Katy Perry

It was one of those great coincidences of life. Just the day before David and his friend Matt were talking about which singing superstar they would love to bang the most. Matt's answer had been a no brainer, as he had the biggest lust crush on Carrie Underwood from the moment she walked into the audition room on American Idol all those years ago?

But David's choice was much more superficial than his friends had been. All he saw in his mind was a pair of 32DDs being shown off in every dress and music video imaginable.

Katy Perry had been one of David's biggest fantasies. Oh, the nights that had been passed thinking about what it would be like to be alone with the raven haired singer were far too many to count.

And now he was on his way to the Staples Center in downtown LA, ready to give the the 'Teenage Dream' singer a pre-concert rubdown. When David had seen that his first celebrity client was going to be one of his favorite jack-off material he nearly jumped for joy.

Katy was one of 'Hands on Stars' most frequent clients. Whenever she had a concert, or was just in the need for a good massage, she always came to 'Hands on Stars'. John Goodman was always the lucky son-of-a-bitch who got to go to her when ever she had a concert and couldn't make it to the parlor. But today that pleasure belongs to David.

As David got closer to the Staples Center, he tried to put away all of his fantasies about the former Mrs. Brant. He wasn't about to get fired because one of parlors biggest and important clients filed a sexual harassment suit over the pervert who couldn't keep his dick under control.

David had just pulled up to the underground parking garage he had been told to go to when the radio station he had been listening to began to play "Firework".

"Heh! I think the universe is trying to tell me something," David chuckled to himself as he pulled the 'Hands on Stars' van into the assigned parking spot.

David hopped out of the van and made his way to the back. As he did so her heard the universally recognizable sound of high-heels clicking on concrete.

Turning around David saw a tall, attractive black woman approaching him. She was wearing red halter top that showed off plenty of her smooth stomach, with a skirt that went half way down her thighs. She happened to fill out that top rather nicely, in David's humble opinion. Her sleek black hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing a pair of glasses.

"Mr. Trapper, I presume," the woman said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, Ma'm. And you must be Mrs. Yates. I was told you would meet me," greeted David, extending his hand.

Mrs. Yates took David's outstretched hand in a surprisingly strong grip. With her free hand Mrs. Yates lowered her glasses to the end of her nose and rakes David's body from head to toe and back up.

"Yes, you will do nicely," she said, as if David wasn't even there. "Now, if you would grab your equipment and follow me," she told him.

"Okay," said David, turning to get his things from the van. When he was ready, he locked the van and turned to Mrs. Yates. "Lead the way, Mrs. Yates."

"I must be frank and tell you that Ms. Perry was extremely disappointed when she was told that Mr. Goodman was unavailiable today," Mrs. Yates told him without turning back to David. She kept a steady pace through the hustle and bustle of all the busy teamsters and workers preparing for tonight's show. Her maneuvering was now second nature to her after all, her time working with famous singers. But it was all David could do to keep up with her and not bump into anyone.

"She has grown quite... fond of Mr. Goodman and his techniques," she added after a pause to think of the right word.

"I know John, Mr. Goodman I mean, and I know how good he is," David said, a step behind Mrs. Yates. "I promise to do as good a job as he would."

Mrs. Yates turned to look back at David at these words, some how still managing to avoid all of the hurrying people. "I'm sure that you will be more than satisfactory." She said with a smirk.

David wondered why she was acting so weird, but before he could ask anymore, Mrs. Yates stopped in front of a door. David might have asked where they were, but the sign on the door with the word 'Katy' on it was all the answer he needed.

"Now, before you enter, you need to sign this form," said Mrs. Yates, pulling a sheet of paper attatched to a clipboard from her bag. "It basically states that anything you see, say, hear, or participate in the moment you enter this room is to stay between you, Ms. Perry and myself. And if any details about what may transpire between you and Ms. Perry reaches the press, you will face legal ramifications the likes of which will still be felt by your grandchildren."

Without any other word Mrs. Yates shoves the clipboard into David's hands.

David was momentarily confused. He was just going to give a massage, not sneak into a national security meeting. Besides, it's not like he had a camera or anything. And while yes, his phone was capable of taking pictures, it had been agreed before he had left the parlor that, while he can keep his phone on him, it has to be visible at all times and nowhere near his hands so he woulnd't take any pictures.

Shrugging, David took an offered pen from Mrs. Yates and signed the form.

Handing the form and pen back to Mrs. Yates, David asked, "Is there anything else I need to do?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, Mr. Trapper, there is," Mrs. Yates answered before turning and knocking on the door. "Ms. Perry!" she shouted through the door. "The masseur is here."

"Okay, Sandy! Send him in!" shouted the familiar voice of Katy Perry.

Mrs. Yates (who's first name was apparently Sandy) turned the door knob and, turning back to David before opening the door said, "And in answer to your question, all you have to do, Mr. Trapper, is be spectacular."

And with that, Mrs. Yates opened the door and David entered the room.