"I think that'll do for now, J."

Releasing a sigh, Justin Timberlake leaned back in the thick leather chair pulled close to the conference table. One hand dragging over his face he reached for his bottle of water, ignoring the condensation that dripped onto the contract before him. Had it really been that long since he had negotiated for himself? Was it possible that he had forgotten all the boring hours that were wasted over the tiniest detail?

Did he really need a meditation room backstage at each venue for the tour?

Nah, he decided, pulling the rider printout close and scratching that item off the list. His meditation came in a bottle and a small glass before going onstage. Eyes scanning the other requirements for venues, he nearly snorted at some of them, knowing most were Johnny's input and not his. Yes, a large room for video games were great for downtime, but Justin knew from experience that he rarely had downtime on tour. Of course, it was a perk for the crew. That stayed. But others... A selection of condoms? Seriously? The horny bastards could buy their own.

He just didn't remember it being this much work before. He didn't remember having to meet with the muckety-mucks nearly every week for a budget update. He didn't remember having to explain every little step he made in the process of planning and designing a stage show. And he sure as hell didn't remember being so fucking tired all the time.

He couldn't recall what had inspired him to hole up in the studio and crank out a new album. Perhaps the breakup. Perhaps the pressure for new music had finally gotten to him. Hell, it may have been the litle hottie in Arizona that had told him she listened to his songs when she masturbated and then asked when she would have something new to listen to. After all, he aimed to please. Or maybe, just maybe, he felt the time was right. All he knew was that he had gotten up one morning eight months before and called a few people to get the ball rolling. Two hours later he had been in the studio.

Eight months later, here he was. Gearing up for the album release and fine-tuning the tour. Dancers needed to be auditioned. Wardrobe needed to be finalized. Fuck, he still needed to find a choreographer. He still balked at the idea, dying to work with the same people he had worked with for the FutureSex/LoveShow. But no, they all had to be busy doing other things.

Could you be more of a spoiled asshole? He thought with a derisive snort, shaking his head slightly. After working so hard to get rid of his arrogant, elitist persona, he was falling back into old habits. Before he knew it, he would be taking a Town Car everywhere and drinking bottled water that had been filtered through the intestines of a virgin sheep... He shuddered at the thought and turned back to the mountain of paperwork before him.

Fucking paperwork.

* * *

"Chins up, my little darlings!" Calandra Turner insisted in an exaggerated French accent as she moved down the line of preschoolers that had positioned themselves at the barre. Even though her knowledge of French accents was limited to second-rate movies, the littlest students seemed to appreciate the change in her voice. Reaching with one hand to adjust the stance of a particularly chubby little redhead named Cynthia, she then stepped back, looking down the line once more. Deeming them ready, she gave a nod and held up her hands as the music began to play from the stereo in the corner. "And begin."

 Her mocha brown eyes watched each girl intently, softly correcting when one's stance was sloppy, reminding another that it was important to not look too stiff. And when the little girl at the end seemed to have more difficulty than the others, she stood next to her and helped her with the positions and steps, smiling with pride when the girl finally caught on. They went through the routine three times before the class was over and she allowed them to play for those last five minutes before gratefully handing them over to their mothers.

Her face was tired from the constant smiling. Her head ached from the repeated playing of Once Upon A Dream, which they would perform to at the recital that weekend. Crossing to switch CDs, one hand reached to unpin the neat bun at the nape of her neck, combing through the wavy black hair until it fell past her shoulders. Nodding to the beat of the thumping bass, she raised the volume until the floorboards beneath her feet vibrated, backing from the stereo and falling into the routine she had put together one lonely Saturday night. In her room, earbuds in place, she had given in to the flowing beats and sensual voice that had floated into her ears.

She seriously doubted parents would want her to teach this to their little darlings.

Her body moved fluidly, eyes closed as the music took over, feet following the beat and hips rolling to the lyrics. She forgot her surroundings, forgot the hole she had discovered in her leotard that morning, forgot her exhaustion and her headache. The music transplanted her to another world - one of gyrating bodies, tall and handsome strangers that whispered seductively... Though she truly only longed for one stranger in particular.

Her reverie was broken when the music abruptly ended. Eyes snapping open, she dropped her hands from her ribcage and whirled to see who had so rudely interrupted her. When she saw no one in the room she know that meant nothing. She had learned in the past year that she was never truly alone.

Had it really been a year since Ariella had flown into her life? A whole year since that dreary day when the miniscule green and yellow creature had made herself known?

"Ariella," she sighed as she neared the stereo, spying her companion seated atop the speaker. It had taken her months to get used to the squeaky voice. Months to grow accustomed to the fact that what she had once thought mythical truly existed. She had always believed fairies belonged in storybooks and Disney cartoons. But in the last year she had learned how wrong she had once been.

The fairy measured just a hair over three inches (it had taken all of Calandra's persuasion to talk her into standing still long enough for a measuring) and her wingspan was exactly four inches. Scarlet locks fell in tousled waves to Ariella's waist, and her yellow and green dress fell to a demure length just below her knees. Her wings were currently folded behind her back, but Calandra knew that when the fairy was in flight they resembled the bubbles that children loved to chase. That was what had first drawn her attention, because there had been no children nearby and she would have thought the rain would have popped a bubble.

Tinkling wind chimes came from the fairy's mouth as she rocked on her backside. "You were so far away, Cat!" she giggled, tiny hands fluttering dramatically. "In that dark club with your handsome prince again?"

"You know where I was," Calandra answered, knowing her friend had the ability to read her thoughts. She had learned that the hard way when fantasizing in the shower. Having her most private desires spoken aloud from the other side of the shower curtain had nearly killed her. "And stop calling him my handsome prince."

"What would you prefer? Your dashing Casanova? Your liquid-voiced Lothario? Your ultimate fantasy that would have your panties on the floor with just a word?"

"...That works," Calandra decided with a laugh, sliding into a folding chair to remove her dance shoes. Tossing them into her bag she stepped into her red Converse sneakers, tying them tightly as Ariella turned off the stereo before flitting across the room to close the blinds. The afternoon sun was soon deflected and Calandra rolled her shoulders as she thought of her ultimate fantasy. The man whose face was the wallpaper on her cell phone. The man who looked back at her whenever she turned on her laptop. The man who didn't know she existed. Slinging her bag over her shoulder she headed for the door, not wanting Ariella to see her frown as she turned out the overhead lights.

Fantasies were great. It was too bad there was no guarantee they would come true.

The club he decided to visit was, he realized, far from his norm. The glasses were cloudy, the liquor watered down. The odor of weed was overwhelming and he knew he would be buzzing when he left. And the music... He cringed at the music. What club couldn't afford a decent sound system?

He didn't bother going up to ask the DJ. If they even had a DJ. For all he knew the seedy bartender was throwing random CDs on. The joint doesn't even have a VIP room. Just a wide open space filled with gyrating bodies, a haze of smoke and one strobe light. He had finally made his way to the bar when he remembered he had left his phone in the cab and now looked around for a pay phone.

They did still have pay phones, right?

Tossing back his drink - he'd ordered whiskey but would swear the bartender had given him tea - he decided he could just hail a cab. He'd report his phone lost when he got home and apologize to whoever tried to get in contact with him. That was his reason for being there in the first place. He was so damn tired of the constant calls. The never-ending meetings. He had just needed to get away and hadn't put any thought into where or for how long. But now here he was, somewhere on the dingy edge of Los Angeles. At least he supposed he was still in LA. For all he knew the cab driver had carted him to Vegas.

Dragging a hand over his face, he pushed another bill towards the bartender. "Give me your strongest drink, man," he shouted above the music, watching the fifty disappear into the man's back pocket. A tumbler of clear liquid was placed in front of him a moment later and before it reached his lips he knew it was potent enough to have its own octane rating. But he took a gulp, the burn barely registering when a hard body pushed him up against the bar. The burn in his throat increased and he felt his eyes water but wasn't sure if it was from the drink or the fact that the wind had just been knocked from him.

"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, ASSHOLE!" a gruff voice shouted.

By the time he managed to turn, the man was gone. Justin attempted to draw in a clear breath, instead sucking in a lungful of the weed-infused air. And he couldn't help it. He held it in until his lungs burned for oxygen and as he exhaled slowly he felt his body finally start to relax. His second gulp of his drink wasn't nearly as horrendous as the first and when he pushed away from the bar he took it with him. The air at the dance floor was thick with the sweet smell of marijuana burning and he breathed it in, wondering why he hadn't thought of just scoring a bag for himself and locking up in his bedroom for the night. Trace would have joined him. Hell, Trace would have probably scored the good shit.

A warm body slid up to him and he forgot all about his thoughts. Short fingers curled in his shirt and wide green eyes called to him. Downing the rest of his drink, he pushed the empty glass towards the girl nearby and allowed himself to be dragged to the center of the dance floor. Clumsy bodies gyrated and ground against one another without any inhibition and he easily fell into the non-rhythm. For the first time since stepping through the door, he realized he was anonymous. The girl humping his leg didn't know him from Adam. The chick with her ass against his crotch probably didn't give a fuck that he was a millionaire. All they were after was...

Well.

All they were after was what he was suddenly after.

It wasn't his fault he hadn't been laid in six month, was it? Well, maybe it was, but it seemed the opportunity was presenting itself and he had never been one to turn a lady down. Not that either had asked yet. Shit, maybe they weren't looking for a good fuck. Maybe they just wanted someone to dance with. His hand fell to the waist of the girl in front of him, pulling her tighter against his crotch, allowing her to feel what was going on. She made no show of noticing.

What's a guy got to do to get some random sex in this fucking place? He thought with a groan, working his hips fluidly against hers. His hand slid over her bare stomach, skittering across the damp flesh until his fingers found the low waistband of her jeans. His lungs began to burn again and he breathed in more of the smoky air, loving the sudden ease of movement. He would regret everything in the morning - he always did - but for now he would play. The green-eyed vixen was sliding closer, crotch firm against his thigh and through their clothing he felt how hot she was. He opened his mouth to ask if that was just for him, but he was suddenly mute when his gaze fell on the couple right in front of him.

I fucking love this place, he decided with a grin, free arm sliding around the girl to his left to pull her even closer. She giggled at the sudden movement and he joined in, never looking away from the live sex show right in front him. They may or may not have tried to conceal what they were doing, but he knew sex when he saw it. And when he heard sharp moans over the music he knew he was right.

"You wanna get outta here?" Green Eyes purred in his ear. Her lips found his earlobe and he shuddered when her tongue flicked over the skin rapidly, imagining that tongue on a different part of his anatomy. "Emmy can come too if you want."

"Emmy?" he repeated in a daze, nodding when the girl in front of him turned. Shit, yeah. "Where y'all wanna go, baby?"

"My place is nearby," Emmy informed, hand diving beneath his jeans. She cupped his length and squeezed. Hard. "Think you can handle both of us?"

Justin groaned, fingers digging into Green Eyes' ass. "Think you both can handle me?"

"Tina doesn't do dick," Emmy laughed, leaning against him until her hard nipples were crushed against his chest. "But you can watch me do her with my tongue.

Sold, he thought with a pleased shudder. His tongue swiped over his lips as visions of sweaty, naked bodies danced in his head. "Meet me out front in five," he said. "I've gotta hit the john."

"Don't make us wait," Tina warned, giving his ass a firm squeeze before both women slid away.

He stood in the center of the dance floor, hard and panting, unable to tear his eyes from their sloppy kiss as they stumbled towards the front of the club. When they disappeared in the crowd he finally turned, reaching to shift his cock in his jeans. Giving it a quick rub, a promise of things to come, he jerked when bodies jostled against him. He reacted slowly, bracing his fall against the bare chest of the woman he had been watching a few moments before. Stumbling back when a fist took a swing in his direction, he turned and slid past the cluster of people, hoping he was headed in the right direction.

People were fucking everywhere. Up against the wall, in the few chairs that were scattered around the edge of the dance floor. And he managed to keep from stepping on a couple writhing on the floor. Keeping one hand against the wall as he moved down the dim corridor towards what he prayed were the bathrooms, he was surprised he didn't bump into more couples. Obviously these people weren't interested in privacy.

He saw someone coming in his direction and attempted to step out of her path, cursing when his foot banged into her leg. Time seemed to suspend for long moments as they both swayed and for a second he thought they would manage to stay on their feet but before the thought finished they crashed. He landed hard on the floor, grunting when the firm body fell atop him. His hands instantly moved to steady her and a chuckle escaped his lips when his hands landed on the softness of her backside.

"You okay?" She asked, hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest. The soft crush of her breasts disappeared as she sat up, graceful movements that astounded him in his state of mind. Her hands grabbed his and then he was being pulled to his feet.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," he murmured, offering his most apologetic smile. Her eyes widened slightly and he wondered if he had adopted his drunken grin. "You?"

"I'm... I'm okay."

He smiled again as her hands released him, leaving his fingers humming. Why couldn't he have run into her earlier?

***

She continued down the hall, shaking her head in disbelief as the events replayed themselves in her mind. Surely that wasn't... It couldn't have been...

Calandra dragged a hand through her loose waves, expelling a sigh as she leaned against the wall. Stealing a glance down the hallway, she saw the man moving towards the bathroom, heard a drunken laugh as he fell against the door.

No. It was impossible. Justin Timberlake didn't come to places like this. Justin Timberlake was strictly high-class. VIP lounges with Cristal. Shiny black Escalades and beautiful women. Not... Sleazy dives on the fringes of Compton. She actually laughed at the idea, deciding that the man had only resembled Justin. No way in hell would he be here.

Easily slipping around couples, she ducked to avoid being brought into a cluster of grinding bodies, groaning when a hand sharply smacked her ass. God, she had to get out of here. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Some friends from high school had decided to get out and have some fun, but she had quickly lost them in the club. They had all abandoned her in pursuit of hot guys and free drinks. She should have listened to Ariella--

"Do you mind?" she growled, spinning to confront the owner of the hand on her backside.

"Whoa, sorry, babe," the guy said, holding both hands up in defeat. "Thought maybe I could help you get that fucking stick out!"

"Asshole," she groaned, shimmying through the crowd lining up at the bar. Something cold and wet splashed down her back and she heard a series of curses when she pushed by a couple making out as they waited. More hands found her body and she pushed them away, nearly crying out with relief when she finally got out of the crowd. Perusing the stoners in the corner to make sure one of her friends wasn't among them, she finally gave up completely.

They could call her a washed-up stick in the mud tomorrow. She was going home. She was going to take a shower, pull on her favorite pajamas and watch Shrek the Third again.

Slipping out the door, she sucked the fresh air into her lungs, knowing she had spent too long inside when she felt dizzy. Straightening her shoulders, she forced herself to appear in control, left hand sliding into the front pocket of her jeans to close around the small can of pepper spray. Not much of a defense if someone decided to really hurt her, but she wasn't about to carry a gun. Rounding the corner of the building, she planned to cut through the alley and up the next block and catch the bus. But her steps immediately halted when she took in the scene before her.

Two against one. That had never seemed fair to her. Even if they were getting retribution for their innocent sister, she had never understood why guys always had to gang up on one another. She flinched when she heard the solid sound of a fist hitting a jaw and took a step backwards. Then she saw the thin man being slammed up against the side of the building.

