Story Notes:
Justin Timberlake was staring at me from across the room. At first I was positive that I was imagining things since my mind had a tricky little talent of taking my heart's desires and bringing them to life, even if they didn't actually exist. My sister and I had been pressed up against the bar for a good portion of the night, far too intimidated to actually venture out into the crowd and mingle with people who were clearly far superior to us, monetarily anyway. Honestly, when Jessica called me on the phone earlier in the week and told me that she'd managed to scam tickets to Justin Timberlake's twenty-sixth birthday party at Pure Nightclub and that I was her date the first thing I did was go straight to the salon to wax my mustache, eyebrows and, um... a few other areas. I then proceeded to spend the next five days shopping for the perfect dress, which I never found, and ended up settling for a purple number from Forever 21. It was a cute and worked against my chocolate skin nicely, shorter than what I'd usually dare, but nothing worth catching the eye of Justin Timberlake from across a crowded room.
Getting into the club hadn't been a problem. Jessica was stunning and, just like in the movies, she flirted with one of the bouncers and we were swept past the velvet rope without even a whisper of a request for ID. I'd always looked and behaved older than my years, so no one gave me a second glance. Thank god for that, because I was very much seventeen years old and would have been thrown out on my ass the second anyone found out. I didn't even want to think about what my father would do to me. As far as he was concerned we were on an innocent "last week of summer vacation" trip to San Diego.
I shuddered to myself at the thought of being caught as I took a sip of my drink, a diet soda (Jess had slipped just a little alcohol in it), and shook my head, "No, no. No, this doesn't happen."
Jessica, my sister, shook her head along with me, "You're right, it doesn't happen, but it's happening."
I was a huge NSync fan, had been since middle school, and I followed Justin closely after he left the group and went solo. My interest in him wasn't as die hard as it was in my pre-teen days because, well, I kind of grew up, but I still wouldn't turn my nose up at the opportunity to meet him. Coming to this party was pretty much a dream come true. I talked about nailing Justin with my friends and we'd made elabroate plans for exactly what I would do if and when I had any contact with him, but none of that had been serious. Just a bunch of girls being stupid. "Why is he staring at me, dude?" I was honestly baffled.
Offensively enough, so was my sister, "I have no idea."
The first time I'd caught him looking was purely by accident. Jessica had been rambling on about something or another, as she often did, and I was half listening, as I often did, while scanning the crowd at the club. I wondered when Justin was going to make an appearance, if he was going to make an appearance, as I scanned all of the dancing heads. He was nowhere to be found. The disappointment must have been apparent in my eyes as I took a dainty sip of my drink because when I caught Justin's gaze, quite accidentally, from across the room, he'd looked mildly concerned. Concerned for my safety or my sanity, I wasn't sure. The first thing I noticed, besides the fact that he was Justin fucking Timberlake was the outfit he had on. It was jeans and a jacket, nothing extravagant, but it screamed money. Everything about him screamed money, in fact, and this was a quality that I wasn't used to in people that I was sharing a room-- hell, sharing air, with. It made me nervous, so I tore my brown eyes from his blue ones and looked at something, anything, else.
Of course, two seconds later, my eyes were right back where they'd started. His eyes were still on me, right on me, and I was truly shocked. It must have shown on my face because then he smiled. And that was it. That was the moment that I realized I must be going crazy. I even looked over my shoulder, searching for the blonde bimbo, or the celebrity it girl, or the drug dealer of the party or anyone that could make sense of why Justin was looking in my direction so intently. But there was no one behind me but the bartender. Then I looked to my right and saw Jessica. Of course! Jessica, my completely beautiful, completely flawless older sister. Of course he was looking at Jessica.
I sighed in defeat and nudged her, "Justin Timberlake is looking at you." I swallowed back that resentful 'of course'.
Jessica beamed, not nearly as surprised as she pretended to be. She was a goddess and she knew it, "Really?!" She reached up to fix her hair, "Where?! Where is he? That hot fuck!"
