NOTES: A story inspired by Leonard Cohen's Here It Is. Thanks to Younger, Kel and Katie. All made up, for entertainment only.

HERE IT IS

Lance fell in love with Justin when Justin was only fifteen and Lance was just sixteen, in those four months when they were only a year apart. He suffered in silence. He knew nothing would happen, could ever happen and he would have filled notebooks with horrible poetry if he'd had the time. Instead he snuck glances during rehearsals and tried to sit next to Justin when they had meals together, or tried to sit far away from Justin so he could stare. He had a million stratagems of distance and closeness and it was all tortured. And stupid.

On a weekend home in his own house and his own room, he got over it. He took stock of everything and the pointlessness of being in love with some fifteen year old who had been on TV and glowed with future success. And really, nothing might ever come of this group and there Lance would be with a high school degree from the equivalent of a correspondence course and Justin would be on to better things and Lance needed to grow up. He grew up.

He got over it and he went back to Orlando and felt more than seventeen months older than Justin, he felt old. He was over it. He'd put aside his childish passions for the real thing, for work and the possibility of success and it would only happen if he kept his feet on the ground. Because it was about success and chances, not worrying if some fifteen year old would ever look at him sideways.

He was a little sad for a few days and he carried that in silence, too. He realized it was better that way. Talking about things made them real, people asked you how you were and never let you forget, but he hadn't told anyone besides his mother about Justin and his mother knew not to bring things up. He suffered in silence and got over it in silence and it was all done and over.

In Germany, Justin turned sixteen. Lance knew pretty quickly when Justin developed a crush on him, he recognized all the signs. Justin was transparent. Lance made up his mind to end it as soon as Justin said something. He was going to be somebody, they were going to make a success of things. Lance wasn't going to waste his time on grand teenage passion. Not anymore. Justin would get over it.

It was some night, and if Lance didn't quite remember all the build-up, it didn't matter. Justin had obviously planned and conspired with his mother and if it hadn't been that night, it would have been the next or the one after that. All of them could get into any club they wanted, sometimes Lynn went with Justin, for goodness' sake, so Lance knew something was up when Lynn made sure that Justin and Lance were both staying in that night. They did show after show, they had a single out, they were making an album, they had so few nights off. Lance didn't exactly object even though he knew he was being set up.

So they watched a movie and when it was done, Justin made his move and sat next to Lance on Lance's bed. He looked down at his hands and then looked up at Lance. "Lance," Justin said tentatively, "there's this thing."

Lance opened his mouth to say something, to back out gracefully, but Justin moved quick, hands on Lance's face and pulled him into a kiss. Lips pushed against his and then tongue, hot and wet. Justin broke off the kiss and moved just a few centimeters away from Lance. "Lance," Justin said, his breath smelled like popcorn, "I like boys. And girls, but also boys. And you."

"I picked up on that," Lance said, grinning.

"My mom told me to do this." Justin blushed and didn't let go of Lance's face.

"She told you to kiss me out of the blue?"

Justin looked down. "She said to talk to you and tell you. And I rehearsed, in my head, and I thought of things to say, but then I just couldn't. I just want you." Lance was over it, over Justin. He could say that and mean it, he was sure. But Justin looked so nervous and so young and Lance just sat there. Kissed Justin again, and again and then it was late and Lynn knocked on the door. Because, of course, she was an out for Justin. Justin called out, "We're okay, Mom," and when she was gone, Justin stretched out on the bed, slept next to Lance, holding his hand all night.

After two weeks, Lance stopped being able to think he was over Justin convincingly anymore. He was in love again, even worse. Or better, because Justin loved him back. Better. Lynn made sure they roomed together whenever they could and even if she was supposed to room with them, she never actually spent the night in the room. Justin slept next to Lance and didn't let go of his hand if they were alone. Lance started reaching for Justin's hand as soon as the door closed, and one night, Justin turned to Lance right before they fell asleep and said, "Are we moving too fast?"