Him. Her Justin look-alike! She had to admit that out here, he really looked like JT. Well, except for the blood running out of one nostril and the split lip. Her heart lurched when her mind caught up to the fact that she was watching two dudes bust up someone half their size and she did the only thing she could think to do.

She screamed. It was a shrill, piercing scream that her father had once told her was better than all the stupid horror movie actresses combined. Ariella had been known to disappear for hours after hearing her scream. So Calandra screamed. She screamed until the two large men released their prey. She screamed until they ran down the alley and disappeared over the chain-link fence. She screamed until she knew they were gone.

Then, timidly, she approached him. He had slumped down the wall, sitting, supported by the building, on the asphalt. The harsh security light on the building shone down on him and as she stepped closer she saw that his right eye was turning a hideous purple. Keeping a safe distance between them, she knelt down in front of him. "Hey... You okay?"

"What..."

"Are you okay?" she asked again. Both his eyes were closed but he leaned his head back slightly and she gulped. "...Justin?"

"Yeah."

Shit. Fuck! Her mind screeched. Closing the distance, she gently rested one hand on his leg. "You okay?"

"They got my wallet. A-and my watch."

"You're lucky they didn't take your shoes," she sighed, leaning back slightly when he jerked his head up. His left eye opened slightly and her heart ached when she saw the pain radiating within the sapphire iris. "Hey, it's going to be okay. How you feel?"

"Like shit..."

"Did they punch anywhere but your face?"

"My sides."

"Don't move," she warned gently when he shifted as though to stand. Hand moving to his shoulder, she shook her head. "They may have fucked up one of your ribs." Her free hand slid into the rear pocket of her jeans, pulling out her cell phone. Typing the code that would block her number from showing up on Caller ID, she then dialed 911. Though her heart raced and it felt she had just run a marathon, she calmly explained to the operator what had happened, describing Justin's attackers as best she could. Hanging up when the woman asked her name, she shoved her phone back into her pocket. "I'll stay with you till the cops get here."

"Fuck, I don't need the cops," he sighed. "I'm buzzed and I think that bartender gave me Everclear. The high shit."

"What happened?" She asked softly, settling down next to him. Folding her legs in front of her, she pulled her hand from his shoulder when she was sure he wouldn't be moving.

"I was supposed to meet these two chicks... Emmy and something-or-other. We were going to--" he cut off and despite the blood on his lip his small smile was one of embarrassment. "Well. I got out front and they weren't there. Tried to ask the dude at the door to call my friend for me but he wouldn't." His hands slid over his thighs, long fingers drumming anxiously against his knees and for some reason Calandra was transfixed by the idle movements. "So I decided to walk until I found a store with a pay phone. And the next thing I knew I was getting the shit beat out of me. Then you showed up... Thanks for that, by the way."

"No problem," she murmured.

"Ain't heard a woman scream like that in... Ever." A chuckle rumbled in his chest and she felt him tense.

"I've always been a good screamer," she mused, not thinking of double entendres or innuendoes until he turned his head to look at her. Rolling her eyes, she motioned to his face. "Don't try flirting until you don't look like Quasimodo, okay?"

"Deal." He slid down further, obviously seeking some sort of comfort and when his palm turned up she impulsively reached to hold his hand. "What's your name?"

"Cat." Her old nickname flew from her mouth without hesitation and she had no idea why. Perhaps, still clinging to that childish dream of meeting him in another time, another place, she didn't want him to know her real name. Staring down at their hands when his fingers slid through hers, she bit her lip at the warmth of his skin, frowning when she saw the welt on his wrist, where his watch must have been torn off.

"I shouldn't have come here tonight," he whispered, leaning against her. Whether from exhaustion or because he could no longer hold himself up, she didn't know or question. She welcomed his closeness, not minding the blood that dripped from his nose to her white t-shirt. "I just wanted to get away for a little while..."

"Shh, you don't have to tell me all this," she murmured. "Just keep still until they get here, okay?" Her free hand moved to rest gently against his cheek, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she felt him nod. Biting down hard on her bottom lip when he shifted and his head fell to rest in her lap, she pulled her hand free of his and shakily brushed her fingers over his chin. "Fare thee well, little broken heart," she sang softly without thinking. "Downcast eyes, lifetime loneliness... Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone..."

***

Justin relaxed completely, giving in to the weariness of his body as her fingers moved over his face. Delicate, almost feathery touches that barely registered on his skin. Far away he heard a siren, but he focused on the wispy voice of his savior. The tiny scrap of a thing that had come to his aid when he had thought he was breathing his last. His hand moved to rest on her knee as she continued to sing the haunting words. Words that he barely heard, instead merely concentrating on her voice. A voice that soothed his battered ego and bruised pride.

He didn't know he had fallen asleep until she gently gripped his shoulder. Then the tiny scrap of a thing easily pushed him up into a seated position. Groaning at the swift change in position, he tried to look to her but she was already on her feet. He saw lights flashing, the blue obscuring her features as she backed away.

"Take care, Justin," she murmured before disappearing in the darkness.

"I still can't believe you just went off without telling anyone..."

"Mom," Justin groaned from his position on the bed. He should have known Rachel would call his mother. Just because she was in town for a weekend getaway at one of her favorite spas meant that she had to know everything. Fucking up his mother's weekend retreat? Priceless. Sighing as she continued to fuss over him, making sure the blanket was tucked securely over him and his drink was within reach, he resisted the urge to knock her away. The last thing he wanted was to be babied. After six hours in the Emergency Room and two hours at the police station filing his report all he wanted was to be left alone.

"You could have at least left a note or sent someone a text." Lynn continued, snatching up his drink just as he reached for it, muttering that he needed ice before bustling out of the room.

"I know, Mom." He pulled the blanket up over his head, grateful that at least the pain medication had taken the ache from his lightly bruised ribs. The large pill he had swallowed had also taken the sting from his split lip, though nothing but time would take care of the spectacular black eyes he sported. His left eye was so swollen he couldn't open it at all; the right was not quite as bad. If he felt like it he could open it a crack.

However nothing could wipe the memory of the night away. Not even his mother's spoiling could take away what had happened. The disbelief that such a thing could happen to him was gone, replaced with an overwhelming sense of stupidity. The incessant, nagging voice in the back of his brain that could outdo his mother in her highest moments of lecturing constantly reminding him that he should have known better.

But for some reason, those last moments sitting on the pavement hadn't been so bad. Sighing, he reached out to idly scratch Buckley's stomach, recalling the tender touches of the woman who had stayed with him. The woman who had kept him company; who had probably prevented his being hurt far worse than he was. The woman that had made him forget everything for a few minutes.

The woman whose name he couldn't remember.

The woman whose face was but a blur.

He could remember her touch. The feel of her hand in his, warm and gentle. He could remember voice. Could remember likening it to the sighs of angels. He couldn't remember the words or the tune, just that it had been warm and comforting and had haunted his dreams when he had finally fallen asleep in the early pre-dawn hours.

Fate was cruel, he decided as Brennan crawled up to lie on the other side of him, large head resting on his shoulder in a show of sympathy. He could remember every damn thing that had happened from the moment he had gotten out of the cab until she had come to his aid. After that? Only snippets.

His mother had brushed it off when he'd told her about the woman. A figment of his imagination, brought up by low-quality marijuana smoke and too much alcohol.

Thanks, Mom.

Trace had called from New York to check up on him and his reaction had been similar. Just how much of that crappy weed had he smoked?

Asshole.

Rachel had just rolled her eyes and told him he didn't need to imagine women when there were probably some who would fight off a whole gang to save him.

Love you too, Rach.

His mother returned, shaking the large cup that was now filled with ice and fresh water. Her hand plunged beneath the blanket to brush lightly over his forehead and Justin made sure to feign unconsciousness. She had to know he was still awake - she was his mother, after all - but she murmured something about letting him get his rest and coming to check on him later.

Then, thankfully, he was alone.

Which was what he'd wanted in the first place.

***

"You're so full of shit, Calandra! Why did you leave?!"

Calandra groaned as she shifted on the bed, pulling the pillow down over her head to conceal the light of the morning. Ariella always opened the curtains to let in the sunshine. She also had a tendency to turn on the TV to her favorite program. She listened and groaned again. Deadly Women. For a creature that was supposed to spread cheer and lightness, the little fairy had a healthy appetite for the macabre.

She also had no understanding for the desire to sleep in. Calandra felt her tiny hands tugging on the pillow and briefly thought of letting go so she would fly across the room and hopefully smack into the wall but instantly regretted it when Ariella huffed. Finally tugging her head from under the pillow, she offered her companion a firm scowl, pushing her sleep-tousled locks from her face.

"What's so damn important that you're waking me up at--" she cut off to look at the clock on the nightstand and cursed. "Why'd you let me sleep until ten?"

"Considering you didn't get in until three, I thought I would be nice and let you have a little nap. Now. Tell me everything that happened last night." Ariella insisted, dropping to the pillow. Her wings fluttered excitedly, her eyes wide open with expectation.

"You know, I really hate it when you listen to my thoughts." It was something Calandra said frequently but it had never deterred Ariella from using her special talent. Calandra didn't try to understand the intricacies of the talent, finally accepting that, for whatever reason, her mystical friend could read only her thoughts. She could still remember her horror at learning that bit of information. Having her thoughts voiced back to her, especially when they were of the risqué persuasion, had not been fun. "What did you hear?"

"Oh..." One delicate hand motioned haphazardly. "Only that you stopped two guys from beating the shit out of Justin Timberlake then sat with him until the cops came. Did he really put his head in your lap?"

Calandra slid out of bed and kicked her dirty clothing towards the hamper. She had dropped them on the floor and fallen straight into bed and now the stale aroma of marijuana and alcohol clung to her. Digging clean jeans and a t-shirt from the pile on top of the dresser, she muffled a yawn against her shoulder. "Yes--"

"Why did you leave him?"

"He didn't need me hanging around. I did what I could."

"I know, but he could have gotten your number and--" Ariella took flight as soon as the bedroom door opened, following Calandra to the bathroom across the hall. "--called you to thank you later."

"And then he would have fallen madly in love with me and whisked me off to his Malibu castle and we would have lived happily ever after." Calandra sighed dramatically; grateful she had entertained those thoughts before making it home. Lovely thoughts indeed. They had kept her warm on the long walk, especially when her fantasy had gotten them to a bed large enough to fill the dance studio where she worked. Dropping her clothes on top of the closed toilet, she leaned into the tub to turn the water on. "He thanked me that was all I needed."

Ariella snorted as she took her usual place on the edge of the sink. "Did you even tell him your name?"

"I... I told him I was Cat." The dark blue curtain was yanked closed and Calandra closed her eyes as she stepped under the streaming water that was always too hot or too cold.

"They were talking about him on the news this morning. Just that he was beaten up and had been released from the hospital... And that anyone with information should call in."

"And what would I say?" Calandra snorted, reaching for her shampoo. "Oh, by the way, I witnessed the crime and hauled ass. But not before feeling up the fallen star!"

"Did you feel him up?!" Ariella nearly shrieked, though it barely registered above the splashing water. She appeared above the shower curtain, eschewing her dislike of water in order to get the scoop.

"I held his hand, stop talking like I slipped my hand down his pants," Calandra muttered. She refused to think of how her heart had fluttered when he had squeezed her hand. She forbade the memory of his warm, slightly callused palm pressing against hers. And she didn't want to linger over the sound of his voice when he had spoken. So broken, dejected. Like a child who had been told Santa didn't exist.

Clean and dressed, she pulled her damp hair into a snug bun, ignoring Ariella's constant questions as she gathered her leotard, tights and dancing shoes. She forced her mind to remain blank as she packed her bag for work, mentally going over the day's schedule. But Justin's battered face kept appearing and each time her heart ached. On the walk to work she stopped for her customary coffee and bagel and impulsively bought the morning paper when she saw a small picture of Justin in the top corner.

Once at the studio, she let Ariella open the blinds and turn on the stereo as she changed. And when she saw she had some spare moments before her toddler class, she sat in the middle of the room and read the small paragraph that accompanied Justin's picture.

Justin Timberlake was rushed to Cedar-Sinai hospital for treatment of injuries. No further details available as we went to the press. For more information, visit our website at...

Sighing, she looked to the picture, frowning slightly at the old image. As many things as he had done recently and they had plucked a picture from the Justified era? Weren't they aware of how much he had changed since then? But as she turned the page she was careful not to tear the corner, aimlessly scanning the articles and ads. She finished her coffee and bagel while reading about a woman in Idaho who had gotten so mad at her neighbor she wrote on his car with feces. Wrinkling her nose, she turned the page, preparing to close the paper and start warming up when her gaze landed on a small square in the center of the page.

She didn't know what drew her attention. It was like all the other classified ads, but after reading it twice she knew why it had called to her.

Do you have an impossible dream? Think it can't come true? Think again. Dream Weaver, Ltd. will help all your dreams come true.

Hogwash, she thought derisively, even as she quickly memorized the address. And, hearing the patter of feet coming through the front door, she pushed the newspaper into her bag and managed a few stretches before her students began to arrive. Greeting them with a grin, she went to change CDs in the stereo. "Who wants to dance to The Little Mermaid today?"

"What do you think of this one?"

A file was slapped down on the table in front of him. Thick due to a couple of DVDs tucked inside and various still photographs, it made a loud thud and Justin jumped in surprise. A month into looking for a new choreographer - a month! - and he still couldn't find one he liked. They were all... Wrong.

Routines too campy. Routines too old-fashioned. Routines too stiff. And, unbelievable as it was, a couple had been too sexual. Justin was all for sexually-infused dancing, but he drew the line at having the female dancers bare their chests. Especially considering that a couple of them were so well-endowed that they needed the support of their clothing...

"Who's this?" he asked, masking his indifference as he flipped through the contents. He saw most of the photos featured Disney characters and couldn't help but roll his eyes. Disney? Really? From Hustler-inspired to Disney?

Was Will just yanking his chain?

"I don't think a dance from a Disneyland is exactly the style I'm looking for," he admitted after a moment, shaking his head in disbelief over the series of photographs featuring Donald Duck.

"What is the style you're looking for, Justin?" Will questioned as he took the file and placed it in the Hell No stack. The Maybe stack only featured two. They hadn't even started a Sure stack. The Hell No stack was the largest of all. It seemed every choreographer was vying to work on Justin's tour. But Justin didn't know what he wanted. Will had known him for years and knew that the man was always eloquent when it came to describing what he wanted when it came to a particular look or feel, but this time around it was like pulling teeth to get the man to vocalize his particular desires. In Will's opinion it should have been pretty damned easy to decide what it wanted when it came to dancing.

"When I see it, I'll let you know," Justin sighed.

If he ever saw it.

***

The address she had memorized led Calandra to a side street that she had never heard of before. It led her to a tiny, dark building tucked between two abandoned warehouses. Despite the full sun of the afternoon, as soon as she approached the building the sky seemed to become overcast. Glancing up, she saw that the sun still shone brightly and shivered. She had no idea why she had come. It had seemed like a good idea at the time: Ariella had fluttered off for her monthly meeting with other fairies and Calandra had been alone. She just wanted to see what the Dream Weaver could do for her.

