All of the following is complete and total fiction. Not a word of it occurred, nor would it.
Ready For It?
Starring Taylor Swift
by MrMaxLord
(MF, Oral, Cons)
There were a lot of things people didn't know about Taylor Swift. There was an even greater number of things people got wrong about her.
A lot of people considered her to be a cold bitch. A manipulator. A total fake by some accounts. Those people didn't know shit. They just thought they were experts. She wasn't any of those things in her summation. Taylor was a business woman and an artist. Manipulation? Being cold? That's business. And in business, she learned being too emotional could get you bitten on the ass, especially as an artist. She was smart and professional.
One of the things that people didn't know was Taylor knew how to have fun. Not the fun they tended to imagine she'd like either. No, not at all. Sure, she enjoyed the normal stuff. Movies with friends, playing with her cats, interacting with fans. Nothing surprising there. The surprises existed with her in far more private situations. Like being in her favorite dive bar. She loved it. You never knew what was going to happen in a dive bar.
Sex was a big pass time for Taylor. A hobby she was very, very passionate about. She wouldn't call herself a slut, not by any means. To her a slut was someone who was indiscriminate about what dick she got. That wasn't Taylor, not by a long shot. She was far more discerning about cock. She liked to scope the room and observe. Some nights there were several good candidates and the selection process got a little crowded. Other nights, it was so dead she just gave up to go home and get reacquainted with her shower massager.
This night though, it was somewhere in the middle. A couple good prospects but not overcrowded. It was kind of bittersweet for Taylor. Picking and choosing was fun. Still, if she found someone who could fuck like no one else the fun in choosing would become a non-issue.
She'd been in the bar for forty five minutes and had visually whittled it down to about three men. Now it was up to the men to eliminate themselves.
Her cool blue eyes were on them, her red lips sipping her scotch and soda through a matching red straw. The first man, the living embodiment of tall dark and handsome instantly disqualified himself when she finally saw him with her girlfriend. She would have fucked him if that didn't happen. She wasn't morally opposed to fucking another woman's man. But taking him right in front of that woman was a bit too disrespectful for her tastes and took the fun right out of a one night stand.
The next one, a walking slab of muscle who looked like he'd be a fun endurance test was counted out for a similar reason as tall, dark and taken, save his attachment was a boyfriend. Pity, because the guy's boyfriend looked very satisfied.
That left the Third Man. He wasn't third choice though, not by any measure. The other two were knocked out far too early in the process to make that kind of judgement. But chance had made him the lucky man of the night. And all things considered, her might have one anyway. He was athletic. Not a solid slab of muscle, more of a swimmer's body with a bit more bulk. He wasn't the epitome of tall dark and handsome either. More of a friendly rebel type. Very young Harrison Ford. Taylor liked that. He was the one.
When the lucky man sat down at the bar, retreating from the game of darts he'd been playing when Taylor spotted, him, Taylor made her way over to him. She smiled as she took her seat, the man not taking too much notice of her.
"You're going to buy me a drink," she said, her voice flirtatious, a harmony to it without even having to sing.
He looked over at her and grinned a sly grin when he got a full look at exactly who had made that demand of him. He recognized her and didn't mind a bit.
"Is that a fact?" he asked, his tone matching hers.
"It is." She smirked at him as she sat down. "How about while we wait for my drink you tell me your name? You know, so it's not from a stranger."
"Dave," he said. "And no need for the favor to be returned Taylor."
"Good."
"So, what brings you to a place like this?"
"Atmosphere, fun, and a lack of paparazzi bullshit. You?"
"Good neighborhood place. Always easy to find fun...and someone to have good fun with."
They locked and eyes and clinked their glasses before taking sips of their fresh drinks. They were on the same wavelength. There was no need to explain what this was. All that needed explaining was the locale.
"So, let's cut the bullshit," Taylor said, her tone surprisingly friendly, even sexy for the phrase she uttered. "We both know what's going to happen tonight."
"Do we?" Dave said, playing right back. "And what would that be?"
"Simply put, we're gong back to my place to fuck." She took a sip from her drink, giving Dave a wink as the scotch and soda went down her throat, a sparkling burn warming her. "And it's a foregone conclusion as of about ten minutes ago. Already called my ride."
"Well, I'd hate to disappoint your driver, Ms. Swift."
"First off, it's not even Ms. Swift if you're nasty. It's always Taylor...though, don't be afraid of getting a little nasty. Secondly...better settle that tab, sailor, ride's waiting." She gave him a cute and seductive half-smile.