"Isn't he a little young for you, Jess?" Justin and my sister were the same age, but he was still much younger than the men she usually dated. The balance number on his ATM reciepts, however, was just right for Jess. The jealousy was nearly climbing off of my skin.
I looked back to Justin and was very close to pointing him out to her, but I had to stop myself. I'm sorry, maybe I am crazy but it really did seem like he was looking at me. There's a feeling one gets when there's a pair of eyes directly on them, an unmistakable feeling, and I had that feeling right at that moment.
Then he did it.
He looked over one shoulder, then the other, very dramatically, exaggerating every single movement. When he was done doing that, his eyes were riveted right back to mine. He was smiling, still, almost laughing, extremely amused. He was making fun of me.
"He's looking at you!" Jessica cried, realizing this at the same moment I was. She seemed just as shocked. Quickly, though, she regained her composure and lowered her voice to that conspiratorial tone she got when there was an interested man in her vicinity. "That's the look, too. God damn." Jessica whispered, taking a dainty sip of a daiquiri while paying way too much attention to the man I was fighting to ignore. The look Jessica was referring to was the eyes. His eyes. The come fuck me eyes that every sexual being on Earth had unconsciously mastered. I still couldn't believe that Justin was giving me the come fuck me eyes. Now I was seventeen years old, a senior in high school, but I was no virgin, hadn't been since I was fourteen. I was a sexual creature who was always safe and knew a come fuck me look when it was being directed at me. This was an absolute come fuck me look.
"Could you not stare at him?" I requested. She looked to me. "Thank you." I beamed, widening my gaze at her. To little or no surprise of mine, her eyes shot right back to him as she brought the drink to a lips. A tiny smile kissed the edge of the crystal, her green eyes shone.
"He's looking at you." She sang.
"Not interested."
"Oh, please, who the fuck do you think you're talking to? Don't forget that I grew up across the hall from you. Back when you couldn't even see the color of your walls past all of the NSync posters."
"Jess, I will kill you, I promise I will kill you dead if that sentence ever leaves your mouth, again." She had the kind of dirt on me that only a sister could have, and I hated her for it.
She rolled her eyes,"Just go fuck his brains out, will you? He's a fox and you're so obvious."
"I'm obvious?" I beamed. "You really have the balls to call me obvious when you're the one watching the poor man like a hawk from fifty feet away?"
"I think I do." She said, ever devoid of shame. She looked over, much more carefully now, then gasped out loud, "He's coming over."
When she said the words, I didn't look his way, but I could feel my heart skip. I'll be damned if he wasn't good looking. What I didn't understand was why I was so desperate to deny it.
Then I felt it. The panic. Was my hair okay? Was there anything in my teeth? Was my mascara running? Was it obvious that I was two seconds from toppling to the floor if I had to stand in these heels for another second?
"Hi." I said, pleasantly, yet breezily, when the man of the hour stopped up in front of Jessica and I. Every eye in the place was on him, some more carefully than others, but he seemed oblivious to it. He was balancing a scotch on the rocks in his left hand and I took an inventory of his ring finger. I knew about the engagement rumors just as well as the next person not living under a rock, so I had to take a quick peek.
Or maybe not so quick. I glanced up at him and was riveted at strength of his eyes staring back into mine. They had a sparkle to them, a gleam. When the corner of his lip twitched ever so slightly and he gradually ran his left ring finger around the edge of the glass I was annoyed. When I glared at him, his smile only brightened, his amusement more apparent than ever.
"I'm Justin." He said. For some reason I could hear him perfectly when he spoke, even though he wasn't screaming over the music like most people would. His eyes stayed on mine and I'll be damned if I wasn't a little dumbfounded by this. It wasn't everyday that a man paid me any attention when Jessica was mere inches away.
As if she were reading my thoughts, my lovely sister chimed in. "I'm Jessica!" She beamed, holding her hand out. Reluctantly, Justin took it, taking his eyes from me only for a second to shoot her a glance.