Not much, judging by the looks of the place. There was no sign, not so much as a piece of paper taped to the dusty window to announce the name of the place. A heavy cloud skittered over the sun and she blinked at the sudden wash of darkness, swearing she saw a light flicker within the depths of the building. Shaking her head to clear away the confusion, she was about to turn and head for home when a wispy voice slithered through her mind.

"Come in."

Before she knew how or why or could even think not to, she reached for the doorknob. It turned easily despite the rust that flaked into her palm and the door swung open as though the hinges were brand new. Stepping inside she was aware of the heady fragrance of incense and her eyes easily adjusted to the dimness of the small room, feet propelling her toward the table at the back wall. Shelves lining the walls were cluttered with bottles and with each step she would have sworn the contents of the bottles turned to watch her. But then her gaze fell on the shadowed figure at the table.

"Sit."

That same wispy voice that pushed away what little inhibition that still lingered within her. The flame she had seen earlier came from a small oil lamp in the center of the table and it flickered as the chair closest to her slid away from the table. She settled into the battered chair across from the figure, clutching her hands in her lap. "Are you--"

"You will know all when the time is right." The flame rose and she saw thin fingers that formed a steeple over the faded red tablecloth. The thin fingers were attached to equally thin hands, which led to bony wrists that disappeared beneath immaculate black sleeves. Her gaze traveled up as the lamp grew brighter and she was taken aback by his appearance. Thin and reedy, he resembled a skeleton more than a man, but there was an electricity in his dark eyes that was impossible to deny. Atop his head rested a shiny top hat, a jaunty red feather tucked into the band that bobbed each time his fingers tapped each other. Dry lips parted in a smile over yellowed teeth and from thin air he pulled out a stack of cards. "Now," he said in that wispy voice, expertly shuffling the cards before spreading them on the table before him, "I think I know what you want."

He touched the cards, humming a strange tune as his fingers drummed a beat over the backs of the cards. The beat filled the room and Calandra was certain that behind the tattered curtain in the corner someone played a set of drums. Her heartbeat accelerated until it matched the dark beat and her hands unclenched, moving to rest atop the soft tablecloth.

"The American Dream," he sneered under his breath, bony fingers flipping over a series of cards. The images on them meant nothing to her; in truth they appeared to be ink blots, but he seemed to understand them implicitly. "Fortune. A touch of fame. And, ah, yes, the Prince Charming that will sweep you away from your pitiful life," he continued, indicating each card in turn before sweeping the deck away. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as his smile widened. "We can make that happen, my dear."

"How?" she whispered, barely audible over the beating drums in her head.

"Typical young person. No imagination," he sighed, clapping his hands together.

The room burst into color suddenly as he stood, rounding the table. With each step he touched the furniture, the shelves, the bottles and Calandra sat, transfixed, as the room was transformed before her eyes. As though computerized special effects had taken over, everything was turned to beauty. The tattered curtains were now gleaming silk. The tablecloth a luxurious brocade that shimmered with golden threads. The faded wallpaper snapped into glorious shades of red and green, the rose vines seeming to move they were so prominent. The shelves gleamed, the bottles glittered. The bare floorboards shone as though they had just been polished.

She felt positively dowdy in comparison.

"You've always been the one that fancies dreams, haven't you, my dear?" He asked, spinning her around so she faced him. He stood back, suddenly twirling a gold chain with his fingers as he regarded her. "That dream of dancing on a stage and being watched by thousands of admirers. That dream of being one of them. The beautiful people. The people that other people always look up to and admire."

"How did you--"

"I know all."

For some reason, she didn't doubt him. She didn't doubt his words or his abilities as she sat, mesmerized by the glinting of the chain. It disappeared, tucked into a pocket of his waistcoat, as he turned to look over the rows of glittering bottles and jars.

"Now, let's see..." He picked one up and examined it. "No, that one won't do." He said as he put it back on the shelf. "Last time I used that the poor girl fell off a cliff. And that one," he mumbled, pointing to a different bottle, "always makes the object of affection turn into a snake, don't ask me why." He shrugged and looked at Calandra over his shoulder. He gave her an innocent smile and turned back to the bottles. Let's see--" he cut off into a shout of realization, plucking a thin bottle from the topmost shelf without having to reach. "Here we are. Guaranteed to work! My best potion ever."

"A potion?" She repeated softly, biting her bottom lip as she stared at the bottle.

"Just a smidge, really. You don't have to guzzle it down like a coed at a frat party," he assured, slipping the bottle into his pocket. "But first, we must discuss payment."

Stricken, she thought of her lack of available funds. The savings account that never seemed to grow was strictly off limits, no matter how tempting the offer. Her checking account had just enough in it to cover the service charge. And when it came to credit cards...

"Again, typical. Money does not make the world go 'round. Stand up." She was on her feet before the words registered and her breath caught in her throat when he moved closer. Fingers trailed over her cheeks, her neck, flicked her hair behind her ears. "Hmm... You are a pretty morsel. I doubt he'll have any problems wanting to fall into bed with you."

"What do you mean? Who are you talking about?" The questions burst from her mouth and she surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder. The sudden fear that someone other than Ariella had been intruding on her private thoughts was horrifying and she began to regret following her impulsive nature.

"You know who I'm talking about." His finger traced her cheek and he hummed softly. "The man you long for. The man that many women long to be with. The man that sings and dances and acts and lives that Hollywood dream."

"You could be talking about anyone," Calandra whispered with a faltering smile.

"Ah, I'll have to go further." He snapped his fingers and a cutting from a newspaper appeared. She only glanced at it before recognizing it as the article about Justin's mugging. It detailed what had happened to him and she had hated the bland words, had longed to write to the reporter and give the true story. But one line had stopped her. One stupid line.

"'Timberlake informed authorities that his attackers were disrupted by a young woman who has not come forward to provide her statement'. As usual, the media missed the real story, didn't they?" He asked after reading the last line of the article.

"It wasn't—I just—I did what anyone would have done." She faltered.

"I doubt that. Most people would have come forward and held out their hand for some of his money."

"I don't want his money." She insisted. "I want—"

"Him." He finished her sentence. "Justin Timberlake. Mr. Sexyback. The man who touches dirt and it turns to gold."

All of her earlier doubts swept away at his words. Her disbelief over his knowing all was now gone. She longed to ask how he knew but somehow understood that his answer would only be more riddles that would raise more questions. "How do I get him?"

"How does any woman get any man?" The dark eyes roved her figure and in spite of the dimness of the room she felt exposed. A pointed tongue slipped over his dry lips and she felt sickened. "Now, about my payment."

Was that all she was good for? Her eyes widened as a sudden, horrible thought occurred to her. "I refuse to--"

"Do not worry on that account. Sex for payment hardly ever works out right for either party. Besides, I don't know where you've been." He backed away, moving to a large drawer in one of the cabinets along the far wall. "People move so quickly these days, I hardly know what time frame to give you... A week isn't long enough. Pity. A month? Yes, that sounds good. A month sounds reasonable to you, doesn't it, my dear? Once the deal is done you'll be in his life and after that, it's all up to you. Thirty-one days to help your dreams come true. After you pay me."

"What if he doesn't... What if I fail?" She asked softly, fingers sliding anxiously over her thighs as she stood.

"Oh, the usual clause. You'll simply be available to do my bidding at any time I see fit to need you."

"But--"

"You do know his tour starts up within a couple of weeks, don't you? We haven't time to waste. Trying to land a man while he's going hither and yon and up to his ears in work is hardly easy. Much easier for you to win if you get into his life immediately."

"How will I know? What has to happen for me to win, as you put it?"

"Three little words, my dear," he explained, plucking a dropper from the drawer. He shook it once and the dust melted away, revealing a jeweled handle. "All you have to do is have him profess his love and that's it. Happily ever after and all that fairy tale sweetness you desire." His eyes narrowed as he crossed the room in large strides, placing the bottle and the dropper in the center of the table. "But of course, he must mean it. It must be a profession of real, true love. Not that he loves to sleep with you. Not that he loves you as a friend." He snapped his fingers and, blessedly, the heavy beating stopped. "Do we have a deal?"

"My payment--"

"Ah, yes. Nothing major, really." He waved his hand in the air in dismissal. I'll need that pretty voice of yours."

"My voice?" She repeated -- nearly screeched. Immediately one hand reached up to cup her throat.

"Did you or did you not sing to him when you first met him? I can't have you going into this with an upper hand, you see. Besides, there are other ways to communicate." The top of the bottle flew off and landed precisely in a tub of bottle caps in the corner. "Those pretty eyes of yours, for instance. And we mustn't underestimate this body of yours. I'm sure you know how to use it to your advantage." He tipped the bottle and a droplet of the purple liquid landed with a sizzle on the tablecloth. "Ah, it's still in good condition. Do we have a deal?"

She hesitated, watching his fingers quickly lay out the things that were apparently needed to make her dreams come true. His eyes lit up when she looked to him, and she thought longingly of the gentle hand that had held onto her. The soft voice that had warmed her considerably. What could it hurt? Without anymore questions, without further hesitation, she nodded, reaching to shake the extended hand.

His lips spread wide into a maniacal, almost devilish, grin. "Excellent," he hissed. Her head was tipped back by invisible hands and her mouth fell open in surprise. The dropper poised over her face for a moment and the beating drums returned, his wispy voice chanting unintelligible words as the liquid drizzled into her mouth.

It had barely gone down her throat when the world tipped beneath her and everything went black.

"That choreographer - Ms. Turner - is here."

Nodding, Justin bent to tighten the laces on his sneakers, wondering if this one would wear his ass out as the others had. Four days straight of working with different choreographers in hopes of finding the one with the style he wanted was going to kill him. I'm too old for this shit, he thought with a groan, feeling the muscles in his thighs ache as he got to his feet. All Mel Gibson and Danny Glover had to deal with were ninjas and rookies while he had actual slave drivers that he knew were left over from the days of the Old South. Shaking his head to clear his jumbled thoughts, Justin grabbed the towel and bottle of water from his bag and headed out into the studio.

A young woman stood by the stereo. Rachel and the others had obviously decided to leave him alone for this round of torture. He was chagrined when he looked to the clock and saw he was ten minutes late and wondered how this one would make those ten minutes seem like ten hours. He had been four minutes late the day before and, as punishment, had dragged him through painful routines for well over an hour. Sighing, he decided to face his fears and headed over to her. "Sorry I'm late," he began, biting his lip to hide a smile when she jumped in surprise. "And I'm sorry I scared you... I'm Justin."

She turned and he felt a strange sense of déjà vu when he looked at her face. As though he knew her from somewhere… She smiled and offered a small shrug, reaching to shake his extended hand.

"You're Ms... Turner, right?" She nodded and he wondered if she was star struck. Would stacks of old pictures and CDs appear for him to sign? Or would a video of his out-of-shape ass end up on YouTube? Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he released it, but not before glancing down at the soft, warm fingers that had clutched his. Brow furrowing in thought, he shook his head slightly and reached to rub the back of his neck. "What's your plan for me? I... Really don't remember much about your audition video and I'm sorry for that. I've gone through hundreds and... You don't talk much, huh?" he asked after a moment when he realized she hadn't said a single word.

Again she shook her head. Motioning to the center of the room, she then turned and started the stereo. Sighing, Justin took a sip of his water, watching the natural sway of her hips as she walked to the center of the large room. She faced the mirrored wall, a picture of supreme concentration on her face as she rolled her shoulders. He continued to watch as she placed her body in position, right foot behind the left, arms idle at her sides, left hip jutted forward slightly.

Then the music began and he forgot about everything else.

***

Bringing the towel to her damp face, Calandra mopped the perspiration from her flushed skin. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath and her legs ached from the two hours of nonstop dancing, but she had never felt so exhilarated in her life.

She had danced with Justin Timberlake. Alone. For two hours.

Even if he didn't know who she was, even if he was amused at her lack of speech, he had danced with her. He had put his hands on her and his voice had rumbled in her ears as he sang to the instrumental tracks that had played and he had followed every movement of her body as though they had danced the routines together for years.

A cold bottle of water landed in her lap and she glanced up, smiling her thanks when Justin collapsed on the floor in front of her. She tried her best not to focus on the way his t-shirt clung to his sweaty body. She tried very hard to ignore the way his stomach dipped inward as he stretched out on his back. Pulling her gaze to her lap, she uncapped her water and took several hearty gulps, praying the cold water would help calm her racing heart.

Her heart continued to race, however, and she began to wonder if it was all due to just the dancing…

"That was awesome." His whisper was barely audible but she heard it as clearly as if he had spoken directly in her ear.

Oh, how grateful she was that the Dream Weaver hadn't taken her sense of hearing! It had been difficult enough during the past forty-eight hours to grow accustomed to not having a voice. Not that she had really had a chance to grow accustomed to anything. Leaning back against the wall as she continued to sip her water, she thought back on the last two days, still so overwhelmed she felt she would die if it all turned out to be a dream.

The last thing she remembered was fainting in that vibrant, color-filled room with the Dream Weaver holding onto her. Whether she had been out for moments, hours or even days, she had no clue. All she knew was that when she awoke, she had been tucked into a soft bed in a strange room. The strange room had been in a strange apartment in a strange building in a strange neighborhood. The apartment was filled with strange furniture and strange knick knacks and a closet filled with clothes that fit her perfectly but were not hers. The bathroom contained expensive toiletries that made her hair shine and her face glow but she knew she had never used them before.

After hours of wandering around, she had finally located a purse that contained her vital information. Her name, her birthday, her height and weight, her Social Security number. Everything was the same, except for the address, checkbook and various credit cards. A day planner had been shoved into the purse and after figuring out the date she had learned of today's audition for Justin.

She'd had two days to prepare and had literally pulled a routine out of nowhere. But he had seemed to like it, watching her go through it once before joining her. She had been surprised at his quick learning, not really believing him when he suggested they run through it just once more.

"Think you can put together choreography for me and eight dancers before the tour starts in a couple weeks?" Justin asked, rolling into a seated position to look at her.

Eyes wide in surprise, she made a faltering motion with one hand towards the center of the room before pointing to herself. He grinned, sending her heart into a tailspin, and she offered a shaky nod. Yes! Fucking yes! A million times yes!

"I ain't gonna lie, it'll take some work. The dancers are all good, of course. Most of them worked with me on my last tour and have kept in shape and the others can out-dance my sorry ass anytime of the day or night." As he spoke he continued to grin and Calandra knew she had to look a fool, so excited to be in his presence that she kept smiling and nodding. He could have talked of flatulence or bowel movements and she would have been enraptured.

"But I'm going to take a little extra work." His dark blue eyes glittered as he spoke and she unconsciously slid her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, heart rate accelerating again as she thought of more hours alone with him.

If the man continued to be so sexy she would have to look into purchasing a vibrator.

"So what do you say, Ms. Turner? I'm sorry; I can't remember your first name." He said.