Lance said, "I think we're okay. We're okay, I'm sure." He was sure. They slept with each other but they weren't having sex yet. They kissed a lot, over and over again, thrusting against each other but it was a month before Justin slipped his hand inside Lance's boxers and actually touched him. And it was embarrassing for both of them, Lance came so quick and Justin came in his boxers a few seconds later. But it was all perfect, they were perfect and they could just laugh about it. The next time was better and after just a few nights, they slept in the nude when it wasn't too cold and rubbed skin against skin. Wrapped up against each other every night they could and this was love, true love.

It wasn't just sex or near-sex and physical closeness. They could just stare at each other and be happy, and they sat and talked about anything and everything. They didn't want the other guys to know, or Lou, especially Lou, and they were pretty sure they weren't too obvious. They didn't have much time to be obvious, everything was choreographed and scheduled within minutes anyway. And downtime and rehearsals they always had things to do. It worked better that way, Lance thought, that they had work and then when it was over they had the nights and the early morning to be together. So they talked about their days and sports and music they liked and they knew each other so well, they loved each other so much.

Lance would have thrown himself in front of a bus for Justin. He thought about that sometimes, when they were waiting for one thing or another, he imagined elaborate scenarios where he'd give his life for Justin, show how much he loved him. He told Justin once and Justin just blushed and said, "I wouldn't let you do that." He looked a little creeped out, and Lance resolved not to mention it ever again.

He sat in the bus and told Joey he was writing Stacy when he was writing Justin. Stupid letters, full of silly things like the way Justin laughed, when it seemed like he laughed with his whole body and how it made Lance breathless. Things Justin had said that Lance wanted to remember forever and he knew he would. He'd slip the letters to Lynn and then he'd find Justin that night, or the next time they were alone and Justin would kiss the letter and hide it in his books.

After two months and a week or two of sleeping together naked, one morning Lance kissed his way down Justin's stomach and then looked up and said, "Okay?"

Justin just nodded and propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch. Lance kept his eyes open the whole time and didn't even really blink. Justin did the same when he pushed Lance up on the bed later. It was like that, it was almost always like that, they couldn't stop looking at each other. Justin's eyes, Lance thought he would spend the rest of his life lost in Justin's eyes.

It was the happiest Lance had ever been in his life. Ever. He said a little of it to his mother and didn't say anything to anyone else, except Justin. It was too real to be something he could reduce to "I like him," "He's great," or "I love Justin."

After four months, one night Justin ran his hand down Lance's chest and said, "I thought, maybe, you know, we could. Do that." Lance nodded and kissed Justin's forehead. Lance had done it with girls, three girls, back in Mississippi but never with a guy and Justin hadn't even got that far with a girl. So they kissed a little more and Justin said, "We'll need stuff, right?" Lance nodded again. Justin said, "I'll talk to my mom." It was kind of funny but Lance could imagine the conversation, Lynn and Justin talking about how Justin wanted to have anal sex with his secret boyfriend and asking Lynn to help them out. Funny and embarrassing. Lance wished they could have avoided it and wished it hadn't been the first words out of Justin's mouth.

Two nights later, Justin came back from talking to his mom and sat down on the bed. "Okay," he said blushing, "She, uh, she got the stuff but." Justin pulled a pamphlet out of his pocket. "She says we have to read this first. Like, she won't give me the stuff she bought for us until we've both read this. Together."

Lance hugged Justin closer and squeezed his shoulder with one hand, grabbing at the pamphlet with his other hand. It was in English, thank goodness, and it was called "Better, Safer Sex." There were diagrams and simple words about the mechanics, and Lance was secretly grateful. "It's not, it doesn't seem that hard," Justin said, reading the first page. "I mean, insert, etc."

Lance said, "Yeah, but it can hurt, you know, if you're not careful." He thought about the girl from his church and the first time they'd done it, and she'd cried. She'd sort of swore at him and said it wasn't because she cared about her virginity, she was crying because it hurt. He knew it was different for guys, of course it was, but still. Lance didn't normally think about sex hurting, and certainly not sex with Justin which was always just perfect and hot and amazing.

