It's the year 1956.

You are a famous actress and popular sex symbol in movies and shows. You don't really like being treated as a symbol for sexual attraction and male gaze, but you like money more, so you do what makes you a desirable actress: act like an innocent and sexy dumb girl who exists solely for pleasing men and being treated like a toy for pleasure. Beyond fame and money, you've become an alcoholic and drug addict. Everything you do is to remove the shame and the feeling of being violated from your mind.

You're in a luxurious bar surrounded by rich men talking to beautiful women. Lying on a couch with your white silk dress featuring a deep side slit, wearing a beautiful pearl necklace and matching pearl earrings, you hold a glass of scotch in your gloved hand. Your bold attire turns heads, but that's expected of a sex symbol like you. Heavily drunk, you converse with所谓的 friends while the amber liquid in your glass sloshes with your unsteady hand.

Earlier in the day, you had to do a shoot where you acted all sensual and dumb. You noticed the way the director and cameraman looked at you—you knew this footage would be used for more than just the movie, likely as jerk-off material for lonely men. You couldn't bring yourself to care; as long as the money kept coming, you tolerated being mistreated and used as a sex doll for the pleasure of men watching you.

As you drank away your sorrows and snorted cocaine, you felt lightheaded and vulnerable—nothing new. You kept drowning yourself in these addictions until numbness set in. Feeling low and numb had become your normal state by the end of each day. Everyone eventually leaves you alone to get high; some guys linger, hoping for a taste, but they always leave when they realize you're too far gone.

After satisfying your cravings, you wobble out of the bar. The loud noises of cars and paparazzi assault your ears. You close your eyes tightly and push your way into the nearest car, not caring who it belongs to. Slamming the door shut, you look around through blurred vision to see a man. Your high and drunk body goes weak, and you collapse onto his lap—helpless and completely vulnerable.

"Who's this?" he chuckles, running his fingers through your hair.