Fuck. Another reminder that he didn't remember her. When he had first walked in and looked at her she had seen some sort of glimmer in his eyes but it had quickly died away. Not that she really expected him to just drop to one knee and burst into unending platitudes of her kindness and beauty. But it had been a little disheartening to know that he truly didn't remember her face. Swallowing another mouthful of water, she got to her feet and moved for the large black leather purse that sat in the corner. Digging inside, she found the driver's license that she had never tested for with the photo she had never sat for and held it out for his inspection before turning so he could see the notice on the back. The one word that summed up her situation so perfectly that she had cried upon first seeing it. Mute.

"Calandra? That's pretty... What do you say, Calandra? Want to be my choreographer? Rach said she sent a copy of the tour schedule and the tentative salary and all the perks of touring with me and--not that touring with me is really a perk…" He laughed, one hand reaching to rub the back of his neck. "I should say the perks of touring. You know, your own hotel room that will be paid for and all your meals covered and traveling first class all the way." He cleared his throat, so obviously not accustomed to carrying a conversation on his own. "Well?"

There was no hesitation. Her hand jutted forward to shake his so quickly even she was surprised and when his warm palm slid over hers she was certain she felt an electrical surge travel up her arm and down her spine. And then he hauled her close into a tight hug.

"Deals always work better if they're sealed with a hug. It's the country bumpkin in me." He grinned again and she returned his embrace, deeply inhaling his scent before they parted. "Now that that's done, how 'bout I treat you to lunch to celebrate before we hash out a schedule?"

"Five, six, seven, eight." Justin tapped his foot to the beat, eyes on his feet in the mirror as he launched into the first routine Calandra had taught him. She had slipped out of the studio, silent as always, a few moments earlier and he figured that she had either gone to the restroom or had made a run for the caramel frappuccinos she seemed to live off of. Smiling to himself as he thought of the way her full lips pursed around the straw whenever she sipped one, he cursed under his breath when he forgot a step.

Funny, he'd been joking when he told her he needed the extra practice.

Well, maybe not joking. He knew he did need a little extra practice. Spending eighteen hours a day in a studio to record had left little time to work out or even go for a run. The first run he had taken after recording had finished had lasted only a block before he was winded. And now he went home with aches in his legs and muscle spasms after every dance session.

Exhaling a harsh breath as he started again, he heard the gentle creak of the door as it swung open. He struggled to focus on the moves she had taught him but he caught sight of her in the mirror as she crossed to the corner where her bag was. It was impossible to not watch her walk. Her shoulders were always pulled back, her spine straight and chin parallel to the floor. Her immaculate posture didn't appear stiff, though. There was something so natural about the way her hips swayed. When her hands weren't full her arms swung gently, the movements seeming controlled to preserve her energy for more important matters.

He barely noticed the drink caddy she held, watching instead the way her calf muscles elongated with each stride. He knew she wore the form-fitting capris to enable free movement when dancing and he had never appreciated tight clothing as much as he did whenever she walked by. The athletic tank top she wore clung to her torso, hugging her chest tightly and he sighed softly when she leaned to place the drinks on the small table against the wall behind him. She bent to place something in her bag and he felt the now familiar ache settle in his nether region.

He would be the first to admit that he was a horny bastard. He had once been called a connoisseur of the female form in an article and had agreed heartily. But for some reason whenever Calandra bent over or backed her delicious backside against him he turned into a hormonal teenager with no self-control.

Women thought of hard-ons as compliments, right? Justin hoped so, considering Calandra had felt his more than once. He had apologized the first few times, offering that sheepish grin that always made her smile, but when she had shrugged and continued dancing he decided she probably didn't care.

So he made no move to disguise his erection as he turned to join her in the corner. If she noticed she showed know acknowledgement as she silently handed over his vanilla latte. Over the past few days he had grown accustomed to the silence, realizing that he didn't really need to fill their time with rambling monologues about everything and nothing. So he merely tipped his chin in thanks, slowly sipping the warm brew. A pleased sigh escaped him when he tasted the hint of cinnamon, thinking of their first run to Starbucks that first full day of rehearsal and her amusement over his request for cinnamon.

The CD that had been playing ended abruptly and he wondered if it was on automatic repeat. Hearing the series of clicks that signified it was changing to the next CD in the carousel, he wondered what her musical tastes were, eyes lighting up as a familiar tune burst from the speakers.

"You like Dino?" His voice was incredulous and he shrugged when she rolled her eyes at his tone. Seeing her nod, though, he set down his drink and reached for her hand. "Do you know how rare it is to find a girl that appreciates his music these days? Well, a girl that isn't pushing eighty..."

She rolled her eyes again, playfully pushing on his chest, but allowed him to draw her to the center of the room.

"Seriously, he was awesome. When I was a kid my Granny would pull out her old vinyl and sing all these great songs with me and dance me around the living room. She adored Dean Martin and made sure I learned to like him too." Without thinking, he slid a hand to her waist, drawing her close as his other hand found hers, twining their fingers as they fell into a slow waltz. "Think we can do something like this for one of the ballads? I don't have to be the one doing the dancing but I'd love to bring back some of the classic flavor..." His voice trailed into nothingness as he looked down and saw her gazing up at him intently. His tongue skittered over his lips and he hummed along to the song, briefly wondering what it would be like to see Calandra in something other than her dancing clothes. Somehow he knew she would be a knockout in anything. Wondering if he could... If it would be possible to...

The hand resting on his shoulder slid closer to his neck and he watched her eyelids flutter closed when her fingers brushed the unkempt curls at the base of his neck. Her mouth moved in sync to the words that Dean Martin crooned from the stereo and he couldn't help but sing along.

"...Make my life perfection. Kiss, kiss me darling then, kiss me once again. Make my dreams come true." His arm curled around her waist as the words faded into a slow, sensual instrumental break, not perturbed about the fact that their bodies moved fluidly together. It was as though she could sense each move he made before he made it and reacted accordingly. Tilting backwards when he leaned close, a smile played on her lips when the lyrics started again. "Thrill, thrill me with your charms. Take me in your arms and make my life perfection. Kiss, kiss me darling then, kiss me once again. Make my dreams come true..."

They twirled once more and when the final tones of the piano faded her eyes opened. Staring down at her his entire body seemed to hum with excitement and Justin was aware of a few select things. The way her body leaned against his, each curve painstakingly obvious. The blood thrumming in his ears as his head dipped. The way her lips parted in surprise and the feel of her breath rushing over his lips. The delicious taste of caramel when their mouths met.

Christ, she tasted good. Caramel and coffee and mint and that menthol cigarette he'd seen her smoking earlier. His hands found their way upwards, cupping her face before tangling his fingers in her hair. Her tongue met his, coiling and teasing and drawing it into her mouth. He felt her hands on his shoulders, fingers digging in before sliding down to curve around his biceps. Sensing her acquiescence, he backed her towards the wall, grunting when she dragged him close, one trim leg curving around his.

They slammed against the wall and one of his hands reached to support his weight against the reflective surface, his other hand grasping the thigh that was tucked at his waist. She arched against him, her teeth lightly scraping his tongue. Soft fingers tenderly slipped beneath the hem of his t-shirt. His hand roved upwards, cupping, caressing, bunching her top between his fingers. Groaning at the feel of her bare skin, he longed for more but pulled back abruptly when a sudden breeze fluttered through the room.

What the fuck am I doing? He panicked, clumsily attempting to tug her top back into place. Taking a step backwards when he saw her eyes had opened and she was pulling her hands down her face he sighed. "I'm sorry, Calandra. Really. I shouldn't have...I'm sorry."

She gave a noncommittal shrug and he could hear her sharp inhales and exhales, tearing his gaze from the way her chest heaved. He winced when he saw his sweaty palm print on the mirror behind her and when he shuffled back another step he felt how painfully tight his track pants had become. Longing to reach out to her and assure her he had meant no harm, he instead kept his distance, taken aback by the way her body seemed to call to him.

"I better go." The words sprung from his mouth before he could censor the harshness of them and he struggled when he saw her shoulders round forward slightly. "I'll...I'll see you tomorrow."

***

Calandra waited until the door closed behind Justin before sliding to the floor. Still trembling from his kiss, she pressed her fingers to her lips and closed her eyes to seal the brief moments in her memory. Head falling back against the mirror, she wasn't aware of the tears that had slipped from her eyes until a tissue fell over her face. Ariella. Sighing, she wiped the tears from her cheeks before opening her eyes to look at her friend.

Ariella hovered just above her, small face a mask of concern and disbelief as she fought the box of tissues. "So. How'd it go?"

How'd it go? How'd it go?! How do you think it went?! Calandra's mind screamed, outrage building deep within her when she recalled the breath of air that had brushed over her during Justin's kiss. Scowling, she crumpled the tissue in her hand. It was going fine until someone decided to be nosy!

"Don't you get that attitude with me, missy! How was I to know what was going on?" Ariella lost the struggle with the tissue box and it landed with a hard thump on the floor. She huffed with annoyance, small hands brushing down her torso. "I left to go play with the kids across the street and when I come back he's got you pinned to the wall. For all I knew, he was forcing himself on you!"

Please. Calandra snorted, pushing herself into a standing position and crossing the room to begin gathering her things. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She would have locked the door if it would have meant keeping Ariella out of the room. Yanking her CDs from the stereo, she tossed them into cases, not caring if they were in the right sleeves or not. What part of 'God, please take me now' translated into him forcing himself?

"Well. You know how rusty I am when it comes to human intimacies." Ariella sniffed as she dipped a finger into Justin's forgotten latte. Sucking the brew from the tip of her finger, she smiled pleasantly, enjoying the flavor.

Go ahead, remind me that it's been nine months since I've gotten laid. Calandra thought. Though she was eternally grateful that the Dream Weaver had not managed to steal her ability to communicate with Ariella, she couldn't help being irritated that her friend had ruined a particularly perfect moment. If she had only waited five more minutes to barge in, Calandra was certain that she and Justin would have been too far gone to notice.

"Actually, it's been ten months. That guy nine months ago finished prematurely, remember?" Ariella reminded her.

If she could have vocalized one, Calandra would have growled. She yanked her bag onto her shoulder and snatched up Justin's unfinished latte, pausing to inhale the aroma that reminded her so much of the man she sighed. Carrying it into the bathroom, she dumped the contents down the sink and closed her eyes as she thought of the way his tongue had tasted like cinnamon. Back in the studio, she threw her CDs into her purse before fishing out her keys.

The ride home was blessedly silent. Ariella chose to hover in the passenger window, pulling faces at dogs that were being walked. She drew immense pleasure from gaining the attention of children and animals and grinned widely when dogs yanked hard on their leashes. The children merely spun to stare at the car, their faces lit up with excitement. When they reached the apartment the fairy busied herself with sorting through the mail, amused as always at the brightly colored advertisements and sales papers. Bills and bank statements meant nothing to her and Calandra had learned to check the trashcan for important documents before emptying the trash.

Calandra was frowning over the bank statement and picking at her dinner when the doorbell rang. Ariella had taken the flyers and sales papers to the spare bedroom, obviously sensing that Calandra wanted her out of her sight. Sighing, Calandra pushed the papers aside and went to answer the door, the breath pulling from her lungs sharply when she saw a familiar figure in the hall. The cap was pulled low on his head and his clothes were nondescript but she would have known him anywhere.

He entered the apartment without a word when she opened the door, seeming to fill up the living room with his presence. Hands in his pockets, he cleared his throat and looked around. "I... You forgot something at the studio. I went back and you were gone and... I found this."

Calandra quirked an eyebrow in confusion when he brought one hand out of his pocket. Seeing the small laminated rectangle that was offered, she winced when she realized it was her driver's license. Recalling that she'd had to fish out her keysand that's when it must have fallen from her bag, she wondered if he thought she had left it there just to get him to come to her home. But when she raised her eyes and saw the fire smoldering there she forgot all of her worries and her early irritation. A brief smile touched her lips as a way to thank him.

"Nice place." He said. He had barely looked around except at the cream carpet and the overstuffed couch. After saying the place was nice, though, he turned to look around the room, nodding as he took in the furniture and decorations. She noticed, though, that he barely seemed to take everything in and when he turned to face her again she bit her lip upon seeing him discard his hat. Not expecting him to want to stay, she didn't know what to do when he stepped closer.

His breath brushed over her cheek and she trembled. His hands framed her face and she melted.

His palms were sweaty. He felt dizzy. His stomach coiled and clenched. His knees were weak and his mouth was dry.

All thanks to the vixen squirming in his lap.

Justin couldn't remember what had immediately transpired after kissing her. He could vaguely recall leaning against the door to close it before walking her further into the room. Then her leg had slid over his and he had felt her heat through the two layers of clothing. And now...

Now they were clawing and pawing and rocking against each other on her couch.

He hadn't planned on this. He had gone back into the studio to apologize for that first kiss -- that first, mind-blowing, knee-weakening kiss -- and had pouted when he found she had gone. Not only had she left, she had thrown out his latte. He had spotted her license on the floor and, being a Good Samaritan, had decided to take it to her so she wouldn't get into trouble.

Her teeth lightly grazed his neck, bringing him back to the present and he grinned against her temple. Fingers curling in her firm backside, he held her tight against him. He needed her to know what she did to him. He felt her tremble and knew she got the idea. Somehow he moved his feet to the floor and managed to stand, still holding her.

Calandra's legs wound around his waist and she rubbed her crotch along his. A pleased sigh escaped her parted lips. She obviously appreciated what he had to offer. Her lithe body draped against him, her fingers pulled anxiously at his t-shirt. He had no idea how she planned on getting it off his body, afraid she would fall if he let go of her hips. But she pushed his hands away and her legs tightened around him and his shirt was brought over his head.

Fuck, she knew how to surprise a man. One hand splaying at the small of her back, he brought his other hand to the back of her neck, jerking her close for another kiss as he stumbled towards the small corridor on the other end of the living room. Momentarily diverted when her fingernails lightly scraped down his back, he leaned her against the wall between two closed doors. "Which one?" His voice was barely a whisper and he doubted the question was legible considering he refused to break their kiss. But she seemed to understand, one hand pulling from his waist to tap lightly on the correct door. He shifted in that direction, cursing when she wriggled against him as he fumbled for the doorknob.

"You're making it hard to concentrate." He groaned against her lips, arching upwards in hopes of pinning her so her movements would still. Each rotation of her hips pushed the rough material of his track pants against his erection, creating a delicious friction that only made him want more. Whining with relief when the door finally opened, he caught her waist as he stumbled into the room, managing a series of maneuvers that put him on the bed with her resting over him. And he didn't miss a beat, his large hands framing her face as he pulled her down for a tantalizing kiss.

She smirked against his lips, fingers sliding through his hair as she settled over him. His hips pushed upwards, arousal sliding between her legs and he felt her tremble. Her hands moved over his shoulders in a caress before she sat up, placing so much pressure on his crotch that he shuddered. Licking his lips when he saw the way her eyes seemed to turn gold with wanting, he leaned to catch her lips again after her t-shirt was tossed aside. He gloried in the way her bare breasts swayed slightly. "You're so gorgeous." The compliment fell honestly from his lips as his hands moved from the swell of her hips to cup her breasts, gently kneading the velvety flesh before his fingers stroked over the hardened nipples.

