"Why do I have to put on a monkey suit?"

Justin Timberlake stood in the master bedroom of his enormous Hollywood Hills home. It was dusk, and outside the fading sunset had turned the sky brilliant shades of pink, orange, and purple. But he barely paid any attention to the disappering sun; he was too busy pouting over the suit he was supposed to be putting on.

Behind him was the bathroom, where he guessed his significant other was currently doing her hair. The bright vanity lights spilled over onto the bedroom carpet, lighting the entire room. Her perfume wafted through the air, spicy with a hint of vanilla, and blending in with it was the distinct smell of a flat iron.

"Don't call it that! That suit is classic, and you said so yourself it was comfortable."

Justin's nose scrunched up as he looked it over. A crisp, white tuxedo jacket offset with black pants and a bowtie.

"No, my jeans are comfortable. This is a suit."

"Well, your jeans are hardly a costume, Justin."

Her voice echoed off the tiles in the bathroom before carrying over to the bed. She sounded like she was calling to him from the other end of the house, but that was decieving. He knew she was physically closer than she sounded.

"Baby, come on, do I really have to wear this? Why couldn't I pick out my own costume?"

"Because the last time I let you do that you had metal rods sticking out of your forehead."

"That was awesome!"

"It was stupid."

Justin stuck his tongue out in the general direction of her voice, feeling bold because of the fact that she couldn't see him.

"I don't even know why I have to get dressed up at all."

"Because it's a costume party. That's what people do at costume parties, they dress up."

If he didn't know any better he'd guess that she had something to do with that. Anyone who knew her knew she was always looking for a reason to play dress up.

"Yeah, a costume party for your stylist. I don't even know this girl."

"Guy."

Justin's arm dropped, the suit falling back onto the bed in a puddle of fabric.

"Your stylist is a guy?"

"Yes, and you already knew this."

"No, I didn't," he muttered. "Otherwise I'd have had something to say when he had you get naked to be measured for your Grammy dress."

"Fine," her voice floated in again. "You don't want to go? Don't go. Send me out into the world -dressed like this- alone."

Justin turned around when her footsteps entered the room, and whatever smart ass remark he'd been thinking up drifted away. Her already 5'8 frame was a tall drink of water in those black patent leather Mary Jane's. White stockings covered her legs from her toes to her knees, leaving her bronze thighs to fill the space from there to the bottom of her too-short skirt. A white petticoat fluffed out the hem of the black dress, and the white apron showcased the trimness of her waist. She'd lost a little weight recently, a fact she was tremendously proud of. He was proud too, as long as she didn't lose too much, and as long as said weight didn't come from her bust line.

"And how come you get to be the sexy maid and I'm stuck with this?"

"It fits the theme."

"What kind of theme are a hot maid and a Buddy Holly look-a-like?"

She giggled at him and slowly strolled toward their bed. As she got closer he could make out the edges of her pink bra peeking out around her neckline.

"You're not Buddy Holly. I'm a French maid, and you're a waiter."

Justin made a face and she giggled again. It was bad enough knowing that he was dressed like Buddy Holly on his way to a 1950's prom, but finding out that the truth was he was a waiter only made it worse.

"The best you could come up with was a waiter? Why couldn't I be Hugh Hefner?"

"You're too young to be Hef. Okay, how about I'm a maid, and you're my rich, international playboy employer who is so fine that he can pull off the two-toned Richie Valens look?"

Justin nodded, sliding a hand around her waist and pulling her closer. With those heels on, she was almost at his eye level. Her arms slid around his neck, and immediately a tingling sensation rolled through him. He always got that fluttery, tingling feeling when she touched him. After years of being with her he wondered if it would ever go away.

"Well, since you put it that way…"

"You'll put on the suit, quickly, because we're already behind schedule."

She pulled away from him, heading back into the bathroom, taking the tingling sensation with her.

"Who's going to watch the munchkins?"

"Babysitter will be here in 20 minutes."

