Fresh haircut, shaped up goatee ... I was looking pretty damn good.  The sun was shining and I was cruising on my way home in my Escalade with 50 Cent booming when I barely heard the faint ringing of my cell phone.  That song is my jam.  I was so into it that I almost didn’t answer but when I saw who it was I snatched it up. “What’s up, baby?”

“Hi sweetie ... Whatcha doing?”

She sounded funny but I knew it was because she was nervous.  Tara was in New York talking to a publishing company about maybe doing some writing for their website.  I’m really proud of how far she’s come since she decided to write full-time, but I also really hate when she’s not with me.  I wanted her with me all the time which is kinda shocking because just about everybody gets on my nerves eventually.  Eveybody except her.

The stereo was so loud that I could hardly hear her so I turned it down.  “Thinking about you and what I’m gonna do to you when you get here ... I think you should order a special birthday cake for me.”

“For what?”

“For me to eat however I want,” I said in a low voice that gets her hot every time and I could practically see her face flush, struggling between being embarrassed and turned on.

There are two sides to my girl.  There’s the respectable, conservative woman who dresses in skirts and suits and linen pants and shit, straight out of J. Crew.  Then there’s my hootchie mama who wears booty shorts and thongs, little halter tops with her tits spilling out, lingerie that makes my mouth water and dresses that hug her ass just the right way.  I have yet to see anybody who has an ass like hers; I almost want to take out a fucking insurance policy on that onion. Right now she was in conservative Tara mode so I stopped fucking with her even though getting her flustered is so much fun.  Plenty of time to do that later.

“Stop!  I’m not alone, I can’t talk like that now,” she shushed me.

Told you I knew her ass inside and out.

“I mean, I’m alone for a second but I’m still at the Red Dress Ink offices right now, so don’t do that.  Not yet, anyway,” she added, sounding like she was smiling.  “We’ll talk about your cake, just not right now, sweetie.   I guess since it’s your birthday you get to eat whatever you want ... wherever you want.”

“You know exactly what I want to eat and where I want to eat it,” I replied, feeling my groin twitch.  Five seconds into a conversation and she gets me hard; this is so the fucking woman for me.  I tried to pay attention to the curvy street I was driving on before I killed myself. “So what’re you doing?”  I did my Budweiser commercial imitation.

She sighed like she was dreading what she was about to say.  “Umm ... don’t be mad, okay?”

There’s always gotta be some shit to fuck up my day.  “Why would I be mad?”  The speedometer was creeping up further and further; when I get mad I like to take it out on my cars.
Who’s gonna give me a fucking speeding ticket?

“You know you’re always mad about something, baby,” she was talking extra sweet and I knew whatever she had to tell me was going to be extra annoying.  “We have a teeny, tiny problem.”

I should’ve expected this shit.  Tomorrow’s my fucking birthday and Jive, Johnny and Pony and a bunch of people are throwing me a little something at a bar and I can’t fucking wait.
Actually, I can fucking wait -- the party’s not gonna be all that great, just the same old Hollywood bullshit, but it’s the first time in forever that me and my baby are gonna be together on my day.  Why wouldn’t I expect something to fuck it up?  Johnny had already pissed me off by dropping a bomb on me that I had to break to her, too.
But no fucking way was I gonna let that shit cause an argument between the two of us now.  We hadn’t spent my birthday together in two years and I was determined that she would with me at that cheesy party and all night long in our bed after, too.  But we might as well get the bad news out of the way first.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I tried to hurry her up and get it over with.  “I’m a pain in the ass.  So what do you have to tell me?”

“You know how I was supposed to meet with that editor today, right?  Well, some virus or bug thing came up on their website and now they can’t see me until tomorrow, so ... I might not be able to get there in time for the--”

She had to be shitting me.

“No way.  You’re f*cking around, right?  Don’t even say that to me,” I tried to stay calm but damn I wanted to yell..  “Can’t you work something out, like, can’t you meet with them later today?  Baby, I’m not having a party without you.”  I was well aware that I was whining like a baby but sometimes I felt like there was an organization set up with the sole purpose of fucking up our time together.

It never fucking failed.  We were working so hard to get back to where we once were and I spent literally years wearing her down so she could trust me again. Then some magazine would publish a lie or I’d just mention something in an interview or someone and she’d think it was shady and we were back to square one.  My brilliant video for Cry Me a River almost ruined everything, I had to kiss major ass to be forgiven for that.  But I’m nothing if not persistent and after the last few months of bliss we’d had I just about convinced her to permanently move to L.A. with me.  Now it was all going to go to shit after she heard the news I had for her.

“Justin, if I could meet with them tonight you know I would!  I want to be there too but this is for my career, or hopefully it will be.  I can’t just blow it off.  You know better than anyone how important it is to be professional.”

Wasn’t shit I could say to argue with that.  Besides the shitty news I was still waiting to tell her, I’d put off our own plans a million times to do something career-related and she had only ever complained maybe a total of five times.  Maybe.  One of our promises to each other when she agreed to try it again was for us to be supportive of each others’ career endeavors.  Fuck it, I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with, but I want her with me and even though I don’t like having to compromise I promised I would work on it.  She always compromised for me so I know the whole reason for the rule was me.  Therefore I couldn’t say what I really thought about Red Dress Ink and their fucking virus problem.

All I could do was grumble, “I know.”

I knew she couldn’t help it but I couldn’t believe she was gonna miss the party.  This shit just wasn’t happening.  The meeting was really important to her and I know she wanted to get a job writing for them because it meant she could work from anywhere but shit, I could hook her up with something else with, like, one phone call to Johnny.  But then she’d cut my balls off.

“Baby,” she whispered into the phone, “you know I love you so much ... I’m going to try to finish as early as possible and then I can get there really late, you know, so I can see you right after the party?  I could meet you at home ... wear something just for you ... with that cake you want ... won’t you like that?”

Well.  If I couldn’t have her at the party, I guess that wasn’t such an awful second choice.  But still.

“Yeah,” I said miserably, hitting the button to open the gates to my house and pulling into the driveway.  “So you think you could at least be here late?”  I turned off the car but didn’t get out; there were about five girls standing outside the gates and they really didn’t need to hear what I was about to say next.  Although knowing my fans they probably already heard the news before I did.

“I promise I’ll try to make the party but I’ll definitely be there before you go to bed,” was all she could give me.  It was better than nothing.

“Okay, well ... look,” I began, already wishing I hadn’t ever gotten out of bed that morning because this day was turning to shit, “I gotta tell you something too, and you have to promise not to be mad like I just did, okay?”  She sat there for awhile and I knew she was trying to figure out what I was going to say.

I waited.  Nothing.  “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here ... what is it?”  She sounded suspicious and it made me a little mad.  She was always so fucking sure I was going to tell her something like I cheated on her and it made me  want to break shit, I swear, but I kept it together.  I told her I wouldn’t let her down when she gave me another a chance and I won’t, but her always thinking the worst is fucking insulting.  We’re probably the two most jealous people on earth which means we’re always suspicious.

Leaning my head back against the headrest, I closed my eyes and prepared for the explosion.  “Johnny just told me he invited Britney.”

There.  I said it.  Whatever happened, at least I wasn’t hiding any secrets.

I heard the heels of her shoes clicking like she was walking really fast down a hallway, and she was breathing hard too.  This didn’t sound good.  I waited until she spoke again.
“Britney?” she hissed, keeping her voice low although the fact that she was pissed came through loud and clear.  “Are you making some lame attempt at a joke here?”

As much as I wished I was kidding, it was so true.  “I didn’t have anything to do with it, I swear!  He invited her because ... you know, she’s with Jive and WEG and ... fuck, I don’t know why he did it.  We just got into a huge argument over it and I told him it was a stupid idea.  But she probably won’t even come anyway ... she knows it’s over.”

