Backstage Pass

Part 1

I sit on the beige couch waiting patiently, twirling my necklace nervously as I watch all these people rush past me belting orders and demands. I look down at the cross pendent on my chain noticing the uncanny resemblance to the cross tattooed on his left arm. I glance up when I hear my name being called.

"Gilda? Justin will see you now. He's on a very tight schedule, so a few pictures and autographs are all you can obtain." The woman is decked in a maroon three piece pant suite and she's scanning a clipboard clutched tightly in her hands. I'm thinking she's his personal assistant or something along those lines. I nod feeling nauseous and a hint of panic surges through my system.

Standing and brushing my hands against my fitted black tube top, I follow the woman out of the waiting room. She leads me down a brightly lit hallway adorned with doors on either side. There are still people flooding back and forth between us like their heads are cut off. I find it amusing, and realize I'd never want such a hectic lifestyle, no matter how well it pays. Then again, everyone has their price.

My thoughts are cut short when we stop at a door with a bight gold star on it. I gaze at the back of the woman's head curiously when I see her flipping through the note pad attached to her clip board. "Ok Gilda." She voices, stepping away from the door to smile at me. "Go in, have fun, I'll be back in twenty to twenty-five minutes." She informs and walks off, leaving me alone. Well, I'm not sure if that's how her job works, but she must be too busy to give any introduction here. I wave at her in a bit of a daze then divert my attention to the door.

Inhaling sharply, I read his name above the star and I instantly feel the urge to run off in the opposite direction screaming. I clutch the long rope chain hanging around my neck, tracing my thumb over the words that read "backstage pass" on the attached card. I never thought I'd be here, but I guess it pays to know almost everything there is to know about Justin and his life, because that knowledge won me the radio contest earlier in the day which landed me in my current situation.

I can hear people on the other end laughing and talking. I can also hear music...hmm sounds like a party is going on in there. I suck up my nerves and bang on the door loudly, unsure of the volume level to the music these people are listening to. I'm wasting my twenty minutes standing behind this door anyway.

As I'm about to pound on the wooden barrier again from lack of response, the door swings open, and my five foot eight frame is greeted by a man who's clearly shorter and stumpy in height. I smile at him sweetly but he just smirks at me.

"You Gilda?" He enquires, eyeing me up and down.

"Yes I am!" I beam excitedly, glad that they've already been informed and expecting me.

"Hmm...ahhh you can pass I guess. Your olive skin is a little pale and maybe you could cut that long brown hair but Justin's not one to complain much when he doesn't get to pick the girls for backstage passes himself." The guy tells me, still undressing me with his eyes.

Ok, so I'm a bit baffled by this statement. What is he talking about? My eyebrows furrow in confusion but before I can respond he's pushed to the side and I finally come face to face with my "fantasy".

"Out of the way Trace, she's here for me, not you." He slurs, gazing down my figure while licking his lips. "Nice skirt" He mocks, before locking eyes with me. "So, you're the contest winner?" He smirks at me and I shudder. The man is too fine for his own good.

"Uh, yes." I blurt out in a high squeak. Not very flattering but what can you do? I'm star struck here.

"Humph, come in beautiful." He smiles sweetly at me and pulls me in, shutting the door behind us.

I finally gaze at my surroundings and I'm more than shocked when I see the amount of alcohol in this dressing room. There are mountains of empty beer cans and I can tell, by the dilated look in Justin's eyes, he's been drinking. What really catches my attention is the stripper pole to the side of the room. There are scanty clad women dancing around, with barely any thing left to the imagination. Wow, the guy is a party freak or something. His entourage of at least forty persons all look intoxicated, and he's left me alone standing here in the middle of the room, while a dirty blonde straddles his lap and whispers into his ears.

Now, I know I should be more than ecstatic that I'm meeting my favorite artist but this is ridiculous. Technically, this is not what I had in mind. I can feel my temper rising and I casually strut over to where he is sitting. He looks up at me with irritation because I've interrupted his flirting session.

I clear my throat nervously, choosing my words carefully so he's not pissed off any more than he already is. "Uh, Justin? I just wanted to say that it's a pleasure to meet you and..." He cuts me off, pushing the woman off his lap and standing abruptly to face me.

