There is no bigger frog in the tiny pond of a small town than a local celebrity, someone who is famous and well-known within the confines of a single viewing market or listening area. These people - weathermen, disc jockeys, indie start up bands, and newspaper columnists - might not be known outside of their city, town, or county, but inside of it, everyone knows who they are and many could pick them out of a line up as surely as they could the president. That was especially true of TV personalities. You don't see the face of radio DJs that often unless you make a concerted effort (or happen to stumble across an ad or billboard). News anchors are the most common small town hero, since almost everyone watches the news occasionally, even if it is just to check out the sports report. Maybe these days people don't watch their local newscasts as much as they did in the past, but even so, anchors are the best known people in towns of a certain size.
Royal Woods was just such a town. Founded in 1767 as a British fur trading post by a trapper named Josiah Parker, it today boasted a population of just under eight thousand, which sounds like a lot but really isn't. With its quaint and charming storefronts, shady streets, and comfortable old houses, and slow atmosphere, it was the kind of town where you could leave your doors unlocked at night and where everyone knew everyone else. That might be a cliche, but of Royal Woods, at least, it was true. Occasionally a man would be arrested for beating up on his wife or a gang of bored teenagers would vandalize something, but other than that, there was no crime to speak of and everyone left everyone else alone.
Being so small, Royal Woods did not have its own TV or radio stations. It was close enough to Detroit that it was lumped into the wider "metro area" like a foul suckling its mother's teet. Because of that, it didn't have any local on air talent to treat like gods. To get famous in Royal Woods, your best bet was doing something live and in the flesh. There were plays at the community center now and then, and every Friday at 5 during the summer, local bands would play a free show at Costello Park.
There were a few "famous" Royal Woodsians who enjoyed an elevated status among their fellow townspeople. One of them was Lynn Loud Jr., the captain of the all-girl's football team at Royal Woods Middle. She was the closest thing Royal Woods had to LeBron James, and the people made do with "close enough", treating her as though she wore a Superbowl ring on each finger. She ate for free at all two restaurants in town and people would literally stop her in the street to sign autographs. She even got a sponsorship deal once, promoting a local mechanic shop in a 30 second radio spot. It was insane.
Another one of Royal Woods' famous daughters was, as it so happened, her little sister.
Lola Loud.
When she was two, Lola took part in her first beauty pageant at her mother's insistence. Rita Loud thought it would be "fun" for Lola, and honestly…she was right. Lola, as young as she was, discovered a love of the spotlight that day and had never looked back. In the intervening years, she had made a name for herself in pageants, shows, plays, revenues, and at the annual 4th of July parade, where she was head baton twirler three years running. She had been in so much stuff that everyone in town knew her - even if they didn't know her face, they knew her name. If Lynn was the LeBron James of Royal Woods, she, Lola, was the Marylin Monroe, the glitzy and fashionable covergirl with the big sunglasses and glamorous looks that every man wanted and every woman wanted to be. Her exploits were reported in The Royal Woods Inquirer, a once weekly newsletter that reached hundreds of people in the area, and she even got to be on the news in Detroit when she won the state pageant championship last year, bringing Royal Woods its first shoutout on NBC in three years - not counting mentions during the sports and weather segments.
Lola, in other words, was already a celebrity and had already come to enjoy the kind of life a celebrity leads. It was no surprise, then, when she got a call from Central Michigan Magazine for an interview and photo spread.
Central Michigan Magazine was, as the name suggested, a magazine published and distributed in the central region of Michigan. A constant fixture in libraries, doctor offices, trash bins, and birdcages from Grand Rapids to Saginaw, it had 9,000 subscribers and sold hundreds, if not thousands, more on newsstands. It had been in continuous publication since 1915, when it first appeared as a pulp magazine for local writers and had earned itself moderate prestige by securing interviews with famous Michiganders and by covering relevant news stories in and around the Central Michigan region. It had won a Pulitzer back in the fifties and though its operations were greatly reduced these days, it wasn't a stretch to believe that issues might wind up in places like New York or Hollywood.