Actually, she didn’t know it was over, or refused to admit it.  Every once in awhile she would call me just to ‘say hi’ or if we were in the same place she’d try flirt a little.  It was right there for the taking -- all it would take to fuck her would be a grin, even after I finally started talking shit about her, but I never told T any of that because I’d lose the little bit of ground I gained with her trust-wise.  So I was really praying that Brit wouldn’t come to the party because I didn’t want to see her or talk to her, especially with press around.  I just wanted Tara there.  Although when I thought about it, it would’ve been kinda cool to see how things would go down if they were both there.  Tara’s the most well-mannered, nicest girl ever but she has a real nasty side to her that comes out like once a year.  She turns into this psycho and she did it one time before with Britney and ever since then Britney hasn’t come anywhere near me when she knows Tara’s in the same state.

Some birthday party this was turning out to be.

After I finished my pathetic attempt to calm her down, I took a deep breath and waited for her to start yelling, but fuck me because she didn’t.  In fact she was totally calm and collected, which sort of scared me.

“Okay,” she said, all cool.

Okay.  That’s it?  Okay?  I’m no fucking punk, but the few times Tara’s been really pissed at me, and those times almost always involved Britney, she tried to kick my ass like she was a dude.  I’m a little bit scared of her, I’ll admit it.

Things weren’t happening like I had them planned in my mind so I atarted babbling, all confused.  “You’re not mad?  You’re not mad at me?”

She actually snickered.  “Are you gonna do anything that I should be mad about?”  Was ... was she making jokes?  I felt like I was in some fucking alternate universe.

I laughed at her joke, maybe a little too hard.  If she wasn’t pissed I didn’t want to do anything to set her off.  “No!  At this point I’d rather fly to New York and be with you.  Fuck the party,” I told her, meaning every word.  “I barely know half the people coming and the other half are people I probably don’t even want to see.  You already know that.  I’ll probably sit with Momma all night eating beef jerky and getting drunk.”

White Trash is the theme for my party.  Me and Trace came up with it one day and nobody else seemed to think it was that great but it’s my birthday, right? T wasn’t crazy about it at first either but then again she’s the one who calls me a redneck all the damn time so she kinda put the idea in my head.  So my mom arranged for party favors like forty ounces of beer, beef jerky, Spam, shit like that.  I think it’s genius, but then Tara pointed out that Pharrell and some other people I’ve been hanging with lately -- she politely didn’t say Black people -- probably wouldn’t come.  I hadn’t thought about that, and then I realized she was right and ever since then I’ve been sort of blah about it.

“Eww,” she said, and I could see her wrinkling her cute nose.  “Only you would come up with some shit like beef jerky for a party.  Anyway ... I trust you, Justin, because if you do anything not only will Access Hollywood and Entertainment Tonight put you on blast, but Sasha will beat your ass for me.  So make sure you remember that when Alyssa and Jenna and that other trick come rolling in, okay?”

I knew her psycho side would come out eventually.  No wonder she was so calm -- if there was anybody more psycho than her when it came to me, it was her lunatic friend Sasha.
Technically she wasn’t even invited to my party but since she and JC are fucking attached at the hip and she’s Tara’s best friend -- despite my many tries to get her out of my life forever -- I couldn’t keep her out.  Although I did spend a little time considering ways to bribe Sexual Chocolate to keep her away.  But they like her so it didn’t work.

I tried my best to sound like the most faithful, loyal boyfriend in the world, which isn’t a big stretch because I’m pretty much addicted to that girl.  “You can have a fucking PI follow my ass around, there’s not gonna be anything to catch.  I want you there,” I kept slipping back into that annoying whining no matter how hard  I tried not to but shit, if you can’t spend your birthday with the person you’re in love with, what’s the point?

I had another idea.  “What if you fly on a chartered plane?  I can hook that up!”

For the last couple of years I flew on private planes as much as possible unless it was an overseas flight or completely unavoidable to fly private.  She used to bitch at me saying I wasted money doing it, but then we flew regular first-class on a commercial flight one time right before we broke up and she never said shit about it again.  People stared at us like we were Michael fucking Jackson or something and even the fucking pilot kept peeking out to look at me.  I hate feeling like an animal in a zoo, so I pay extra and fly private.  It’s totally worth the costs and having her at my party was definitely worth whatever I had to pay but I knew she wouldn’t go for it.

Sure enough.  “No, Justin, I’m not flying alone on some little plane ... I’ll get there before you go to bed, and if I have to miss your party then I’m gonna make it up to you so good that you won’t even care, okay?  I promise, baby, you’re gonna love it when you see me.”

Something was weird; I didn’t know what and I didn’t think she was being shady or anything, but something just wasn’t right.  Tara is sweet and trusting and shit, but her not giving a fuck that I was gonna be at my birthday party with three girls I used to date, two of whom I even briefly lived with, wasn’t normal.  Maybe she was distracted because of her job shit?  Hell if I knew why she wasn’t mad or threatening to hold out on sex -- instead she was promising me some good shit when she got into town.

So going with that last thought, I decided to stop worrying about why she wasn’t mad.  I wanted her at the party but if she didn’t make it, I could go home, put on some Jill Scott or something else that gets her hot and wait for her to make it up to me.

All I had to do was get through the party.

 Happy Birthday Baby

~*~

Ya-fucking-hoo.

“Go Juju, it’s yo birthday, we gon’ party like it’s yo’ birthday--”

“Will you shut the fuck up, man?”  I snapped at Trace, who was already on my last fucking nerve.

We had been at Dublin’s where my party was being held for almost an hour and I was about three seconds away from getting the hell out of there.  Nobody I normally hung out with was there, just random celebrities: Randy Jackson, the black dude from American Idol; Robbie Williams who’s cool but isn’t exactly my running buddy; and one of those girls from that TV show Seventh Heaven.  Even that guy from Tara’s favorite show was there, Jordan Catalano from My So-Called Life.  I have no fucking idea who invited him or why he even came, we don’t know each other but whatever.  Dude seemed cool but I don’t even know his real name, just what he was called on the show.

Pink and Nick Lachey came so I actually had some real friends there, and Kelly and Aimee Osbourne came too.  They’re both cool with me  but I get the feeling sometimes they’re angling to hook up so I try not to get too close, especially since Sharon asked me to fucking marry one of them right in front of Tara.  And I don’t even want to talk about her making me kiss her fucking dog.  Can you believe that shit?  Thank God Tara was so drunk that she didn’t hear the marriage thing because MTV was filming and I really didn’t need her getting ghetto on camera.

Even though I kinda like it when she gets ghetto because it only happens maybe once every couple of months.

To make matters worse, before we even got to the party Tara Reid showed up at my house because apparently Trace took it upon himself to invite her to ride over with us.  Nice of him to ask me, since it’s my house, my car and my party.  I don’t want to sound like I don’t like her because she’s all right but you can’t exactly have a coherent conversation with her.  Me and JC party like fucking rock stars -- shit, we are rock stars -- but this girl is  constantly fucked up.  Something about a tipsy girl hanging on you can be sexy -- well, something about my Tara getting lit and leaning or hugging on me and sucking on my neck is sexy -- but when the girl is leaning on you because she can’t walk and is blowing chunks, it ain’t the same.
Even JC got disgusted with her, which really isn’t saying much since he gets sick of people even quicker than I do, but he thinks she’s pretty trashy.  So do I but Trace thinks she’s hot shit.  Figures.

When we were driving over she kept running her fucking mouth, babbling on about some shit that I wasn’t even listening to and her voice was getting on my nerves so I smoked a little something to keep me from stressing.  The whole car was filled with smoke by the time we were done, even Mom took a hit.  Everybody except for Lonnie, he never fucks with that stuff.  We ended up having to drive around for a few minutes with the windows down so we wouldn’t look like Method Man and Redman coming out of a smoke-filled bus.

I stood around outside and let the press take some pictures, talked to my boy Pat O’Brien, then went up to my big bash.  It was the most boring night of my life, I swear.  The party was so boring that I had even sort of been looking forward to Sasha showing up just to have somebody to fuck with; you know how pathetic that is?  The sad part is that she and JC weren’t anywhere around when we got there.  The even sadder part is that Alyssa was.

As soon as I said hi to everyone, I sulked in the corner of a booth and played with the shit that was in the goody bags for the party.  I made sure to grab one because I wanted Tara to have some of the stuff in it, like the little thong and boy shorts from Frederick’s, and the massage oil.  Even though I bought her a bunch of that Kiehl’s beauty shit not that long ago, she likes it a lot and I wanted her to have that too. The tampon case would at least be good for a laugh.  I was twisting the shorts around, picturing her wearing them for me later that night when Alyssa crammed into the booth beside me.

