Hollywood Babylon

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.

"Yeah," Harlan said, taking it without the venom Taylor had loaded the words with. He patted Katy's thigh, returning the feel he was getting of her full chest on his bicep. "You know you're lovely, Katy. Don't be coy."

"Okay, so I do," Katy purred, nuzzling her face closer to Harlan's. "I still like hearing it. Especially from you." She kissed him on the cheek, right next to his lips. "Maybe that's what we have to fight about. Taylor's lucky in love. I'm a poor, single girl. No one to play with..."

Taylor crossed her legs, throwing her ankle over onto Harlan's lap as well, as she scrunched up against the other side of him. He turned to regard her, with her sudden move, and Katy's lips ended up at his ear. "I'm sure there's no point in fighting over Harlan," Taylor said, interlocking her fingers with her boyfriend's. "His mind's made up."

"Yes. He's decided we have to share."

Katy braced her feet against the floor and boosted herself up, feeding her breasts into Harlan's face. Taylor gasped, scandalized, and immediately pulled Harlan away by the hair—kissing him herself, though now Katy threw a leg over his lap, pressing her tits into his head, grabbing hold of Taylor's hair as she kissed him so that the three of them were sandwiched together: Taylor kissing Harlan, holding his body possessively, while Katy rubbed her breasts against the side of his head and rolled her flesh against his.

"Whoa!" Katy mewled, petting Taylor's hair, irritating spikes of feeling going with the pleasure of kissing Harlan's lips. "I guess Taytay wants you to share a lot with her! That's okay. Go right ahead." She dropped her lips down to Harlan's ear, worried the lobe with her teeth, then spoke in a husky voice. "I'll

watch."

Taylor gritted her teeth as Katy started kissing Harlan's neck, but she had to ease off to keep kissing his lips. In this game, she had to assert herself as his girlfriend, his

real

girlfriend, and that meant kissing him on the lips like a lady, not the whorish things Katy was doing, petting his chest and practically humping his legs, the slut, dirty slut that Harlan didn't even respect, he just fucked, and he just fucked that filthy, slutty bitch like a whore because that was all she was good for, she couldn't make love like Taylor did with Harlan, she was just a bubblegum cock holster, a dirty filthy cock holster for Harlan to fuck and fuck and fuck.

Taylor was still holding Harlan's hand, her fingers laced with his, and she got confused, thinking about Katy and fucking and somehow, she reached up her tingling inner thighs, under her short dress, ending up taking Harlan's fingers to touch her lacy panties while she kissed him, while Katy kissed him, what a slut, kissing him while another woman was kissing him too.

Harlan's fingers tentatively stroked under her panties, into her pubic thatch. Again and again they brushed against her quivering mons and she shook a little with each touch, shoving her lips against his, her tongue into his sucking mouth.

"Slut!" she gasped, still thinking of Katy as she flexed her thighs around his hand.

"Yes, yes," Katy purred, pushing Harlan's wrist deeper between Taylor's legs, until he found her slit and tickled his fingertip between its lips. "He'll make you his slut."

Taylor mewled at the sudden penetration, her juices soaking her panties, Harlan's finger moving in the wetness, massaging the taut inner flesh. He twisted his body, moved it against her, and she felt, thrillingly, the bulge of his erection through his pants.

Her eyes shot open. "Did I do that to you?"

"Always," Harlan moaned, kissing her some more as the limo glided through the streets of LA, surrounded by cars and people, unaware that two of the most beautiful women in the celebrity set were inside, being groped and fondled, awash in pleasure.

* * * * *

Katy reached down to stroke the bulge in Harlan's trousers, rubbing the imprint of his cock up and down with her palm. His erection got bigger and harder inside the pants of his tuxedo; with her other hand, Katy reached to her breasts and groped them through her dress. Her nipples swelled and stiffened, pulsing against the material of her gown. Despite the heft of her tits, she didn't need a bra and didn't bother to wear one. She knew Taylor wouldn't have one on, even with the implants she'd clearly gotten...

She glanced at Taylor, making certain the blonde wasn't watching—lost in Harlan's kiss and the way Harlan was touching her—and then she started to unzip Harlan's fly.

He'll make us both his sluts,

she told herself, her hand going inside, taking hold of his pulsing, swollen manhood. The feminist in her wasn't crazy about the idea and the Christian in her wasn't crazy about the idea, but her cunt was louder than both of those and it loved what Harlan wanted to do to her.