Justin said, "And uh, I guess we should, who, uh." He pointed at the drawing of the two men in the middle of the second page.

Lance thought it would hurt, so he said, "I'll, me, I'll be the one on the bottom, right?" And Justin looked relieved for a second, so Lance knew he'd chosen right.

"This time, okay." Justin smiled and they read the last two pages about risks and really, they both thought it didn't apply to them at all. Lance had only been with two guys before Justin and that had just been making out practically and two lame blowjobs and Justin had only made out with girls. "We don't even really need a condom, do we?"

"I guess, sure." Lance closed the pamphlet and rubbed Justin's knee.

"Well, my mom says we have to. She says it's a good habit to get into or something and she said she won't, she's giving us condoms and the other thing and we need to use both. So, maybe, uh, later. Later we won't." Lance just nodded and kissed Justin.

Justin stood up and said, "Okay. Pamphlet read. I'm gonna go, go talk to my mom. Be right back."

Lance wasn't nervous at all, he was mostly kind of excited. It would be special and perfect. He went to the bathroom and when he came out Justin was sitting on the bed, fiddling with his jeans. Justin shot up and said, "My turn," and went into the bathroom for a few minutes. Lance took off his jeans and shirt and saw the tube of lube and two condoms in the wrapper on the bed. He looked at the lube and knew Lynn had probably wandered around the drugstore and bothered the clerks with her bad German to make sure it wouldn't hurt the condoms and asked all sorts of questions.

Justin came out of the bathroom and started taking off his clothes. He got on the bed naked and sat a little away from Lance. Lance sat up and kissed Justin. "Don't be nervous, okay?"

Justin nodded and they made out for a long while, getting more and more turned on. Then Lance grabbed the lube and put it in Justin's hand. Lance turned onto his stomach and wrapped his arms around one of the pillows. Justin sighed and kissed Lance's back and neck. He reached for the other pillow and put it under Lance's hip. "Like the pamphlet," he said. Lance heard Justin open the lube and Justin rubbed Lance's ass. Felt good and a little sticky and then one finger pushing in. A little uncomfortable, a little but they'd done that before. And better with lube than just spit. Then not so uncomfortable and even nice. Lance wiggled a little to show his appreciation and Justin ran one hand over Lance's back.

Two fingers and it was uncomfortable again for a little while. More lube, and less uncomfortable and better. Justin pushed and there were sparks. "There," Lance panted, "there was good." Justin grunted and did it again. Spark, bright, very nice. Three fingers and it was uncomfortable again but Justin had figured out where to hit and it got a little better. Lance wiggled again, pushed back and said, "It's okay now, now."

Justin's fingers were gone and then Lance heard Justin say softly, "Fuck." Lance turned on his side, sat up and opened the condom for Justin. He kissed Justin and stroked his dick a little so he was really hard again and slipped the condom on while Justin bit his lip. Lance kissed Justin and said, "You sure? We don't have to."

Justin said, "I'm so sure, I really want to. Like, so much. I just, I want it all to be great."

Lance said, "It's us, it will be. It so will be." He lay back down and buried his face in the pillow. Justin put his hands on Lance's ass and gripped and then pushed in. And it hurt, even with everything and all the lube, it hurt. Lance winced into the pillow, so glad Justin couldn't see. Lance thought, love him, love him, love him so much and tried to relax. He bit his lip and Justin pushed in further and hurt, hurt.

Lance wasn't even hard anymore and Justin pushed again and stopped. "Okay?" Justin sounded breathless. Lance just nodded. He loved Justin so much, it was all okay. Justin grunted again and started moving and it was just black and pain and Lance wanted it over. He gritted his teeth and waited for it to get it better.