“Happy birthday, Justin!” she leaned over and gave me a huge kiss on the cheek and all I wanted to do was wipe off the spot where her lips had touched me.

Alyssa was a nice girl but she was just someone to hang out with last summer when I needed a distraction.  I was working on Tara, trying to get her to give us another serious shot but she was still spent a lot of time in Maryland and insisted that we didn’t get too serious too fast.  So she came up with this big idea that we both should still explore our options and date other people while we dated each other.  Needless to say I wasn’t thrilled with her exploring options with anyone except for me, but I was willing to go along with whatever she said to prove that she was the only one I wanted.  It’s still the dumbest idea I ever heard.

Right after that I met Alyssa at some party and she more than made her interest in me known.  I’ve seen some pressed girls in my day, but celebrities can usually keep their cool.  Not her -- she hung out with me when I did various things and I just let her.  I went to a premiere for the new X-Box game and she tagged along; I golfed and she actually caddied for me.  Like, she fucking carried my clubs, insisted on it even though Eric was with me.  The golf bag was bigger than her entire body but she made a big deal about it so I let her -- I can be a dick but I wouldn’t let a woman carry my shit for me.  But she wanted to bad, so I let her.

Some tabloids got a few pictures of us leaving my house a few times when she dropped by and we were leaving to go golfing or whatever she was following me to do, and we even went to a few movies, but I didn’t ever consider us to be dating.  I made that clear to her too, I told her I wasn’t looking for a relationship in any shape or form and I even told her about T but she claimed to be fine with us hanging out.  I didn’t believe that shit for a second but Tara said it was good for us to see other people so we could be sure that we wanted to settle down for awhile.  Not settle down as in marriage even though we’d casually talked about it over the years, but settle down into being monogamous again.  So I pretended to be date when I really just sort of let Alyssa follow me around occasionally  and then I could honestly tell her that I wasn’t feeling anybody and wanted her back.  Finally she started coming around and I cut the Alyssa zero loose, but we were still ‘friends’ so somebody decided it would be okay to invite her.  I don’t have to tell you that I wasn’t consulted about my guest list.  Britney’s invitation proves that and Lord knows I was grateful she hadn’t shown up.  If God was on my side she wouldn’t, either.

When I saw Alyssa I just showed my teeth, faking a smile and thanked her, still fiddling with the shorts I could practically see Tara’s ass in.  I loved her in casual, comfortable stuff; she didn’t need to wear skimpy, complicated stuff to show off that fucking brick house body.  In contrast, Alyssa was way overdressed as always: her white vest with no shirt underneath and matching pants weren’t so bad, but when you added the stupid flower in her hair it was overkill.  She wore another dumbass flower to my album release party and then posed for every photographer in the free world, kissing a picture of my album cover.  And she thought I’d want to be serious with her after that?  Britney’s about the dullest knife in the drawer but even she knew better than to do some shit like that and she hasn’t been famous that long.  Alyssa’s ass should’ve known better.

And I hated when girls brought along a fucking posse for support.  I think the whole cast of Charmed was there and they weren’t invited, either.  Alyssa knew we had been over for a long time and was angling fort another shot, but brought her girls along for support in case things didn’t work out.  Smart move, because she wasn’t hanging with me tonight.
She slid closer to me, lightly touching my arm.  Everything in me wanted to move away but even I’m not that rude.  Most of the time.  “So why aren’t you dancing?”

I shrugged, looking everywhere in the room except at her.  “I will later, I guess.  I’m just taking everything in, saying hi, the usual shit.  Why don’t you go dance?”  If that wasn’t an obvious hint I don’t know what was, but she didn’t get it.

“I was waiting for you,” she purred in my ear, and this time I couldn’t stop myself from jerking away.  “Let’s go!”  She said, way too excited, and tried to pull me up but I resisted.

“I don’t feel like it now,” I said less politely.  Tonight was not the night for me to be Mr. Considerate, not that I ever really am, and she was about to get a big dose of my true feelings if she didn’t get to stepping.  “You go dance with ... him.” I pointed at Robbie Williams, standing over by the bar throwing back shots like he was getting paid by the glass.

Then she annoyed me even more by trying to be coy and flirty.  I hate that shit.  “But I wanna dance with you,” she cooed, completely transparent.  “Let’s go show them--”
“Timberlake!  Happy fucking birthday!”  Pink strode up and rubbed my head, making me smile.  It was nice to know someone was genuinely wishing me a good day without a motive.
“You done your twenty-two shots yet?”  She never changes and I love it; she’s a true original.

I reached for the glass sitting in front of me and lifted it to her.  “I’m working on it,” I told her, then swallowed the whiskey in one gulp.  Immediately I signaled for a refill -- I needed on with Alyssa hanging around.

To prove my point, she tried to get me up again.  “Justin, I wanna dance,” she whined and tugged on my arm again and that did it.  Maybe it’s because of fans pulling on me when I don’t want them to, but I don’t like my personal space being invaded and I especially don’t like being touched if I’m not in the mood.

“Can’t you see I’m talking to somebody?”  I practically yelled.  Yelling isn’t as bad as it sounds, because the music was loud in there but I would’ve done it anyway.  She got the idea that I wasn’t trying to hang with her that night and looked all forlorn.  Look, I told her almost two months ago that it was over, did I have to get a plane to sky write it?

She must’ve looked crushed because one of her co-stars, either Holly or that freaky chick who was engaged to Marilyn Manson once upon a time, don’t ask me which one because I’ve never even watched the show, materialized and I was so grateful that I almost kissed her.

“Alyssa, can you come over here for a sec?  I need you,” she said smoothly, but I totally recognized the Operation Save Your Best Friend From Humiliation in action here and I was extremely grateful for it, no matter how it came about because it got her away from me.

I ended up kicking it with Pink for a little while, trying to amuse myself a little since there wasn’t much else interesting going on.  To my surprise I wasn’t having such a shitty time even though things could’ve been much better. Just as things were somewhat looking up, Brit showed up.

I try to be as respectful of Brit as I can, considering.  I know it doesn’t seem like it with the CMAR video and all, but the only reason I started dropping hints about what really went down between us was because everybody automatically assumed that I was the bad guy, when she was totally responsible for the break up.  If I’m gonna be honest, I did my own dirt.  Brit always knew Tara was still first in my heart, I just knew that there was no way in hell she would give me the time of day except as a friend and even that took a lot of work.  But Brit was right there all supportive and sympathetic and shit, she’s hot, pretty much worshipped the ground I walked on and wasn’t afraid to say so.  After the issues T and I started to have towards the end, it was nice to be in control and do what I want without being questioned about it unless I went crazy with some groupies and whatever else I am, I try to respect my girlfriends and keep the cheating low.  Brit wasn’t my first choice but it was better than being alone; I couldn’t deal with trying to build something new when I was still in love with T and Brit knew what goes along with being with me.

Things were just easy.  I ain’t saying that makes it right, but it all sort of fell into place and before I knew it we were the new “It” couple.  Part of me loved her in my own way -- she’s sweet, stroked my ego and loved the hell out of me too -- and I still love her, again, in my own way.  Knowing that I got to fuck the girl that just about every man in the world wanted helped, too.  So even though I sort of used her, I cared about her a lot and our relationship was real in its own way.

The thing is, it wasn’t like it was with Tara.  That’s what I never understood -- you would think I would be happy with the allegedly sexiest girl in the world saying she loved only me and never giving me any shit but I wasn’t.  If I flew in to see Brit or arranged for us to spend time together she went crazy, all happy but it wasn’t the same.  Someone kissing my ass isn’t always enough, believe it or not. No matter how much every guy thinks it’s the perfect fantasy it gets boring after awhile.  I missed being called on my shit -- Tara kept me in check if my ego got out of control or if I got nasty with people who didn’t always deserve it.  I missed us arguing over dumb little things -- her friends, my friends, both of us flirting too much -- even something as silly as me leaving my dirty drawers around.  Fuck it, I just missed her but I didn’t have anyone to blame but myself.

