a Duran Duran Fan Fiction story by Denise M.
John Taylor’s Wild Ride
The sun hung low in the vast desert sky, casting long shadows across the desolate landscape. John Taylor, the legendary bassist of Duran Duran, raced down the empty highway in his sleek, black sports car. His fingers drummed impatiently on the steering wheel as he glanced at the clock on the dashboard. He was running dangerously late for their concert in Los Angeles, and the pressure was mounting.
“Come on, John,” he muttered to himself, urging the car to go faster. “If I’m late again, Nick is going to kill me.”
Just as he was approaching 100 mph, he spotted the flash of red and blue lights in his rearview mirror. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he pulled over to the side of the road, the dust swirling around his car.
As the police officer approached, John watched with a sly smile. A striking brunette tapped on his window, adjusted her aviator sunglasses and stared firmly at him.
John took a deep breath and rolled down his window, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Good evening, officer. What seems to be the trouble?”
She leaned in, her badge glinting in the setting sun. “You were going pretty fast there, sir.”
John tried to smile charmingly. “I’m in a bit of a rush. We’ve got a gig in LA, and I am the bass player. Trust me, there’s no show without the bass player,” he said with a chuckle.
The officer peered closer, her eyes narrowing as she recognized him. “Wait a minute. You’re John Taylor from Duran Duran, aren’t you?”
“Guilty as charged,” he said while holding up his wrists to be cuffed.
A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of the officer’s lips. “Well, I happen to be a huge fan. Give me an autograph and I won’t write you this ticket.”
John chuckled. “I’d love to, but I’m kind of in a hurry here. The last time I was late for a show, the band threatened to hire the guy from Spandau Ballet in my place. Trust me, that’s a disaster.”
The officer considered for a moment. “Tell you what, Mr. Taylor. I’ll let you off with a warning if you get in my car and let me drive you to your concert. I’ll get you there in time.”
John raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the proposition. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Officer…?”
“Devon,” she said as her tongue ran across her bottom lip.
Devon climbed into the driver’s seat of her patrol car, and John hopped into the passenger seat. With a quick flip of her siren switch, they sped toward LA. The wind whipped through their hair as they raced against the clock.
Devon glanced at John with a smirk. “You know, Mr. Taylor, this is fun, but I’m thinking it might’ve been more fun to arrest you and put you in my handcuffs.”
John laughed, his fingers running through his hair in nervous excitement. “Well, they do say rock ‘n’ rollers are rebels. Guilty as charged.” Devon reached over and grabbed his neck, pulling him toward her. The kiss was deep, wet, and long.
As they neared the concert venue, they could hear the roar of the crowd. Devon pulled up to the stage entrance, and John hopped out, his hair tousled, and a smear of lipstick stained his cheek.
The other band members were waiting backstage. Simon arched an eyebrow. “John, you’re late again. What the bloody hell happened this time?”
John couldn’t help but grin. “Sorry. I got tied up, mate.”
As the show began and John sprinted onto the stage, bass guitar in hand, he felt the exhilarating rush from the fans. The crowd erupted in cheers as the music began, and he poured his heart and soul into the performance, all the while stealing glances at the front row.
There, shirt untucked and unbuttoned, but wearing a satisfied smile, was Devon. Their eyes locked. Devon reached into her belt and playfully held up a set of handcuffs, winking seductively at him.
John’s jaw dropped in amused shock, and he burst into laughter. He leaned into his microphone, addressing the audience with a mischievous grin. “Well, folks, it seems I’ve been a bad boy again!”
He then reached down, grabbed the handcuffs, and with a theatrical flourish, hooked them onto his own belt loop then threw his arms in the air and motioned for the audience to cheer. They erupted in ear-piercing screams and laughter.
Devon playfully feigned shock, putting her hand to her mouth in an exaggerated gesture.
As the final notes of their electrifying performance reverberated through the venue, John couldn’t resist one last playful gesture. “Thanks for the wild ride tonight,” he shouted to the audience. Simon, Nick, Roger, and Dom exchange amused glances. After the show, Simon shrugged and shook his head. “What the bloody hell was all that about?” he asked. “I’d say it’s just another day in the life of John Taylor, isn’t it? Handcuffs and all” said Nick.