Better, better, and Justin hit that spot again and it was a lot better. Almost good and Justin kept going back and forth and then again and okay, Lance thought, it wasn't so bad. Justin came and slumped over Lance's back, warm and sweaty and Lance thought that was the best part. Justin pulled out and got off of the bed and Lance turned on his side and rubbed his ass, feeling the soreness already. Justin curled up next to him, arms around him, legs intertwined and said, "Did you, uh." Justin reached between them and stroked Lance's dick until he came while they kissed. Justin lay back and handed Lance a towel from the floor. "I, that was good, right?"

"It was perfect, Justin. Right?" And Justin kissed him and they fell asleep, like always, tangled up together under the covers. The next time was better for all of it and by the third time either Justin had gotten better or Lance was used to it and it was really hot and good.

After six or seven times, Justin wanted to switch places. He said to Lance, "I want to bottom, isn't that how people say it?"

Lance hugged him and said, "That's. This is us, we're not. I dunno, that just seems like, the word, it isn't right."

Justin rested his head on Lance's shoulder. "I want you inside me, is that, that sounds more like us."

Lance said it hurt, and it was good after a while, but it would hurt. Justin nodded seriously and they did it the way he wanted that night. Justin wanted to be on his back and Lance could see him wince and bite his lip and concentrate past the pain. And Lance saw Justin mouth, "I love you," over and over again and it was all okay. They switched a lot after that, Justin got Lynn to buy them a lot of lube over the next two months and they always used the condoms she pressed into Justin's hand. And sometimes Justin or Lance would be a little sore and flinch at something in rehearsal and they would look at each other quickly and smile. This was love and it was so overwhelming, so much more than even singles on the chart and TV appearances and Lou and everything, it was as big as a house and nothing more than the look in Justin's eyes.

They had their first fight around six months after they started. They couldn't scream at each other because Joey and JC were in the next room so they talked through clenched jaws and hissed in anger. Justin insisted he wasn't being a jerk and Lance knew for sure he was. Justin always had to tell his mother everything and Lance thought at least something should be private. Lance lay in his own bed and fumed. He was so angry, he just wanted to strangle Justin. And he thought about waking up the next morning and Justin not being right next to him and suddenly he almost wanted to cry. He couldn't conceive of a morning without Justin's hand on his stomach and he sniffled. Lance got out of his bed and crawled under Justin's covers and said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, let's just." Justin sniffled, too, and kissed Lance and everything was better again.

They fought again two weeks later and this time Justin crawled in Lance's bed and breathed quietly for a moment. Then he said, "I can't sleep without you. Ever." And Lance petted his hair and they kissed again and it was okay. For another week. They fought again and Lance lasted all night, fell asleep without wanting to find Justin. In the morning he sat on Justin's bed, watching Justin wake up. Justin looked up and said, "We're okay. I love you." They made love before breakfast.

They fought again two weeks later and in the morning Justin sat on Lance's bed and said, "We're not okay." And they were over. It wasn't anyone's fault and Lance was just too sad to try and blame either of them. He cried a little, to his mother, sleeping a room next to Chris or Joey or JC. Lance's mom said the two of them, Lance and Justin, had imploded. Imploded was a good word, it suited them. Lynn got Justin a single, or a room she shared with him, because, of course, Lynn made sure they didn't sleep in the same room anymore.

Lance imagined Justin coming to him sometimes, begging Lance to take him back, that everything would be as it used to be. Sometimes Lance thought about sleeping with girls he met, guys who winked at him and doing it just to see Justin look sad and miss him. They didn't talk much anymore, it took a few weeks before they could have simple conversations on the bus or before the shows. Lance didn't do anything, he just moped. Plastered a fake smile on his face when he needed to and found the expression familiar and more and more, the easiest one to wear all the time.

It took more time, but he got over it. Eight months in love, six months to get over it. He could summon an ironic distance from all of it, didn't even care anymore that he sometimes he thought he didn't know Justin at all. He felt like an adult, like someone burned and tempered by experience and pain. He didn't cry anymore and he didn't say crazy, passionate things to anyone. He'd worked it out of his system, he wasn't a child or even a teenager anymore, no matter what his age was. He was a grown-up. He had work to do, so many things to do and get done. That kind of silly, adolescent love wasn't something he could afford with everything else. He set it aside. He only opened his mouth to say things that were safe and he could look Justin in the eyes and not think of anything but what Justin was saying right there and then.