Letting out a sigh of defeat Justin pulled his green polo over his head and dropped it on the floor, trading it for the suits white button down.

"I'll put on the monkey suit, but I want the record to show that next time I get to pick the costumes."

"Fine, but I'm not wearing crotchless underwear."

Justin's brow creased.

"Who said you'd get to wear underwear at all?"

The stylist turned out to be a pretty fun person, even if he was a guy. The party had been at his apartment in Downtown Hollywood, which was good for the couple because they didn't have to worry about shutterbugs somehow slipping inside the way they always managed to somehow do at big professional events. Two cars had tailed their Mercedes as they weaved their way through LA traffic, but they were polite to his lady as they walked from the parking lot to the front door, so Justin didn't mind too much. As long as they were respectful and kept their distance, he didn't have a problem with them. It was only when they were rude and harassing that he felt his protective side come out. The photographers had been rather interested to know what his other half had been hiding under her long black trench coat, but she only gave them a coy smile and a shrug of her signature shoulders before she disappeared inside.

The interior had been decorated in black, white, and pink. Balloons with long strings hung from the ceiling, a strobe light flashed from the corner, and even the finger foods were spiked with alcohol; fruit soaked in vodka and skewered chucks of ham basted with rum. An iPod provided the background music, and by 11:30pm things were in full swing. Justin watched from the sofa as his date made her rounds around the dance floor/living room. She looked ravishing with her hair pinned up, revealing the smoothness of her neck. Every so often her eyes would flick over to him as he chatted with random guests, and she'd wave while he'd wink.

By 2am, the party had begun to wind down. Black and pink cups littered the table tops, and all of the alcohol infused food had been consumed. With just a few songs left, the iPod had begun to play slow tunes by James Morrison, and Justin watched from afar as his personal maid swayed to the beat in her own little world on the makeshift dance floor. He could see from several feet away that she'd had more than her fair share of drinks. But this was expected. He'd learned some time ago that he couldn't take her anywhere without expecting to be the designated driver. She didn't have an addiction by any means; she just liked to have fun, and was in denial about how much of a lightweight she was.

"Ready to go?" He asked, lightly brushing her arm.

It was time to go, whether she wanted too or not. He had her trench coat draped over one of his forearms. She turned to face him, and her pupils danced happily as she looked up into his eyes.

"Time to go already?"

"It's almost two. I'm sure the sitter is ready to go to bed herself by now."

She pouted, but nodded her head. Justin put an arm around her waist, letting her lean against him as he led her towards the door. They said their goodbyes to the host, and waved to the few remaining paparazzi across the street.

"How was the party?" They asked.

"Fabulous," she answered. "You don't know what you missed."

By the time they pulled into their own driveway, high in the hills and secure behind rod iron fences, she was barely hanging onto consciousness. She was going to sleep well tonight with all the liquor coursing through her veins. After paying and saying goodnight to the sitter, Justin led her inside, up the stairs, and over to the bed. She pulled off her own black Mary Jane's, and then climbed up into the big bed, stockings, petticoat, apron, and all. Before he could even ask her about removing the costume, her eyes were closed and her breathing slowed, deep and even.

Looking over her peaceful features, he sighed to himself.

"Someone is going to want a Bloody Mary in the morning," he said.

He contemplated removing the costume for her. It was a lot of fabric to sleep in comfortably, but she seemed to be okay so far. Besides, he didn't want to wake her by pulling and tugging at her clothes. He ran a finger over her face as he thought about it; across her high cheekbone and then along her jaw. She'd be okay until morning, he decided. It had been a long evening; she would probably sleep through just about anything.

Justin, however, was feeling unusually restless. His muscles were tired, but his mind was on hyper drive. Lying in bed tossing and turning didn't seem at all appealing. Taking one last look at the bed, he headed out of the room and shut the door behind himself. He made is way down the hall, quietly opening the door on the left with the picture of a princess in a pink dress painted on it. The little girl inside was motionless in her bed, a castle nightlight casting shades over the room. Just like her Mom, her face was the personification of peace, and her long eyelashes seemed to reach down to her cheeks. Continuing on, Justin closed the door and moved farther down the hall, where he stopped at the door with a sign that read "No Gyrls Alowed". He opened it just a crack. Inside a young boy was lying on top of the sheets, his head turned to one side as he snorted. In his lap was a comic book, and in one hand was a flashlight.

