Dress Ch. 02

Thursday had been a struggle. Somehow, hung over and guilty, Rosanna had dragged herself into the office. A day of black coffee and penitence followed.

What *had* just happened?

Well, without putting too fine a point on it, she had fucked Taylor Swift in the toilets of an expensive Mayfair club.

Or, to be scrupulously and lawyerly accurate, she had been fucked by Taylor Swift in the toilets of an expensive Mayfair club.

And it had been good. But wrong. But very good.

And now she was sat at her desk, trying desperately to concentrate on the senior partner's tracked changes to a complex contract, rather than the ache between her legs.

But all she wanted to do was text Taylor back.

Rosanna buried herself in Microsoft Word for the rest of the day, not even venturing out for a lunchtime sandwich.

That evening she had a long lazy bath, watched an hour and a half of a disappointing detective show on Netflix, followed by twenty minutes of perfunctory sex with Greg. As he snored beside her, sated, she scrolled through gossip stories on her iPad.

"Dua Lipa Steals The Show At Brit Awards", caught her eye, on the MailOnline.

The pictures were the best bit of the story. The brunette pop star with her endless legs, pouting down the camera, wearing a skintight white dress that did nothing to conceal the fact that she was quite clearly wearing a black lace thong underneath.

Still horny after her unsatisfactory shag with Greg, Rosanna slipped a hand into her underwear and rubbed herself to a speedy orgasm, imagining what it would be like to bury her face between Dua Lipa's thighs.

With that achieved, she fell asleep. Her exhausted brain delivered her a stream of bizarre and fanciful dreams, some charged with wild erotic desire, others surreal and inexplicable. Through all of them, the sharp cheekbones and blonde hair of a particular American goddess made repeat appearances.

***

The next morning Rosanna dressed smartly in a tailored dark grey business suit, and a silky white blouse. Professional. Partner. The perfect corporate lawyer.

As she sat on the District Line train, still above ground, she pensively crafted a reply to Taylor's message.

What to reply with? Friendly but dismissive? Something dirty? Ask to see her again? She knew what she *should* do, morally speaking. Break it off, send a polite farewell, and return to a life of blissful upper middle-class domesticity with her partner.

No more flings, no more secrets, no more lesbian outings.

But realistically, was she going to see the American singer again? Probably not. Would a "Dear John" text to Taylor Swift be a little...well, meta?

"Keep it light and flirty", Rosanna thought to herself. A little bit of naughtiness to help the day pass. A nice memory with half a promise of more to come, though never to be acted on.

As she thumbed "send" on her text, Rosanna's phone chirped with a notification.

"CALENDAR: 11am GMT. New Client Intro. Ms. Alison Sjöberg."

Her brow furrowed a little. She didn't recall an Alison Sjöberg. It sounded...Swedish maybe? She texted her assistant Melissa a screengrab of the calendar invite with a question mark.

Melissa replied almost instantly. "New client. HNW. Very discreet. Her people asked for you by name. We've set you up for an hour at 11am."

Irked by the secrecy Rosanna was still in an irritable mood as she stepped off the crowded tube and shouldered her way through the morning City crowds to Aitchison Maitland's offices.

Life contained enough surprises without her own colleagues trying to inject suspense into the day.

As she stood in the lift, her phone pinged again. It was Taylor.

"Other dresses? That does sound promising! Not that you asked, but I'm free this evening, just some dull meetings with lawyers to survive first. I'll text you when I'm done. T xxx".

Rosanna's stomach gave a little lurch. That sounded alarmingly like a date.

***

"And they specified just me? No junior, no paralegal?" Rosanna queried.

"That's right- funny one isn't it?" Melissa replied. "Maybe they don't know that we'll still bill at the same hourly rate!"

At one minute to eleven, Rosanna walked into the pre-booked conference room, with her most professional fixed smile.

"Good Morning Ms. Sj-oh!"

Standing demurely at one end of the room, Taylor Swift wiggled her fingers in greeting.

She wore a plain navy knee length dress, that flared out appealingly from her slender waist. Her lissom long limbs were showed off to their fullest advantage. Her iconic blonde hair was drawn back into a neat ponytail.

"I thought I'd surprise you!", Taylor smiled. "Looks like it worked. I'm your 11am..."

"Right, OK, well it's a very nice surprise!" Rosanna, a little flummoxed, nudged the heavy door with her heel to close it.

"So is this the record contract issue you were telling me about, or?" Rosanna asked.

As the door clicked shut Taylor stalked around the end of the long conference room table and lunged at Rosanna.

"In a minute. I want to say hello properly first."

Her arms slid around Rosanna's waist and her lips met the young lawyer's in a firm, predatory kiss. Rosanna dropped the notepad she was carrying.

"Absolutely not, absolutely not here- are you fucking mad?" Rosanna managed to gasp between frenzied kisses.

"Maybe a little?" Taylor responded, as her delicate fingers unbuttoned Rosanna's trousers.

She planted a string of kisses down Rosanna's neck, and nuzzled aside the collar of her blouse to better access her collarbone.

"Oh no, no, just- aaaa!"