"And what ‘Gilda?'" He stresses my name. "And you wanted to know if you could have a few pictures, a few autographs, Oh I don't know...maybe a lock of my hair to sell on ebay or better yet, you hope I fuck you and fulfill all your girlish fantasies?" He yells in my face. "Because I've heard all this before. I'm used to the praises, and frankly they are getting old. So I'll tell you what. I'm leaving soon, so I'll grant a few of those wishes and we can be on our way. This is a clear waste of my time. Trace grab me a CD over there and a pen will you?" Justin motions to Trace then stares at me with heated eyes.

Ok, I'm thinking that he either woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or he's the biggest asshole to grace this planet. Clearly, he's not the nice, loving, kind soul they make him out to be. Maybe he's only sweet like that with people he knows and loves. I guess everyone else is a burden. I want so badly to cuss him out right now, for disrespecting me and embarrassing me in front these strangers but I decide to do the mature thing and brush it off.

"Actually, no thank you Justin. I change my mind." I simply state. I see the glimmer of astonishment in his eyes but he hides it quickly.

"Excuse me? Isn't this what you want Gilda? I had to listen to my planner ranting my head off about you today. She grinded your name in my head since I've had occasions when I forgot my fans names and supposedly crashed their spirits or whatever. Obviously, you came here expecting something...I mean if I recall the contest was testing how much you knew about me, so if you won, then you're obviously here for a reason and that reason is to meet me and get your fairy tale ending or some shit." He hisses, taking the CD from Trace.

This Justin Timberlake is not what I had in mind. Frankly, I've lost my thrill of meeting him and the more I stand here listening to him, the more I realize that he's just some jerk of a guy. The only difference is he's got money and fame behind his name, but even that doesn't substitute for his nasty attitude. Sucking up my nerves, I yank the CD out of his grasp and toss it to the other side of the room. It flies over Trace's head and shatters on the wall. I hear him call me a bitch, but I block that out because Justin is seething.

"What the fuck is your problem Gilda?" He snaps, glaring at me.

"I told you I changed my mind. I thought it would be great to meet you, but you're nothing but a big ass jerk. I regret meeting you because guess what....you're waste of my time." I spit and turn around to leave, yanking off the backstage pass and tossing it to the floor. I don't make it to the door, because I feel Justin grab my arm to turn me around.

"Everyone leave NOW!" he shouts to his entourage and hussies. His bodyguard walks up to him wearily.

"But Justin..."

"Not now Mike, you take everyone out on the bus. I'll be fine. I'll call you when I'm ready to leave. Just leave now." He orders. His bodyguard must know better than to argue because he agrees. I mean seriously, all he needs is to smack some manners into the guy.

Everyone files out, leaving Justin and me alone. I glare at his tight grip on my arm then stare into his blue eyes that are laced with anger. I smirk at him. He's still fine though...

"Would you please let me go, before I accuse you of abuse or harassment or something?" I speak in detest.

"You know, you have some nerve coming in here and disrespecting me in front of my people like that." He sneers, finally letting go of my arm.

"What? Are you kidding me? They are the ones disrespecting you by allowing you to be so loose. Are you forgetting you have a reputation to protect? What do you do for people who meet the real you to stay quiet?" I inquire. I'm clearly wondering if I'm just unlucky, because I've never read any article slandering Justin in that aspect. He's always so pleasant and nice. And even when he blows up it's for a good reason so, no one looks down on him.

"Simple. I give them what they want." He smirks, walking over to a bottle of Remy Martin.

"Oh really? Well there is nothing you could give me to make me shut up about this incident. Your fans would be stunned. Anyway I'm leaving." I turn to leave but he calls out to me.

"I'm sure we can think of something ‘Gilda' don't you agree?" He walks over with two glasses and hands me one.

I gaze at him before grabbing the glass out of his hand. "Well can you grow some respect and manners? Because if not, I'm leaving." I shoot.

"That's too easy. Listen I'll be frank with you. I don't give a fuck about who you are or what you say. What I know is that you're here to meet me so I obviously did something right huh?" He smiles cockily at me.

"No thanks Justin. I'm seriously leaving now." I hand him back the glass and strut over to the door. I swing it open to be greeted with the same woman who brought me here earlier. "Oh hi." I smile meekly at her.

"Hi, I hope you had fun, well Justin has to leave now, so I'll let one of the guards escort you out of the arena." She states.