This one was just like him, all curly haired and smart mouthed. Apparently he also had inherited Justin's inability to learn the meaning of 'bedtime'. Justin crept into the room, gently pulling the blankets from under the boys' body and instead pulling them over him. He put the comic book and the flashlight on the nightstand, and then pressed a kiss to his sons' forehead before exiting the room and closing the door again.

Finally he made his way downstairs, and into the family room. From there he opened the door to the basement, which had been converted into a state of the art home studio. If he was going to be up all night he might as well get some work done.

"Justin Timberlake!"

Earlier that evening her voice had been echoing to him from the bathroom. Now it was echoing from the top of the stairs, where the familyroom was located. What she was doing up and out of bed, he had no idea.

"McKayla Malone-Timberlake!" He called back.

He heard her footsteps begin to descend the stairs down into the home studio, and he scratched at the 5 o'clock shadow beginning to erupt on his chin.

"I think I'm in trouble," he muttered to himself.

The cracked studio door squeeked quietly as it opened, and then he felt her presence behind his chair. Two hands massaged his shoulders before slowly sliding down his chest, tickling his skin and bringing back that tingling sensation.

"Did you forget that you had a wife and two kids upstairs waiting for you?"

He smirked as her hands rested on his abdominals, and her face appeared next to his.

"Last I checked, my kids were snoring in their beds, and my wife was passed out in a drunken stupor."

"That might have been true earlier, but it isn't anymore. Maybe you should check more often."

He turned his head, meeting her happy, still slightly drunken, gaze. Her brown eyes sparkled in the low recessed lighting of the studio, and her raven strands -once up in a bun- now hung down in long wavy layers. It was the kind of bombshell hair even Victoria Secret models would envy.

Justin leaned over, pressing a kiss against her lips. She tasted the same as she had when he'd first kissed her years ago, only now mixed with a dash of Tequila. She pulled back and smiled, and he realized once again what he had already known for quite some time: he was going to be in love with her forever.

"So, what are you working on? It must be good; I could feel the bass thumping through the mattress."

He sighed, letting the moment go, and bringing his mind back into present time.

"Tim sent me a beat, and he asked me to collaborate with him; another Timbaland-Timberlake production."

He picked up the lyrics sheet he'd been scribbling on and passed it over to her.

"Good old Timbo," she said to herself. "The only person you spend more time with than me."

Justin snorted. They both knew that statement was nowhere close to being true. The only people he was with more often than her were the two little ones upstairs. McKayla read over the words on the paper, her expression turning skeptical.

"You're comparing women to Jack-in-the-Box?"

Justin scoffed, snatching the sheet back.

"It's an artistic metaphor."

"Yeah, for food."

"Whatever. The point is, people are gonna fuck to this song, and that's all I care about. This is baby-making music for the 22nd century."

"Justin, I don't see anything sexy about drive-thru windows. And we're living in the 21st century, not the 22nd."

He rolled his eyes, but didn't argue anymore. She did kind of have a point.

"But, on the upside the beat is awesome."

"Of course it is," he said. "It's Timbaland."

"Ah, that's right, I forgot; the almighty Timbaland makes nothing but hits."

McKayla laughed and stood up straight when he reached for the board. He twisted a few more knobs, cueing up the instrumental track. Then his head bent over the lyrics sheet while the song played softly in the background. She watched him for a moment as he counted measures in his head.

"So, does this mean you won't be coming to bed for awhile?"

Justin paused in his beat tapping, and looked over his shoulder at her. He noticed for the first time that she wore pajama shorts and one of his white undershirts. Immediately he felt a twitch as his groin awakened.

"Why?"

She shrugged sheepishly.

