It was hot and sunny when Blake Bradley - once voted America's favorite TV star - boarded Midwest Flight 105 at LAX. Tall and handsome with a strong jaw, blonde hair, and abs that just wouldn't quit, Blake had been acting since he was three years old, when he appeared in an Adam Sandler vehicle as "Snot nosed kid." That's literally what his character was called in the credits. Blake had precious few memories of that first role, aside from pissing himself when the director wouldn't let him go to the bathroom. He met Sandler years later and found him to be a decent, humble guy, but he had no recollection of working with Blake. That didn't offend Blake, honestly, as he had no recollection of Sandler either. That was Hollywood for you. If you work at a steady pace, you wind up meeting so many people and doing so many projects that they kind of blend together. One time, when he was fourteen, Blake did one of those made for TV Disney movies. He figured it would sink into obscurity and approached it as just another job. It went on to become a classic beloved by many, and his fans - and interviewers - were always disappointed that he hardly remembered working on it.

How, they wondered, could you be in a classic and not remember it? Didn't you know it was going to be a hit? Wasn't there something in the air?

No, there wasn't. It was another day at the office for him. In fact, he didn't particularly enjoy working on that movie. The script was boring, his character was underdeveloped, and the director treated the whole thing like a color by numbers assembly line project. There were no special feelings or sense of greatness in the air. The set was like every other he had ever been on and he did what he always did, so he couldn't say that he had any inclination that it would be anything major. Of course, he also never had any inkling that anything he was in would suck either, but some of his projects had. He was in a horror movie when he was eleven and it tanked so hard that the only place you could still find it was on Tubi…all that way at the very bottom of the expansive list of horror movies. He remembered being creeped out by some of the scenes he filmed and was sure that the public would at least feel the same. Nope. Critics and fans alike called it "hokey and laughable."

Ouch.

On the morning that he boarded the plane, Blake likewise had no idea that the next week or so would be so…well…eventuful. He had no reason to, of course; he was heading to a small town in Michagan called Royal Woods to do a meet and greet at the local mall and to film scenes for a Netflix miniseries called Virus: Day of Ressurection. It was, he had gleaned, a remake of a movie from the 80s. It was about a government engineered plague killing off most of the world's population while a lucky group of survivors camped out in Antarctica, where the temps were too cold for the virus to live. Blake's character was a US Navy submarine…something…and was scripted to die in the first act, his body ravaged by the Italian Flu.

With COVID-19 such a recent memory, Blake doubted people would be interested in seeing a movie full of sickness and death, but the part paid well and was different from anything he had ever done before, so he agreed to do it. It would be fun, he figured. How would it look on his resume? He didn't know and refused to let himself think of that. He didn't want to be on of those snobby actors who only took high falutin roles. Acting was his profession, true, but he also wanted to have fun with it. If that meant that he occasionally did a role that was "beneath" him or didn't present him in the best possible light, oh well. He had wormed his way into America's heart and millions of teenage girls across the country had his poster on their walls. He was as big as he would probably ever be and as notable as any actor could hope for. He was big enough that he could survive a few bad roles. And this role wasn't even bad, he just didn't think it would strike a cord with a mainstream audience. He believed that, at best, it would become a genre favorite, the kind of movie that enough people see and love that he could go to conventions twenty years from now and still do a brisk business selling pictures and autographs.

Blake was happy with that.

His seat was in first class, by the window, and he took it with a weary sigh. He was up late last night and had to be up early to catch this flight, so he was tired. He planned to get a little shut eye before landing. If his itinerary was right, he would be there around 1pm. His personal asistant, who had flown ahead to prepare the way, would meet him at the airport and drive him in a rented car to the hotel. The meet and greet was at 4 ot 5, and after that, he had an interview with a local deejay and the regional NBC affiliate.

Maybe those interviews were tomorrow.

Huh, he couldn't remember. His assistant would know. That's what Blake paid him for. And he paid him well, he was proud to say. Though he had been an actor his entire life, beloved by millions and treated like a virtual god by the media and most of society, he wasn't some raging ego monster who treated other people as though they were less than him. He was a chill and easygoing guy. Some of the best times he'd ever had involved hanging out with regular people. One time, he got drunk with some rednecks in Alabama. That was more fun than any Hollywood party or upscale night club by far.