Here it comes, I thought. He'll realize that this supermodel has been standing next to us this entire time and wonder why he wasted even an iota of a second on the Plain Jane standing next to her. In fact, Plain Jane probably wasn't a sufficient enough cliche to describe how much Jessica's beauty eclipsed mine. If you dropped the Jane, therefore eliminating the charm of the rhyme, and just called me "plain" it would be much more fitting.
"And this deaf mute over here is my sister, Keelah. I call her KiKi. Every once in a while, she'll sputter out a syllable or two. Usually when she has to pee or doesn't know what's good at Starbucks."
As I watched my sister go on and on, I quietly wondered who people usually went to when they needed to hire a contract killer. I was fairly positive you couldn't find them in the phone book. Didn't know anyone who was crazy enough to give me any references. I did, however, know my sister and was convinced that if I looked hard enough I was bound to find some ex-boyfriend/best friend/neighbor that hated her enough to do it for a reasonable price.
Her boyfriend in the third grade, Tommy Gavin, would probably do it for free. Tommy really hated Jessica. To that very day. He did. I'd seen him in the supermarket two weeks ago and he asked me how the "nasty blonde bitch" was doing. I immediately knew who he was talking about. Not because she was the only black girl I knew with blonde hair, but because I knew very well my sister's ability to reap havoc on other people's lives. I suppose I had to thank her, though. If she was a jealous, bitter bitch she would have immediately told Justin that I was only seventeen year old who used to decorate her life with NSync memorabilia and he would be running for his life. It wouldn't matter to him that the legal age of consent in California was seventeen and even if it wasn't, I would be eighteen in a few short months. No, all he would look at me and see was a child. But my sister wasn't jealous, or bitter, and she never saw me as a child, so I knew her lips would be sealed. I loved her so much. What Justin didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?
"She's the strong silent type." Justin said, snapping me out of my thoughts. I was so shocked at the fact that he'd actually stood up for me, that I barely heard Jessica scoff in the background.
"Is that what they're calling it?" She laughed.
I stared at her, unwilling or unable to think of anything to say to the Jezebel. Why I loved her with all of my heart was the Nancy Drew of mysteries to me at moments like those. Somehow, I managed to keep a smile on my face. I didn't know if it seemed genuine (it wasn't) and I didn't care.
It was just then, suddenly, standing there, I realized just how much more attractive this man was in person and wanted little more than to rip that incredibly expensive looking outfit right off of his body and do dirty, dirty things to him on top of the centerpiece in the middle of the room.
"I think I'll call her Kiki, as well." He said to Jessica, smiling. "It fits her."
"Don't." I spat. Quietly, I was kicking myself at the knowledge that a hastily squealed "don't!" was my first official word to this gorgeous man.
Way to make a first impression, huh?
"You can't make a second first impression, Kiki. Remember that." Jessica said, rolling her eyes before giving Justin one last smile and making her long awaited exit. Justin watched her go. I was so busy kicking myself that I barely realized he was looking back at me, when my eyes met his, I couldn't hold back a smile.
"She's right, you know." He said. "About the second first impression?... I can only hope the one I've left on you is as good as..."
Was he blushing? Nah. I hadn't made a boy blush since I accidently mistaken Mark Riley's family jewels for my hacky sack in the ninth grade.
"... as the one you've made on me."
Was he still talking? I raised my eyebrows, trying desperately to ignore and hide my growing arousal and make sense of the words he was speaking all at once. The image of him and I on the centerpiece didn't seem to be making it's exit from the whirlwind that was my mind so concentration was a distant memory as I imagined his touch.
I knew it was any man's touch that I was really craving and Justin was just the star of this show because he was the closest one around. As you can see, I'm a pro at denial.
He stood there before me, looking expectant, probably waiting for something, anything. Any kind of human response from this idiot girl standing in front of him.
I finished off the last of my drink, took notice of the new smile on his face and shook the bangs out of my eyes. Nervous habit. He continued to circle his bare ring finger around the edge of the glass he'd yet to take a sip from. He was so calm, patient. I wondered if he was like that in bed. It would be a huge plus in my book if he was. Sure, every once in a while, all a girl wanted was for a man to get on top of her and give it all he had, but that was just that-- every once in a while. I was seventeen years old so I knew a thing or two about sex with boys, and I mean just that--boys, who had absolutely no idea what they were doing. I was sick of it. I wanted a man. Justin's actions were very slow, steady... focused. Nothing wrong with that.