*

They met Britney at some radio show. She had been on the Mouse show with Justin and JC, she was a singer now, they had some management in common, Lance wasn't sure. She was sweet and cute. She blushed when she saw Justin and laughed easily. She had an adorable smile.

She went out with Justin that night which was kind of funny when Lance thought about it. Lance had had the room next to Justin and Joey the night before and he'd woken up to take a piss and heard the bed next door. And Joey, Joey was loud when he came and Justin never was but who else would it have been? It had been Justin the last few times and now Justin was squiring teen pop star wannabes to dinner. Brit gave Justin her cell phone number, and also JC and Lance. Because she and Lance had sat backstage before Justin came by and the two of them had talked for a long time. About music and sports and home.

Brit called him sometimes, called Justin more often. She was lonely, doing everything by herself, with assistants and her mother but it wasn't the same. Lance liked her voice and she swore all the time off the camera so they always ended up giggling and saying things like, "fuckety fuck fuck!" in low whispers to each other.

They met at another thing and Justin disappeared somewhere with Joey after kissing Brit on the cheek, and she didn't act hurt so Lance thought they hadn't had plans. He pulled her back to his room and poured her a glass of Jack Daniels from the bottle he kept hidden in his bag. They watched TV in a hotel room, some lame action show on USA and laughed and poked each other until they were leaning against each other, trying to focus on the TV. Brit leaned over and kissed Lance, lip gloss flavored like Jack. Lance ran his hands down her arms, hugged her waist and pushed her back on the bed. "You wanna do this?" He looked at her wide smile.

"I don't do anything I don't wanna do. And I'm not drunk." She wasn't, she'd only had one glass two hours ago. So Lance kissed her again, pushing her up the bed. He had one hand up her skirt, reaching inside her underwear and one hand up her shirt, trying to push off her bra. She was dragging down his pants while they kissed. She broke off the kiss and said, "This could take a while, let's pause and get these damn things off." He laughed and sat up, pulling off his shirt. Shucked off his pants and left on his boxers for a moment. She had her shirt off and bra opened, then discarded on the floor. She shimmied out of her skirt and underwear, so he took off his boxers and she tugged him back on top of her.

He thrust a little against her stomach and said, "Let's fuck."

She bit her lip and said, "Hmm. Okay. Just, I haven't actually done that before."

Lance balanced on his elbows, looked down at her and stilled his hips. "Are you sure you wanna? We can do other things, we don't have to."

She shook her head. "I want to. Hello, we're naked, why not? I like you well enough." She grinned and pushed herself against him.

"It hurts," he said.

"D'uh. So, get it over with and get a condom. You do have condoms, right?" She was still smiling, that Brit smile that Lance recognized as genuine. One faker to another, they winked at each other in their masks backstage. Lance reached over her and got the condom, slipped it on and went back to kissing her. Necking, Lance played with her breasts, ignored the scars underneath them, and rubbed his thigh between her legs, feeling her get wet.

He said, "Ready?" She nodded and smiled. He thrust hard, get it over with, once and twice and she winced. He waited a little and then moved slowly, gently as he could. She opened her legs wider and hooked her legs around his waist and pushed against him a little. He kept moving inside her, still wet and tight and closed his eyes. He came quickly and rolled off her. He pulled the condom off carefully and found a towel on the floor and rubbed her gently. She was looking away, her face calm. He said, "baby," for no reason he could think of, and put his hand between her legs, careful to only touch her clit until she gasped and came, a small orgasm, really, but something.