In a way, Blake envied normal people. It must be cool to just live your life, no one trying to kiss your ass or sneak pictures of you when you walked out the door. You got to be…well…regular. Something about the idea of normalcy appealed to Blake, but the idea of actually trying to obtain it unnerved him. All he knew was acting. What would he do? What if he was too pampered to be normal? What if his idea of normal made real normal people roll their eyes and talk behind his back?

He didn't want that.

But not being super famous…being able to walk around without mobs forming…not always having to be on guard in case someone walked up to you wanting an autograph or to chat…yes, that would nice.

He thought of Michael Jackson, the once storied King of Pop some fourteen years in his grave. Blake had heard that Jackson used to have extensive make up done, making him unrecognizable, just so he could go sit on a park bench and see what being normal was like. He had been famous since he was a little boy and had missed out being a regular kid, which, some people said, is why he was so weird.

That was sad.

Anyway, the plane took off and Blake ordered a cup of juice, which he drank while looking out the window. The sun dappled clouds formed a puffy carpet below and Blake wondered what lay beyond. In his mind's eye, he saw stark desert vistas, rolling redwood forests, sleepy small towns where everyone knew everyone else, and miles and miles of open road, arteries that would carry you wherever you wanted to go if you stuck with them long enough.

He didn't see those things for very long, however, as he passed out. When he woke, he had his in flight meal - chicken and broccoli - and waited for the in flight movie to start. When it did, he was disappointed to find that it was one of his. Kind of awkward, really. He always wondered if, say, a rock star turned up the radio when his own song came on, of if he turned it down. It seemed kind of strange to blast your own song. And it was just as strange to watch your own movie. He pulled out his phone and played a game instead.

An hour later, the plane broke through the clouds and soared over the low, gray grim industrial buildings of Detroit. It landed at the airport and everyone disembarked. Blake's assistant, a scrawny older man named Kevin, was waiting in the terminal. Blake went over to them, and they walked to the baggage carousel to pick up Blake's luggage. "We're going right to the hotel from here," Kevin said, reading from his iPhone, "then to the mall. Once that's all done, you have the rest of the day to yourself."

Good.

They packed into the car Kevin had rented, Kevin driving, and made their way to Royal Woods. The hotel was just outside of town, a Hilton that Blake immediately dismissed as ghetto. At least compared to the hotels he was used to. Then again, he was a famous celebrity, so he was used to the best.

Which was another reason he couldn't fit in with normal people. To the average person, this place was swanky. To him, it was…meh.

In his room, which adjoined Kevin's, he put his clothes away and had an apple from a fruit basket on the table. It wore a little sash. WELCOME FROM THE ROYAL WOODS CHAMBER OF COMMERCE.

It was good. Very fresh. Juicy, too. He wondered if it came from a store or a local orchard. Was there really any difference? He knew that some foods - like meat - tasted better when they were fresh because the stuff you got from the store was filled with preservatives and stuff, but he didn't think the same was true of fruits. They were the same from farm to table, as far as he knew.

Though good, the apple didn't fill him up. He wanted to order room service but he didn't have the time. On the way over to the mall, Kevin stopped at a place called Burpin' Burger. Call Blake weird, but the name was so off putting that he almost asked if they could go somewhere else. He didn't want to be a primadonna, though; it was just a name. Still, it was kind of gross. He imagined his burger going through a chorus of burps before reaching him, and his stomach turned. Primadonna or not, he could be a little eccentric with food, but he kept himself largely in check because he didn't want the reputation of being some spoiled Hollywood bitch boy.

Anyway, Blake ate his burger and fries from a grease stained paper bag while Kevin drove them to the mall. He was surprised at how good they were. "This is great," he said. "Why I have never heard of this place?"

"It's a regional thing," Kevin said, "like In-n-Out Burger, Church's Chicken, and Burger Shot."

Huh.

It was kind of funny that each region had its own things. Back before the internet connected everyone, moving from one part of the country to another must have been a real culture shock.