His expression grew ambivalent, I must have been catching him by surprise with my silence, "I saw you earlier. In the lobby."
Lobby? I struggled with all of my might to understand what he meant by lobby. Apparently, in my horny stupor, my usually extended vocabulary had failed me, as well. Then it hit me. The lobby! That's right, I'd been in the lobby earlier that day, waiting patiently for Jessica, who'd been searching the casino for a fifty dollar bill that she'd insisted on shoving in her bra. Because everyone knows Victoria's Secret is unrivaled when it comes to currency preservation.
Justin continued, clearly now struggling to hold on to any hope of conversation with me. "You were reading The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It's one of my favorite books. Or it was until Disney Studios came along, but that's true of any book..." He smiled.
He just made a joke, I told myself. I smiled, even though I hadn't even heard the whole thing. Something about Walt Disney? I said to myself.
"Honestly, I'm kind of hoping that you'll have to go to the bathroom or get a sudden craving for a Carmel Macchiato so you'll talk back to me." He whispered, taking a step closer to me. His smile grew as he leaned in and whispered in my ear, "So I can hear your voice."
Was I breathing?
"I'm sorry if I'm rambling." He said, standing straight. "It's just... you smell really nice. You're the only woman in this room who hasn't thrown herself on me in the last hour. Those are two qualities I find highly endearing. By the way, when I'm nervous, I tend to, uh... ramble and wont stop until someone stops me, so, I'm hoping that you'll say something soon and get me off the hook here."
I was making him nervous?!
"Huh." I said, out loud. I was sure that the look on my face, open mouthed and wide eyed, went with that idiotic "huh" like a warm day in Spring.
"Plus, you're a reader. The Hunchback... did I... did I mention--"
"Your favorite book." I said the words with astonishment, like a woman who'd had amnesia for ten years and had just realized the man talking to her was her eight year old son, now eighteen.
"Yes." He smiled. "You can speak. Who said Jessica was the end all, be all?"
"You're funny." I said, pointing at him.
"Thank you. I actually don't hear that often."
"Hm." He'd been cracking jokes since the moment I'd met him.
"You're a woman of very few words."
Only when I'm horny, I thought.
He blinked a few times, looked around, then back at me, smiling. "So--"
Enough of the small talk.
I spoke up. "Let's go have sex now."
Was he shocked? Yes, and rightly so. The sight of it on his formerly calm, cool and collected face, however, amused me.
It also made me feel extremely sexy. So much so that the need to stick a straw in him and swallow him all the way down was damn near eating me alive at that point.
I heard and saw him swallow, and was charmed when the rocks in his scotch glass began making music under his trembling fingers.
"Uhm... your place or mine?" He sputtered... his voice was suddenly reminiscent of Peter Brady at his worst.
"Wherever."
"Wherever's good." He said, quickly.
I grabbed his tie and pulled him towards the exit. Once we hit the door, I heard him whistle to the large man that had followed him in.
"James. The Venetian. As quickly as possible, please."
---
The limo ride was a short one, we hadn't even had time to kiss since, like the asshole I was, I'd spilled my red wine all over Justin's beige jacket the second after he'd poured me a glass. The entire ride was spent with me apologizing profusely, telling him that it would come out easily and with Justin laughing at me and telling me it was okay. He didn't even like the jacket that much, he only wore it because his mother gave it to him, he had ten more at home just like it. I didn't care. The fact that his jacket was the equivalent to a years worth rent for me made me extremely anxious. Even if he didn't care about the damn thing I was going to fix it, anyway, just because it was the principle.
The Venetian was a stunning hotel, but I'd barely noticed as I was too anxious to get to his room.