She kissed him again and got off the bed, went to the bathroom. She took a shower and Lance started tidying the room. He poured cold water on the towel, washed out the little streaks of blood and threw it over the mini-refrigerator in the corner of the room. He poured another glass of Jack and sipped it. She came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and sat next to him. She took his glass and swallowed twice, smacking her lips when she had finished half the glass. "That wasn't so bad," she said. She grinned at him, genuine Brit smile and eyes bright.

"Good," he said. "Cause, you know, it doesn't hurt, I think, so much the next time."

She said, "You know. You've been fucked." Just like that. Lance swallowed the rest of the Jack and put on his underwear, walked over to his bag to find his sweatpants.

"It's different for guys," he said, because he was drunk.

He stood by the TV, still on and now it was Leno or Conan, maybe. She dressed quickly and kissed him on the cheek as she left.

*

She called a lot, now as often as she called Justin. Things weren't weird and that was good. He liked her, she was pretty in the way he liked in girls, curvy and petite. Then she was opening for them, sitting with Justin a lot, grabbing Lance and pulling him into corners to plan pranks or tell him about her day. She giggled a lot, in a cute way.

He didn't want to date her and she didn't want to date him. She had something with Justin, a connection different than the one she had with Lance and Lance wasn't interested in a high maintenance girlfriend. They'd only made out the once, anyway.

One night, he came out of his hotel room for ice for his drink and saw her in sweatpants and a sports bra walking towards him. She said, to no one, it seemed to him, "He needs to decide." She sighed and looked at Lance. Smiled. Said, "Getting something?"

He nodded and said, "Ice." She walked up to him and held out her hand and he knew. He handed her his key card and got enough ice for two. He knocked on his own door and she answered with a giggly smile.

"Lance, the man who hooks me up with Jack Daniels when I need it." She flopped on the bed as he poured two drinks. He brought both of them over to her, sipped his, watched her sip hers. She turned on the TV and leaned back, carefully balancing her drink on the bedspread.

They made fun of the shit on TV for an hour, finished their drinks and put them on the floor. Lance thought about having a second one, but Brit put her hand on his thigh and said, "Let's do that again. Show me it doesn't hurt this time."

She was on top this time, lowering herself onto him, sighing as her thighs rested on his hips. She pushed down and he pushed up and it was fast and harder than the first time. She rocked against him and he clung to her thighs. She came and put her hand in her mouth to muffle the cries. He came a minute or so after and she rolled off him carefully. They lay on the bed, naked and wiped clean, and watched TV for a little while longer. Brit cracked jokes about the idiot on whatever show they were watching, late-night syndication, gesturing with her arm. She had that kind of bikini wax thing Lance associated with strippers, just a strip of hair down there and of course she did, he'd seen her costumes, she had to. They'd had to wax their chests more than once, even Joey and Chris who were old enough, really, to have chest hair. And JC, Lance supposed, but he didn't think of JC as having hair. Brit poked him and said, "Whatcha thinking about?"

"JC and his chest hair. Or lack thereof." Lance grinned.

"You think he's hot?" Brit raised an eyebrow. Lance coughed and looked away.

"I don't," he said, "Not really." Because he was drunk, maybe.

She put on her clothes and left with a wave.

*

So maybe she was using him, had used him those two times. Except the first time he didn't think so, and the second time he thought only a little. Mostly, he thought, she had just wanted to get laid without strings attached. She said as much to him, in a surreal conversation they had over martinis in a club during the lawsuit. "I say these things," she said, "because they want me to, because my mom wants me to, because I think I should be that girl. But, you know, it's like, if I weren't this, I would have done it at probably the same time anyway. Sixteen's a good age to lose it. Don't you think?"

He said, "I was fifteen." And they weren't naked or post-coital or whatever, so she didn't follow up with a question about boy or girl, he thought. And they talked about sex, now that she was having it with Justin, or close to it. After the lawsuit, she and Justin did it a lot, whenever they could. Because Justin was in love, the way Justin was in love, so in love.

Another hotel, some thing, a million things and this album would be the death of Lance and it wasn't even out. And Brit knocked on his door and he knew she was there, they had talked earlier at the party. She had been hanging on Justin's arm, smiling and looking up at him like she was so in love. Now it was later and she stood in his doorway. He sipped the drink he'd already poured for himself and said, "Booty call?"

