Dress Ch 04

The log fire in the dining room at Clos Maggiore crackled and hissed as Greg took Rosanna's hands between his and looked deep into her green eyes.

"I suppose, Rosanna, what I'm trying to say is, will you do me the honour of marrying me?"

Rosanna blushed.

"Yes, of course, you silly man. What took you so long!"

And leaning forward across the table, Rosanna kissed Greg hard and deep.

***

Rosanna had of course expected this. "London's most romantic restaurant" was a bit obvious, even by Greg's standards.

So she had primped, and preened, and manicured everything in sight, to make sure she looked absolutely *perfect* for the big moment.

She was again wearing her favourite pink Hervé Léger dress, which clung to her voluptuous body like an infatuated lover.

Anticipating an evening of celebratory post-engagement sex, underneath she wore a slinky pair of lace knickers, in a dark burgundy colour, and a matching bra so sheer that it served more as ornament than concealment.

This was going to be a good night.

Engagement, forward progress, pushing her dangerous liaison with Taylor behind her, and moving on to a happy future with the man she almost certainly loved.

Leaning forward across the table, she made sure Greg got an eyeful of her cleavage.

"I can't wait to get you home, Mr. Future Husband" she purred. "I'm going to give you the best b--"

***

"I'm very sorry to interrupt Sir, Madam," the waiter said apologetically. "But one of the other tables saw your happy moment and asked me to bring this, with their compliments."

And he placed a bottle of 2002 Dom Perignon in the ice bucket by their table.

"Oh how lovely!", exclaimed Rosanna. "Will you point them out so that I can thank them?"

The waiter gestured towards the other side of the room, where a blonde couple sat.

Rosanna's breath caught for a second.

"Is that who I think it is?" hissed Greg.

Rosanna sighed. "You know what, I think it might be."

***

"I can't believe you two know each other," said Greg in wonder. He turned to Rosanna. "I really thought that might be the sort of thing you'd mention in passing," he said with mock severity.

"At Aitchison Maitland we treat the confidentiality of our clients with the utmost importance", Rosanna said prissily.

"She really is sooo professional," Taylor interjected.

Taylor's boyfriend, Joe, chipped in. "Taylor never tells me anything either, just 'go here', 'go there', and I follow like an obedient puppy".

"I am taking notes", giggled Rosanna.

Draining her glass of champagne, Taylor stood up abruptly from the table.

"Will you excuse us for just one moment?" Taylor smiled. "Joe, you and Greg can talk about rugby or whatever you London boys like".

Turning on her heel, the leggy pop star strutted away towards the ladies' room, her pert bum wiggling through her short black dress.

Rosanna offered a helpless, foolish, grin in the direction of her fiancé. Then she obediently followed Taylor to the bathroom.

***

Taylor closed the bathroom door, and bolted it. Rosanna stood in the stiflingly hot little room, with her back against the sink.

"God, you look good enough to eat in that dress", Taylor growled.

"Thanks, that's very sweet of you to say. But-"

"But I'm angry with you, Rosanna. You can't just text me and end things like you did."

Taylor cast around for the right words.

"It was just...so casually cruel? It hurt me."

"I'm sorry Taylor, truly I am. I suppose I just thought it was easier this way. Cleaner? So we could both move on. You've got Joe, I've got Greg, you know?"

Taylor looked meaningfully at Rosanna. "I've told you before, Joe isn't for you to concern yourself with."

"Well, what about Greg then? I'm going to marry him for fuck's sake! Getting caught in a lesbian affair with an international pop star probably would put a bit of a dampener on proceedings, don't you think?"

Taylor laughed.

"I don't want to speculate about your lovely husband-to-be, but I don't think he fucks you the way I do."

"There's more to a good relationship than sex, Taylor!"

"Prove it."

And lunging forward, she pressed Rosanna back against the sink.

Her mouth swooped in, and those iconic red lips halted millimetres from Rosanna's.

"I can stop any time you like. You just have to say the word." Taylor breathed, her voice thick with desire.

Rosanna's heart pounded a million miles an hour, as she drank in the scent of Taylor's floral perfume.

She felt a familiar twinge between her legs.

"Taylor?"

"Yes Rosanna?"

"Just fuck me".

***

Rosanna stood with her legs akimbo, and her hands gripping the bathroom sink behind her.

The expensive Hervé Léger dress was rucked up around her waist, as Taylor's fingers went to work inside her burgundy-coloured knickers.

The American singer worked on Rosanna's aching clit with her thumb. Her long ring and middle fingers curled into the humid, damp cave between Rosanna's legs, and pushed deep inside.

Taylor's blue eyes sparkled as she roughly finger-fucked her cheating lover.