The mall was a vast complex outside of town. Inside, Blake sat at a folding table in the middle a T shaped intersection, stacks of photos to his left and a Sharpie at his right. In what seemed like minutes, a huge line formed. Blake noticed a lot of attractive women. Blake considered himself a normal guy, but he was something of a ladies man. He loved the ladies and was always on the prowl for his next "special friend." He noticed one girl in particular. She was thicc af in a yellow dress and leather jacket, a pair of sunglasses resting on the top of her head. She wore boots and had curly brown hair that looked like it smelled warm and fruity. Blake cracked a grin and lifted one eye brow Dwayne Johnson style, and all of the women in line swooned.

"Are you ready to begin?" Kevin asked.

"I sure am," Blake said and picked up his Sharpie, "bring on the women - I mean fans."

The first fan of the day was a little blonde girl in pigtails who wanted him to sign her teddy bear. Random request, he thought, but he did it anyway. The next was a guy in sunglasses who looked like he was on drugs. "I don't know who you are or why I'm here," he said, sounding bemused, "I just saw people standing in line and figured someone cool was gonna happen." He looked at Blake's soda from Burpin Burger. "You gonna finish that?"

"Uh…no, you can have it," Blake said, not knowing how to react. "Do you want me to sign it?"

"Nah," the guy said and grabbed the soda, "I'm good."

Happily sucking up his prize, he wandered off. Blake arched his brow and shook his head. There were truly some strange people in the world, and as a celebrity, he was a lightning rod to them. He loved meeting people, but in the back of his mind, he was always worried that some nutcase would take a shot at him Mark David Chapman style because their toaster told them to. Thankfully, he had avoided that sort of thing so far, but you can only press your luck so much and for so long before it gives out on you.

Anyway, after Soda Guy, Blake met with the fine people of Royal Woods. Again, most of them were females, but they ran the gamut from little old grandmas who wanted to pinch his cheeks to middle aged moms who secretly pretended it was him on top of them and night and not their fat, sweaty husbands. One of them was a professional looking Hispanic woman in a skirt and blazer; she wore her hair in a severe bun and bore herself with confidence and authority. For a second, Blake thought she was the owner of the mall come to throw him out. Did Kevin not get permission for this meet n greet? That didn't sound like him but who knows?

The woman stood over him with a dour expression for a moment…then broke out in a sunny smile. "I'm a huge fan," she said.

Her name was Principal Ramirez and she was the principal of Royal Woods Middle, "One of the finest middle grade institutions in the country." Blake smiled and chatted with her as he signed all the stuff she'd brought. He let his eyes wander over her womanly form and his little friend downstairs rolled over in his sleep. He could totally see himself doing Principal Ramirez. He didn't have a "thing" for older women, but he didn't discriminate, not if the woman was attractive. Hell, he once slept with Madonna, and he'd totally do it again. That woman knew her way around a man like no other fuck he'd ever had. "You should come by the school some time," she offered.

"I just might," he said.

At one point, Katherine Mulligan, a reporter from the local news station, came out to cover the event. She made eyes at his muscles and stumbled over her words like a schoolgirl, no different from any of the other women. Next in line was a tall woman with red hair and glasses. She introduced herself as Ms. Carmichael, owner of Reininger's. "It would be a real boon to our business if we could get a celebrity endorsement."

"You'll have to talk to Kevin about that," Blake said. "I'm down for it but he handles all of my business dealings."

Ms. Carmichael turned to Kevin. "I would like to discuss this matter as soon as possible."

While the two of them went off to the side to talk turkey, Blake went on signing autographs and posing for pictures with his fans. Two of them were a gay couple named McBride. Howard felt Blake's muscles and squeed like a girl. "He's so scrumptious," he told his partner in an impressed whisper. Blake had never been with a man before but he couldn't say with any sort of certainty that he never would be. He believed in doing whatever felt good and in living in the moment. One day that might mean being sandwiched between two men like the McBrides.

But not today.

Ms. Carmichael and Kevin finished their powwow and Ms. Carmichael strode purposely off, her butt flexing and wiggling beneath her skirt. "So?" Blake asked.