She rolled her eyes.

He said, "Why me?" She was silent for a moment and Lance imagined she wouldn't say anything, like some black and white film and she would flip her hair and just push into the room. All the viewers would stare at her kohl-rimmed eyes and try to discern her motive.

Except they were all white trash, all three of them, when you scraped off the layer of stardom and she said, "You're fucking right here, Lance." She pushed by him then, and he spilled some of his drink on her dress. So they wouldn't be a noir film or Jules et Jim, but that was okay. He didn't like the ending of Jules et Jim, anyway.

She took a drink of the Jack Daniels straight from the bottle and then wiped away the lipstick on the bottle with her thumb. She giggled and said, "I need a break, you know?"

He didn't ask from what and just took the bottle from her hands and placed it back on the dresser. He pulled her close and kissed her, MAC lipstick and Jack this time. She swayed against him and laughed. "You're so cute, seriously, I should go out with you."

"No, please, no offense, honey." He kissed her again, hands on the back of her dress, rubbing her back and trying to find the zipper. She pushed away from him but held his hands as she walked backwards to the bed. She spun a little, and pushed him sitting onto the bed. She stood in front of him and unzipped her dress and placed it carefully on a chair. She was wearing a strapless bra and silky looking thigh highs and nothing else. She stepped out of her high heels at the same time she took off the bra.

She plucked at the stocking and said, "You want these on or off?"

She was incredibly sexy and he was already hard but, hell, it was her break. He said, "You choose." She grinned and pushed him back on the bed. She pulled off his shirt and tugged his sweatpants and underwear down with one sharp tug. She crawled up him with a silly grin, like they were about to shoot Chris with water pistols or something. With her silky thigh highs still on. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. "You're hot, Brit."

Everyone Justin ever loved, all but one, Lance thought suddenly, they always cheat on him. Except one. And maybe Lance didn't count anymore since he sat there while Brit kissed him, rubbed herself against him. He kissed back, ran his hands over her lovely, firm ass and enjoyed every moment of it. She put the condom on him and said, "doggy-style" as she sprawled on the bed on hands and knees. He kissed her neck and did as she asked.

He did enjoy fucking Britney, he really did. It would be nice to do it more than once a year, but not nice enough to balance out the attendant madness. So he savored it, thrust hard and enjoyed her wet, tight sweetness. They collapsed in a heap and she giggled against his chest. "You're so much fun, Scoop." He patted her ass as he got off the bed and he showered and put his clothes back on, standing away from the bed where she still lay. She watched TV and said, "Hey, do me a favor? Spill more of that Jack on the dress." He did it and sat next to her on the bed. She patted his thigh right before she went into the bathroom and showered. She blew her hair dry and reapplied her make-up, she'd brought her purse in and he hadn't noticed. She mussed her make-up a little and rubbed some of the liquor on her arm before she put the dress back on.

She didn't discuss her alibi or anything like that with him, but she waved as she walked out and said, "Stop spilling your drink all over me, Bass, and then I end up watching TV while we wait for the dress to dry and it's all just such a mess." Lance didn't think Justin would buy it, but he knew Justin wouldn't do a thing about it. Lance was probably doing a wrong thing. Had done a wrong thing. He knew Justin was in love with Britney, he knew how much the relationship meant to Justin but he fell asleep before he could think about it more. And then it was morning and it didn't much matter, they had an album to promote and release.

*

Brit called him all the time, and occasionally complained about Justin. He always made her stop, said things about loyalty and the like. She would laugh and say, "Whatever," and start talking about other things. She loved Justin, she really did, it was just. It was a million things and she never told Lance more than one or two.

Justin, Lance knew, was in his pretty mansion, obsessing about the new album and talking to Wade about songs, and here was Brit standing on his porch. She said, "I like this house."