When Lola got the call, she was beyond thrilled, to say the least. She had been waiting for a big break and this, she thought, might just be it. If it wasn't, it was certainly a step in the right direction. She happily accepted and made an appointment with a local photographer, as she wanted - and got - complete control over the picture spread the magazine would use. Normally, they would send their own person out, but that wasn't good enough for Lola's liking. She wanted to be in charge of everything from the theme of the pictures to which ones were used and which ones weren't. It took a little haggling with the magazine, but Lola believed that she had the clout to use a little leverage, and the editor agreed, so she got her way.
Don't it just love it when it breaks that way?
The first order of business after getting her way was to find the right photographer. She had done numerous photoshoots before, most recently for the Lil Miss Royal Woods 2021 Calendar (where twelve girls posed in their prettiest dresses against scenic backdrops…they also wore medical masks because COVID). She had the names of ten photographers saved in her phone, along with the names and numbers of journalists, community leaders, coaches, and other professionals that a budding celebrity might need to know. On the evening she received the go ahead, a balmy and unseasonably warm twilight in mid May, she curled up on the couch with her laptop - a pink Chromebook with her name in glitter that she had won in a pageant over the winter - and started browsing the sites of all the photographers she knew, comparison shopping like a picky old woman looking for the ripest, plumpest, least rottenest tomato. She eliminated several of them because their sites looked bad or because the sample pictures they provided weren't i[ tp Lola's standards, eventually drawing up a list of three potential candidates. The next day, she called her first choice, but he was on vacation with his family in Aruba. Phooy.
Her second choice was out having a baby,
Ugh, are you kidding me? The two best photographers in the whole area and they're both indisposed? That's dumb.
Third time's a charm, though.
Yeah, well, whoever came up with that saying was an idiot, because for Lola Loud, the third time was another strike out. Lola seriously couldn't believe this and she was starting to get really upset. And when she got upset, she screamed and stomped her feet. Trust her, it wasn't pretty, and when she did it, she usually got her way.
Of course, it wouldn't work in this situation. She knew that. No one was going to rush back from Aruba or the maternity ward just because she was screaming and stomping her feet 3,000 miles away. And that knowledge made her even more upset than she already was. She did not want to settle for a subpar photographer and refused to call any of the ones she had already mentally rejected. This was big for her and she wanted the pictures to be absolutely perfect.
Her next best option was to call someone from out of the area and see if they would travel. That didn't seem an unreasonable proposition to her, freelancers sometimes have to travel for work. It wasn't a big deal. Right?
Right?
Wrong.
She found a dozen photographers and of them, only a handful would come out, and even then only for a hefty price. Lola begged her parents to give her more money but they were all like "No, Lola, we have bills and groceries to buy." Okay, but those don't matter as much as this photoshoot. They disagreed, so for a little bit, it seemed all hope was lost. Finally, however, she found a photographer who did good work, would come to Royal Woods for cheap, and whose baseline rate was reasonable. She made an appointment with him for the afternoon of the fifteenth.
The big day finally came around, and guess what.
The bastard stood her up. She waited for hours, pacing the floors and peeking out the window every ten seconds expecting to see a strange car pulling into the driveway. Only he never came. She threw a tantrum, and her older sister Leni just so happened to overhear her dilemma. "Scott is a good photographer," she said.
Scott was Leni's Scottish boyfriend. They met when the Loud family visited their ancestral home last year and had been an item ever since. He flew out as often as he could and once or twice, Leni had gone over there for a few days. Scott was super cute and Lola really liked his accent because it was so different, but she hadn't heard anything about him being a good photographer and doubted it was true. If so, Leni wouldn't have just conveniently pulled that news out of her butt at the exact moment Lola needed it. That was, like, the kind of cliche you see in bad stories. Oh, by the way, I know I never mentioned it over the past 500 pages, but I have this amazing and suddenly relevant talent. Hehe, lucky, huh?