"You have a meeting with her tomorrow," Kevin said. "You can discuss the terms then. If you like what you hear, feel free to do it. She doesn't want much. Just a commercial, a radio spot, and some pictures for advertising."

"Alright then," Blake said, "sounds good to me."

After finishing up with the meet and greet, Blake and Kevin had dinner and drinks that the hotel bar. Blake had bacon wrapped chicken and steamed vegetables, and Kevin had a pita bread sandwich packed with lettuce, tomatoes, lamb strips, and a yogurt based sauce that smelled so strong it reached out and strangled Blake across the table. After dinner, feeling good and tipsy, Blake hopped in the jacuzzi and let the warm water relax and wash away the stress of the day.

The next morning, after a good night's sleep, Blake did an interview with WKBBL, the local radio station. They talked about Blake's upcoming movie and about his sitcom. It was a routine interview, like a million he had given before, and he forgot all about it as soon as he walked out of the building. From the radio station, Kevin drove him to Reininger' his meeting with Ms. Carmichael. To be honest, up until then, Blake had no idea what Reininger's even was, a store, he figured, but beyond that, no clue. It wound up being a posh department store in the mall. When he got there, it was just before 10am and the place was closed, the mesh gate pulled down and the inside lights dim. He spotted Ms. Carmichael inside and waved to her. She saw him, strode over on clicking heels, and raised the gate. "Sorry," she said, "I was just getting ready for the day."

"Don't worry about it," he said, "this is a nice place." He looked around at the racks of clothing, displays of shoes, and the well dressed mannequins posed here and there, faces blank and creepy.

"It's not much but it's mine," Ms. Carmichael said. They were walking along a marble path leading through the deserted store, Blake, Ms. Carmichael, and Kevin. She gave them the grand tour of the place, proudly pointing out every major brand they carried and delighting in rattling off the names of every famous person who had ever shopped here. Reininger's occupied space on both the first and second floors, an escalator connecting the two. Soft music drifted from unseen speakers and the smell of new, unused clothing scented the air. You know the smell…it's unmistakable. Every place like Reininger's has it.

The office was on the second floor, down a little hallway beyond the check out counter. They paused at the register and Ms. Carmichael turned to Kevin. "We shouldn't take very long. You're welcome to browse the store while we talk."

"I'll probably head over to the food court for breakfast," Kevin said. "I'll be there when you're done," he told Blake.

Blake's stomach rumbled. Breakfast sounded good right about now.

Kevin walked away, and Ms. Carmichael led Blake down the hall to the office. He was expecting a cramped room with few amenities but was surprised to find a spacious nook with a mahogany desk, a leather sofa, and a liquor cabinet. "We can sit here," she said and nodded to the couch. "I find that the best business is conducted in comfort rather than formality."

Blake sat while she made them each a drink. "How do you like Royal Woods so far?" she asked over her shoulder.

"It's nice," Blake said. "It's good to get out of the city every now and then."

"Well, it's certainly charming," Ms. Carmichael said. "It's not quite metropolitan enough for my tastes, however, That's a conversation for another time." She brought the drinks over and sat next to him. He took his glass with a thank you and Ms. Carmichael took a sip. "Anyway," she said and sat her glass on the coffee table, "I was hoping you would be able to help me with a new advertising campaign. Our clientele is mostly young and female, and you'd make the perfect spokesman. I plan on a series of commercials, radio spots, and print ads all revolving around you."

Blake rubbed the back of his neck. "That's a little more intensive than Kevin let on. He made it sound like you wanted one or two ads."

"Two different radio spots and two different commercials should suffice," Ms. Carmichael said. "It won't take long to record them, in fact, it can all probably be done in a single day."

Maybe, he thought. "I don't know how much free time I'll have, especially once I start filming. But if I can get away for a while, then yeah, I'd be happy to."

Ms. Carmichael smiled. "Great. Now there's the issue of pay. Your assistant quoted me a price yesterday…"

"What was it?"

She repeated it.

"That sounds about right," he said.

"That's a little more than I was hoping for," Ms. Carmichael said. "I am on a budget after all. Is there…another way I can pay you?"