"Just curious."

"Curious for what?"

She smiled, and it piqued his interest. He shut off the music and sat back in his chair, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Talk to me, baby," he said.

McKayla stepped in front of him, leaning back against the board. Her body language was suddenly both shy and flirtatious as she tilted her face down and gazed at him through dark, mascara covered lashes.

"I just want you to come lay down with me. I was lonely up there without you."

His eyes narrowed on her face for a moment before he shook his head.

"I think you're just trying to get some nookie."

She blushed, but didn't deny it.

"Well, that's an option too. I mean, the kids are sound asleep, and Jolie's finally been staying in her own bed through the night. We should make the most of this rare situation."

Justin pushed back from the board, the wheels of his chair grinding against the floor. His eyes slid down her body as he blatantly checked her out, and he bit his lower lip. The movement made her insides quiver.

"Well, who says we have to go upstairs? We're both right here, right now."

"Here? In the studio?"

"Yeah, why not? It is my studio, so it's not like you could get in trouble with the owner."

"Randall, the last thing I plan on doing is getting down and dirty in the studio with you."

"Why?"

"Because knowing you, you'll run a tape on it and then use it as background vocals on your next Timbaland track."

He waved a hand through the air, prepared to point out the obserdity, and then paused as if in deep thought. Actually, that wasn't bad idea. Didn't John Lennon and Yoko Ono do something like that?

"Don't even think about it, Timberlake." McKayla's stern voice brought him back to the conversation. "I am not moaning on any of your tracks. Ever."

He shrugged, and licked his lips as he looked her over again.

"You don't have to moan on my tracks. You can just moan for me."

"Wow!" She exclaimed. "I can't believe you just said that."

"What?"

"If only those ex-Nsync tweenies could hear you now. You can moan for me," she mocked. "We just hit Cheeseville Central, population one and I'm not drunk enough for this."

McKayla turned toward the door, ready to head back up the steps, check on her babies, and then put her own self to bed.

"Wait, wait, wait."

Justin stood up, reaching out and grabbing her hand. He pulled McKayla to stand infront of him once again, gripping her hips with his fingers.

"Don't tell me the idea doesn't at least make you wet."

The way he was looking at her now was a turn on in and of itself. He was a different Justin, his voice dropping an octave and his eyes growing dark and mysterious. The idea did make her pulse race, but she didn't want to let him in on that secret.

"Wet? No. Slightly excited? Maybe a little bit."

"Excited, huh? Excited is good. It gives me something to build on."

Before she could say anything he placed a kiss on her parted lips, and rather than argue further she responded by gently sucking on his bottom lip.

His hands had slipped down to the backs of her thighs, lifting her up to rest on the edge of the mixing board. As soon as her weight rested on the wooden structure the track he'd been working on began to play again, the bass much stronger than before now that she was in the room with the speakers. Their kiss increased in intensity as they ignored the playing music, and his fingers wove into her hair. The dark locks were thick and silky smooth.

McKayla had always been like a drug to him, seeping into his veins until he was totally hooked on her. Now was no different, and the junkie in him took over. His lips travelled down the column of her neck, sucking and biting at her skin while Timbaland's pre-recorded demo verse began to play.

Baby, you looking fire hot
I have you open all night like you IHOP
I take you home, baby let you keep me company
You gimmie some of you, I give you some of me

You look good, baby must taste heavenly
I'm pretty sure that you got your own recipe

Pick it up, pick it up, yeah, I like you
I just can't get enough I gotta drive through

She tilted her head, allowing him easy access to one of her favorite pleasure zones, and obediantly lifted her arms into the air when he moved to pull her shirt over her head. As soon as the material was removed from her flesh it was discarded to the floor, and Justin's hands rose to cup her bare breasts.

"Randall..." she breathed.

She'd been protesting a moment ago, and while his actions were slowly pushing that thought out of her mind, she still had reservations.

"Shh..."