Rosanna threw her head back and gasped, rocking her hips back and forth. She felt warm breath on her neck and arched her back.

Taylor's immaculate white teeth nibbled at Rosanna's tanned neck, as she frigged her hard. As Rosanna squeaked and whimpered under Taylor's fingers, her lover imitated her sharp little moans, part mockingly, part provocatively.

A slick patina of sweat covered Rosanna's bright scarlet face and neck, as the combination of heat and desire overwhelmed her.

When her climax came it was tight and intense. A lightning bolt of heat and pleasure flashing from her clit, to the tips of her toes, and to the top of her head. Her cunt clenched tight around Taylor's fingers as her knickers flooded with moisture.

Rosanna let out a guttural moan from the pit of her stomach as she sprawled back against the sink.

She opened her eyes and saw her gleeful lover grinning at her.

"You see? No man can do that to you..."

***

Weak and wobbly from her orgasm, Rosanna pushed Taylor back so that she was sitting on the lid of the toilet.

"Pull up your dress" she insisted.

Taylor obliged, revealing the full length of her tanned legs, in all their glory. At the top of her impossible perfect thighs was a tiny pink thong, decorated with two pretty red bows, with a sheer panel at the front.

Rosanna buried her face into Taylor's crotch, her nose and mouth pressed against the sopping lace underwear. She inhaled the scent of her lover's cunt, greedily. Her tongue rasped across the intricate lace.

Taylor smelt like heaven, like sin, like lust, like true love, all in one intoxicating blend.

Rosanna tugged Taylor's pink knickers down her endless legs, and tossed them carelessly at her blonde lover.

Taylor smirked. "These are Agent Provocateur, treat them nicely!"

And she delicately looped the thong over Rosanna's head and settled it around her neck, as if she was presenting an Olympic medal.

Rosanna looked up lustfully, before burying her tongue in Taylor's desperate pussy.

"FUCK!" Taylor shrieked, as her lover begin to relentlessly lick and slurp at her sex.

As Taylor wriggled and bucked, almost horizontal on the toilet seat, Rosanna wet her index finger on Taylor's cunt juices, and slid it into the dark pucker of her arse.

Taylor's eyes went wide as she breathlessly gasped "ROSANNA!".

Rosanna smirked internally as she fingered one of the world's most celebrated derrieres, the toilet seat clanking as her tongue lashed Taylor Swift's clit. The tight muscle of Taylor's bum squeezed relentlessly around her penetrating digit.

"Fuck Rosanna, fuck, that's so good. Fuck my ass", came the drawling American demand. She spread her lissom limbs as wide as they could go.

Rosanna, unable to reply, redoubled her efforts with fingers and tongue, the musky taste of Taylor's pussy driving her to heady new heights of urgency.

Almost as quickly as Rosanna's, Taylor's orgasm arrived, announcing itself in a sweaty, squealing fanfare.

Taylor gave a high-pitched wail as fluid gushed from her pussy, dousing Rosanna's face. Her heels beat spasmodically against the tiled floor. Her hips shook and shivered as orgasm crashed over her. Her arse gripped Rosanna's finger like a vice.

Rosanna raised her head, lipstick smeared with sex juices.

"I love it when you sing for me", she giggled.

Taylor, red-faced and dishevelled, responded with an open mouthed, sluttish kiss, gleefully tasting her own cunt from Rosanna's mouth.

***

Taylor collapsed onto the hard tiled floor, pulling Rosanna down with her.

"Fuck, fuck fuck I just want you Rosanna. I want all of you". A desperate hand found its way into the lacy waistband of Rosanna's briefs and slid them down over her bum.

"One sec!" laughed Rosanna, slipping her panties down to her ankles and pulling one leg out.

"There we are."

Taylor's hands found their way to the zip at the back of Rosanna's dress and tugged it down. As the dress fell around Rosanna's waist her bra cups slipped a little, exposing two pert brown nipples.

Rosanna giggled. Taylor growled, delivering a sharp tug on each one with her fingers.

"I can't get enough of your boobs, your nipples are amazing". She lowered her head and kissed each of them solicitously. And then a little more firmly.

Rosanna groaned as Taylor Swift suckled on her throbbing nipples.

"I think I could come again just from that".

Taylor giggled. "Maybe when we have a bit longer to play. But the boys will be wondering where we've got to. It's hot in here, help me with my dress."

So Rosanna grasped the hem of Taylor's dress and dragged it over her head.

She grabbed the American singer's pert boobs through her sheer pink bra, and squeezed them firmly. "I can't get enough of your tits either, Taylor."

"Any time you want them sweetheart. Now get your leg over here, I want to feel you against me."

Wriggling into position, the two women pressed against each other, hips rubbing in awkward circles. Then, slightly less awkward circles, as they built up a co-ordinated rhythm.