He said thanks and waved her in. She hooked her hands in his jeans and said, "I'm gonna dump him. After the holidays."

He reached for the bra strap peeking out of her tank top. "Please don't tell me these things. He's my friend." He snapped the strap against her shoulder. She didn't flinch.

He guessed she had to make up for the last time, for not saying anything he didn't want to answer, so she started before they even fucked. She licked her lips and said, "You don't care, who really cares that much when their ex gets dumped?"

He winced. "Did he tell you that?" He meant to say Justin wasn't his ex, he didn't think of Justin that way, but he wasn't drunk yet, and somehow that made it impossible to force out.

"He said a little. You know Justin." She unbuttoned his jeans and sunk to her knees. He kneaded his hands in her dry, brittle hair as she licked and sucked, her nails skittering over his ass and thighs. She was good at this, she'd never done it to him before and he thought, Justin, and stopped thinking because she was really good at this.

Her tongue flicked over the head of his dick right before she took all of it in her mouth and he tugged at her hair as he thrust in and out. She sucked and hummed a little and right when he was about to come she pulled back and licked her lips. "We have a lot of time, so, you know, just to let you know." She practically swallowed him then and he could barely stand up when he came. His knees buckled and he would have fallen but she held him up. She let go when his body stopped shaking. She stripped off her shirt and unhooked her bra as she walked up the stairs.

She turned around five steps up, her hands working on the buttons of her jeans. She said, "I promise, not the Dr. Seuss room. Your bedroom, okay?"

He nodded and followed her up, gathering up her clothes as she threw them on the floor. They did it twice on his bed, and she was loud when she didn't need to worry about the people in the next room. She rolled and sighed under him, arched for him and panted his name as he pushed into her.

She lay on the bed, sweaty and her hair all over the pillow. She looked prettier, he thought, than she normally did, when she was scrubbed clean and blissed out. He said, "You're hot."

She laughed and said, "How many girls you fucked?"

He ran his hand over her perfect stomach and said, "A lot. Twenty, maybe. Maybe more, I don't count."

He waited for the question about guys, but she just patted his head and closed her eyes. She said, "Now, you go down on me, we'll do this again and then I have to go back." He did what she said.

She showered before she left but didn't bother to dry her hair. She kissed his cheek and said, "That was a good work-out, honey." She waved as she drove away.

*

He stood at another party, watched Justin run his hand over his nearly shaved head and saw Brit walking up to Justin with a fake smile on her face. Because it was good publicity and because he did still care and she did still love him in her way and so they stood there and pretended to be in love. It made everything easier for both of them, according to Britney. To have each other as best friends. Lance rolled his eyes and drank more.

He walked by them on his way to a producer he wanted to talk to and heard a little of their conversation. A nice hissed little fight, perfect for any party. Justin said, "I know you were fucking around before and during and --"

Britney said, "And, of course, I won't mention the J word, the one that ends with a Y, right? Shut up, Justin." She smiled wide as a photographer walked near to them and she kissed his cheek. "You're drunk and you're being an ass."

Lance found the producer and smiled his Hollywood smile and started talking about work.

She knocked on the door of his room and walked in with a sweet smile. "Long time, no booty call," he said.

She laughed at him and said, "Whatever, like you're complaining." She pushed him against the door and looked up with a goofy smile. She always had fun, he'd give her that. She said, "You're my favorite escape."

"Isn't that a song?" He tried to sound cool, but she was already slipping her hand in his pants and stroking his dick.

"I think so," she said calmly. "Let's worry about it later." She spun them around and he fucked her against the door. She muffled her own cries this time, put her hand over her mouth and then bit down on his shoulder as he came.

She didn't take much time cleaning up, it didn't matter now. He knew she and Justin still had sex sometimes and he wondered if she would go to his room and do it on Justin's bed now. She looked over her shoulder as she adjusted her dress and got off the last of her remarks, white trash to the end, all of them. She said, "You're better at fucking girls than he is."

She kissed his cheek and left smelling like sex and sweat.

THE END.

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