Taylor

Rick hustles concessions at the arena, slinging beers and hot dogs to rowdy concert crowds all summer long. Big shows packed the schedule, fans getting wild at the stands—total grind. Finally, a quiet week hits, and he's itching to blow some of those fat bonus checks. One of the security guards whispers about Soapy Massage, sounds like a hoot. Rick struts up, raps on the door, and Taylor swings it open, all smiles and curves, ready to make his night slippery and unforgettable.