Lola expressed her doubts, and Leni took her upstairs to show her some of Scott's photographs, which he regularly sent her. There weren't very many of people, as he preferred landscapes, but what Lola saw impressed her. The framing and lighting were perfect, and she could honestly imagine seeing those pictures in a professional publication. "These are good," Lola said, "but how can he help me when he's 10,000 miles away?"
"Well, he's coming out soon. I'm sure we can work it out so he comes a little earlier."
Lola thoughtfully stroked her chin. Hmmm. Well, if he could get here in a reasonable amount of time, she guessed it was okay. He did good work and, Leni said, wouldn't charge her. So far that put him head and shoulders above everyone else she had gotten in touch with. Okay, she decided, she'd use him, but again, only if he could get here soon. She could put the editor of Central Michigan Magazine off for a while, but not for six months or something.
She said as much, and Leni texted Scott to see what they could do. For the next three days, Lola was a ball of nerves as she waited for everything to come together. Finally, Leni came to tell her that Scott would be flying out in the middle of next week, two months earlier than planned. "He was probably going to come sooner anyway," Leni said, "we really miss each other."
How cute.
Anyway, a week later, Lola accompanied Mom and Leni to Francis International Airport in Great Lakes City to meet Scott. Leni was downright giddy about getting to see her boyfriend, and Mom seemed pretty happy. Why Mom should smile and blush at the thought of seeing Scott would have been beyond Lola if she had given it much thought, but she didn't; she was only concerned with herself and getting these photos done. The editor was starting to get impatient and if Lola didn't provide the goods, like, yesterday, she was going to lose out on this. If that happened, she would be crushed beyond belief. She might even eat tubs of ice cream while crying under her blankets in baggy sweat clothes.
Shudder.
Let's not do that.
Again.
Because it was the middle of the afternoon in the middle of the week, the terminal was largely empty, save for a few people scattered through the waiting room and a few bleary eyed travelers on their way to their gate or to baggage claim. Lola, Leni, and their mother waited by the big plate glass windows overlooking the runway. Ten minutes late, and much earlier than they had any right to expect, Scott's plane taxied down the tarmac and Leni gave an excited squee. "There he is," Mom said with a satisfied little hilt. The plane rolled to a stop at the gate, and a few minutes later, the passengers began to disembark.
Scott was one of the last off. Tall and thin with brown hair and soft features, he wore jeans and a brown leather jacket that was very stylish but absolutely not suited to the weather. It was early June in Royal Woods and had been unseasonably hot. The climate in Scotland was cool and rainy, so Lola assumed that he had dressed for that and not this. Leni ran up to him and threw her arms around him, and he hugged her tightly. "I missed you so much," she gushed, "I'm, like, so glad you're here."
"So am I," he said.
Mom and Lola walked over. "Hello, Scott," Mom said. "How was your flight?"
Scott shrugged one shoulder. "It was fine. We hit a bit of turbulence over the Atlantic but that's about it."
"Was it scary?" Leni asked.
"Very," Scott admitted. "I thought I was going to die." He chuckled.
Leni nodded to Lola. "You remember Lola, right?"
"Of course I do," he said with a grin, "I have a very good memory. She's your neighbor, right?" He smiled to show that he was joking.
Lola held out her hand. "Charmed, I'm sure."
Everyone laughed, even though she herself didn't see what was so funny about it. That was how a woman of her stature introduced herself. Anything less was trashy, and even though Royal Woods had a reputation among some as a spawning point for white trash, she was high class.
After picking up Scott's bags at the carousel, they piled into Vanzilla and made their way back to Franklin Avenue by a lazy, circuitous route. On the way, they stopped at Titty's Taco Shop and ordered from the drive-thru. One habit - bad or otherwise - that Scott had picked up during his American jaunts was eating fast food. He loved fast food of all sorts and endeavored to visit as many as possible like he was Ash collecting Pokemon. There were fast food joints in Scotland, but they weren't as plentiful there as they were in America and Scott hadn't been to many because they were located mainly in cities, while he lived in the countryside. If he ever moved here full-time, Lola was sure, he would eat fast food five times a day and wind up weighing a good six hundred pounds.