"Yeah, sure." I bow my head and move to leave but Justin comes up behind me.

"Monica give us another half hour" Justin demands.

"But Justin."

"But Monica." He mocks her with a warning glare. "Half an hour. I'm sure you can bend the schedule around that." And with that he slams the door in her face. I swear the man is a total prick to people.

"Shit, you don't have to be so heartless with people." I spin around to stare at him curious as to why he wants me to stay longer.

"You're wondering why I want you to stay?" He asks knowingly ignoring my previous statement.

"Enlighten me" I smirk, walking over and taking a seat on the couch.

"I guess you're the first person who ever built enough balls to talk back to me the way you did. But don't make it a habit." He chuckles, coming to seat next to me.

"You need a reality check Justin." I state, staring around the empty room.

"Well, I was thinking maybe we could get to know each other better. Now I'm all interested and shit." He muses.

"Wow, flattering that you chose to taint almost a solid compliment with the word shit." I giggle. "But I'll give you a C for effort."

"Aww common, so what would I have to do to make that an A?" He wiggles his eyebrows at me and moves in closer.

I'm instantly aware of what he's thinking and as much as I'd love for this to be real, he's intoxicated and bitchy like he has pms. This is not the "fairy tale ending" according to him that I wanted.

"Forget it Justin. I'm not sleeping with you." I snap. "I mean heaven only knows how many women you've slept with. I don't want to catch anything." I add for good measure, my hazel orbs locking onto his blues.

"Oh really? Because I'm thinking that you do want to sleep with me. I'm saying this because you'd not chose such a revealing and easy access outfit if you didn't." He winks, and drinks in my attire. I gulp down and move away from him, but he follows me.

"So tell me Gilda. What can I do for you today?" He asks while rubbing his rough palms over my bare thigh. I shiver at his touch wanting this so badly, but I know that never in a million years will I let him have the satisfaction of calling me another conquest to pin on his wall of whores. But, I can play along and make this interesting right?

"Hm...Well I'll be blunt. I want you to fuck me Justin. Hard and rough." I coo, smiling when I see his shocked yet excited expression. I lean forward and crash my lips unto his soft pink lips. My face contorts in disgust when I taste the alcohol and cigarette smoke he's consumed. However, I push those thoughts to the back of my mind and instantly straddle his waist.

"Yeah...that's what I'm talking about. I knew you couldn't resist." He growls, before plunging his tongue down my depths. I have devious thoughts running through my mind now. Oh Mr. Timberlake if you only knew.

I yelp, when he grips my tight ass, snaking his hands underneath my skirt. He begins groping me and I'm seriously getting turned on by this. I run my hands over his head and down to his chest, yanking his t-shirt over his head. I stare at his toned abs and sigh at all the things I'd love him to do to me.

In a matter of minutes, Justin has reclaimed control and is now hovering over me on the couch sucking at my exposed nipples. I writhe under him moaning his name. I can hear him groan each time his arousal rubs over my inner thigh through his jeans. I pull his head away from my breast and attack his lips yet again. Both our breathing is labored but that won't last long if I can help it.

"Mmm...tell me how you want it Gilda." He coxes, with a low, raspy voice. I love that his tone is dripping with desire. It makes this all the more enjoyable.

I look up into those misty blues getting lost in their depths. "Let me show you baby." I purr, pushing Justin off me. He sits down on the couch starting at my every move. Mischief and curiosity plays on his features and I just smile sweetly at him. I straddle his waist yet again, but this time I make sure that my hot center is pressed against his throbbing member. Justin shuts his eyes tightly and lets out a slight whimper because of his constraints. I grind my hips into him while placing butterfly kisses on his neck, and continue my assault for several minutes.

When he can't take more, he grips my waist to stop me. "Fuck Gilda, quit teasing me babe." He groans. "I want you so bad." He mummers and kisses me once again while groping my breast.

"Mmm...I bet you do Justin." I respond, grabbing his hands to stop. I stand from my seating position and pull my tube top back up over my exposed breasts. I smooth out my skirt and dark brown hair before I lock eyes with him. He's frozen in place wondering what I'm doing.

"Gilda what the fuck are you..."

"Hold up Timberlake." I raise my hand to stop him. He gets up to approach me and sucks in a deep breath while gripping his manhood. He's clearly in pain and needs a release and I find that amusing.