"Calm down." He was still laughing once we were in the elevator. When he pulled my hands away from where they'd been pressing hard onto either side of my head and pulled my body to his, I couldn't help a sigh as I felt instantly relaxed with his hands on me. The look in his eyes left no question to his plans for the evening and it sent my heart into overdrive. I was sure he'd kiss me, right then, in the elevator, and it would be my first official kiss with a celebrity, but instead, he leaned close to me, just that little bit closer than friends do, and whispered, "We're just going to take it all off, anyway." His eyes were very serious, then a smile slowly grew on his face, "Right?"
I couldn't help it, I smiled back, "Are you sure you don't have me confused with Jessica?"
His eyes searched mine, full of confusion. "Jessica?"
At first I was positive that he was making a joke, but the pure perplexity in his eyes solidified that in ten short minutes he'd managed to completely forget that my sister ever existed. "You're great." I beamed, before I could stop myself.
He laughed heartily just as the elevator dinged, and allowed me to pull him out by his tie. He followed me out, slowly, never taking his eyes off of me. I walked backward, lead only by his hands on my hips. He leaned down and brushed his nose against mine, "You're kind of great, too..."
"I'm not that great..." I waved a dismissive hand, "I'm the kind of girl--" My words were lost in the gasp that left my lips when my back slammed against the wall. Justin almost laughed, but was nice enough to bite it back. "I'm the kind of girl who walks into walls."
"To be fair," He said silkily, as he reached into his pocket, his body pressing against mine, pushing me harder against the door, "To be fair... you didn't walk into a wall, you walked into a door. A door that leads into a room... with a bed. So you're actually the kind of girl who's...." He swiped the card and I heard a beep next to me, "Who's kind of a genius." He pushed the door open and kept an arm around my waist, leading me in. I felt him, immediately, against the thigh of my Forever 21 dress, but I was too busy being momentarily entranced by the beautiful suite awaiting us and the view of the entire Las Vegas Strip that illuminated the room and made artificial light a non-essential.
I almost tripped, but regained my footing, thankful to have his arm around my waist, "You already know me too well."
"Not well enough." He shook his head and slammed the door, immediately ripping off his jacket. "Kiki I'm going to need you naked. Immediately."
I burst out laughing when he tore off his jacket dramatically and threw it to the other side of the room.
"If not sooner." His eyes widened and he began working on his tie.
I bit my lip, anxious for whatever inch of skin he was willing to allot me, but my eyes narrowed over his shoulder where there was a giant bar against the far wall. I held up a finger, "You keep doing what you're doing." I hurried past him, kicking off my heels I as did, and swept his jacket up off the floor. He had my arm in his hand in the nick of time and threw his head back in protest.
"Fuck the jacket." He demanded, a hint of annoyance on his breath.
I tilted my head and him and leaned back, comfortable that he wouldn't let me fall. When I felt a strand of hair come out of my clip and tumble into my eyes, I was sure this was the sexiest I'd ever felt. Funny how a celebrity can do that to a girl. "I can think of a few things I would much, much rather fuck besides this jacket." I held it up, "But I'm a woman of my word." I slipped my hand out of his and skipped to the bar, fumbling around with the liquor that had been set up for him. The possibilities were endless, Grey Goose, Patron, Cristal, the list went on a on. It was a cocktail of alcohol, a woman of my age's dream, and AA sponsor's worst nightmare. The bar was brightly lit so it was an easy search for what I needed.
"You know a lot of people think there's no cure for red wine. Once they get some of it one their clothes they immediately throw them out, but that's such a mistake. Red wine is so misunderstood. Ah-ha!" I snatched up the bottle when I found what I was looking for.
Justin was very slowly making his way up to the bar, undressing a little more with every step he took. I would have to work fast, that much was certain, because I knew if he got his hands on me one more time, there was no way I would be able to resist. I found a cork and popped open the bottle, "White wine!" I said, with far too much enthusiasm, as I looked up at him.
He smiled back at me, "White wine gets out Red?" An eyebrow raised on the right side of his face, he was skeptical. The sound of his belt buckle as he undid it alleviated any anger I would have felt at his doubting me.