She took his prick out, her trembling fist sliding up and down his length. It hadn't gotten any smaller since that night she'd gotten a shot at it, sharing it with Taylor. It was still more than she could handle, at least on her own. Taylor must've been so grateful not to have to be stretched out by that monster alone.

Katy tightened her fist, thumb playing along the prominent vein that ran along the underside of Harlan's shaft, and she felt his pulse racing. Her heart was pounding as hard. Everything was hard and big and throbbing.

"Make her come," Katy whispered in Harlan's ear, not forgetting about her bestie. She eyed Taylor's face—it was like the blonde couldn't hear her, couldn't see her, eyes closed with the kiss and the passion she felt. As turned on as Katy was by Harlan, she had to admit, Taylor added a lot of spice to the play. It wouldn't be the same without her. Katy wondered if Taylor was ready for how much she'd like

Katy

kissing her—touching her—going down on her. "Make that dirty bitch come and I'll do anything you want."

* * * * *

Harlan's finger went wild inside of Taylor's cunt. She kissed him, thrusting her sex against the wiggly, jerky excitement of him masturbating her. And she gasped, whimpering, wishing she could beg for more but not sure how to say it—

"Her clit," Katy whispered. "Play with her clit... make her come all over your finger...

ooohh,

it makes you so hard to get her off, doesn't it, baby?"

Harlan fingered Taylor passionately, stabbing his digit up inside her, then playing with her stiff clit. Taylor writhed, barely keeping her mouth in place for his kisses, and bathing his hand with the heated cream that his caresses produced.

Her thighs flexed and squeezed needfully. She petted her way down Harlan's stomach, feeling the hardness of his abs through his shirt—reached for his groin and suddenly felt Katy's hand in her way, ringed fingers around Harlan's cock.

Taylor's eyes popped open. She saw the precum foaming from Harlan's glanshole. Then an orgasm hit her all of a sudden, like the kick of a mule. Taylor had to bite her lip to keep from screaming and alerting the driver through the partition. Her sex convulsed around Harlan's finger, gushing her delight into the palm of his hand while their kiss finally broke in a mewling exhale of satisfaction.

Harlan held his finger inside her as she came, feeling how her inner folds convulsed around it.

Taylor stayed in the afterglow for long moments, fearing opening her eyes, fearing having to confront what had happened. It felt like she'd had some pleasurable fantasy—something she'd never do in real life—only for that autoerotic daydream to turn around and make itself real, catching her in it like a trap. She didn't really want to share Harlan with Katy, but she'd done it again. Come, and come hard, while Katy was participating in their lovemaking. The slut. She'd tricked her. And Taylor could still feel her wet panties clinging to her mons and the cleft of her buttocks, so much evidence of her climax that she'd be reminded of it throughout the premiere.

The intercom buzzed on. "We're five minutes from the red carpet. Hope everyone's ready for the cameras."

With a groan, Harlan pushed Katy's hand away and tucked his rigid erection back inside his pants, zipping it up. Katy fixed her dress. And Taylor blinked a few times, grateful that the interruption had spared her the mortification of acknowledging what had happened, but disappointed... just disappointed.

Moving quickly, she skated her wet panties down her legs and hid them between the seat cushions. Even if she was risking an NC-17 upskirt shot from some unscrupulous photographer, it was better than going over and over this little tryst in her head for the rest of the night. Not that she was convinced she wouldn't be thinking about it.

The limo smoothly rolled up to the red carpet and Taylor, after taking her turn with the hand sanitizer that Harlan thoughtfully passed around, came out to share the spotlight with Harlan and Katy, cameras going off like a sea of diamonds scattered before them.

Taylor didn't try to think about how many of them were for Katy or the tiny cult of fangirls Harlan had, apparently just for being her boyfriend and not being hard to look at. At the moment, she was just grateful to be watching a movie. No matter what it was about, it had to be better to dwell on that than to focus on where her love life was spiraling down to.

* * * * *

They cleared the cameras and reached the shadow of the theater's overhang, looming over the entrance. The press's attention turned to the next limo pulling up; it always shocked Taylor, how quickly she was forgotten once everyone had gotten a few poses out of her.

She hadn't really been paying attention—too flushed with endorphins from... everything—but she'd walked the red carpet with one of Harlan's arms around her and the other one around Katy. Now he took his hand off her shoulder.

"Go on ahead, get us seats," he told her. "I'll catch up in a minute. I need a word with Katy."