Plot: Taylor buys a prostitute. What else can I say.
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France's red light districts are notorious for housing the sleaziest of both women and men. The streets are lined with thong clad lamp posts and flirtatious corners. As Taylor Swift's black Bentley crawls across the cigarette laced lane, she finds her palms growing sweaty. Not even her security know she's here. During the stress of writing a new album, Taylor had flown away to Paris in order to find headspace. Three days into non stop stress and zero progress, Cara had suggested she find a friend to "help her relax," as she put it. It is now twelve thirty. And it's obsidian dark. All except for the sparkling sequins of faux label dresses and tacky satin heels.
Taylor's heart thumps in her chest. She has never done something like this before. She has never bought a person's body before. She lets down the passenger window only slightly, for her fears of being seen by paparazzi are too great. Her windows are tinted and absolutely nobody knows she's here but she is careful all the same. Immediately Taylor's car begins to receive whistles and cat calls. There are very few men on the street and the majority of Taylor's interested "stress relievers" are young girls and women. A good handful of the women are middle aged. They intimidate Taylor with their wrinkled lips and vodka breath. Taylor ignores their pigeon-like coos and drives on. The RLD stretches on for what feels like miles at the pace Taylor is going. There are a lot of drunken prostitutes aimlessly clattering across the road and the last thing Taylor wants is to cause an accident.
After what seems like a solid half hour, Taylor comes to a corner. The end of the road. She sighs and prepares herself to let up her window entirely and drive off. But a feminine voice stops her in her tracks.
"Salut, Madame!" purrs a cheerful tone.
Taylor cautiously peers out the gap in her window. She cannot see much and moves it down just a little more. A woman who seems to be in her early twenties gracefully struts towards Taylor's car and motions for her to let the window down fully. The whole time she moves, the Cheshire Cat smile on her face never ceased. Taylor gulps and slides down her window.
"Bojour," the woman greets in a dark, sultry tone. "Parlez-vous français, ma chérie?"
"Uh, non," Taylor says softly with a shake of her head.
"Ah, bonne!" the woman smirks and taps her fingers on the door, eagerly waiting for Taylor to let her in. Her snake like eyes are hypnotising and Taylor finds herself subconsciously unlocking her door for the woman. She winks and steps right in. The grey fur coat on her shoulders smells like cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol. And for some reason Taylor likes the way it smells mixed in with her own perfume.
"Est-ce loin?" the lady of the night asks.
"Hmm?" Taylor says, timidly.
"Oh, pardon me," the woman giggles. "Is it far from here?"
It isn't far from here. Taylor's hotel is only ten minutes from where she is. But she doesn't want to take this woman back to a five star hotel. She'd never be let through on Taylor's arm. The staff would be suspicious for sure. This immediately begins to feel like a mistake and Taylor starts to breathe a little harder than she should be.
"Mon ange, are you all right?" the woman asks, a flash of worry on her face too.
"I don't know about this, I-I've never done anything like this before," Taylor stammers, still driving all the same.