His hush came as a hiss as his lips landed on her shoulder, kissing across her collarbone and down the center of her chest. All thoughts of reservations and protesting disappeared when his wet lips closed around one of her nipples, tugging on it gently. Her legs came up to wrap around his hips, and she looked down to meet his eye just as his tongue snaked out to flicked over the hardening bud at the center of her breast. It was icy hot. His tongue wet and cool to the touch, but the image mixed with the sensation sent fiery flames throughout her whole body.

Let me get my ticket, baby let me get in line
I can tell the way you like it baby, super size
Hold on, you got yours, let me get mine
I ain't leavin' till they turn over the "Closed" sign

McKayla could feel her husbands growing arousal pressing against her shorts, barely brushing against the spot that was beginning to pulse with desire. Her hand reached between them, taking a firm hold of his member through his jeans, and he growled with pleasure.

"Someone's a little excited," she teased, rubbing her hand a long his length.

His reaction was simply to smirk at her, before giving her shoulders a firm push. She fell back against the board, and her back arched instantly.

"Ow," she groaned.

"What?"

"There's a knob up my butt."

His large hands gripped the tops of her thighs, just below her pelvis, and he gave a swift tug. He not only succedded in pulling her into a more comfortable position, but he also positioned her groin flush with his. Justin's sudden display of strength and dominance only fueled the ache between her thighs, and she panted as she stared up at him.

The studio lights illuminated his figure, his short curly hair reflecting golden on his scalp. His expression was pure concentration, and he was focused on one thing and one thing only as he pulled her shorts down her hips, down her thighs, and finally dropped it on the floor once it was lowered down her legs.

Take my order cause you're body's like a carry out
Let me walk it to your body till you hear me out
Turn me on my baby, don't you cut me out
Turn me on my baby, don't you cut me out
Take my order cause you're body's like a carry out
Let me walk it to your body till it's light out
Turn me on my baby, don't you cut me out
Turn me on my baby, don't you cut me out

Now McKayla lay before him completely nude, the overhead lights showcasing every curve and freckle on her body. He zeroed in on the soft, glistening lips between her thighs. She looked feminine, and stunning. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealed the tanned skin and scultped abs underneith.

McKayla's anticipation was getting the best of her. The more he stared at her, the more she became aware of the wetness at the base of her hips. He looked so good standing above her with that intense gaze. On the outside he was the picture of calm and collected, but over the years she'd learned a few things about her husband as well, and she knew how to get to him.

Her right hand lifted from the lip of the board where she'd been bracing herself, and landed on her stomach. She slid her hand across her skin, gliding down her hip and finally coming to rest between her legs. One of her fingers dipped into the wetness between her lips, and spread it toward the engorged pink button at the top. She knew he was getting hot and bothered, because his body had turned completely still, and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth.

The light friction on her clitoris felt so good her back arched again, and her thighs squeezed his hips, scratching against the rough fabric of his denim jeans. Justin sucked in a shaky breathe and his fingertips pressed into her skin. She could tell he was on the losing end of the battle to control himself. Soon that calm demeanor would be gone.

"Randall," she moaned.

Justin had to force himself to look away from where her finger was making slow circles, and at her face. Her eyes were barely open, covered by heavy lids. Her mouth hung open as her panting grew heavier. He got the impression that whatever she was doing to herself felt amazing, and he was itching to get in on the action.

"Randall, I want you... inside of me."

He didn't need to be asked twice. His hands left her legs, going to the brown belt low on his hips and undoing the buckle. For McKayla time moved painfully slow as he popped the button and then lowered the zipper, finally pulling his member free of its constraints. He was hard as stone, wide and enticing, with a drop of moisture at the tip. He wrapped his palm around it, stroking from tip to base and back up again. McKayla could feel her insides start to convulse as she watched him touch himself, and she withdrew her hand to ward off the oncoming orgasm.

"I just thought of the perfect line," he said roughly.

"What?"

"Is it full of myself to want you full of me?"

McKayla shook her head adamantly, answering the rhetorical question.

"Definitely, definitely not."

