

"Can I call you John? Please call me Julia," she smiles. "The reason I called you over is that we are absolutely thrilled to have such an experienced and competent personal assistant among our applicants," she chirps. "I feel we simply must nab you before you take your business to one of our competitors! The job is your's if you want it."

And she's obviously dumb as a rock. How else could she believe all that barefaced ridiculous horseshit you put in your resume and told her on your last interview? You sent that application just to get the unemployment office off your back and you wrote it like a joke and you can't believe anyone would actually fall for it.

"Well uhm, julia I'm most flattered. And I am at your service. For the right remuneration of course," you say, playing it cool, ready to continue in this unexpected direction.

"Congratuations, welcome aboard then! I assure you, you will not be disappointed salary-wise"

She leans over the desk, offering a great view of her cleavage and eagerly shakes your hand.

"With your top qualifications we think it will benefit all parties if you personally choose where to offer your services," she says and slides a file of papers over the desk. "Here's a list of all our clients. We specialize in young female A-list celebrities, but as you can see we have clients in other fields as well".

You read through the list of names and almost shout out loud. It's like the guest list to the Oscars, MTV awards and the Playboy mansion rolled into one!

"So who do you want to work for on your first assignment?"