So yeah, dating a world-renowned sex symbol had its benefits but you just can’t help who you’re in love with.  The fucked up part is that I did end up falling in love with Brit, not the same way I loved Tara but in love just the same, and she fucked me over.  With my best friend, no less.  That old saying about what goes around comes around is the fucking truth.  Bitch tried to give me some bullshit line about how she was confused and needed someone and I wasn’t around enough, something I practically invented!  The whole time we were together I kept thinking how cool it was to be with someone who knows what it’s like to be busy and can deal with not being attached at the hip, and in the end it turned out that she understood that even less than Tara.

No matter what problems T and I had, she never bitched about my responsibilities.  And as much as I liked having space from Brit -- she tended to get on my nerves if I was around her for more than like two days -- I never got tired of T.  One of the best things about us was that she would come with me almost everywhere so I never had to miss her and I never got sick of it either.  You really don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone, I swear.  Knowing she was at my shows and on the bus with me, knowing I had someone to eat with, talk to about whatever was bugging me and chill with after the hype of a concert of party made all the difference in the world, especially since I know she was only there for me.  Not because I’m a celebrity or to meet other famous people -- even though she sometimes got a kick out of meeting a few of them -- but simply be with me whether we were sitting in silence watching a movie or if I was practicing my guitar or writing music, she didn’t care as long as we were together.  She just likes me, and that’s really fucking hard to come by.

Everybody always seems like they want something from me but all she wanted was me.  Some of our best times were when we were alone in a hotel room or in my bunk, just being alone.  If I didn’t want to party she didn’t give a shit; she preferred us chilling together, talking and thinking.  When I first starting getting serious with her she told me that she wanted to stay low-key and private and she meant that shit.  I never doubted that it was me she wanted, not a member of ‘N Sync.  That’s why fucking it up and losing her made it doubly hard, so now that I was finally getting her back I made sure to appreciate her love for me and reciprocate every chance I got, something I slacked off on.  Never again, though,

I guess I got lost in my thoughts again because when I finally returned to the reality Brit was standing over me, this huge smile on her face.  “Happy Birthday, J!”

Talk about deja vu.

“Thanks, Brit,” I gave her a half smile and went to grab another shot glass, but they were all gone.  Great.  Since I’m extremely resourceful, I took the forty ounce beer out of the goody bag and twisted the cap off.

It’s all about adapting to your circumstances, people.

As I drank, I took a good look at her.  The last couple of times I ran into her, she looked kinda beat down.  Tonight was no exception, her hair was all messy and she just looked high or something.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but she’s the kind of girl who gets fucked up and falls all over the place and I hear she’s been doing that a lot lately.  She and Tara Reid should really hook up and party.  She had that same hopeful look on her face that Alyssa did.  Guess she noticed Tara wasn’t around.

“How you doing?”  I asked politely even though I didn’t care.  “You having fun?”

She took my question as an invitation to sit down, which it wasn’t.  “I guess,” she sighed, then launched into a long description of her life that I wasn’t listening to.  More interested in polishing off my beer than anything else, I nodded here and there and scanned the room, praying Mom would come rescue me.  She’s no big Britney fan.  No such luck, so I sat and drank and just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the DJ put on one of my songs.

People call me vain and maybe I am in a way but who wants to dance to their own shit at their party?  I could just imagine how the papers would say I ordered that they only play my music at the damn thing.  The only good thing was they didn’t play Cry Me a River or Like I Love You, because even I’m sick of hearing those songs.  They put on Right for Me and I couldn’t help bobbing my head a little.  That song reminds me of my baby because when I wrote it she was sitting in the studio with me and she had on this little dress because it was so hot outside and the shit just flowed out of me onto the paper from there.

All caught up in thought of her legs in that dress, high from the weed and drunk from all the shit I kept drinking, I didn’t even pay attention when Britney moved in even closer and put her head right next to mine, almost on my shoulder.  Either I was more intoxicated than I’ve ever been or I saw my baby out on the dance floor.  No more drinking for me tonight because when I saw her at home I was tearing her ass up.  I wanted her so bad that I was seeing visions.

Visions of her in a tight black shirt.  Not even really a shirt, it was more like ... fucking lingerie.  Shit, this was my imagination because this vision had on just about everything I loved to see her in:  the top had little spaghetti-straps and her shoulders were bare, but it was pretty much like a corset almost.  You know, like it was basically a lacy push-up bra with some mesh underneath so it wasn’t totally see through, and the hem of the shirt or whatever you want to call it didn’t even come close to the top of her skirt.  Which wasn’t even a skirt, either, more like a Band-Aid in a denim color that barely covered that juicy ass, leaving her thick legs exposed down to those fucking go-go boots that a stripper would put on...

That ass.  I may have been drunk and high but I’d know that ass any fucking where, and that was my baby’s ass.

Aww, shit, yeah.

I wasn’t seeing things.

It was her, wearing skimpy shit that I loved, dancing to one of my songs in the middle of the floor at my fucking birthday party, hair all curly and wild because she was swinging it everywhere.

What was she doing here?  What happened to her ... what was it that she had to do again?

Basically she was wearing exactly what I liked, dancing exactly the way I liked her to dance for me in private, even her hair looked like it did after one of our marathon fucking sessions.  And if  all that didn’t make the blood leave my brain and rush to my other head, that was taken care of when I noticed her dancing with someone else.

Fuck.

She was dancing with another girl, nothing too freaky but they were dancing together.  I knew she was drunk and that made most of her inhibitions disappear.  My girl was putting on a show for me and it fucking worked.

Unfortunately the other girl was Sasha but the overall effect still worked.  Sasha’s the person I like least in the universe but even I can’t deny that she’s pretty and has a banging body.
Not that I’d ever touch her.  I can just appreciate the esthetics.  So seeing the two of them wasted and sort of teasing me and JC, who was standing nearby drooling as bad as me, made my vision go all hazy and I didn’t think I could speak.

So I watched the show.

Britney fucking who?

~*~

Out of all of the songs they could’ve picked they were playing the one that probably matched exactly how I was feeling. Big, big plans had already been swirling around in my head regarding Tara: different positions and touching her spot ... you get the idea. In fact, if I tilted my head a little I might be able to see her spot. That was the shortest fucking thing I’d ever seen her in -- in public, anyway -- and just like the lyrics, she was shaking her ass and had every man in there watching.

Shit.

I could still hear Britney talking but I was in a fog, staring at Tara like no one else was around. It took every bit of strength I had to not get up, go over to the dance floor and grind myself into her. Fuck who was watching. I held back not because of Britney, but because I wanted to see how her little game was gonna play out.

The whole thing was a set up -- she knew she’d be here. The minute she started talking that bullshit about not being able to come should’ve raised a red flag; Tara’s the sappiest, most sentimental girl ever. We’re perfect for each other because we’re both obsessed with anniversaries of the first day we, like, ate a damn sundae and stupid shit like that. I should’ve known she wouldn’t skip my party even for an interview. It’s not like she’s been pounding the pavement looking for work for the past few years, you know? A missed job interview wouldn’t have made a bleep on her radar screen not that long ago.

Enough about the interview.  Just like the song said she was working her thang just right for me, had it positioned in the perfect direction for me to see it all and I watched every second of it with my tongue hanging out of my mouth. I was so into her that I forgot all about Brit, who ended up having to punch my arm to get my attention.

“Justin! Hello, I’m talking!” Just from the sound of her voice I knew she was pouting but it still didn’t make me look at her and Tara watched it all, smiling all sexy when she saw my eyes glued to her. Probably did it on purpose to fuck with Britney, not that I cared. It was kinda funny.

“JUSTIN?” Jesus.

“What?!” I didn’t yell as loud as her, but my mind was otherwise occupied. “Shit!”

“You’re not even looking at me! I was saying that I was so glad that you invited me so we could talk. I wanna tell you...”

Blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah. Blah.

That’s all I heard as Right for Me segued into (And She Said) Take Me Now, something that got my attention. Janet’s a big sore spot between me and T because of those rumors that we hooked up last summer. I half expected Tara to walk off the dance floor but instead she kept twisting her hips and she turned directly to me, mouthing the beginning words of the song.