"You my friend are getting a dose of your own medicine. So how does it feel?" I ask him, while gathering my things to leave.

"What!?" He yells exasperatingly while rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. "How does what feel?" He takes a step towards me but I back up to the door. His sexual frustration isn't going to make this easy.

"To get played. Or in your case...rejected." I smirk, and then swing the door open to leave.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" He shouts with fury. "You can't be serious. Please tell me this is a joke." He begs. "How the fuck can you come in here and do me like this?" His shock is wearing off and the angry Justin is rearing his ugly head. Shit, I need to get out of here.

"Maybe next time you'll tell your friend to be careful with the type of information he divulges to people. I finally understood what he meant about how you distribute backstage passes. No wonder it's hard to get them and they are always supposedly sold out. So tell me Justin, how do you pick your prey? I clearly wasn't a choice since I won it from a contest. But I'm betting you just fuck your contest winners once they are of age huh?" I shout, and turn to leave but he rushes up to me and grips my arm.

"Listen you little bitch. How I handle my shit is none of your business so I'd appreciate it if you kept your snide comments to your fucking self." He hisses.

"Oh that's nice Justin. Real nice. But guess what? If the world knew the real you, they'd reconsider voting you on the top 10 charts every week." I yank my arms out of his grasp and stare at the pass on the floor where I dropped it earlier. I pick it up, studying it intently.

"Oh is that right? I assume you know the real me? You don't know shit sweetheart."

"Yes I do." I glare at him with detest. "Because that backstage pass is a glimpse into the life of who you really are and you know what?" I spit.

"I'm sure you're going to tell me." He smirks and folds his arms across his bare chest.

"You're nothing but a sex whore and an alcoholic, and if there was a next time, I'd pass up the opportunity of meeting you twice. Goodbye Justin and good ridden." I look at his shocked expression. I guess I offended him, but I'm not sticking around to find out. I whip around and storm down the hallway when I hear him call out to me.

"You wouldn't survive a next time! Fucking Bitch!" He yells, and then I hear the door slams shut. I let out a weary sigh and avoid the questionable glares of the crew members.

On my way out of the back area, I walk into his assistant Monica. I hear her yell into her cell before snapping it shut. She looks up and notices me. Smiling, she walks over and pats my back lightly. "Hey I hope you had fun. You must be really special or Justin must have taken a liking to you because this is the first time he has ever asked any fan to stay longer than the allotted time since I've worked with him." She states.

"And how long have you worked with him?" I retort, feeling slightly uncomfortable from the previous incident.

"Five years."

"Oh." I respond. "Well I should get going. Bye..." I state then begin to walk away but I remember the pass in my hands.

"Hey Monica?" I call to her.

"Yeah?" She responds.

"I won't be needing this." I hand her the backstage pass and she stares at me oddly.

"But it gets you into his other two concerts and after parties that he'll be having in Miami next week. It was supposed to be a surprise for him. He doesn't know all the details of the contest. He just thought it was this one time deal. But I'm supposed to inform him after your first meeting with him." She reasons.

"Oh it's ok, give it to someone else or the person who came in second. Truth is, I honestly don't think I'll survive another encounter with Justin. And I've taken those words from a wise yet stupid person." I muse, remembering what his last phrases to me were.

"Uh well, ok I guess." She hesitantly grips onto the pass then looks up at me. "I'm sorry Gilda." Her expression softens immensely.

"What for?" I ask.

"Need I explain?" She retorts and I nod knowing exactly why she's apologizing.

"It's ok." I reply while smiling.

"If it's any consolation, you're also the first girl who's left his dressing room tear free and in tact." She giggles.

"Wow, I guess I have a lot to live up to then." I joke. "Well bye Monica." I wave to her before she turns and heads down the hallway to the nightmare that is Justin Timberlake.

I make it out to the parking lot of the quiet arena and hop into my ride. As I pull out of the grounds, a single tear rolls down my cheek when I replay the night events in my head. He seemed so different on stage. Then again, things aren't always what they appear to be. I scold myself that Monica's compliment is in vein, but she doesn't need to know that I want to cry like Justin's other victims. Shoot I'd beat his ass if I didn't think he'd overpower me in a matter of minutes. If anything, I need to remember that when offered a backstage pass, bring back up...