Disclaimer: This a work of fiction. It did not/will not happen in real life and should not be mistaken as such.
Chapter Thirty-One: Style
Starring Taylor Swift
Codes: MF, Creampie, Denial, Masturbation, Public
*****
2020
"This one?" Taylor asked, emerging from the closest in yet another outfit.
"Looks amazing babe." Cole said sleepily from his prone position on the bed, his eyelids heavy and drooping.
"Ok, put picture me with my hair all done up. It's not a super casual outfit."
"Still amazing."
"Maybe with pants." Then she looked over at him. "You're not even looking." She said playfully, throwing a balled-up t-shirt at him.
In his defense, Taylor was currently rifling through one of several gigantic closets. Larger than most bedrooms, they had been at it for hours. Still isolated in Nashville, the couple had done just about everything there was do. Doing it in every single room in the house, in every way imaginable. Hobbies were on the verge of becoming professions. Even binging Netflix somehow seemed unappealing. And Taylor needed a break from songwriting, so now they were...cleaning. The mound of clothes grew and grew as Taylor parted ways with a blouse here, leggings there and more accessories than he cared to count.
"I guess we have been at it for a while." She said, rubbing her chin as her forehead crinkled in thought. "Maybe just one more, then we can take a break. Something that never goes out of style."
"Sure Swift." Cole mumbled, even as his eyes drifted lower and lower until they were shut completely.
He failed to see her sly grin as her gaze lingered over his sleeping form. He didn't hear her rummaging around in the closet. He didn't even know how long she was gone. He wasn't aware of anything until she remerged, clearly her throat loudly.
"EH-HEM!"
Jerking awake from his state of semi-sleep Cole's eyes flew open. Blinking the sleep from them, he glanced over at her. Then he did a double take. Jaw damn near hitting the floor he stared with dumbstruck awe. Lingerie. She was decked out from head to toe in it. It was one he hadn't seen before, and he'd seen quite a few on her. Jet black, complete with a corset, thigh-high garters and a matching pair of spiked black heels. Straddling the doorway seductively, she stretched out one long stocking covered leg along it.
"Oh? Do I have your attention now?" She asked innocently. "What do you think? I should definitely get rid of this, right? No reason to keep it."
"N-n-n-no. No. Why would you get rid of that?" He stuttered, sitting upright on the bed and suddenly very much awake.
Chuckling, Taylor floated over to him, like something out of a dream. "Perhaps you need a closer look before deciding?" Reaching the side of the bed, she placed both hands on the mattress and surveyed him with those burning blue eyes. Extending his hand to touch his lace-clad lover, she swatted it away. "Nah-uh. You didn't want to help before. Why should you want to now? Someone needs to learn a little patience." She sported a playful pout.
"I accept any and all punishment you want to dole out. Just. Just keep that on." Cole said, something in his shorts stirring powerfully. "Please. It reminds me of that one from that Victoria's Secret show."
"Why do you think I bought it?" She asked, her voice now barely a decibel above a whisper. "You remember those outfits fondly, don't you?"
He did indeed.
2014
"Swift, I hate to be
that
guy, but how much longer is this going to take? When you said you were free to hang out, I didn't think you meant shopping. All day."
"Hush you." She said with a playful smack of a full shopping bag. "Besides, there's only one more place I need to go, and I really,
really,
want your opinion on something. It's why I invited you today!"
"And here I thought it was my charming personality and roguish good looks. Alright Swift, you win. But afterwards you're going to make it up me. Big time. With dinner, drinks and delightful discourse."
"Deal, but I think you are really going to like this next place."
A barrage of paparazzi shamelessly snapped photos of us from across the street as we exited the store. Hurriedly escaping into the privacy of the awaiting car, I soon lost track of where exactly we were in downtown Manhattan. Pulling down an alleyway, we stopped at a backdoor entrance of what looked more like an office building than a store.
"What is this place?" I asked, looking around for a sign.
"You'll see."
A very tall and very beautiful woman opened the door for us as we exited the car and were quickly ushered inside. Clearly Taylor an appointment as she was expected. Through narrow corridors we were escorted into an elevator which promptly took us up to the 13th floor. Directly across from us was an enormous graphic printed on the wall, supermodel's wearing nothing but the skimpiest of underwear.
Victoria's Secret,