Her head fell back, moist lips parted as her hands splayed over his chest. He barely felt the way her fingers stroked his skin but sucked in a breath when her hand dipped beneath the waistband of his pants. She caressed the crest of his hip before she pushed his pants down, pulling a moan from his throat when his throbbing erection was freed. Her fingers circled him eagerly, working over his length slowly.

"That's not fair." Justin whined, lifting his hips when her free hand pushed at his pants to remove them completely. They tangled slightly at his ankles but he finally kicked them free, fingers tweaking her nipples before he reached to catch her wrists. Rolling her to her back, he stretched her arms above her head, pausing for a few brief seconds when her legs parted to accommodate him. "You need to get naked too."

A smile played at her lips as she arched her hips against him, obviously enjoying the fact that the simple movements made his entire body go weak. His fingers loosened around her wrists and she slipped her arms free of his grasp, lightly cupping her breasts before trailing the length of her body. Justin's mouth parted in awe, watching her eyes flutter closed as she writhed beneath him. Leaning back when her thumbs hooked in the waistband of her tight athletic shorts, he remained silent as she arched her hips off the bed, slowly peeling the shorts down. A low moan died in his throat when her body was revealed to him. A sharp groan escaped when she raised her legs to pull them down further. And a heavy whimper fell from his parted lips when she tossed the shorts aside and fluidly brought her knees up, exposing herself completely.

Gorgeous didn't even begin to describe her. She was perfect. Soft and round in the right places, toned and tight in all the others. Flexible and athletic with supple breasts and lightly tanned skin and... Dropping his gaze to the juncture of her thighs, he slowly licked his lips in anticipation, hands resting on her thighs to keep them parted as he stared.

He wasn't sure how many moments passed before her hips wriggled, bringing his attention back to her face. Her tongue flickered over her lips and one dark eyebrow rose in question and never before had he wished so much that she could speak. Glancing from the place he longed to be buried in to her face, a slow smile pulled at his lips and he slid down on the bed, leaning to drop kisses over the length of her body. Nearly delirious from the scent of her, he tightened his grip on her thighs before sliding his hands to her hips, raising her slightly. A sharp gasp filled the room as he dipped a finger into her moist heat. Glancing up the length of her body to see her staring at him in awe, he brought his thumb to his mouth, tasting her essence. Moaning softly in approval, he trailed his tongue along the length of her slit before dipping inside for a deeper taste.

She shuddered, hips jerking in surprise. But he remained firm, hands bringing her closer.

"You taste like heaven." His whisper floated over her as he eased her legs further apart to grant him better access. Suckling gently at the hardened nub, he pressed a finger into her core. She lurched, long legs slipping over his shoulders and he smirked against her, tongue flickering rapidly. He could feel the muscles of her thighs tighten and tremble and knew she was getting close. Not understanding his sudden need to prove that he could please her like no other, he began to suckle the pulsating nub with renewed vigor. Feeling her hard shudder, he drew his finger away and leaned back on his knees, quickly pulling her close and guiding her down his length. Groaning at the immense pleasure that swept over him as her body hugged him like a glove.

***

Calandra hissed as he hauled her up into his arms, nails digging harshly in his back as she rocked fervently against him. Her forehead rested on his shoulder as his hands smoothed up and down her sides. So good. He was so fucking good. Wishing she could tell him with her mouth instead of her body, she continued to rock her hips to his, silently cursing him for making her think he was going to let her orgasm slip away. She could feel the slick sweat of her body sliding over him and marveled that his flesh was far cooler than hers. Nipping at the skin of his shoulder, she increased the speed of her hips, certain she would soon lose control.

"Feels good?" His question was a breathless whisper in her ear and she nodded eagerly. His hands slid to cup her backside, guiding her in a faster motion as he began to thrust against her. Deeper. And she didn't fight when he pushed her back upon the mattress. Her legs hooked around his waist. She shuddered in pure ecstasy when he swiftly entered her, filling her completely.

Throwing her head back she bit down hard on her bottom lip until she feared it would start to bleed. He leaned over her and she trembled violently at the feel of his hands on her skin. Long callused fingers caressing and grasping and pinching, bringing her to a frenzy.

"Do you like it like this?" Justin asked, lips pulling at the skin of her throat. "Hard and fast?" He leaned back slightly for her answer and she nodded eagerly, hands slipping down to cup his backside. A strangled, panting breath pulled from her when his thrusting slowed considerably. He withdrew completely, tip of his length sliding over her before slowly entering and holding within her. "I love it nice and slow." He went on, hands framing her face as he offered a quick kiss. "And, fuck, you feel so good when I'm deep inside. I can feel you working it." At his words she tightened around him and she felt a thrill at the way his teeth pulled at his bottom lip. "Yeah, just like that. That's so fucking hot, baby girl. You like it too."

It wasn't a question but she nodded just the same. The torturously slow withdrawal and reentry made her feel as though her entire body were on fire. The way he filled her and made her stretch to accommodate him had her shivering. And the way he talked. God, she loved the way he was talking to her.

"But you like it hard and fast more. I can handle that." The words were hardly out of his mouth before his hips launched into rapid thrusts. So hard and so fast that she had to clutch at his shoulders so he wouldn't slam her away from him. Their harsh breathing punctuated the slamming of the mattress against the headboard. And in the background she could hear the sounds of their slick bodies. She gave up trying to keep up with his thrusts and steeled her hips for the assault, clutching at the rapture that was just out of her reach. "You gonna come?" His whispered question sent a rush of hot breath against her ear and coupled with the flick of his tongue over her earlobe it pushed her closer to the edge. "You're so fucking hot."

He slammed into her and she could feel the muscles of his body clench as he held himself deep inside her core. She wanted to weep at the futility of seeking her orgasm, it seemed so furtive. But it was obvious Justin wasn't going to give up. He grabbed her shoulders and rolled so she was on top, breathlessly urging her to do what she had to do to get there. She didn't expect to be given full authority, thinking back on the way he had controlled their kiss in the studio. Gazing down at him she was startled when his palm landed on her backside in a gentle smack. Hands falling to his sculpted abdomen for leverage, she curled her fingers in his skin and began a fast rotation of her hips.

"You're in control, baby," he promised with a hiss. His hand crept up the length of her torso to cup one breast, flicking his thumb rapidly over the tortured peak and she let her head fall back. She clamped down on him so tightly that it was difficult to work her hips up and down and felt euphoria slither through her body at the sound of his strangled moans and low growls. Her body opened up like a flower when his hips surged upward, thrusting deeper than before. He tightened his hold on her breast and his other hand met her backside sharply. The mixture of pleasure and stinging pain and the delighted curses that tumbled from his mouth sent her in a tailspin. "That's it. Ride me harder. Let me see you come."

Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as her entire body seemed to explode in delight. She tried her damnedest to hold it back, wanting to enjoy the moment for as long as possible. But he continued to urge her, matching her hips with his own harsh thrusts, still clutching her breast and alternately groping and slapping her backside. She was vaguely aware of the muscles beneath her hands curling and clenching with each thrust as her fingers slid over his sweat-slicked skin. Then the hand on her backside slid forward and the rough pad of his thumb slid hotly over the slick nub that his tongue had so wonderfully tortured. She stiffened completely at the deluge of pure rapture, toes curling against his legs. Her fingers raked down his torso as she rocked and shuddered, eyes closing tightly as she savored the explosions of light.

"Holy fuck." Justin's breathed words barely reached her as she continued to tremble and it barely registered when he lurched upward. She gasped at the unexpected coolness of the comforter against her back as he towered over her and leaned up, seeking his warmth as her body seemed to melt completely. His hands found hers and she hissed into his mouth when he lay over her, bodies melding together completely as he worked his hips against her slowly. Their lips bumped in a series of shaky kisses before he pressed his face to her neck. His lips moved in whispers over her tingling skin and a harsh moan vibrated against her shoulder when she tangled her legs with his. His body slid erotically against her, the rivulets of perspiration making it even more pleasurable.

She dragged her fingers languidly through his hair, gasping and tensing when she felt his movements quicken. Longing to urge him to completion as he had for her, she instead slid her hands up and down his back, arching to meet his hips. Still trembling, she raised her legs slightly so he could go deeper, working her inner muscles.

"Oh, fuck," he blurted, hands reaching to grip the edge of the mattress for stability. He began rutting against her like a savage beast and she gloried in the uninhibited movements. She felt him twitch inside her. Once, twice, then he crashed into her as deeply as possible. A series of primitive growls caused his lips to vibrate against her ear and her eyes widened in surprise at the feel of his release. Lips parting to expel the breath she had been holding, she stilled when his mouth covered hers in a slow, exhilarating kiss as his body sagged against her. He whined softly as he withdrew and she clung to him, not quite ready to let him go. Not just yet.

He brought her with him when he rolled to his back and she curled against his side, hand resting over his rapidly pounding heart. His long fingers shakily pushed her hair from her face before pulling her over him to offer another kiss. "That was so fucking good," he whispered, hands smoothing down her back before holding her close. He didn't seem to mind the sticky sweat that coated their bodies or the fact that his legs hung over the side of her bed. Fingers swept over the small of her back before sliding down to lightly cup her backside. He gave it a gentle squeeze, nipping tenderly at her tingling lips. "Want to share a shower before round two?"

"Home!" Justin called as his dogs burst through the open front door the next morning. Chuckling as Buckley and Brennan bounded through the house, barking excitedly while heading for the master bedroom, he doubted he needed to announce his presence. Those two would have roused the dead. He couldn't understand how they were so energetic after their brisk, long walk but he didn't stress. Tossing their leashes and his keys down he kicked the door shut and winced as their barks continued to echo through the house. Ducking into the kitchen to get a cold drink he groaned when he remembered that he had shut the bedroom door.

Calandra had been sleeping so peacefully when the dogs had sought him out for their morning walk. When he had asked the night before if she wanted to join them for their usual three mile hike she had nodded but Justin hadn't had the heart to wake her. Not when he had come from the bathroom and seen her sprawled in the same spot she had fallen asleep in. Her long wavy hair had spilled over the pillows and one delectable breast had peeked at him over the sheet that was wrapped around her. So he had let her sleep. Maybe she had needed it. A grin pulled at his lips as he thought of their night together. His thighs burned, his throat felt as though he had been singing for hours and when he had climbed out of the bed his knees had buckled like a newborn giraffe's.

But he wouldn't change it for the world. The pleasant weakness of his system was a small price to pay for the countless hours he had spent with Calandra the night before. It had been close to midnight when they had finally ventured from her bedroom and she had thrown together sandwiches for a late dinner. Even Justin hadn't expected doing her on the counter. It was as though one taste of her wasn't nearly enough. His whispered request that she come home with him, made when he had her pressed to the cold tile of her shower for the second time, had brought forth a pleased smile, a nod, and a delirious kiss. He had given her a quick tour when they got to his house, barely able to keep his hands off her. And when the tour had ended in his bedroom the real fun had begun.

How many times did they have sex last night? He wondered as he hollered for the dogs to shut up. It was hard to pinpoint an actual number and he wasn't sure if getting her off with his fingers counted as actual sex. He shivered at the vivid memory of her orgasms. Usually he listened for moans and whimpers and squeals that led to high-pitched screams, but with her it was completely different. The hitch of breath in her throat. The tightening of her thighs. The undulation of her hips. The way her head fell back and her mouth fell open and her entire body shuddered…

Broken from his reverie when Buckley and Brennan crashed through the living room at high speed, Justin cursed under his breath, whistling for them. They paid him no mind, though, racing around the entire downstairs as though chasing a ghost. Finally pushing open the back door so they would take their rambunctious behavior outside, he breathed a sigh of relief when they leaped over each other to get out the door first.

"Crazy fucking mutts." He groaned, reaching to shut the door. But, hearing what sounded like the tinkling of wind chimes in a soft breeze, he stopped. The sound stopped immediately and he shrugged. He decided he needed more sleep. Leaving the door ajar so his stupid dogs could come in and get their food when hunger won out over retardation, he went upstairs.

Calandra was still asleep. The sheet had slipped away and now both breasts were visible and her legs were pared, giving him a great view as he shed his clothing. Down, boy. He thought when he felt an ache form in the pit of his stomach. He crawled into the bed and despite his self-admonitions he slid his body over hers. He moaned at the feel of her body against his, wondering if she had put some sort of spell on him. He seriously began to doubt he would ever have enough of her.

If only she could talk. If only she could look in his eyes and tell him what she felt, what she wanted.

She shifted slightly, thighs sliding against his. He hissed at the sensation, brushing soft kisses over her neck as she slowly awoke. He felt her deep breath and her hands slowly came up to slide through his hair and he smiled against her skin. "Sleep good?" His question was a whisper as he trailed his kisses over her collarbone. Her legs curled over his and a soft sigh pulled from her throat and he had her answer.

She was wet. Nearly drenched, he realized as he gently probed her with the tip of his erection. Her fingers swept over his cheek and he sucked her finger into his mouth, eyebrows quirking in surprise when he tasted her essence on her skin. Her hips lifted as he pushed forward and he was inside her.

"You were getting off while I was gone, weren't you?" He flicked his tongue over the tip of her finger before dropping his head to pull a puckered nipple between his teeth. He remained still inside her, fully enjoying the fact that she had masturbated in his bed. A bit disappointed that he had missed it, perhaps, but the mental image so thoroughly aroused him that he trembled. He glanced up and saw her cheeks were crimson. "Was it good?" He asked. She shrugged, hips rotating in small circles beneath his. "Not as good as me, was it?"

Calandra hesitated before slowly shaking her head.

"Don't worry, baby girl, I'll get you there."

***

Perched on the top of the floor-to-ceiling shelf in Justin's office, Ariella breathed a soft sigh of relief. It had been fun, at first, torturing the dogs. But she had grossly underestimated their attention span. The two beasts had chased her around for over an hour until finally collapsing on the kitchen floor when she had raced through to grab a snack. She had then gone upstairs to see Calandra, but had immediately turned back downstairs when she had fluttered into the room and found the two humans writhing on the bed.

Honestly. She huffed, dipping one hand into the bag of sunflower seeds she had found in the kitchen. She pried the hull apart and munched thoughtfully on the salty seed, legs swinging idly. And she had thought other humans were bad. Naturally curious, she has spent many of her first nights in the human world sneaking out of Calandra's room and spying on her neighbors. She had not been able to wrap her mind around the blatant sexual activity that was happening under everyone's nose.

But Calandra and Justin! She shook her head in disbelief, tossing the hull to the floor and reaching for another. She had thought she'd given them plenty of time the night before, waiting until she heard the water running in the shower before slipping into the bedroom so she could go to sleep. But, no, Calandra and Justin had made that impossible. The sounds that man made. Ariella thought he sounded like some wounded beast.

She felt no guilt over watching them when they had arrived at Justin's house. After all, she had been charged by the Council to always accompany Calandra everywhere and she certainly wasn't going to let the woman out of her range ever again. Especially after it had taken her two days to find the human after that visit to the Dream Weaver. She could throttle Calandra for sneaking off when she knew Ariella would be meeting with her own kind.

She cringed at the thought of her next meeting with the Council.