Which would be a shame. He was really cute. Lola had never paid much attention to him before but now that she was looking at him, she realized how attractive he really was. His features were the perfect mix of boyish and manly - he wasn't intimidating, but he also wasn't effemine. While Leni prattled happily on about all the "super cool stuff" she had planned for them that weekend, Lola studied Scott's features, her eyes lingering over his bare arms. He had taken the jacket off and beneath, he wore a button up short sleeve shirt that clung tight to his torso. His arms were bare and toned, not muscular but definitely defined.
Hm.
He was hot.
While they ate, Lola couldn't help but notice the knowing glances he and her mother exchanged every so often. Lola wasn't very well versed in things like discernment and body language, but she got the distinct impression that they liked each other.
Which made no sense. Mom was married to Dad and was grown up. Scott was a kid. Even if Mom was single, she would never be into a little boy. That was a non possibility, though. Lola was convinced, in her young mind, that it was physically impossible for someone to "cheat" if they were married. In fact, she didn't even understand the concept of cheating in the first place. If someone was married, they were married and that was it. You might as well expect a dog to fly or a bird to swim.
Still, in the pit of her stomach, she felt something strange.
After lunch, they returned to Franklin Avenue. Everyone else was off doing their own thing so they had the house to themselves. Lola wanted to talk to Scott about the photoshoot, but the moment they got home, Leni dragged him away.
Lola had an email waiting from the editor of Central Michigan Magazine when she logged onto her computer. He wanted to know the progress of the photoshoot. She hadn't provided him with a great many details but she told him that she had a "friend" flying in from overseas to act as photographer. They told him that everything should be all set by the end of the week. Feeling the pressure, she wanted to get the shoot done and over with as soon as possible, but thanks to Leni, she had no idea where he was.
That was fine, she'd just get together with him later.
Or so she thought.
When Leni had said that she really, really missed Scott, she was being really, really honest. From the moment she and Scott were inseparable. The guy couldn't go to the bathroom without Leni following behind him like a lost little puppy. Every time Lola tried to approach him about doing her pictures, Leni would butt in and pull him away to watch TV or go to the park or something. Lola started to get upset, and the last time it happened, she clenched her tiny hands into fists and stamped one high heeled foot on the floor. That's it, she was going to have to play dirty. She started devising a plan to get Leni away from him.
An idea came to her.
The next day, Lola cornered Leni in the hallway. "I have a really fun game we can play," she said.
"Ooh, I like games," Leni said. "What is it?"
"Close your eyes."
Leni covered her eyes and pressed her knees together in order to keep her balance. She couldn't walk and chew gum at the same time, and she also couldn't close her eyes and stand up at the same time. Lola dragged over a step stool, positioned it behind Leni, and climbed it. She taped a long stick to the top of Leni's head. On the jutting edge, she hung one of Leni's favorite snacks. She climbed back down. "Alright," she said, "you can open your eyes."
Leni saw the snack and her eyes widened. "Oooh," she said. She started walking, following the ever elusive prepackaged cupcake down the stairs and out the front door. Easy.
Next, she found Scott in the kitchen. She sat a bag of Burpin' Burger on the table and instantly had his full and undivided attention. They sat across from each other and talked as they ate. "I'm thinking a beach scene," she said of the photo shoot. "I want it done tomorrow. The editor is starting to get impatient and so am I."
Scott's mouth was so full of burger that his cheeks bulged, putting Lola in mind of a chipmunk storing nuts for winter, so his only reply was an eager nod.
"So we're all set?" Lola asked hopefully.
"Sure are, love," he said.
"Good."
Scott finished his meal. "Hey, where's Leni?"
Lola blinked.
She had totally forgotten about her.
