One Last Concert in Stepford [f seeks M for more celeb depravity]

[Nerdess]

Sold out shows across the nation.  Merchandising sales through the roof.  What would you expect from the top of the Billboard charts?  It had been the entertainment success story of the year, which is why it came as such an absolute shock to the industry, to the fans, to everyone who had even heard of her that at the end of it all she was retiring.  The last few shows would never go on stage, and tickets were being refunded.  It was over.

She was young.  She was hot, aesthetically and commercially.  She was at the top of her game, following her biggest crossover success to date.  So why was she calling it quits when she had such a bright future ahead of her?  Nobody could get a straight answer out of her publicist and she was refusing to give any interviews about her reasoning -- aside from a vague, unsatisfying notion sent to the press that she wanted a quiet life rather than the trials and tribulations of superstardom.  The paparazzi couldn't get the shot that would unravel everything.  Entertainment reporters found her impossible to track down.  Everyone knew her tour dates and her locations, but nobody seemed to be able to find out exactly where she'd gone after her very last show.  Her entourage had left, her private jet had gone out, but where had she landed?

The idyllic little town of Stepford Lakes in the middle of nowhere Utah had already seemed like an odd place for a stop of a national tour.  Its only notoriety would be that it was the end of an era -- forgotten about except as a footnote in trivia as soon as the next chart-topping beauty took center stage in America's hearts and minds.  Certainly Stepford Lakes itself was no place for people to go snooping around, a Norman Rockwell painting come to life, a place where you could still get a nice malt down at the diner and where the biggest venue available to a national tour had been the local school football field.  White picket fences, stores on main street, and pretty young wives baking up a storm for their families -- sometimes humming hauntingly familiar tunes with perfect pitch and a blissful smile.


Hi!  Okay, yes, still very much on "doing terrible corrupting things to celebrities" kick right now -- and in case you're somehow reading this and not familiar with the whole Stepford thing, I'll KISS: whether due to outright malice, manipulative planning, or sheer dumb luck our heroine arrives for a concert in this perfect little slice of Americana without any hint whatsoever that there's only one type of woman who makes it very far in Stepford Lakes.  She gives a hell of a concert to a small, polite crowd, she makes preparations to move on to the next stop on the tour, and then ... something changes her mind.  She decides to enjoy the local flavor a little bit, spend the night reminiscing about the good old times.

It's not long before some male authority figure -- the mayor, the chief of police, the head librarian -- comes along to give her the pitch about their little town.  Or some handsome devil gives her a certain smile.  Or a certain scent in the air or tune on the jukebox starts to worm its way inside.

Pretty, single ladies don't last long in Stepford Lakes without being courted, after all.  And the ladies in Stepford Lakes, well, it seems like all they've got on their mind is how to please their man.  And well, a popular pop star like her?  It'll be a miracle if some fellow doesn't have a ring on that finger by the next Sunday service.  And making a nice roast is so much easier than jetsetting all over the world, and an enthusiastic blowjob much gentler on the throat than a lifetime on the microphone.

That's the Stepford promise: the homemakers rinse the dishes to a sparkling polish, and the men do the same to those silly little girl-brains that crave things like autonomy and equal rights.  And if the training takes a little while longer or the cracks start to show sometimes, well, a little extra elbow grease will make sure the lessons stick in the end!  After all, she's worth it.

A couple of options for who our doomed singer happy new homemaker might be, but always open to suggestions:

A

B

C

D

E