Her worries dissipated, however, when Justin entered the room. She smiled as he shuffled towards the desk, muffling a yawn against his shoulder while he powered up his computer. One scarlet eyebrow rose when he sat down and she saw the fine scratch marks along his back. Even if the man sounded like a wounded beast when he had sex, it was obvious that he knew how to please Calandra.

Dusting the salt from her fingers, she hopped up, fully prepared to go upstairs and grill Calandra. But just as she began to flap her wings the bag of sunflower seeds slid off the shelf. She tried her best to swoop down and catch them before they hit the floor but gravity tilted the bag and the seeds fell, scattering on the hardwood floor.

Fuck.

Justin turned at the sound and she saw the confusion flash in his eyes when the bag hit the floor. She had inadvertently caused a ruckus in the presence of humans before but his reaction made her giggle. The sound floated in the room and she abruptly stopped when he raised his head, looking directly at her. But he couldn't see her. That fact pleased her and she zipped to stand on his desk as he shook his head in confusion. His shoulders shrugged and she knew he was deciding that someone had left the bag on the shelf for some unknown reason.

Humans. So stupid.

She settled on the desk, tucking her wings against her back as she watched him. She had no idea of this was his regular routine or not, but it took all her willpower to keep from laughing. The man talked to himself as he surfed the internet. Comments about a particular news story or thoughts on a new song, muttered curses as he clicked on a gossip site and saw his picture. Chuckles as he read comic strips. Critiques on an actress' choice of clothing. But he didn't just talk. He moved. She had realized in the early morning hours that he never kept still, having sat on his dresser and watched him shift and turn in his sleep.

But his movements now were hilarious. He bobbed his head in time to whatever song was playing. He wrinkled his nose and moved his lips as he read a news story. He scratched his chest. He scratched his nose. He scratched his crotch. She would have thought that after his strenuous activities the night before he would be exhausted but the man seemed to be a bundle of energy.

No wonder Calandra was still in bed.

"Ah, fuck!" Justin's voice was louder now than it had been during his mumbles over an article saying he would be teaming up with Jenna Jameson in an upcoming porn movie. Curious, Ariella fluttered to hover by his shoulder, wondering what had brought such a response. And she felt her jaw drop when she saw the pictures on his computer screen.

They were of Calandra and Justin. At the studio, Ariella guessed, confused as to how the photographer had managed the pictures. They showed the two going through dance moves and as Justin scrolled to the bottom of the page and Ariella saw a grainy shot of Calandra against the wall kissing Justin, she could no longer maintain her silence.

"How the fuck did they get that picture?! What were they doing, camping out in a building across the street?" She demanded, kicking one foot in frustration. Her foot connected with Justin's shoulder but she didn't care. He whirled around and she had to move to the left to avoid being knocked from the air by his chin. Anger towards the person who had invaded Calandra's privacy bubbled within Ariella and she shifted so she was right in front of Justin. "Am I going to see pictures of her fucking you tomorrow?"

"What--Who--" Justin stammered, eyes flashing as he looked around the room. Ariella growled and he swiveled around to look straight at her. He squinted for a moment and she saw the realization wash over him. His face paled, his mouth dropped open and his blue eyes widened. "Who--Who--Who--"

"Ariella." She made a bow but put too much force behind it and ended up somersaulting in the air. "No, you're not crazy. Or drunk. I'm real."

***

Justin laughed nervously, blinking as the tiny whatever-it-was continued to hover just in front of his face. He rubbed his eyes and was certain that he was hallucinating. From what, he had no idea. Too much sex, maybe. He certainly hadn't been drinking. And it had been weeks since he'd last smoked weed. When he looked again it was still there. He supposed it was a she. Long hair, breasts and a dress typically signified female, right? "Are you--What are you?"

"I am a fairy."

That tiny voice. It was what he would have thought a mouse's voice was like. If mice could talk. Dragging his hands down his face, he sat back in his chair and stared at her. "A fairy? You mean like Tinkerbell?"

Wrong thing to say. Her small face contorted and he wouldn't have been surprised if smoke had started coming out of her ears. "Tinkerbell. Is. A. Pixie." She nearly growled the words and he was immediately chastised.

"I'm sorry--"

"When she flies, pixie dust floats from her. Her wings and ears are pointed. Her hips are wide. Her breasts are small." Ariella spun in a circle, spreading her wings fully. "When I fly, nothing floats behind me. My wings are rounded and my ears are, too. My hips are slender and my breasts are larger."

"I'm sorry, I--"

"Tinkerbell is a slut." Ariella snorted. "First she's all hot over Peter Pan. Then she gets sweaty over some loser at Pixie Hollow. Fucking please, Timberlake. Fairies are so much better than a stupid cartoon pixie."

"I see." Justin had leaned back further and further with each word and now slowly moved into a normal position. Rubbing the back of his neck, he cleared his throat and glanced at the scattered sunflower seeds. "Where did you come from?"

"I originated in Ireland. But not the Ireland you know. My family then moved to Laden, which you also don't know. I come from a long line of fairies that are known as the Trooping Fairies. We're aristocracy mostly, but there are a few domestics and fairies of lesser importance. And then there are the fairies like me."

"And what's that?" He hated to admit it, but he was curious. If this was a crazy dream that was fine, but it was damned interesting.

"Let's just say I did something wrong and was sent to the human world as punishment." She explained.

"So... Why are you here?" Justin asked.

"I came with Calandra. She's my ward. Well, she was. I did my penance and the Council told me I could either go back to my world or stay with humans. Calandra's a dear, so I decided to stay with her a little while longer."

Calandra had a fairy? Justin almost laughed at the thought but refrained. He somehow knew it would only cause the fairy to get mad again. "I see."

"No you don't. You're so damn blind I want to knock you upside the head." She folded her arms over her chest and it looked as though she was about to launch into another tirade. But the sound of one of his dogs trotting towards the room diverted her and in an instant she was hurrying to the top of the shelf. "Your fucking dogs! They almost killed me!"

"My dogs?" Justin asked, looking to the door when Brennan slipped inside the room. His sweet, loving dogs had almost killed her? Crooning towards the Boxer, he vigorously rubbed her ears when she placed her front paws in his lap. "My dogs aren't like that. They're sweet, aren't you girl? Yes you are--Fuck!" He screeched when Brennan's paws dug into his gut before she spun around. Her hackles rose as she stared at the top shelf, where Ariella hid behind one of his Grammy awards. A low growl rumbled from the dog and Justin could only stare in horror as she leaped straight up, snapping at Ariella.

"SEE?!" Ariella shrieked, flying away from the shelf. Brennan followed, continuing to jump into the air, jaws snapping. "Most dogs just chase me a few minutes then leave me alone!"

With that she left the room, Brennan right behind her. Justin slapped a hand over his face as loud barks filled his home and groaned when he heard Buckley joining in. The thundering of paws echoed from every room and he couldn't help but wonder who he had pissed off to deserve such chaos.

The first show had been a resounding success. Calandra had watched from the pit in front of the stage, holding her breath nearly the entire time. Though Justin and the dancers had worked their asses off to memorize the steps she had created she had feared that someone or something would mess up. But nothing did. Everything went off fluidly with not even the tiniest mistake. The dancers were in top form and Justin, well, Justin was perfect.

So unbelievably perfect in every way. She knew she was not the only one who watched every move he made while onstage. She knew she wasn't the only woman who felt weak in the knees when he danced erotically with the girl dancers. There was no jealously from Calandra, because she knew who would be sharing his bed that night. The knowledge put a smile on her face that was still in place later that night as they all piled into the caravan of cars and SUVs that would take them to the club Justin had suggested.

Routine, he told her as he pulled her into his lap. Apparently they always went to a club on the first night of tour. He had barely stepped into a shower after the show and his hair was still damp but she didn't mind. She loved the smell of him. She liked his aftershave and cologne, but when those faded and she could smell his skin, his sweat, it made her shiver. Justin caught her lips in a soft kiss just as they reached the club and she wished she could whisper the words in her heart when he looked into her eyes briefly before they climbed out.

It was no secret they were together. She wasn't quite sure what their relationship status was, though. They never went out on dates. Instead it would be a murmured request that she come to his house when they finished up at the studio or, since arriving in Miami two days before, a hotel key slipped into her hand. She had overheard him telling the backup dancers and band that she was off-limits. She never would have gone off with any of those greasy guys, but she was touched by the gesture just the same.

The club was packed and she felt out of place in her jeans and tank top when she saw the clusters of women in mini skirts and halter tops. They stumbled around, teetering on high heels and obviously not minding when backsides or breasts were exposed. Justin didn't even seem to notice them as he led her to the VIP room. He hollered out for a bottle of tequila and two glasses and then pulled her into a corner booth.

It may have not been a white picket fence and two kids in the suburbs, she reflected as his lips descended over hers, but she would take what she could get.

***

Usher was pounding from the speakers and it was so loud Justin could barely hear himself think. He chuckled as he raised his glass for another shot. Slapping the glass down on the table, he slid low in his seat as Mark and Troy laughed when he coughed at the burn. Reaching for his beer, Justin raised it in triumph before taking a hearty swig. "Fuckers." He slurred the word terribly but didn't care. Pulling out of the booth he looked around the room for Calandra. She had said something about having to...go do something but it shouldn't have taken her this long. He weaved through the group of dancing couples, holding his hands above his head so he wouldn't inadvertently grope a dude.

He slammed into the bar, grinning sheepishly at the bartender as he used his hands to push himself upright. "Sorry dude. Hey! Have you seen Calandra?" He shouted when he saw a familiar face. It belonged to someone he knew but he didn't try to say her name, knowing he would screw up and call her the wrong thing and get a glare.

The dancer pointed over her shoulder towards the bathroom. "Some jackass spilled beer all over her. She's washing her shirt out in the bathroom."

"Thank-ya." Keeping a grip on the edge of the bar, he bowed, giggling when she rolled her eyes. Pushing off the bar, he headed for the bathroom to check on Calandra. He needed her. She was supposed to be with him, not in some bathroom washing her shirt. Bringing a hand up to slap his forehead, he instead brushed his fingers over the top of his head. "I'm such a needy fucking drunk. Can't let my girl out of my sight? What the fuck am I? A pussy?"

He turned when he reached the doorway that led to the bathrooms and groaned when he saw a seemingly neverending hallway. It was dim, a sconce here and there down the walls but he knew he would be bumping into everything. Placing a hand on either wall, he slowly walked forward. He had made it halfway down the hall when one of the doors at the end opened and a woman started towards him. Damn. Even in the dim light he could see the sway of her hips and the jiggle of her chest. A smile played at her lips as she neared and he felt rooted to the spot as a sudden memory washed over him.

Time seemed to suspend for long moments as they both swayed and for a second he thought they would manage to stay on their feet but before the thought finished they crashed. He landed hard on the floor, grunting when the firm body fell atop him. His hands instantly moved to steady her and a chuckle escaped his lips when his hands landed on the softness of her backside.

"You okay?" She asked, hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest. The soft crush of her breasts disappeared as she sat up, graceful movements that astounded him in his state of mind. Her hands grabbed his and then he was being pulled to his feet.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," he murmured, offering his most apologetic smile. Her eyes widened slightly and he wondered if he had adopted his drunken grin. "You?"

"I'm... I'm okay."

Then she stepped into the light and he saw it was Calandra. Calandra. Not that woman he had dreamt about ever since that horrible night. His sweet, delectable Calandra, who had no problem sporting a soaking wet tank top. There was no way she was her. She couldn't speak, much less sing. Well, he mentally corrected as he brought her close, she could speak. She used her hands, eyes and body to speak. She spoke clearly when she rubbed his head while he fell asleep watching a movie.

She may not have been her, but Justin could see himself falling in love with the woman in his arms.

***

Bony fingers clutched the edge of the table as dark eyes stared into the crystal ball. He snarled and shut off the image mentally, pushing away from the table. His footsteps echoed in the paneled room as he began to pace. The little slut. Of course that Timberlake fellow would fall for her if her legs spread wide with just a look from him.

"I shall just have to make sure it goes no further." His dry lips curled over his yellowed teeth in a smile as he walked to the glass cabinet that held his most treasured trinkets. The item he was looking for held a place of prominence. She had certainly given in quickly when she thought she would be able to capture the heart of a spoiled pop star. He carefully plucked the glowing bottle from its shelf and looked at the circle of light that suspended inside.

Yes. His plan would work. His plan had to work.

His plans always did.

***

The roar of the crowd still rung in Justin's ears even though two hours had passed since the concert had ended. North Carolina definitely knew how to make a man feel welcome. He had dragged out the encores, fueled by their response, giving in to their demands for more. And he still felt the euphoria of their love as he and some of the band jammed backstage.

He reached for his drink, foot tapping in time to the beat as the wisps of smoke from cigarettes and joints created a cloud near the ceiling. Instinctively he reached for Calandra and sighed when he remember she wasn't there. He drained his beer and tossed the empty bottle into the trash before picking up his guitar again.

"Here's a big 'fuck you' to bitches getting sick and not being able to get any!" He shouted, laughing when he was greeted by agreeing murmurs from the guys in the band.

"Is your bitch still sick?" Troy asked as he worked to replace a broken string on his guitar.

"Fuckin' flu." Justin groaned. He had gotten used to waking up to mind-blowing sex every morning since the tour had begun. But that morning when he had rolled over and reached for Calandra, he had only touched cold sheets. She had been huddled in the bathroom, head in the toilet and shivering like crazy. At first he had thought it was just a hangover but when he had helped her to her feet he'd felt the burn of a fever. Ariella had fretted and had told him in her tinny voice that Calandra couldn't do any work that day. He had given her some ibuprofen and tucked her back in the bed and made sure there was plenty of water in the mini fridge before he had left for his round of interviews. All day he had meant to have someone go check on her but each time he opened his mouth to ask Rachel, something had come up. Another interview. Soundcheck. A screwed up sound system that had taken over an hour to fix. When the show had ended he'd sent Rachel to the hotel to check on Calandra and had gotten a quick text saying that she was asleep.

"Man, you ain't getting no pussy if she's sick." Troy grinned at his statement, lightly plucking the replaced string.

"Shit, I don't want pussy if she's sick. Fuck that, I can't afford to get sick." Justin sighed and accepted the joint that was passed to him. He wanted to go back to the hotel and be with her. He really did. But when he had suggested that to Rachel she had launched into a litany of reasons why he shouldn't. He had finally given in and joined Troy and the gang in the dressing room to hang out. Slowly exhaling a plume of light smoke, he turned when the door opened.

"These don't look sick." Troy hissed the words in Justin's ear as several women slipped into the room, allowed in by the bodyguard that someone had sent looking for prime ladies.

"Shit." Justin stared at the exposed flesh impassively, reminding himself that he had a gorgeous body waiting for him at the hotel. Then he reminded himself that she wasn't really waiting. She was asleep. And sick. And... It wasn't like they were dating, right? His mind fumbled to find a word that would accurately describe his relationship with Calandra as a round of drinks was poured.