Luckily, a neighbor coming home from work found Leni walking along the gravel shoulder of I-68 trying and failing to catch up with the cupcake. "That was a tiring game," Leni huffed. She was sitting on the couch and happily munching her cupcake. "I'm, like, totes bushed."
"Eh, it was good exercise," Lola told her.
That night, after dinner, Lola took a long, hot bath with plenty of bubbles and bath salts, then wrapped her robe around herself and walked to her room on slippered feet. While Lana played a construction game on her tablet - the sawing, hammering, and automated cries of good job annoying Lola to no end - Lola went through her closet in search of the perfect outfit. She finally settled on a tiny pink two piece bikini and a sheer covering. It was provocative but tasteful, and Lola thought it would drive all the pervy old men wild, which was part of her job as a child beauty queen. Did she like it? Well…she certainly liked the attention and she liked knowing she made an, ahem, impact, but she couldn't say she overly relished the thought of dirty old men lusting after her young body.
You know what they say, though.
Sex sells.
And any artist - whether they draw, write, dance, or strut - is in the business of selling themselves.
After Lana put her tablet away and they went to bed for the night, Lola lay awake in the darkness, filled with giddy anticipation. She was awash in fantasies of the glory this photoshoot would bring her. Central Michigan Magazine was small potatoes, but it was a stepping stone. Today it was them, tomorrow it was Vogue. She could see herself now, right there on the cover, seen by people in every supermarket check out lane from Bangor to Santa Monica. That was the most honest and through exposure one could possibly get. Not everyone watches fashion shows or follows models and beauty queens, but everyone goes to the grocery store.
Smiling at the bright future she imagined for herself, Lola drifted off to sleep.
The next day, Scott set up his camera equipment on the sandy shore of Lake Wilson State Beach, a vast body of water surrounded on one side by sand and scrub grass and on the other three by dense forest. He had already decided that he didn't want trees in the shots, and had angled the cameras to hide them. In his mind, the photos should show a proper beach, which, to him, this was not. It was a mountain lake. A nice area, yes, but he wanted anyone who viewed the pictures to instantly think ocean, salty breezes, and tourists.
It was fairly early on a Friday afternoon and he and Lola had the beach to themselves. Rita had dropped them off nearly half an hour ago and Leni stayed at the house to finish off a design someone had commissioned from her, a pink sweater with a picture of a cat on the chest. Lola had gone off to the stone outbuilding up the hill from the beach to get dressed, and had been gone for quite a while. Scott was beginning to wonder where she was, and resolved to go look for her if she wasn't back in a few minutes. Just as he was finishing setting up the equipment, however, she came down the hill wearing sandals, a floppy sun hat, and a see through beach blouse that fluttered in the wind. Her eyes were covered by big, bug eye sunglasses that reminded Scott of the ones Hollywood starlets wore in all the tabloids.
She crossed the beach and he smiled. "Ready?" he asked.
"Ready," she answered.
Scott was a firm believer in telling a story through progression. He photographed her as she was, in various poses, then had her undress, losing an article of clothing here and there - first the hat, then the sandals, finally the glasses. At last, it came time for her to take off the blouse, and when she did, Scott was blown away.
First and foremost was her bikini. It was far, far skimpier than he imagined it would be, and left very little to the imagination. Second was her body. He couldn't remember Lola's age but he was sure that he could count it on both hands and still have fingers left over. Even so, her body was developed far beyond her years. The curve of her hips, the gentle swell of her tiny breasts, and the V of her pelvic muscles were all those of a young woman, not a little girl. In short, she was stunning, and he couldn't help staring at her. On her knees, her arms crossed loosely over her chest as if to coyly hide her near nakedness, Lola noticed, and her cheeks turned a slight pink color. "Do I look okay?" she asked, shy.
"You look wonderful," Scott assured her.
And he wasn't lying, Lola noted, if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by. During the rest of the shoot, her eyes clung to it, her heart pounding gently in her chest and her loins burning with desire. The more she stared, the more attractive he became…and the more she wanted him.