“Whatcha waiting for? I know you’re watching me ... c’mon boy, take me now,” she lip-synched, looking into my eyes.

My dick got even harder, something I didn’t think was possible, and I blindly felt around until I found my beer and finished it off, still watching her repeat the words. Then she subtly beckoned for me to come over, a movement so slight that I doubt anyone would’ve noticed. But fuck everyone else, I saw it and it was all the encouragement I needed. Without so much as a ‘see ya later’ to Brit, I got up and practically ran to my baby, knocking people out of the way until she was in my arms, her head on my shoulder and my face buried in her neck.

Oh yeah.

Holding her while I bend down and rub my face on her neck and breathe in her smell is one of my favorite places to be. She knows it too, because even though she didn’t stop dancing she opened her arms and we wrapped ourselves around each other like we were alone in my bedroom.

Finally she spoke to me. “Happy birthday, Randall,” she turned her head to talk directly into my ear and her breath tickled me. Shit turned me on. “Are you surprised?”

“Let’s see ... am I?” I answered sarcastically. I needed to keep a closer eye on her; I thought I knew her inside and out, but if she arranged this whole thing without me catching on maybe I couldn’t read her as well as I thought I could.

“When I saw you dancing I thought I had alcohol poisoning, like maybe I had passed out and was dreaming,” I kissed the side of her neck and held her tighter. “You gave me the best gift I could’ve ever gotten, ever. Do you know how much I love you? Do you know how glad I am to see you? Do you know how much I wanna slide my hand up your skirt and--”

“Shhh,” she put a finger over my lips and I sucked it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. Her eyes fluttered and I pushed my erection into her as hard as I could, wishing I could pull her skirt up and do it right then and there.

Still rubbing against her, I let her finger slip from between my lips. She loves when I talk dirty and maybe if I talked dirty enough we could get out of there and be alone that much faster.
“Just imagine what my tongue could be doing ... and not to your fingers, either,” I licked my lips to emphasize my point, and she sort of sighed and leaned her body into mine even more. I love when she makes that noise; usually she does it when we’re alone and I’m touching her just right. Or right after we’re done, when she’s worn out and content. It’s her happy sigh -- the one that lets me know I’m giving her everything she needs.

I was going to hear that sigh about five hundred times more before the night was over.

“I got your cake,” she was still whispering in my ear, the best and worst thing she could’ve done. All I could think about was smearing cake all over her and licking off every last bit of it ... as slowly as possible. “How much longer do we have to stay?” Her tongue flicked lightly against my neck, letting me know she was as ready as I was for me to have my cake and eat it too.

Checking my watch, I muttered a curse. “A little while longer ... it’s only like midnight and they haven’t even brought out the cake yet,” I looked around for Mom to see if we could speed things along. Since I wasn’t exactly being a social butterfly, I doubt if anyone would notice if I left anyway, right? But I couldn’t find her anywhere and to be honest I didn’t want to move from my oh-so-comfortable position anyway. She’d show up sooner or later. “Not too long, I promise.” Man, if I ever intended to keep a promise, that was it.

Her tongue kept doing nasty things to my ear and neck. “But I got a better cake for you,” she was totally fucking with me and I loved it. “It’s all chocolate with this whipped cream frosting ... imagine all the things you can do with the whipped cream. Whatever you want, remember?”

I remembered, all right. Fuck! I don’t think I ever wanted to leave someplace so bad in my life. So of course she gave me more incentive to toss her over my shoulder and run for the car. “I knew Lynn and Trace were gonna be at your house so I got us a suite at that funky hotel, the Chateau Marmont? So we can be as messy and loud and crazy as we want without worrying about people hearing.”

Yet another reason to add to the list of why I adored this woman. “Why’re you torturing me like this?” I moaned while she ran her hand over my back, tickling me.

She smiled an evil little smile. “‘Cause I can.” There was no comeback for that, so I shut up and just held her, so glad she was there.

I love that girl so fucking much that sometimes it blows my mind. It’s not like I ever forget it, but there are times when she’ll do something to surprise me or just even fucking smile at me and I get this twisting in my stomach and my heart flutters fast and I realize that she’s the one for me. I still can’t believe that I know what true love is, well I don’t even know what it is, but I know I feel it for her and I don’t care what happens, I’ll never let her get away from me again.

“I’m hungry for your lovin’ ... show me how ... got me working honey,” she sung softly in my ear while she worked her hips against me to the beat. If she kept it up I was gonna explode in my pants right there on the dance floor, so I pulled away a little, not too far but just enough to keep her hips away from my danger zone.

She didn’t like that. “J ... what’re you doing?” She went to pull my hips back against her but I shook my head.

“You gotta slow down or I’m gonna end up with a stain,” I glanced down at the bulge in my pants and she smirked. I knew she’d like hearing that shit.

“So my plan worked .... You’re not thinking about your harem now, are you?”

No wonder her ass wasn’t jealous! And to think I go around telling people how sweet and kind she is ... Tara’s as sneaky as I am. Then again, I could totally see Sasha coming up with that plan, its right up her alley. But I really didn’t give a fuck whose bright idea it was as long as it meant she was here in my arms. And she was right; I had completely forgotten that Brit and the others were there.

The beat dropped towards the end of the song, her favorite part, and Tara got all into the music. I kept dancing but looked around to see if Brit was still watching. I couldn’t see her but I did see Alyssa and her friends standing at the edge of the dance floor giving us the evil eye. Tara saw it too and actually waved at them, making me laugh, which made Alyssa’s face kinda crumple up and she spun around, obviously heading out.

Bye bye bye.

I grabbed her hand; she was still waving like they were long lost friends. “You’re so evil,” I told her. “Didn’t I tell you to be nice? You can’t be as nasty as I am, baby ... you’re the nice one and I’m the motherfucker. Otherwise we won’t have any friends.”

“You don’t need friends like her,” she said, still shooting a nasty look at Alyssa and her retreating posse. Then she turned her attention to Britney who was getting up from where I had been sitting and, I noticed, avoiding looking at us. “Or her. What was she saying to you?”

I shrugged. “I can honestly say I wasn’t listening to a word she said. Both her and Alyssa came over to me talking shit and I just sat there the whole time picturing you wearing these shorts they put in my goody bag. I ignored Britney but Alyssa fucking pissed me off so much that I yelled at her.” That got her attention fast, just like I knew it would.

Totally excited, she hit me in the chest. “You did? You are so my baby,” she gave me a big, juicy kiss and sucked on my lower lip for a second, teasing me because she pulled away.
“What’d you say to her?” While I was concentrating on getting her lips back onto mine she was only interested in me yelling at Alyssa and that was probably the last thing on my list of things to do but if it got her mind off of that and back onto me, I’d do it.

“She wanted to dance or some shit and I told her no but she fucking wouldn’t stop asking, and then Pink came over to talk and she still kept trying to get me to dance with her so I just finally was like ‘I’m fucking talking to somebody’ or something,” I tried hard to remember what happened but between the significant amount of alcohol I’d already consumed and the feel of her body in my arms, my mind wasn’t exactly focused.

“Then ... I think she just left. She must have,” I thought harder while I slipped my hands down to rest just below her ass on her bare legs, “because then Brit sat down and started yakking. But when I saw you I just fucking got up and left without saying anything. I don’t know where the hell she went.”

It’s mean and everything, but I wanted to laugh when I told her what happened. Not too many guys would get up and walk away from Britney Spears in mid-sentence, you know? But after the shit she pulled on me I didn’t feel bad about it for a second and I’m normally not that cold -- not when it comes to my girlfriends, even ex-girlfriends -- but Brit fucked me over in a huge, extra special way. She’s lucky I even speak to her ass.

I was all ready to let that topic go so we could find Mom, cut the cake that had a big picture of me looking like I was black on it and I could get to what I considered my real present, but Tara was craning her neck around me. Nosy ass was trying to see where Britney went. I grabbed her face and forced her to look at me. “Would you stop looking at her? It’s my birthday, why do you wanna look at her?” There I went with the whining again, but fuck it, I wanted attention.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to look all serious but I could see her eyes still darting around, and I blew out a frustrated breath.