Two drinks later, he still hadn't come up with a word. The statuesque brunette with killer abs poured him another and his mind was quickly growing fuzzy. He didn't push her back when she slid one long leg over his lap. He didn't complain when her body rocked against him. And when she whispered hotly in his ear that they should find a room of their own he let her lead him out, ignoring the small voice that nagged in the back of his mind.

It's not like I'm going to fuck her. He told himself that over and over as they stumbled into his private dressing room.

"I've been searching for you for a long time, Justin." As she spoke she guided him to the large couch and Justin felt a jolt at the sound of her voice. The fuzziness of his mind began to fade away and he stared at her.

"You have?" He took another sip of his drink, frowning when his mind grew fuzzy again.

"Yes." Her hands cupped his face and he was taken back to that miserable night and the feather-soft touches of fingers on his cheeks. "I was scared, you know. I worried that you would think I was involved and..." She sighed, her full lips feeling like velvet over his. "And then I couldn't find you."

"It was you." Fuzziness be damned, he knew her voice when he heard it. The voice he had longed to hear for so long. He pushed his drink aside and clutched her shoulders. He needed to know she was real. He needed to know he wasn't dreaming.

"I'm so glad those bastards didn't mess up your beautiful face." Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears and his fingers crept into the soft brown waves that fell to her waist.

"I tried to find you. But nobody believed me. Fuck, even the cops looked like they were going to laugh when I told them about you." Her lips brushed his again and he sighed, heart tumbling in his chest as he breathed in the intoxicating scent of light floral perfume. There was something behind the perfume. Something heavier that sent his senses into overdrive. "What's your name?" He asked as he brought her closer.

"Cat." The syllable was whispered against his lips before she drew him into a kiss.

Cat.

He'd found her.

Calandra tried her best to not let her personal feelings get in the way of her job. But after watching the woman who had joined the tour just a few days prior sidle up to Justin and pull him out of rehearsal, she nearly lost it.

Three days. Three days since he had really talked to her. Four, if she allowed for that day she had been sick as a dog. She had awakened the morning after the first show in Charlotte to an empty bed and no fever. No aches or chills or nausea had impeded her morning routine, which had seemed awfully boring without Justin's presence. Ariella hadn't known where he was and together they had concluded that he had probably gotten another room so she could get her rest.

If she had only known. Bitter tears filled her eyes as she watched Justin and Catherine disappear backstage and she gave a motion to the other dancers that rehearsal was over. Sighs of relief swept across the stage and she moved to sit on the edge, bringing her towel up to her face to catch the tears before they could fall.

I thought I meant something. I thought he liked me. Memories of their times together scattered through her mind as the stage emptied and she shook her head when the girls asked if she wanted to go out for lunch. At least they seemed sympathetic. During one of the routines each girl was supposed to circle Justin and slap his cheek lightly. But the night before they had each hauled off and slapped him so hard he had faltered in the chorus of the song. And when he had confronted them after the show each had offered a shrug before slipping away.

I don't want to hurt him, though. Calandra thought sadly as she pulled her knees to her chest. She just wanted to know why. She wanted to know why he had pushed her aside for that silly, fake-breasted Catherine whose giggles would send an old hound dog in the opposite direction. She wanted to know why he hadn't even told her they were over before pulling the woman who dressed like a stripper into his hotel room. Damnit, she wanted to know why she didn't seem to matter anymore.

She angrily slapped her knee and rolled to her feet. If that was what he wanted, fine. If he was happy with a woman who spoke only to him and ignored everyone else, if he found her jiggling breasts and fake-tan legs arousing, so be it. There was nothing she could do about it. Time was running out, as Ariella had informed her bluntly that morning. Less than a week to get him to say he loved her. She snorted at the thought as she tossed her towel into the laundry bin backstage. Five days to get him to fall in love with her? When he had that bimbo on his arm?

Not fucking likely. Calandra snatched up her things and headed out of the arena, steeling herself against the pleased moans that came through Justin's dressing room door. She resisted the urge to fling open the door and knock Catherine on her ass, knowing that it would only make her look stupid.

***

"You know what I think?" Cheryl, one of the backup dancers, dug her spoon into her bowl of soup and brought it to her mouth as her question hung in the air. "I think you should fight fire with fire."

Calandra rolled her eyes at the statement, idly twirling her fork in her spaghetti. Another day had passed and they were in yet another city. She couldn't remember which state they were in but didn't stress over that fact. The dancers had invaded her hotel room with a barrage of food and unhealthy snacks and a pile of gory movies. To take her mind off things, Cheryl had explained.

"How is she going to fight fire with fire?" Julie asked around a mouthful of lasagna, not flinching when the head of the man on the TV screen suddenly exploded in a spray of blood and brains.

"Come on! She's gorgeous!" Cheryl insisted. "Remember how he was talking about how hot her body was?"

It had been a unanimous unspoken agreement not to mention Justin by name. Instead, the girls referred to him as he, him and, more frequently, the asshole. Calandra shook her head slightly, though she could remember many times when he had sung the praises of her body. Usually when it was wrapped around his, naked and sweaty, but he had frequently listed her assets.

"Yeah. So? What's she going to do, start walking around naked?" Deborah grinned, holding up her milkshake in a toast.

"Of course not. Come on, Calandra, you know what I mean." Cheryl said. "You always hide that body in jeans and sweatshirts when you're not in your workout gear. Don't you own any skirts? Flirty tops? Heels?"

Calandra shook her head slowly, thinking of the two suitcases filled with her comfortable clothes. Jeans, sweatshirts, t-shirts, sweatpants, pajama pants, flip-flops, sneakers and her workout clothes. The closet at her apartment had held many skirts and skimpy tops and there had been a plethora of high heels and sexy boots. But they weren't her style. She had dressed up only twice in her life and those had been the two proms she had attended in high school. Besides, Justin had said he loved the way she looked in her jeans.

Of course, that was before Barbie on Stilts had showed up.

"You don't, do you?" Cheryl sighed and dipped a wedge of bread into her soup. "I might have a couple skirts that you could wear."

"I've got some tops you can borrow." Deborah offered.

"We're the same shoe size, right? Your legs are thinner than mine, you can probably wear those boots I got the other day. I can't get them to zip up past my knees." Julie looked down at her lasagna and, obviously deciding that her diet wasn't to blame, began to eat it with renewed vigor.

Great, I can dress up to watch reruns of I Love Lucy, Calandra thought with a sigh. She looked to the night stand by the bed, where Ariella had chosen to stay during the movie marathon. Her small hands were covering her ears and her eyes were closed but Calandra could tell she was still freaking out over the horror movie that was playing. We'll watch Peter Pan when they leave and you can pick on that slutty Tinkerbell, okay?

Ariella shifted to give her a glare and Calandra grinned before turning back to the dancers.

***

When he stepped out of the shower, Justin peered into the bedroom and saw that Cat had already gone. He sighed as he dried off, tucking the towel around his waist. She had said she would wait. That they would go down to dinner together. But obviously his shower had taken too long. Shivering as he stepped into the bedroom, he saw through the door that the outer door of his suite was hanging wide open. He headed in that direction, deciding she had probably skipped down to the vending machines to get a snack to tide her over. When he leaned out and looked down the hall, he didn't see her though and was about to shut the door when another door down the hall opened.

Whoa. That was Calandra's room, right? He felt a pang in his chest when a woman stepped out, realizing that he had all but ignored her recently. He hadn't meant to. He was just so tied up getting to know Cat, who seemed to know all the right things to say without making it seem like she was just saying the words to make him feel good. He lightly drummed his fingers against the doorframe and just as he stepped into the hall to go see Calandra, she stepped out of her room.

It was Calandra, but not like he had ever seen her before. He blinked several times as she slowly walked down the hall. The naturally seductive sway of her hips was even more pronounced in the short black skirt that hugged the curves of her upper thighs and backside. His gaze lowered, taking in her seemingly never-ending legs as his breath caught in his throat. The black boots she wore went to just above her knees and his fingers burned with a sudden desire to touch the smooth patch of skin between the top of the boots and the hem of the skirt. His mouth went dry as his gaze traveled up her legs again, pausing to watch her hips before looking to the rest of her. Flimsy red material draped over her torso, slithering with each step she took and giving glimpses of her flat stomach. He could tell just by watching that she wore no bra and his mouth watered as he remembered the way her breasts had felt in his hands, the way her nipples had felt on his tongue. Her black wavy hair tumbled past her shoulders and he turned to watch her as she walked by, biting his lip. Hate to see her go but love to watch her leave.

As though reading his thoughts she turned to look at him over her shoulder and he beckoned to her. A crass comment about being able to make her come with one finger was on the tip of his tongue when she strolled towards him, but he was diverted by the sway of her breasts. He wet his lips, unabashedly gazing at her chest and he literally ached when he saw her nipples harden under the fabric. Without a word he pulled her into the room and shut the door. She leaned against it, gorgeous body silhouetted against the white wood and he dipped his head to bring a peaked nipple into his mouth. His hands pressed on the door as he sucked and nibbled her through the thin fabric, surprised at the whines that came from her throat. He sucked the nipple hard, releasing it with a loud smack before doing the same to the other nipple.

When he was finished she was panting, moaning his name and she whimpered when he slid lower, brushing the top aside so he could trail his tongue over her abdomen. He licked at her navel, hands moving to clutch her backside when she began to squirm. A hand landed on his shoulder and he was pushed back, falling to the floor. Staring up at her, breathless, he whined when the heel of her boot grazed over the towel that barely hid his erection. The pointed toe slid beneath the towel and with a turn of her ankle it flipped open.

Just as she knelt over him and he felt the delicious slide of leather against his length, she was gone.

Justin opened his eyes and groaned when he realized it had all been a dream. No doubt brought on by the clothes Calandra had worn when a bunch of the crew had gone out to a club the other night and he had been forced to watch her dance with other men. Men, he was sure, who had no idea what a wonderful person she was beneath the skimpy clothes she was wearing.

Next to him, Cat slept peacefully and she didn't stir when he slid out of the bed. It was always easier to slip away when she wasn't paying attention. She was always paying attention, though. She had pouted and asked why he was with her when it was so obvious he wanted to be with Calandra and he'd had to assure her that she was the one he wanted. And he had brought her back to the hotel early to show her just how much he wanted her.

Funny. Whenever he and Calandra had been at a club and he wanted her, he'd taken her. There had been no need to hide his desire for her. He hadn't had to take her to back to the hotel to make love to her.

Make love? He bit back a chuckle at the words, quietly as possible sliding his jeans on. He grabbed his discarded sweater and pulled it over his head, grabbing his shoes before slipping quietly out of the room. He breathed a soft sigh of relief when he listened at the door and Cat's even breathing continued. Enamored as he was with her the last thing he wanted at the moment was for her to wake up.

He took the stairs to the roof without knowing why he was going. The urge to get out and breathe in the fresh air was so palpable that he nearly cried out with relief when he stepped out onto the roof. A cold wind took his breath away and he shivered in his thick sweater. His shoes crunched on the gravelly surface as he wandered around, taking in the lights of the city. As he rounded the corner of the rooftop air conditioner he saw the glow of a cigarette in the darkness and stopped. His eyes adjusted and he saw it was Calandra.

Calandra. Sitting on the roof leaning against the AC smoking a cigarette and sipping out of a bottle. He slid down to sit next to her without a word and accepted the bottle when she offered it to him. Thinking how coincidental it was that the one person he had wanted to see was the person he found, he sought her hand and sighed at the way it fit perfectly in his palm. The bottle contained alcohol and he took a sip, hissing at the burn that slid down his throat.

"I'm sorry." The words burst from his mouth just as he heard her sniffle. He realized she was crying and felt a sharp pang in his heart. "I should have... Done shit different. I should have told you about her and how important it was for me to be with her. No one else understands but I think you would--" Justin cut off abruptly when her finger slid over his lips to silence him. He saw the shadow of her head move as she shook it slowly, her hand moving to rest over his heart. Her fingers curled and he tucked the bottle between his legs so he could cover her hand with his. As he did so, he felt her thumb, index finger and pinkie were extended, her middle and ring fingers tucked against his chest. And he remembered learning what that meant when, years before, Lance had shown him a few of the signs for sign language.

I love you.

I love you.

Calandra's mind screamed the words, wishing she could tell him plainly in a way that he would understand. But his fingers continued to move over hers and he remained silent. Sniffling again, she wiped her face on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, the wind biting into her damp cheeks. His hand dropped hers and his arm wound around her shoulders and from the kangaroo pocket of her sweatshirt she heard Ariella grumbling. Calandra knew why. Her time was almost up. She had checked her watch just before Justin had appeared and had started to cry when she realized she had only ten minutes left. The futility of it all had made her want to fling herself off the roof.

But she had continued to sit, sucking hard on her cigarette. She felt the hand tracing her fingers move to rest over her chest and released a shuddering breath. Certain he could hear the pounding of her heart, she shivered when she felt his fingers moving until the position of his hand matched hers.

"I love you, too."

His lips brushed over her forehead and he whispered her name but she remained still.

What about her? What about those things you told everyone about her being The One? If you're so crazy about her, how can you love me?

"Because I just realized that you're The One." Justin whispered.

She jumped slightly at his words, the blood rushing in her ears as her entire body went weak. Rearing back, she stared at him and saw her surprise mirrored in his eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and paid no attention to the racing of her heart, which resembled a million pounding drums. Realizing that she had said the words aloud she raised a hand to her lips.

"You--I--Did you just talk? Or did I imagine..." Justin's voice trailed into nothingness as he stared at her. She felt his heart leap in his chest and nodded. "But how?"

"You said you love me." It was a simple, almost moronic statement, but she had no idea how else to answer his question. It was the truth. And her heart soared as his words tumbled in her mind and she realized that it was all true. Though they had known each other for a short while, she was certain that the roads of their lives had been intertwined by destiny. The flower she had plucked from Fate's hand long ago had finally uncurled its petals to reveal his heart. Him. The other half of her soul.

"Yeah... But how did--What--I don't get it. You sound just like her." His eyes widened and he grabbed her shoulders, staring into her eyes. "You're her, aren't you? The one that I thought didn't really exist."

She nodded, still so used to not being able to speak that motions came first. Hands framing his face, she nodded again. "If I could have, I would have told you. But--"

Her sentence ended abruptly when a crack of thunder sounded. The building beneath them seemed to tremble from the force and Ariella wriggled out of Calandra's sweatshirt pocket.

"Ah, shit." Ariella's words were a hiss as she turned first one way and then the other. "Shit, shit, shit!"

"What?" Justin asked.

"You know that woman you left in your bed?" Ariella floated on the wind, her voice loud enough to be heard over the rumbling thunder. "That woman that had you wrapped around her finger until you came to your senses?"

Calandra shivered with trepidation, tucking her head against Justin's chest when she felt the first warm drops of rain. She heard him mutter a yes towards Ariella.

"Well, Sweetcheeks, she ain't a woman. She ain't even human." Ariella came towards them again, small eyes wide. "I've got to go."

"Where?" Calandra asked, lifting her head to stare at her friend in bewilderment. "Where are you going?"

"To get help!" The words were flung over Ariella's shoulder before she disappeared in the slashing rain.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Calandra sighed as Justin pulled her to her feet. Taking the bottle, she took a hearty swig of the whiskey to fortify her spirit.