When they were finished, Lola knelt in front of him and ran her fingers over his bulge. His breath caught and his eyes widened slightly. "Did I do that?" she asked.
He swallowed. "N-No," he stammered, "I just…"
Ignoring him, she unzipped his pants and pulled them down. His dick tented the front of his underwear and her heart slammed even harder. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his briefs and peeled them down over his dick, which sprang out to greet her. She went cross-eyed looking at it, and a wicked smile carved her lips. "Let me take care of it anyway," she said.
She wrapped her fingers gingerly around the shaft and brought the tip to her lips. It was warm, soft, and pulsating, and when her lips touched the head, they came away sticky with his essence. She flicked her tongue out and traced it over his tip, which made him gasp and tremble. His thin, salty precum coated her lips and the inside of her mouth.
She liked the way it tasted.
Swirling her tongue around his tip, she bobbed her head slowly down, her lips tight to the shaft. Scott was frozen in indecision, clearly liking the way it felt but not knowing whether it was morally right. She was very young, after all. What you might call "jailbait."
Lola didn't care. She worked his dick with her lips and tongue, sucking more and more sticky sweet precum from his depths. She had seen a few porn clips online and, remembering them, she stroked his cock with her bare hand as she went down on him, moving gently back and forth. Scott threw his head back and let out a moan. He ran his fingers through her hair and began to rock his hips back and forth, lightly fucking her throat. Lola massaged his balls and flicked her tongue over his head, coming up briefly for air before diving back in. His taste was heavy in her mouth and was really starting to turn her on. She slipped one hand into her bikini bottoms and rubbed herself as she went faster, drool and cum coursing down her chin.
"Someone might see us," Scott worried.
"I don't care," Lola gasped.
"Come on," he said and helped her to her feet.
Holding her by the hand, he led her to a soft grassy area behind the bathrooms. Thick trees formed a half circle around it and no one would know they were there unless they were going out of their way to look. He pulled her to the soft ground and kissed her. She didn't know what he had in mind but she liked it and went with it. He brushed her bikini bottoms down her legs and pulled her on top of him. They positioned themselves until she had his dick in her mouth and his face was buried between her wide open thighs. She bobbed her head up and down and trembled as he squirmed his tongue in her wet heat. Fire swept through her body and her mind scrambled at the new and powerful sensations rippling out from her center. She went faster as if by doing so she could stave off her coming orgasm, and Scott did the same thing for, perhaps, the same reason.
He swirled his tongue around her clit and dug his fingernails into the soft flesh of her butt, when sent sharp pangs spreading through her. She could feel her climax beginning to form in her stomach and pressed her body needily to his mouth. Moments later, his dick swelled to twice its normal size and heated up to the point where it was almost burning. Hot, thick liquid filled her mouth and she choked as it slid down the back of her throat. At just that moment, her own orgasm broke over her and tore like scalding shrapnel through her body. Her mind rolled away and her toes curled as a long, trembling moan burst from her throat. They clutched each other and shook with the power of their mutual end, then cuddled in the soft grass, Lola's head and hand resting on his chest.
"That was nice," she said lazily.
"It was," Scott agreed. "I feel bad because -"
"Leni?"
He nodded.
"Well, she doesn't have to know," Lola said, "we'll just keep this between us."
Scott smiled.
"And anything else that might happen in the future."
Scott really smiled.
That weekend, Rita made good on her promise to take Scott to Dairyland. He didn't get to go the last time, poor thing.
The editor loved the photos and even put one of them on the cover of the magazine. Anybody waiting in line at the supermarket or idly scanning the selection of six month old magazines at the doctor's office would see her smiling face.
To Lola Loud, she had arrived.
The final bit of business she had to take care of was to call the photographer who stood her up and give him a piece of her mind. "Do you have any idea who I am?" she asked. "And what you missed out on? It serves you right, How dare you treat paying customers like this, especially one as important as me."
She hit END even though she wanted to slam the phone down.
There.
That was done.
Now, she asked herself…
What was next?
