Date: Sat, 2 Mar 2002 22:51:42 -0800
From: Cirrus Kain <stoneclaw@earthlink.com>
Subject: One Crazy Summer, chapter 3

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.