Sometimes I wish Britney would retire from show business and disappear so she wouldn’t ever be an issue between us. Even just for the nosy factor, you know? Because Tara wouldn’t relax until she knew exactly where Brit was and could see everything she did, so thank God she saw her almost right away.

“Look! She’s leaving!” She pointed over my shoulder and I turned around to see Britney’s back -- or a glimpse of her back, since Big Rob was right behind her.

I guess if I was a nice guy, or if I was gonna pretend to be a caring guy, I’d say something like I fleetingly thought of going over to say good-bye. But I’m not a sensitive guy, and I was glad she was leaving. Now that she and Alyssa were gone the only thing that could possibly throw a wrench into the rest of the night was Jenna, who was still hanging around somewhere. But apparently one day when I wasn’t around, Tara and Jenna had a private little talk and Jenna moved out that same day and has never been anything other than professional to me since so I doubted that she’d be a problem. I had already told Tara I was gonna ask her to leave right away as soon as we started talking again, but like the next fucking day T took care of that shit. I don’t know what the fuck was said but they aren’t even enemies or anything, I mean they’re not best friends but T doesn’t trip when she’s around or anything, no jealousy or nothing. Which really makes me wonder what happened.

But right after Jenna left which was within like an hour, we went shopping for a new bed, sheets and all kinds of shit because she didn’t want to touch or lay on anything that I’d been on with another woman. Funny how she only got new shit for the bedroom and bathroom, considering she knows how I like to have sex all over the place. But you think I was gonna mention that? I got her the best fucking mattress and bedroom suit we could find and would’ve even assembled it if it made her happy. Because as far as I was concerned, once she kicked Jenna out it was only a matter of time and logistics before she moved in permanently, no matter how long she stalled. I told her to get to packing or whatever and now she’s pretty much moved in but it’s time to make it official.

I am so fucking whipped.

From time to time, I still try to find out what she said to Jenna but nobody’s talking. Usually I can get Tara to blab anything to me, and I mean anything, but apparently this is considered girl shit that she can’t discuss. I know that big idea came from that bitch Sasha. But whatever, the two women that Tara hates the most in the world are gone and now I’m really happy because I can see my mom so I’m about to get this party started and over with so I can get my own party started, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

My mom came over once I got her attention and I wasn’t surprised to find out that she had been in on the secret all along. She even helped Tara get us the hotel room and after she got a good look at how I was wrapped around my girl, she got everyone’s ass in gear and we all gathered around so everyone could drunkenly sing happy birthday to me and I cut the cake real fast, took some pictures and was ready to bounce.

But Tara wanted to eat cake.

“Just one piece,” she begged, taking a plate and a fork from my mom. I couldn’t believe it. I was hard as a fucking piece of steel and she wanted to eat cake?

I ground my teeth together and tried to stay calm. “We got our own cake, T, c’mon!” I hadn’t seen her in a week and she was practically naked. She had a cake, a whipped cream cake, ready and waiting for me to spread all over her and she wanted to stay there and eat a homemade looking cake surrounded by fucking Twinkies?

My life ... I swear it fucking sucks.

She stuffed a piece in her mouth. “I’ll hurry up, I swear.” I just watched her, mad and turned on all at the same time because she had some frosting clinging to the edge of her mouth. Like I was mesmerized, I leaned in pretending like I was gonna kiss her when I was really about to lick that frosting off and just before I hit my target, my mom came over and dragged me away to speak to some people.

What was supposed to be ten minutes turned into another hour of schmoozing, smiling, and talking shit with people I barely knew. Although I did get a really cool X-Box game for free. That was cool. Christina rolled up too, totally fucked up on God knows what. We’re either gonna have a blast touring together or end up not ever speaking again, but I think we’ll party our asses off. She told me she waited to come in until Brit left and I let her know what a smart move that was. Christina’s a little different but she’s cool with me and thank God she’s cool with Tara, too. They’re not best friends but they’re cool with each other. Makes life so much easier for me. We did some shots together and I made the rounds, drank a little more and gave JC shit for not telling me about the whole surprise thing.

I’m so glad we’re all right again; we weren’t talking that much around the time my CD dropped. Jive was giving him the run-around about his solo shit and it didn’t help that mine was already done so things were awkward. He avoided me some and it hurt my feelings but I knew why and I just tried to give him space and now things are just like they were before. He’s my dawg, you know, and I can’t imagine him not being around.

Unless he’s with Sasha; then I hope and pray that he doesn’t come around.

Speaking of Sasha, when I finally got away from everyone and let Lonnie know I was ready to go, she was hogging my girl. I went over to where they were and put my arm around Tara’s neck. “What’s up, Sasha. You ready to roll, baby?”

I could feel Tara glance at me all surprised that I spoke to Sasha since I hate her guts, but fuck it: it’s my birthday, my baby’s in my arms, I got my own fucking X-box -- well really my second one -- and it was free. Life was good and I could be nice to Sasha for the five minutes it took for me to get out of there. But any longer than five minutes and I wasn’t responsible for what would happen.

Then Sasha surprised me by handing my a little present. I stared at it like it was a bomb. Knowing her it probably was a bomb. “What’s that?”

She shook her head and spoke slowly, like I was retarded. Bitch. “It’s. A. Present. Because. It’s Your. Birthday. Dummy.”

Okay, see, I tried to be nice and see what happened? But I refused to let her ruin my mood as much as I wanted to tell her exactly what she could do with her present. I just took it and gave her my shit-eating grin. “Thank you, Sasha.” I have mastered the art of self--control, people. “I’ll open it later since Lonnie’s waiting for us, but I really appreciate it.” I even impressed myself with my phoniness. Damn, I’m good. Good and drunk. And horny.

“It’s for the hotel,” she said before she kissed Tara on the cheek. “Call me tomorrow, girl. I’ll be at JC’s,” she gave me a look, knowing that I rued the day that she and JC had ever met. I almost preferred Bobbee to her -- almost. At least Sasha wasn’t a gold digger and a bitch. She was just a bitch.

But she was a bitch that I wouldn’t have to see for the rest of the night and the next day either, if I could help it. Tara held on tightly to my hand and we got the hell out of dodge after we said good night to Mom and a few other people. Mike was waiting outside to get us in the car and after Tara got in I pretended like I had beef with him.

“What’d I do?” He held up his hands innocently when both of us knew why I was pretending to be angry. He was T’s number one partner in crime -- sometimes I thought he was more her bodyguard than mine.

We play-wrestled a little bit -- he’s a big dude, I can’t fuck with him -- and I twisted his arm. Well as best as I could. “You knew she was coming ... you’re supposed to be my man, you keeping secrets from me now?” But Mike knows me better than almost anyone and he knew I was kidding.

“Your ass is happy, right?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Then shut up and get in the car,” he told me, pointing at Tara. “You got business to take care of ... and make sure you open that before you get to the room.” He said that with a lascivious grin and I looked at him confused until I realized he was talking about the little box Sasha had given me. He knew about that too? I don’t know why I was even surprised.
I climbed in the truck, Mike shut the door and we took off. T climbed right into my lap and we sat all hugged up in complete silence for a few minutes. I think both of us were just glad to be alone together. Except for Lonnie and the driver, but to us that pretty much is being alone.

“You have a good birthday, sweetie?” She snuggled in closer and rested her face in the curve of my neck, her favorite piece of me. Make that second favorite.

I smiled, looking down at the strip of denim that barely covered her crotch. “Day was okay ... night is fucking perfect. I thought it was gonna suck, you know? All of y’all surprised the hell out of me,” I told her, touching her legs that were stretched across mine. I loved her legs; they’re brown and toned, not all muscular but kinda thick. Not flabby but soft enough for me to squeeze on. Just like her ass.

God I hoped the hotel wasn’t that much farther away.

She sighed my favorite sigh again and kissed my neck. Just from the sound I knew she was drunk but not wasted. We were gonna have some banging sex tonight.

“Open your present,” she took it from my hand and held it up. What the fuck was everyone’s deal with this present?