Blake opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when she laid her hand on his inner thigh. She gave a very gentle squeeze and a grin slithered across his face. He knew exactly where this was going and he liked it. "Well," he said, turning on the charm, "I'm sure we can work something out. If you want to, that is."

She stroked her hand up and down his leg to his crotch. "I do want to," she purred. She slipped her hand under his shirt and her palm scraped his skin, making his heart quiver. She swung her leg over his and shifted into his lap, her knees caging his legs and both of her hands moving gently over his chest. She lifted his shirt and placed a series of wet kisses across his skin. Blake put his hands on her hips and tilted his head back, enjoying the feather soft feeling of her lips on his flesh. Her breathing grew heavy and she swirled her tongue around his nipple. A tremble raced through her and she made a moaning sound in the back of her throat. She splayed her hands on his chest and kissed his neck, nibbled his ear, kissed the corner of his mouth. In all his years, Blake had never seen a woman who was so randy and who so clearly wanted it.

Cupping her cheek in his hand, he brushed his lips over hers and swept his tongue into her mouth. She kissed himback and raked her nails slowly down his chest, sending shivers up his spine. Blake undid the buttons of her blouse and slipped his hand in. He was surprised that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath. Her tit was warm, full, and quivered in his hand. He grazed his thumb over her stiff nipple and her body tensed. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and held his face in her hands. He reached under her skirt, hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, and pulled them down to her knees. She lifted up slightly and tugged them over one foot, tossing them away over her shoulder. She leaned back, undid the rest of the buttons, and pulled her blouse open to reveal her perfectly sculpted tits.

Blake grinned as he fondled them. He tweaked and kneaded her nipples and she bit her bottom lip as he lightly rubbed herself against his erection. She helped he out of his shirt and then slipped her fingers into his jeans, giving them a needy tug. He unbutton them and pulled down the zipper. He raised his butt off of the couch and pulled his pants down, this his underwear. His dick sprang out and Ms. Carmichael's eyes widened. "Oh, you're big," she marveled.

"Nine inches all for you," he said.

Ms. Carmichael laid her hands on his shoulders and sank herself onto his cock. Her lips peeled back over his tip and her wet heat enveloped him. She threw her head back and let out a shaky moan, eyes rolling. Blake gripped her hips and started to thrust up into her. Her mouth dropped open in a silent cry and she seemed to freeze for a moment, as though she was being overloaded with sensation. She came alive and started to bounce up and down on his dick, her nails digging into his bare shoulders. She pressed her lips to his and they lapped and licked each other's tongues as they moved in unison. Her wet walls gripped his pumping shaft and her muscles bore down on him in an attempt to coax out his seed. Blake laid her back on the couch and she spread her legs wide to give him easy access. He hooked one arm around her leg and slammed into her. They both moaned. Grabbing her ankles and pushing her legs back so that they were almost even with her ears, he started to pound her, balls slapping her butt. He leaned in and kissed the side of her neck as he fucked her, making her pant and shake like a virgin schoolgirl.

Soon, they changed positions, her on top and him on the bottom. She pressed her hands to his chest and lowered herself onto him. He reached around her hips, grabbed her butt, and held on tight as she started to bounce up and down with urgent fury. Her breasts jiggled and her eyes rolled back in her head. Every thrust sent his dick crashing into her cervix and made her face twist and contort in a mask of lust.

They changed positions one more time. She got on her hands and knees in front of him and lifted her butt into the air. Her center was pink, moist, and swollen with desire. He grabbed her hips and jammed his cock into her opening. She arched her back, hung her head, and pushed herself back into his thrusts. Blake held on and went faster. He could feel himself beginning to cum but he wanted to prolong the experience. Her pussy was too wet and tight, however, and he couldn't hold back. He yanked out of her and blew his load, painting her butt and lower back with his cum. She buried her face in the couch and shuddered in delight.

When he was done, he slumped against the arm of the couch, spent. She sat up and smoothed her hair with her hands as best she could. The passion was gone, replaced once more with brisk, business-like crispness. "So," she said, "I take it the matter is settled?"

Blake grinned.

It was.

He'd do whatever advertising she wanted.

This trip is turning out to be great, he thought as he left the store.

He had no idea that this was only the beginning…and that it would get much, much better in the days to come.