Rosanna let out an involuntary groan as Taylor's hand slid down inside the waistband of her lacy white knickers and unerringly found its warm, wet target.

Taylor giggled.

"I think your brain and your pussy are saying two different things!"

Rosanna moaned as her intimate lips were parted, and moaned again as Taylor curled her middle finger inside. She felt soaking wet already, desperately aware of how much her body craved this.

"Oh for fuck's sake just fuck me then", she spat out in her clipped public school accent.

"Language, Miss Rosanna!" quipped Taylor, as she again met Rosanna's lips with hers in a wet, sloppy, open mouthed kiss. Their tongues danced together as the two women ground passionately against each other.

Through the frosted glass wall Rosanna could see the indistinct shapes of her colleagues moving around the bustling office. Rosanna heard the murmuring of conversations and ringing telephones, underpinned by the incessant humming of the fluorescent lights above her head.

A part of her was terrified, of the consequences for her job, her livelihood, her dignity if the door opened now and she was exposed to the office.

Rosanna ground her hips against Taylor's fingers. She arched her back, screwed her eyes shut, as the relentless feeling began to build inside her. Taylor frigged her hard and fast, hand tenting the fabric of her underwear.

"God you just love this so much don't you, you dirty girl!" breathed Taylor into her ear.

And nipped her hard on the earlobe with her perfect white teeth.

"You just love my fingers don't you?"

"Yes Taylor," Rosanna gasped.

"You can tell me how much, you know, I like to hear it."

"So fucking- ah- much, just please don't stop."

Taylor's left hand worked its way between two buttons of Rosanna's filmy white blouse. In her haste she accidentally pulled one free, as the delicate thread holding it gave way.

Rosanna was wearing a frilly nude-coloured bralette under her top. Its insubstantial material did not take long to surrender her pert little boobs to Taylor's eager hand.

"Your nipples are sooo pretty!" Taylor exclaimed, admiring the chocolate brown little buds sitting high and erect on Rosanna's breasts. She alternated between swift licks and nibbles, each evoking a sharp gasp from her lover.

"Oh more" Rosanna groaned, feeling Taylor's hands and mouth everywhere. She knew she was close to coming.

Taylor abandoned Rosanna's boobs in order to pull the shorter girl tight against her, Taylor's own breasts pressing against her lover through her dress.

"AAAAHHH-mmmpph!"

Rosanna's eyes bulged as she clamped her mouth shut, trying to keep quiet. And in that moment her climax came, and the overwhelming tide of pleasure took her. Her face and neck flushed bright red.

The muscles of her cunt clenched tightly around a delighted Taylor's fingers, slick, hot and wet. Her legs shook uncontrollably as she came.

And in that moment, her entire body seemed to be nothing but a support system for the explosion of heat between her legs.

Not for the first time, Rosanna collapsed against the leggy blonde musician, barely staying upright as her body failed her.

Looking like the cat who'd got the cream, Taylor took her drenched fingers out of Rosanna's knickers, and gave them a cartoonishly lascivious lick.

"Mmm", she purred. "They should sell this as a Ben & Jerry's flavour, it's delicious."

Rosanna giggled breathlessly. "I want to feel you too, Taylor."

And she reached for the taller blonde woman and drew her head down for a deep kiss.

Rosanna's hands scrabbled at the back of Taylor's demure dress, tugging the zip down all the way to her waist.

As one shoulder fell away the dress exposed Taylor's right boob, jiggling fleshily in a dark blue bra. Rosanna grabbed it with her left hand and squeezed it through the soft lace. Taylor moaned a little as her hard little nipple met Rosanna's palm.

But just as quickly as she had attacked her lover before, Taylor pulled away, and readjusted her clothing. She frowned apologetically and more than a little regretfully.

"Not here Rosanna, OK, I'm sorry. I know it sounds awful but I can't run the risk of getting caught."

"That hardly seems fair! You just fingered me in my office!" Rosanna said, genuinely indignant.

"I'll make it up to you when we get to my place this evening. Promise! You can have me however you want. We can do anything. Everything!"

"But we do actually need to discuss my copyright issues- this is, like, a real business meeting after all!"

Rosanna glanced at the clock on the boardroom- 11.06. She had been kissed, fingered, fucked, and seemingly rejected, all in the space of a little over five minutes.

"I see how you manage to write so many songs now," she said drily. "very efficient."

Zipping up her trousers and adjusting her irredeemably soaked knickers, Rosanna attempted to compose herself. Rebuttoning her damaged blouse as best she could, she hoped that her jacket would hide the missing button sufficiently to prevent her flashing her lingerie to the entire third floor. She picked up her yellow A4 legal pad from the floor, and placed it on the table.

Taylor giggled, and sat on the nearest chair, crossing her legs elegantly. Her cat-like eyes flashed with undisguised mischief. "It smells of sex in here, Rosanna!".

Rosanna took on a firm, almost prosecutorial tone, her professional mien betrayed by her still sex-flushed face and messy black hair.

"So, Ms Sjöberg. Shall we get started?"

***

To be continued. In Chapter 3, Taylor and Rosanna will *finally* make it to the privacy of a hotel room.