He rubbed himself against her, spreading her wetness and making himself glisten. He was teasing her, and while part of her loved it, most of her hated it. She arched her hips, trying to make him slip inside, but instead he brushed against her clit, electing a moan from deep within her throat. He swallowed noticeably as her body relaxed again, and her legs parted even more, allowing him all the access he'd need.

She could feel him just outside her entrance, and with a slight movement of his hips he slipped inside. McKayla's toes curled as she exhaled. He pulled back, only to press forward again, slowly going deeper inch by inch. She could feel every part of him, stretching her insides and invading his body with her own. It didn't take long for him to find a rhythm, and all of his length slid into her, only to recede and enter again.

Sweat began to form on his brow, and on McKayla's breast plate. Justin was too busy enjoying the view to notice, her full breasts were swaying like rippling waves on the ocean. Her hands gripped the edge of the sound board, her knuckles growing pale from the pressure. He could barely make out her moaning over the music, but that didn't really matter. He knew her well enough to know by her actions if she was enjoying herself or not, and judging by the way her head was thrown back and how she kept squeezing her walls around his member, she was enjoying it as much as he was.

Feeling his eyes on her, McKayla lifted her head, licking her lips as she tweaked one of her nipples just for him. He twitched inside of her, and paused for a fraction of a second as if to collect himself before he was right back into pounding into her again. One of her legs came up to rest on his shoulder, and he placed a kiss on her ankle. While with past girlfriends the sex had gotten less exciting over time, because they grew accustomed to his size, with her it was as if she got tighter, like she was made perfectly and especially for him. She provided just the right amount of friction for it to feel good. Not too tight so that he felt suffocated, and not to so loose that he felt nothing.

McKayla sat up, and the shift in angles made them both pause and let out a groan from deep inside. She gripped his arms as he started a slow grind against her. His pelvis brushed against her clit with every forward push and she could feel her own eyes rolling back into her head. It had only been a few minutes, but already she could feel the butterflies gathering in her tummy. If she didn't gain some control in this situation she was going to lose control long before he did. So she pressed a kiss against her husband's neck before shoving him away.

"Sit down," she ordered.

Smirking to himself, Justin did as he was told, collapsing into the black leather chair behind him. McKayla turned her back to him, lowering herself down into his lap. He watched with interest as he disappeared inside of her and her walls claimed him once again. His hands caressed her back, massaging the muscles in her shoulders and palming handfuls of her ass as she bounced in his lap. In the reflection of the glass from the booth in front of them, he could make out the nearly transparent images of her breasts bouncing with every move she made.

In this position he was more likely to come before she did. His hands were free to guide her hips up and down, slowing her rhythm to fend off an orgasm, only speed them back up again to match the beat of the song on repeat. Wrapping her hair around his hand, he pulled her head back until it rested on his shoulder. This way he could hear every noise she made.

"God, Justin," she groaned. "You feel so good."

That only made the tightening he felt in his balls worse. Shifting his hips, her legs fell open, one on either side of him. He put his hand to her skin; it was searing hot and slick with sweat. He moved down between her legs, rubbing the sensitive nub of nerve endings. She gasped, jerking against him at the unexpected added stimulation, but covered his hand with her own to show her approval. She was wetter than he'd seen her in a long time, obviously turned on by the change in scenery. Her hardened nipples stood out against the dark backdrop of the black linoleum floor. He had to shut his eyes to block it out.

This was all too much. It was too good, too intense. Finally he felt the familiar jerking of her hips, and she lost control of her own motions. Her back arched off of him completely and her walls clamped down on him like a warm vice. The moan she let out into his ear coupled with the grip she held on him now sent him over the edge, and with every orgasmic ripple that passed through her she milked him until there was nothing left. Now, totally spent and drained of everything, the grip he had on her hair loosened and his hand dropped.

McKayla made no move to get up, but she turned her head toward him, and he placed a smacking kiss on her lips, and then her cheek.

Then he smiled and said, "Told you people were gonna fuck to this song."