Taylor expected to have all eyes on her that night. She put on a Dolchi Mucharde minidress, silver sheen and spaghetti-strapped, clinging to her supple body from the tops of her breasts to her inner thighs. It gloved her trim hips and juicy ass, letting her long legs run bare for a swath of toned, delicious thigh, which then became the thigh-high boots she wore—Adriana Tucipse, the same bright silver as the dress, with towering heels worthy of a dominatrix. Her slender, tautly muscled arms were on full display, as was a generous display of her pert cleavage and miles of her long, tawny hair, cascading in loose curls down to her soft shoulders.
It was beyond annoying to find Katy stealing her spotlight. The bitch was showing off everything, and she had a lot to show off. Those ample, pregnant curves—hips swaddled by a pink bandage dress, a Domergom original, which covered her like a fifties pin-up all the way down to her calves, where her strappy heels took over. The dress was sleeved, collared at her neck, but it had a big keyhole showing off her abundant cleavage. Katy was ripe and curvaceous where Taylor was lean and lithe; the pink dress displayed off like a second skin, so tight it practically darted up between her juicy buttocks. And she'd dyed her long, luscious hair a matching shade of bubblegum pink to her dress, further drawing the eye away from Taylor's natural, elegant simplicity.
Taylor wasn't lacking in self-confidence—she'd won Grammies, had millions of fans, could be a
movie star
if she wanted to put in the effort—but it piqued her to pretend like Katy's
novelty act
was on her level. There was no comparison. Katy sung about kissing girls. Taylor was an
artist.
But she felt like Harlan was inviting comparison. Somehow, he'd taken away from that night at Rihanna's that she and Katy were friends now,
just
because they'd had a threesome, so now, him being a booster as always, he was acting like they had an alliance in Game of Thrones. They'd both been invited to the premiere of Drew Keene's latest movie and they actually lived next door, if that expression could still be considered accurate with the acreage of their estates. So, somehow, he'd set it up so the three of them would share a limo to the premiere. Be green. Spare Katy the embarrassment of going stag; she was showing up with her good friends Taylor and Harlan.
It made Taylor want to puke, not that she needed to to stay so thin. Although she was sure Katy had spread rumors to the contrary. The bitch. Taylor had never repeated those rumors about Katy having a thing for black guys. Good thing too. Katy clearly didn't, judging by the way she'd come so hard for Harlan. Was that why
she'd
agree to this? Taylor wanted to support Harlan, make him happy, but Katy—what
was
she getting out of being a plus-sized Plus One?
All this flew through Taylor's head in short order as she went with Harlan to the limo where Katy was already waiting. To her mounting frustration, Harlan piled in next to Katy in the backseat, leaving Taylor no choice but to sit on the other side of him and make it clear that he wasn't here with Katy, he was here with
her.
She did wonder a little if she was being too Mean Girl. Maybe if Katy had dressed down some, made it clear she was going as Taylor's guest, then Taylor could've taken her addition in stride. But Katy was up to something, she knew it, even if Harlan was too blind to see.
"I'm so glad you invited me along!" Katy simpered with her fake-ass good cheer. "Taylor, this is so nice of you. And Harlan, I can't believe you swung this. My publicist, my agent, they thought I was playing second fiddle to Tay, but I was like 'guys, it's just a movie premiere, there's fourteen every week.' Ya know? All people are going to see is us having a good time."
"Yeah, getting along," Harlan agreed. "Killing all this talk of a feud before people really make something out of it. I don't know what you two even have to feud about anyway. You're both talented—rich—gorgeous..."
"You think I'm gorgeous?" Katy cooed, batting her eyelashes, pressing herself into Harlan's side, her big tits against his arm. Taylor saw red.
"Save the false modesty for the paps," she snapped.
