The ride to the TV studio was tenuous. Traffic was horrific and I left the taxi feeling a little on edge. I was welcomed to the 4th floor by a young woman, This Morning lanyard hanging from her neck. She introduced herself as my runner, asking if there was anything I wanted for my dressing room. They'd already asked me in advance, even then my mind went blank, I was just happy to be on the show. I politely asked for water, to which the young woman began to list off different brands. She must've dealt with some real divas to have had to memorise all of this. I tell her to get me whatever is best.
She leaves me in my dressing room. It's absurdly large. There's a couch, TV, snacks and a mini fridge. At the desk, a mirror surrounded by lights. I do laps around the room, nervously fiddling with a pencil I'd picked up as the anticipation rose. The show runner doesn't even knock. He bursts in, two makeup artists at his back. There's a firm handshake but we get right down to business, going over the fifteen minute segment, blasting through the questions that are lined up as my face is lightly dusted with concealer and foundation. It's all happening at a lightning pace. My heart is rattling against my ribs, the thumping in my ears is drowning out the showrunners abrasive voice.
Truthfully, I don't watch the show, no man of my age does. I do, however, admit to my love of Holly Willoughby. To which, as I begin to sweat at the thought of sitting across from her, she steps into my room. Her wavy, shimmering blonde hair hung a little past her shoulders. When she smiles her pearly white teeth beam and define her sharp cheekbones. A long, yellow midi dress, buttoned up at the front, hid what was a legendary figure. Skin toned heels elevated her to just under my height and accentuated toned, slender legs. I shot up out of my seat, quickly wiping my clammy hands into my jeans before she pulled me in close for a hug. Her essence was divine, perfume had a strong hint of strawberry. I felt her impressive chest squeeze up against me, my cock twitching in response. The artists and showrunner promptly left, sticking to their strict schedule.
"It's so great to have you on the show. Thought I'd just pop in to say hi." Her voice was husky and got my engine revving.
"Thanks for having me!" I blurted out.
Holly simply smiled, easing my nerves a little.
"So, what's it been like, touring up and down the country?"
She asked, leading us both over to the couch where she eyed the space next to her.
"Oh - uh - it's been a whirlwind honestly." I scratch the back of my head. "Needless to say I'm happy this is my last stop."
The busty daytime host slid a little closer, listening intently.
"I can't imagine how exhausting it is." Her tone had shifted to low and sultry.
She smiled sympathetically whilst resting her hand on my knee. I tensed, but did my best to stay calm. Internally, I was freaking out. To me, Holly was one of the most beautiful women on television and she was now mere inches away from me. I noticed, being closer, the gloss on her lips and the thin eyeliner that accentuated her deep blue eyes.
"Tell me." Her hand glided up my thigh and squeezed "- must've been a while, being on the road and all."
She began to whisper, eyes glancing down at her watch. Blood was rushing to my crotch as Holly took my hand and placed it on her waist. Her lips gently guided to mine. They were supple and tasted amazing. It was a quick peck and she drew back.
"I want you to fuck me." She demanded, leaning in close, whispering in my ear, warm breath sending shivers down my spine.
"You're a married woman?"
Honestly, I didn't care about the ring on her finger, but I was a little shocked, all of this was happening so quickly.