"Calandra. What's going on?" Justin spoke the words carefully and it occurred to her that they were standing on the roof in a storm. She watched the rain form rivulets down his cheeks, dripping from his nose and chin.

She was saved from answering when the door to the stairs crashed open. Turning when she saw Justin's jaw drop, she bit her lip when she saw the Dream Weaver. He stepped forward, long strides bringing him towards them and she didn't fight when Justin shuffled her back so she stood behind him.

"I can tell you everything, Mr. Timberlake."

***

Justin kept one arm behind him, holding onto Calandra so she wouldn't slip away. Staring at the skeletal figure that seemed to walk between the raindrops, he felt nothing but utter confusion.

Calandra is her. Cat's not real. This guy is apparently Cat. Calandra can talk.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess and he didn't even attempt to make sense of them. The only thing he could be certain of was that he loved the woman standing behind him. The knowledge had been so blinding and overwhelming he had barely been able to form the words but as soon as he had his world had changed. He had felt his heart overflow and the world had seemed to tip beneath him.

Now he realized the world tipping was due to the guy in front of him. The guy who was so thin it was remarkable the wind didn't blow him over. The guy who was glaring at him as though he had just stolen his wife. The guy who was twirling a cane like some reject from Broadway.

"Explain," Justin requested evenly, not liking the way Calandra trembled when the guy chuckled. "Who are you?"

"I have many names. Some are unable to be pronounced vocally. Some are so long it would take me hours to say them all." Miraculously, he was still dry and his lips spread into a manic grin over yellow teeth. "But now I am known as Dream Weaver."

Lightning flashed in the sky and Justin was diverted by a dark cloud descending over them. The lightning flashed again and he saw the iridescent wings of Ariella at the front of the cloud. He blinked and more fairies came into focus. A veritable swarm, they swooped down, staying just out of reach. Justin could hear their voices floating in the air like whispers but couldn't make out the strange words they were chanting. He looked to Dream Weaver again and realized that only he and Calandra were aware of fairies.

Justin would have never thought he'd be glad to see a bunch of fairies.

"Now, according to our deal, my dear, you had thirty-one days to snare the heart of one Justin Timberlake." Fingers that looked like skin stretched over bone snapped and the sound was like thunder. Justin was bewildered and astounded when a piece of paper appeared in the man's hand. Dark eyes peered over the printed words and his grin widened. "And according to this, those thirty-one days were up just a few moments ago." He snapped again and the paper disappeared. "You now belong to me."

"No." Calandra's voice was teary but Justin didn't dare turn to look at her. Words swirled in his brain and he struggled to understand what was happening. What had happened that had brought him to this moment?

"You mean she made a deal with you to get me to fall in love with her?" His question was weak but it was the best Justin could do. He swiped the rain from his face and saw Ariella perching on Dream Weaver's shoulder. Dozens more fairies were around him, occasionally obscuring his face from Justin's view.

"I merely arranged circumstances so she would be in your presence." Long fingers made an impatient gesture, the cane tapping against the roof. "Come along, Calandra. I need you."

"But..." Justin faltered, looking around helplessly. "She did snare my heart."

"The time was up before you said the words. A pity. You two do make a sickeningly adorable couple." Dream Weaver waved an arm and the clouds swirled, descending them in near-darkness.

The wind picked up speed, howling against Justin's ears and he was transfixed, staring at the clouds as they shifted into a swirling vortex. Lightning flashed from within, streaking out in random places and he clutched Calandra tighter to him. He turned to face her finally, hands slipping over her soaked clothing as he struggled to get a good grip on her. Finally tangling his fingers in her wet hair he shook his head when she looked up to him pleadingly. "I can't let you go. I can't, Calandra. Not now, when I know how much I need you." The vortex loomed closer, sucking the breath from his lungs. He felt her drawing away from him even though she clutched at his arms. Her fingers were curled tightly in the sleeves of his sweater and he shook his head again, certain he felt his heart ripping into shreds at the thought of her leaving him forever. "No! There has to be a way to fight this!"

"There is." Ariella was there, whispering in his ear. Tiny fingers grasped at his hair and her voice rose. "Do you trust us?" When he didn't answer she shook her arms furiously, straining against the pull of the vortex. "Justin! Do you trust us?"

He nodded, impulsively dragging Calandra close for a swift kiss. He hated the nagging idea that this would be their last kiss. Hot tears mixed with the cold rain and he felt her muffled sob vibrate against his lips. "I love you," he whispered, memorizing the taste and feel of her lips when he felt a force pulling their bodies apart.

His lost his grip on her and he fell to the roof, not feeling the burn of the gravel as his face slammed down into it. He spit the dirt from his mouth and watched the fairies cluster protectively around Calandra, drawing her away and obscuring her from his view. Just as he thought they were going to beat this and that in a moment it would all be over, he felt something pulling at his legs. Invisible hands were like a vice, starting at his feet and moving up his body. His fingers clawed at the roof when he saw the vortex looming closer and the shards of rock tore at his skin but he realized nothing would save him. His attempts to hold on were futile and he was pulled from the roof as though by a great vacuum.

The clouds closed around him and his world went black.

***

"What the hell was that?" Calandra demanded, panic in her voice as she watched Justin disappear in the dark clouds. She shook off the tiny beings that had taken her away from him and stared at the last place she had seen him, horrified to see that the cloud had already dissipated. He was gone. Without a trace, she realized as she looked around the roof. The bottle they had shared for a brief moment was gone. The tracks his hands had made in the thin layer of gravel had been swept away.

Dream Weaver remained where he had been all along. He seemed confused over the change in events and stood idly. One hand rested over his mouth as his eyes flickered, obviously trying to make sense of what had happened. Calandra felt nothing but rage towards him. He was the one who had brought all the horror. He was the one who had taken Justin away.

"The Elders say you must defeat your demons, Calandra." Ariella's voice was soft, tender with emotion and her expression was sad when Calandra looked to her. "It's the only way. Justin had to go so you could do this on your own. Him doing it for you would never have broken the Weaver's spell."

"I can't defeat a demon." Calandra could barely whisper the words, sagging forward in utter defeat. There was no way she could be expected to fight a being that could control the winds and the rain. It was impossible. Completely impossible. And she only had herself to blame. If she had never answered that ad, if she had never agreed to the Dream Weaver's ludicrous plan, none of this would have happened. Justin would be here. He would be alright. And she... Well, she would still be at home longing for the impossible but at least everything wouldn't be in turmoil.

"You have to." Ariella swooped down to sit in the palm of Calandra's hand. "You have to and you will. We'll help as much as we can but you have to do this, Calandra."

"I can't!" Calandra cried, trembling. "He's much more powerful than I am."

Ariella sighed impatiently, one foot tapping against Calandra's finger. "Do you love Justin or not?"

"Yes I love him! I love him more than I ever thought I would." Calandra frowned at the question. Of everyone she knew, she would have thought Ariella knew that better than anyone else.

"Then do you mind kicking this bastard's ass so Justin can come back and you can get that happily ever after you've been waiting for?" Ariella requested. Her lips turned into a smile when Calandra stared at her. "There's a gold pocket watch in his waistcoat. That's the key."

With that, the fairy flew away. Calandra stared at her hand for a long moment before looking to her demon. He still looked confused. She struggled to her feet and took several deep breaths, hoping to stave off the weakness that threatened to overcome her. She had to get Justin back. Even if he decided he no longer wanted her after all this was over, she had to get him back. Stepping forward, she heard the fluttering of a thousand wings as the fairies fell in behind her. Knowing that she at least had their support gave her a glimmer of hope and just a sliver of strength.

"You sonofabitch." She hissed towards Dream Weaver, gaining his attention just as she reached him. She kept her gaze on his face, repulsed by the sneer on his face.

"Well played, my dear." He swept the hat off of his head, revealing a shock of pure white hair that was plastered to his scalp. "I never would have thought you'd get him to take your place. Very well played." He bowed low and she saw the gold chain of his pocket watch peeking from the pocket of his waistcoat. "You managed to wriggle out of your ordeal quite nicely."

He straightened and placed his hat on this head, tapping it lightly with the tip of his cane. Calandra seized the chance and reached forward, snatching at the chain. She gasped when the watch dangled from her fingers and backed away as his eyes turned black. He pursued her, one step from his long legs covering the same space as two of hers. She felt the ledge around the perimeter of the roof against her knees and wavered, glancing back to gauge the distance between her and the ground. Just looking at it made her dizzy.

"Now what are you going to do?" His voice was a hiss. The tip of his cane gleamed as he tapped it against the roof. "Surely you won't throw yourself over the edge, my dear. And I would retrieve my watch long before it reached the ground."

"Would you?" Calandra asked softly, holding her hand out past the edge of the roof. He started forward, panic evident on his face and she loosened her grip. The watch slid from her hand and she gave a small gasp as it swung on its chain like a pendulum. She pulled it back into her palm, flicking open the cover and glancing to the crystal that covered the face. It glowed in the low light and the hands moved in odd formations around words that were unrecognizable. "It doesn't even work." She sighed, shaking the watch gently before slamming the cover closed. He lurched forward again and she saw Ariella and the other fairies swoop forward. He seemed to hover for a moment a the ledge, arms waving madly before a swift breeze sent him careening.

Calandra heard his high-pitched scream fade as he plummeted down but she didn't watch. She flinched when she heard the echo of his body landing on the pavement. Laying the watch on the roof, she popped open the cover once more, heart pounding when she heard his roars from the ground. Ariella urged her to hurry and as the clouds that had begun to fade returned with a vengeance Calandra slammed the heel of her shoe against the watch.

She felt it shatter. She felt the thin gold crunch as she twisted her heel, grinding it against the roof. When she pulled her foot away she saw the fragments. She saw the glow fading, the gold case curling and twisting. Backing away she continued to look at it until it resembled the twisted edges of burnt paper and fluttered away in the breeze.

Then, finally, she allowed herself to break down.

"How you feeling, champ?"

The words were whispered but Justin would have known the voice anywhere, just as he would have recognized the tender fingers that swept over his hand. He opened his eyes to look at her and quickly closed them, groaning at the bright light. She murmured an apology and he heard the click of the lamp. Slowly opening his eyes again he sighed at the dim glow that came from the bathroom. It cast half of her face in a shadow but he saw the worry in her eyes. "I'm okay."

"I was so worried." Calandra murmured, crawling closer to him in the large bed when he tugged on her hand. "I thought I'd lost you forever."

"What happened?" Justin tucked his arm around her, holding her close. He remembered nothing after being dragged over the roof. He had no idea if he had been gone for hours or days or even weeks and he sighed when her head nestled on his chest. The horror of nearly losing her still made his heart lurch and he couldn't believe he had been foolish enough to brush her away like she had meant nothing to him. It was amazing that she still wanted to be with him.

He listened intently as she told him about standing up to the Dream Weaver, smiling proudly at her tale. She had always seemed too timid to him, almost dainty. Except in the bedroom... Ignoring the weariness in his body he pulled her even closer, lips brushing her forehead as she went on about the fairies clearing away the mess and how when she had come to his hotel room he had been lying in the bed fast asleep. How she had stayed at his side until he had started to show signs of life.

"How long have I been out?" He felt groggy, as though he had slept for three days straight.

"Just a few hours. The sun is about to come up." Calandra pressed her face against his chest and her lips brushed over his heart, which flipped each time she spoke. She raised her head to give him a smile and motioned to the windows. "Do you want to watch the sunrise?"

He nodded and rolled out of bed, reaching for her hand. He pulled her to him before she could step towards the window, free hand sliding upwards to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip and he returned her smile. "I want you to do something for me, Calandra."

"Anything." She wrinkled her nose slightly before pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb. "Unless it's a threesome. I don't like the idea of sharing you unless she's hot and I'm half-drunk."

He should have known she would be up for almost anything his mind could come up with. A chuckle rumbled in his throat and he tilted her head back to press a kiss to her forehead. "No. Not that. I want to hear you say it again."

"Say what?" She asked, hands sliding up his chest and it occurred to him that he was naked. Whether she had stripped him of his wet clothes or that black void he had been trapped in had ripped the clothes from his body, he didn't know. And right now it didn't matter.

"I want to hear you say you love me."

She smiled. No, she beamed and Justin had an inkling that the sunrise would be nowhere near as bright as the expression on her face. She leaned up, hands cupping the back of his neck. Her breath brushed over his lips in a soft caress and his arms slid around her waist, glorying in her soft curves. "I love you, Justin."

He grinned as she pressed several tender kisses to the corner of his mouth. "Say my name again."

"Justin." It was louder this time, punctuated by a giggle and he brought her closer, hands slipping beneath the t-shirt she wore. Her skin was soft velvet beneath his fingers and he sighed.

"Again?" His request was a soft whisper as his lips found the spot just beneath her ear that he knew made her tremble.

"Justin!" His name was a sharp whine and she didn't protest when he pulled her back onto the bed. The t-shirt was peeled away and he groaned at the feel of her skin against his. Soft and warm. Her elbows propped on his chest and she gazed down at him, seemingly unaware of the way her nipples stroked his skin as they swayed. It hardly affected him because he was so enamored with the way his name sounded coming from her lips.

"Mmm." He moaned, thumbs sliding beneath the waistband of the flannel pajama pants she wore. "Again."

"Justin, baby, I will scream your name all day, I promise. But I really want to see the sunrise." Calandra wriggled against him, giggling when his fingers lightly stroked her sides.

"Why is the sunrise so important?" Justin groaned, hands falling to the mattress when she slid away.

"Because usually when I'm with you I don't get to see it." She tossed a smile over her shoulder and moved to the window. Justin blinked when the curtains were pulled open to reveal the pre-dawn light.

With a sigh he slid off the bed and followed her. His arms slid around her from behind and when he realized she was still topless his hands skimmed up to cover her. He finally had her and finally understood what having her meant and he wasn't about to let potential Peeping Toms see how lucky he was. He tucked his chin on her shoulder, perfectly content to hold her close as they watched the sky brighten on the horizon. Clouds that appeared dark were slowly transformed to white wisps. Shadows dissipated and Justin felt the darkness of the previous night float away.

When the sun had cleared the horizon and Calandra turned to face him he caught her lips in a soft kiss. "I love you." He repeated the phrase between kisses as he carried her to the bed, laying over her as he had countless times before. But he knew this time was different.

The kisses grew impatient and he reveled in each tiny sound that bubbled from her throat. The pajama pants were discarded and hands roved, already knowing where to touch and what to caress to bring forth the desired reaction, but this time it was appreciated much more. And just when he was about to sink into the oblivion of making love to her he became aware of the fluttering of wings. His head turned from Calandra's breast and he groaned in utter defeat.

Ariella smiled sweetly from her place just above the pillow next to them. "We really need to come up with a way for you to let me know this is going to happen, Timberlake. Watching you pork my best friend is not high on my list of fun things to do."

"How's this?" Justin suggested, popping up a middle finger. The fairy had the audacity to look horrified, flying backwards out of the bedroom. He waited until she was gone before turning back to Calandra. She was laughing and the sound was one that he knew would always raise his spirits.

I love you.

The. End.