“I’m afraid to,” I answered honestly. Gifts from Sasha to me weren’t something normal. If it wasn’t a bomb or something to maim me, it was probably a cockroach or something. I know how she thinks and I’d do some shit like that to her, too.

She kissed my neck again and shook the box. “I know what’s in it ... I wouldn’t let her hurt you. You’re gonna like it, you’ll see.”

Okay. T let Sasha get away with way too much shit but she wouldn’t let her hurt me or anything. Not when she was sitting on my lap, anyway. So I ripped off the paper and opened the box; it was about the size of a hard cover book, but really light. Whatever was inside was covered with tissue paper and I guess I was too slow for some people because Tara pushed my hand away and dug around until the gift was exposed.

It was a bib that said “Dig in and enjoy!”

Who knew Sasha could so thoughtful? This was the most appropriate gift I’d been given all night. Who the hell knew about our private party with cake? Mike knew, Sasha knew and if Sasha knew that meant JC knew and I guess I could assume Lonnie was in on it too, the way he was smirking. I could see him in the rearview mirror, smartass. Fuck it, my mom probably knew -- she even helped get a hotel room so I could have loud sex.

Jesus.

“Did you tell the fucking world, Tara?” I didn’t mean to sound so nasty but some things should be kept private. I know everybody knew me and T had crazy sex every chance we got, but did they have to know the details, too? But you can’t keep shit quiet in the ‘N Sync world, and I know she probably didn’t blab. Things just have a way of leaking out: someone hears something, they tell someone else, and so on. I was so pissy because I wanted to bang the fuck out of my girlfriend and had been waiting for hours.

Luckily Tara’s used to me and my tantrums and pretty much blew it off, telling me exactly what I thought. “Sasha went with me to get the cake today and JC drove us and you know how their minds work .... I never said anything to them about it,” she mumbled into my neck. “She went and got the bib from a drugstore all on her own, in fact it was JC’s idea. And then Mike had to know about the hotel room and then Lynn told me where to go and they all saw the cake ... I can’t help it if they know you’re a pervert.”

I should’ve been used to my lack of privacy after all these years but sometimes they still surprised me. Instead of bitching like I usually would, I leaned back into the leather seat and enjoyed the ride ... in a few minutes, me and Tara would be alone. No bodyguards, no phone calls, no fans, no friends ...

And cake.

~*~

I slammed the door to the hotel room behind me hard. Lonnie escorted us upstairs and we were now officially on our own. Tara had disappeared somewhere so I looked around the room some -- it was definitely a kind of romantic suite, lots of red velvet and dim lighting. I liked it. Sorta reminded me of Graceland in a weird way, someplace me and Tara both love. There were even candles burning and music playing. She really went all out to surprise me. I’m so lucky we got another chance; nobody loves me like her.
Speaking of her ... “T? What’re you doing in there?” I assumed she was in the bathroom since the bed was right in front of me and there weren’t any other rooms. I started towards the bathroom when she finally came out.

Naked.

I froze in mid-step with my mouth hanging open, gazing at her body like I’d never seen it before. It sounds stupid because shit, I probably know her body better than she does. I’ve seen and touched every single inch of it at least a hundred times, but she doesn’t do things like run around naked. Once or twice I got her to do it, but that was a few years ago when we tried this ... well, that’s another story for another time. But she acts kinda self-conscious sometimes and I usually get to undress her which I love to do anyway, so her just appearing like that floored me.

For a second.

While I was frozen, she kept moving towards me until we were millimeters apart, her lips just a hair away from mine. Very, very slowly she licked her lips, then asked me, “Are you ready for your cake?”

Cake? Why was she always talking about cake? I felt almost dizzy from the rush of lust that shot through me, and I leaned forward, almost falling onto her, crushing my lips against hers. I thrust my tongue into her mouth, swirling and sucking on those soft lips while my hands slid over every inch of her smooth, soft skin. My weight must’ve been heavy on her but she held me up, touching the back of my neck and stroking my cheeks while I groped at her. My hands were everywhere, squeezing and touching, gripping her hard so she was pressed against me.

I don’t know what happened, like, I always want her and shit but right now it was like I couldn’t get enough. Maybe it was the weed, the alcohol, the surprise, or the build-up from dancing earlier, I don’t know. Kissing her was like heaven, but it still wasn’t enough. Not even touching her was enough. Trying to keep kissing and touching her, I struggled to unzip my pants and get my shirt off, I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. Obviously I wasn’t thinking at all, I wanted to fuck and I wanted to do it immediately.

“Baby,” she pulled her mouth back from mine and ran her hand over my forehead, which was covered with sweat, “slow down for a second, okay?” She put her hand on my chest and I couldn’t believe I was panting like I just did a concert. “We don’t have to rush, let’s get you undressed first, okay?”

Yeah. I was way drunker than I thought I was, because I was out of it. I let her take off my jacket and T-shirt, then my shoes, socks and pants. She left my boxer-briefs on, though, and when I went to take them off she stopped me.

“Wait, don’t take those off yet,” she pulled my hand away from the waistband and pulled me over to the bed, pushing me down.

“I don’t need them, we’re on the bed,” I protested, going to remove them again. Fuck the dumb shit, I wanted to get busy now.

She crawled on the bed beside me and lay down on her stomach next to me, still stopping my hand. “I know we are, and I know what you want, but you have to chill out for a minute, J, you were sort of rough for a minute over there.”

Oh. Damn. I guess I was all over her, but I didn’t mean to ... “I’m sorry, baby,” I rolled over right away and rubbed her back, letting my hand slide down to the curve between her ass and her back. “I didn’t know I was ... I mean, I just want you so fucking bad I got a little crazy. Did I hurt you?” She was right; I did need to calm down because if I had gotten inside of her right then I probably would hurt her. I leaned down and kissed down her neck, all over her back, loving how she shivered under me.

“Mmm,” she moaned, squirming under my lips, “not really ... maybe a little bit here,” she touched the side of her neck, a place I hadn’t even touched. I was gonna calm down but I was still gonna tear her ass up.

Moving up, I licked and nibbled at her neck. “This better?” Concentrating on her favorite spot, I stopped talking and got to working all over her neck, spending a little time right below her ear, then meandering back to her lips where I made up for how rough I had been before with lots of soft, light pecks. Didn’t take much time before she was as hot as I was, but I had calmed down a little and could now think more clearly.

Time for cake.

“Baby?” I whispered into her mouth.

“Hmm?” she breathed back, hands running over my bristly head. That shit made me shiver.

I gave her one more kiss, then leaned back and grinned. “Where’s my cake?”

“Oh now you want cake?” she teased, stretching her arms over her head so I could better see her body.

I ran a single finger between her breasts, down to her belly button and just a little lower ... then stopped. “Don’t you want me to have my cake, too?” I looked up at her from what my eyes had been looking at -- and you know what that was -- and she had that hazy look in her eyes. The one where they’re half-closed and she looks incredibly fuckable ... and she nodded.

“Yes,” she whispered, and if I hadn’t been looking at her I wouldn’t have even heard her, she was speaking so softly. “It’s over there.” Lifting her hand, she sort of motioned towards the opposite side of the room.

I kissed her just below her belly button. “Be right back, sweetie.” In a flash I leaped off the bed and ran over to a table that had a little white box on it. Fuck pretense, I ripped the cardboard open and saw the cake my sweetie got for me. It looked a little wilted, like it was starting to melt, but I didn’t care because my plans would’ve made a mess anyway. I lifted it up and carried it over to the bed, sitting it down next to where she was still stretched out.

“Finally,” I said with satisfaction, getting ready to create my own work of art.

“Wait!” Pausing from dipping my finger into the whipped chocolate icing, I looked at her.

“What?”

She sat up and I was distracted by her breasts. Shit. Shaking my head, I listened to what she was saying. “If we do this on the bed, we’re gonna get it all messy and sticky ... and we won’t be able to sleep.”

Sleeping wasn’t something I had planned on actually doing, but I saw what she was getting at. “Well we gotta figure something else out, then ... because I’ve been thinking about this for two fucking days, T, and I’m not letting some messy sheets stop me!”