As the lovers ground against each other, their sweaty bodies slipped and slid, and they moaned in unison. Rosanna's knickers slipped off her ankle and onto the wet floor.

Tribbing like two bitches in heat, Rosanna and Taylor's bodies felt as one.

Taylor grabbed a handful of the thong hanging from Rosanna's neck and tugged tight, using it for purchase as the two women fucked on the floor of the bathroom. Neither gave a thought to the sordid surroundings as they kissed deep with clashing tongues.

Every time their cunts slid together it felt like another pint of fluid doused the already slick floor. Taylor's bright blue eyes took on a slightly manic quality as she ground her way towards another orgasm.

Rosanna pressed her wet forehead against Taylor's in a refusal to break eye contact.

Taylor gripped the improvised choker in a tighter grip, twisting it in her fist.

Taylor ascended to heady new heights of disinhibition. Wiping her fingers across the sopping floor she slid them into Rosanna's mouth. Her lover sucked on them greedily, relishing their combined fluids.

As the tangled pink lace constricted tighter around her neck Rosanna came again, her pleasure doubled by the incredible intimacy of the floor-bound fuck-fest.

Light-headed and sated again, she collapsed into Taylor's arms.

***

The two women paused to breathe, a sweaty heap of tangled limbs on the floor of the ladies' bathroom.

"Oh Christ. Oh my!" Rosanna managed to offer.

Taylor was first to get up. She tugged her black jersey dress back into place, then picked up the damp scrap of burgundy lace that had poorly covered Rosanna's modesty. She twirled the sopping wet underwear around on her finger theatrically.

"Ooh, another present for me!"

"Can I have those back please?" Rosanna asked sweetly from the floor.

"Umm....no." Taylor pouted in return. "You can have mine," she said, gesturing towards the panties hanging from Rosanna's neck.

"Taylor!" hissed Rosanna. "I just got engaged. Greg and I are probably going to have sex when we get home. Your knickers, pretty though they are, do not match my bra!"

Taylor giggled, pulling Rosanna's panties up her long legs. "You're a smart girl, you'll work it out. You might want to give your make-up a bit of a touch up as well!"

And she dabbed her face and neck delicately with a screwed up paper towel.

Rosanna glanced at herself in the mirror, rueing the sight of her ruined make-up. "If you hadn't made such a mess..."

"You loved every minute of it", Taylor pouted. "Now, more importantly, am I invited to your wedding?"

***

Having applied some emergency running repairs to conceal the worst of their slutty bathroom activities, Rosanna and Taylor returned to the restaurant arm-in-arm.

"There you are!" Greg said. "We were about to send out search parties!"

"I'm not sure breaking into the ladies' toilets is quite the romantic gesture you think it is", laughed Rosanna.

The two couples enjoyed the rest of the champagne, gossiping idly about wedding plans. After an hour, Joe made a meaningful gesture in the direction of his watch.

Taylor picked up on his signal.

"Right Joe, let's leave the love birds to it!" Taylor said lightly.

She kissed Greg politely on the cheek, then pulled Rosanna close for a hug.

Brushing her lips against Rosanna's cheek, she whispered in her ear.

"Text me. I'll be thinking of you."

Rosanna felt a twinge of jealousy as she saw Taylor and Joe stroll towards the door. She whispered something in Joe's ear, which led him to pull her closer, and one of his hands strayed from round her waist to rest lightly on her rear.

"Quite a night!" Greg exclaimed. "Engagement, Taylor Swift, 2002 Dom..."

Rosanna forced a smile, which she hoped looked enticing rather than wan.

"It's not over yet, Mr. Fiancé".

***

It was later.

Rosanna straddled Greg in the taxi, kissing him deeply as the cab driver surreptitiously perved on them in the rear-view mirror. Her expensive bodycon dress rode up over her bum revealing a flash of pink lacy thong, aided by a tug from Greg.

As she ground her crotch against Greg's straining erection through his trousers, his hands snaked under the dress to encourage her. Her pussy, barely covered by Taylor's borrowed knickers, ached again to be touched, stroked, filled.

At that moment a twinge of regret entered her head. She wished it was Taylor's skilled fingers kneading her bum cheeks, rather than Greg's clumsy paws. She wanted Taylor to spread her thighs on the back seat of the cab and lick her to a debauched public orgasm.

She sighed a little to herself, passing it off as a lustful moan. For all Greg knew, she was horny as sin and ready for a night of athletic fucking. As her fingers scrabbled for the zip of his trousers, she mentally imagined herself stripping Taylor again, rather than her man.

But it was ok. Greg would do, at least for now. They were engaged!

He was Mr. Perfectly Fine.