Disclaimer: I, Cirrus Kain, being the lowly peon that I am do not know Britney Spears, Nsync, or any of the other celebrities that might be mentioned within this document. The story is FICTION, something to make you laugh, cry, and maybe even cum. It was not created to suggest anything about anyone. Sorry guys.
Okay. Finally some real plot and action. This chapter will probably seem a little off and fast, but I'm making up for it in Chapter 4. So it's all good.
Also, I'm gonna beg for feedback here. Is anyone reading this thing? =)
Chapter 3
The stain. Deep like blood when it lies stagnant in thick pools. No. No I can't, can't think about that. I can't break like that. Why not? The empty liquor bottle on the night stand. SMASH! I hurl it against the wall and it explodes like fireworks into so many tiny pieces that glitter like stars on the floor. The light, setting sun finally emerging from the clouds, slips in through the cracks in the blinds over the large window and makes them sparkle.
So pretty, this broken glass.
So like myself.
Actually being there at the Grammys turned out to be just as much fun as watching them at home. But I stifled my yawns out of respect to Britney, because for some reason she seemed to be enjoying it. And it wasn't really all bad either; we made fun of Christina Aguilera's hair. I also got to see, live and at a distance I certainly wasn't complaining about, my Britney performing on the stage. She was singing the latest and probably the most hyped single yet; a duet with her beaux Justin Timberlake. I tried to ignore him as much as possible and concentrate on my angel. He always creeped me out anyway.
Call it my intuition again.
Then finally it was all said and done. Nothing terribly exciting to report; well, other than Britney's hand resting lightly on my knees for about three presentations. She seemed to forget entirely that it was there. Seemed to. I didn't have time to ponder much or even ask though, as we were immediately off to some sort of post-show party deal. I was surrounded by too many beautiful people to speak or think. Gwen Stephani and Pink both said they liked my hair in passing. I probably could have died happy. Even when Britney disappeared, mumbling something about Justin needing her, I was too dazed to miss her. A lot of people seemed to recognize me as "The Contest Winner", and most who did treated me warmly enough. And eventually I relaxed, and got taken up in conversation by Shakira, who said she was thinking of doing something wild to her hair color. I suggested bright blue.
But when the daze did wear off, I began to wonder where Britney went, so when I could escape, I wandered off searching for her. I ducked out of the shindig room of the hotel that was hosting the party, incidentally the hotel I was staying at until tomorrow afternoon, and poked around down a few of the halls. There were several private rooms scattered around, comfortable couches, chairs, and coffee tables, with curtains to separate them from the rest of the world, and several, well, "serious" couples in them. I figured Britney and Justin must be in one somewhere. Maybe if I walked in at the right time I'd get to see some breast. One can dream. Actually, one did dream. Every night...
Creeping down the last hall, I suddenly heard a southern accent. I couldn't make out what was said, but the voice sounded like hers. I peaked inside the crack in the curtains just in time to see the her hit the floor. She crumpled, so not my Britney anymore, not a shimmering goddess but a defeated little girl, in a ball on her knees before Justin who only glared down at her. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head up, forcing her to look him in the eyes. He said something, which again I couldn't hear because he just barely whispered it to her, and she whimpered in response. Then he reached down with his other hand and unzipped the pants of the plain black suit everyone had seemed surprised he had showed up in.
Working on some kind of instinct, I grabbed my handy little disposable camera and burst into the room. He didn't have enough time to get out of the compromising position before the flash went off and I had a pretty little picture of the disgusting scene.
He stagger away from her, his eyes wide and face filled with fear. Britney, breaking my heart with every second, remained on the floor, sobbed quietly into her hands. I slowly stepped towards her, my eyes never leaving Justin's. When I reached her I leaned down, still looking at him, always looking at him in case he tried anything, and took her hand in mine. I guided her to her feet and, with my arms around her, we began backing away again.
At the curtain, I narrowed my gaze at him. "If you ever lay a hand on her again the picture gets sent out to every form of media that might care. So don't touch her."
We left it at that.
I didn't take her back to the party like that, eyes red and mascara running. I took her up to my room instead, to get her cleaned up and calmed down a little. We sat down on my bed and I held her, trying to be comforting, and she cried herself out into my chest, ruining my shirt, but I didn't much care about that. It was fifteen minutes before she stopped shaking and pulled away to look up me. Those deep gorgeous eyes still glistened with saline. She kissed my cheek then and sent thousands of tiny sparks through my body which, out of respect for Britney, I desperately tried to will away. She was making this whole night so damn hard.
"Thank you..." she breathed, her voice dangerously close to breaking. "Thank you Dani... But I.... Why did you...?" She looked away from me. I slid my hand up on her cheek and pulled her back again.
"How could I not?" I asked gently. "I adore you."
Did I just say that? To Britney Spears? My mind wanted to panic, I knew she would know. How could she brush that off? Coming from someone like me, those words had never been taken platonically. I'd lost plenty of female friends over a simple enough confession of affection. So I jolted back from her, and waited patiently for her to leave the room. She didn't leave though. Why wasn't she leaving?
"Dani...?"
"Hmm?" I mumbled nervously.
"Do you like me?"
"Um, well, sure. Half the world likes you." That's it, keep it non-committal.
"No. Do you LIKE me? Do you, um, like girls Dani?"
Oh shit.
"Jesus, is it that obvious?"
I felt her hand on the back of my neck, warm, but clammy too. Her palms were sweating.
"Sort of," she replied. I glanced up and found she was smiling.
She didn't say much after that, and neither did I really. Britney stood up, faced me, and slid the dress off her shoulders. It pooled on the floor at her feet. The strapless bra responsible for her cleavage went across the room. The tight smooth satin thong went in the opposite direction. And there was Britney, naked before me, glowing even more now in only her bronze flesh. She looked at me expectantly, and, barely aware I was doing it, I undressed as well. I was hers, entirely. I was in her thrall. It was every one of my wet dreams come true.
And then, when I got my wake-up call in the morning, she was gone.