She was laughing at me, I guess I was a little loud. “Okay, geez ... I was just gonna say get some towels or a blanket,” she kept laughing and I pinched her thigh, then went off in search of something to cover the bed. The easiest thing was to grab a bunch of towels so I got those and she got up and held the cake while I put the towels all over the bed. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds because the towels were the same dark red that the rest of the room were in, too, and they were really soft so it felt about the same as the comforter. Still, I never thought my daydream would take so much work.

Finally. The music was back on playing this CD of slow jams that we listened to all the time, candles were burning, Tara was on her back without a stitch of clothing on and her hands behind her neck to let me do whatever I wished, and I began to play.

Dipping my hand in the icing, I took a dollop of it and smeared it on her lips. When she opened her mouth to taste some, I shook my head. “You can’t move unless I move you, okay?”
This time she didn’t try to speak but gave me an irritated look. But it’s my fucking birthday, I was taking full advantage of it.

Taking my time, I made sure her lips were all covered then took my tongue and delicately began licking it off, starting from the outer edges of her mouth and working my way towards the center, where she was waiting for me. The second my tongue slipped between her lips, her tongue met mine and we shared the slowest, sexiest kiss ever. I think it could’ve been an hour that we just nibbled and licked, sucked and tangled our tongues together, tasting the chocolate and one another. Stopping was excruciating but there were much better things to come and we both knew it.

So I pulled away and reached beside me for more of the chocolate cream, scooping it up with my hand then sliding it over her left breast, then followed up with the right. When I took a second to admire my handiwork, I heard the sigh I’d been waiting for. One down, another couple of hundred to go.

I attacked her breasts, licking in slow circles around the outer edges and working my way to the nipples, switching from breast to breast unexpectedly to keep her on her toes. I was doing something right because she was moaning like I’d never heard before and trying hard to pull on what little hair there was on my head. But no matter what she did, I was thorough and made every trace of chocolate disappear before I arrived at her nipples, flicking and sucking on them, even biting down lightly while my free hand toyed with the other.

“Justin,” she whispered, alternately pushing my head down and then pulling it back up. We both were probably feeling the same dilemma -- did we want my mouth up there with hers, or my mouth down below?

“Yeah, baby?” I’d already gone back for more icing and was tracing a trail down her stomach to between her legs, stopping right before I touched that important place. My tongue made the same journey and she sighed even louder, thrashing her hips back and forth while I fumbled around for the last little bit of whipped cream left.

Moving so I sat between her legs, I spread them open and licked my lips in anticipation. I stole a glance at Tara, who was laying with her head propped on several pillows, eyes half-closed as she watched me. She looked drugged with pleasure, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

“Lick me, Justin” she said unexpectedly, blowing my mind that she was so vocal about it. She’ll move me in a certain way and tell me if she likes something, but Tara talking dirty happens, like, once a year. I’d say I wish she did it more but then it wouldn’t make me so fucking horny when she does it ... and needless to say, that was all the encouragement I needed.
I took my fingers and spread her apart, then carefully applied the icing on her, mixing it with all the wetness that had gathered there. Her hips lifted to me and she almost screamed when I touched her center, leaving just a tiny bit of icing there.

“J ... please ...” she whimpered, watching me lick my fingers clean before I dove in.

And then I gave her what she wanted, settling between her legs to taste every inch of her, relishing the sweetness of chocolate mixed with the sweetness of her. Her legs wrapped around my head and her hands held my mouth in place while my tongue danced inside of her. I flicked my tongue against her, then relentlessly sucked on her like she was a hard piece of candy, not stopping no matter how much my mouth began to ache until I felt it.

Her legs started to tremble, and her whimpering got louder and louder, pushing me to make it even better for her. I took my hand from around her waist and plunged two of my fingers inside of her, twisting them back and forth and swirled my tongue around and around, over and over, and then it came. I could feel it, she came so fucking hard that I could feel it on my fingers as she bucked and rubbed furiously against my tongue, still whimpering and moaning. I rode it out with her, gradually slowing my movements with hers because I know how sensitive she can be after an orgasm.

And if that wasn’t the best one she ever had, I wasn’t Justin fucking Timberlake.

I didn’t even mind the crick in my neck or the aching in my back when she finally released her legs from around me. Her body was trembling all over and mine was too, but not from release. I knew I couldn’t just slide up and fuck her but I couldn’t wait much longer ... I felt like my head was about to explode, and not the one on top of my neck.

Moving up beside her, I grabbed the edge of a towel and wiped my face off some. She lay there with her eyes closed, chest heaving and all sweaty and I swear to God I’ve never seen anything sexier. To know that I can make someone feel that good, no someone that I love feel that good is the best feeling in the world. I almost wanted to just gather her up and hold her and tell her how much I love her.

But I’m a man. I think that shit but I needed to get a nut and I needed one bad. I reached over to stroke her cheek and remind her that I was still there and she opened her eyes and smiled.

“I love you,” she whispered, turning her cheek to kiss my hand.

“I love you, too,” I answered back, but my eyes were already wandering over her lips and down to her still heaving breasts. We were both sweaty and sticky and I wanted to press my body against hers and get all stuck together while I fucked the shit out of her.

And my baby read my mind. “So what’re you waiting for?” She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me over on top of her, right between her legs. Between the sweat and sugar all over us, our skin slid back and forth but I wrapped my arm around her waist to hold her steady, trying to push my way inside of her but I couldn’t quite get there. But damn it felt good trying.

“Here, baby,” she reached between us and guided me right into her. She was so wet that I slid right inside without any resistance until our pelvic bones met, and I sort of collapsed onto her and sighed into her neck, unable to fathom how good it felt to at last be inside of her. I don’t know if she was having little aftershocks from her last orgasm or what but I could feel her walls squeezing around me and it felt so good that I didn’t even want to move at first. I just lay there for a minute or two sucking on her neck, feeling her moving around me more and more, faster and harder, and then I heard her breathing heavier.

Lifting my head, I gazed at her. “Baby ...?”

She whimpered, “It ... feels so good ... Justin ...” Then out of nowhere she grabbed my head and devoured my lips, sucking on my tongue and pressing her hips against me as hard as she could, fucking coming all around me. Without me doing anything except being inside of her, she fucking came.

Jesus, what kind of fucking chemistry did we have?

I kept my mouth on hers and tried to hold on until she finished, and the moment I felt her calm down, I began to move in and out of her slowly, building up speed as quickly as I could. No way was I gonna last long, she was lucky I hadn’t exploded inside of her a few seconds earlier. She was so wet, so fucking tight around me that I barely managed a minute or two before I started my own whimpering like a fucking pussy, but it was that good. Even though I tried to not break her back, I started slamming into her faster and faster until I hit it, and FUCK I think I came for like an hour, my whole body shook and I was moaning and shuddering and I think I even spoke in fucking tongues.

After that I think we passed out, we both sort of blacked out for an hour or two. I woke up with my arm smashed in what was left of the cake, and Tara’s head was on the other half. I knew she was gonna be pissed when she saw it but it was fucking worth it. Yeah it was gross now but I’d do it all over again. Reaching over, I touched her cheek and her eyes fluttered open.

“Did we fall asleep?” she asked, sounding like a baby.

I moved closer to her, trying to pull her hair out of the cake without her noticing. “We blacked out, I think,” I chuckled. “You wore me out, baby.”

She stretched, beginning to wake up now. “I didn’t even do anything! It’s your birthday and you did everything for me,” she yawned and sat up. I needed to get her into the shower without looking in a mirror or she’d freak, but I thought she looked adorable.

And she thought she hadn’t done anything for me? I still felt light-headed from coming so hard. But if she wanted to try to make it up to me again I wasn’t gonna stop her or anything.
“The night’s not over yet ... you can still try a little somethin’ somethin’,” I hinted, winking at her.

She gave me a sort of withering look but I knew she had an idea forming in her head. “You’re lucky it’s your birthday, Randall ... let’s take a bath and get this shit off of us and maybe I’ll hook you up,” she gave me a little wink, then hopped off the bed and ran into the bathroom.

Possibility for more sex?

I’m no dummy -- I was right behind her every step of the way. I’ll follow my baby anywhere.

Happy birthday to meeeee ......