"Yeah." I said, spilling a bit of it onto the jacket and scratching it gently with my nail, "My mom was a wine freak, but she was a spaz just like me and she was always spilling it all over my father." I laughed, "After years of throwing away his favorite clothes and sleeping on the couch after yelling at my mother about it, he went on a mission. A mission to find the cure to red wine stains. And he found it. White wine."
"Oh yeah?" Justin pushed his pants off of his hips and they pooled around his feet.
I stood, dumbfounded, as he stepped out of them slowly, one foot after the other, before continuing to make his way over to the bar. To me. Slowly. Very slowly. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words would come, so I just nodded. Finally, I cleared my throat and dared to look up from under my eyelids.
He was in his boxers and white undershirt now, but he was no longer making his way toward me. I looked back down at the stain that was quickly lifting, suddenly feeling unworthy of the half naked man in front of me. When I looked back up I willed myself to be confident, "Why'd you stop?" I asked.
His eyes bore into mine as his fingers played quietly against the bottom of his shirt, "How old are you?"
I was surprised by the question, "There's a question every girl loves to hear." I laughed nervously.
He didn't smile. "I was just looking at you right now, and..." He didn't finish.
My heart began to race, "I'm 22." My eyes immediately fell back to the stain, the lie felt bitter on my tongue. I'd never been ashamed of my age before, and I wasn't usually a liar, not by a stretch, but I couldn't risk ruining anything tonight. I rose my eyes back to his, attempting to appear coy. "That's about four years too old for most rock stars, isn't it?"
"You're beautiful." Was all he said, his eyes sincere. It was the first time that anyone had called me a beautiful and nothing else. Not a beautiful black woman, or a beautiful girl. Just beautiful. I loved it. Too much, I loved it.
I had to look back down at the shirt. It was way too intense. "Thank you." I didn't think he heard me. I barely heard myself.
"I don't usually do this."
My eyes shot back up to him, "Shouldn't that be my line, Mr. Timberlake?"
"When did you get a big mouth in the last fifteen minutes?" He asked sweetly, his tone contradicting his sarcastic words.
"I guess you just bring it out it me." I swept my dress over my head in one movement as I said the words, posed and tossed it at him. I only had a second to take in the look on his face before it wrapped around his head and hampered his vision. For a few long moments he just stood there, much to my amusement, before tearing it off his head.
"All right, no more Mr. Nice..." He swept the dress off of his head and, for the first time, I was the one that left him speechless.
I stood, illuminated under the bright lights of the bar, wearing his jacket open on my body and nothing else. It was huge on me, streching down to the middle of my calves, but it felt nice. Through the opening my breasts were full and my nipples peaked out ever so softly, hard and ready. I hadn't worn panties with my dress, so there hadn't been any fuss in taking them off. Being naked under a piece of fabric that had just been on him, still warm and fragrant with his scent made me feel more like a woman then I could ever remember. I had been so long. The way he was looking at me made me feel so good. Beneath the sleeves of his jacket my palms were hidden and sweating. "How do I look?" I whispered.
He didn't answer. Instead, without taking his eyes off of me, he pulled his shirt over his head. It hung at his side for only a second before it fell from his fingers and hit the floor. His chest was ripped and strong, heaving with his desire, and when he tucked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, I couldn't help but be completely riveted.
"Aren't you ever going to compliment me on my... stain lifting skills?" I lost my breath when he was completely exposed, hard and standing at full attention. Moisture glistened up at me from the tip, expressing that he was just as hungry for this as I was. He reached down and touched himself, then began slowly pumping, once, then twice. My fingers slowly, carefully emerged from beneath the sleeves of his jacket and, with only a moment's hesitation, I placed my hand against my abdomen and slowly slid it down. Fuck, it already felt so good, I could already feel it and I hadn't even done anything, yet. Keeping my eyes riveted to his hand, his fingers, working himself, I slipped my own between my legs, past my lips. The moment they were in, brushing against me, soft and tender, I could have died. My eyes fluttered shut and my head fell back. It was so, so good. Oh god, I needed this. I needed this bad. I found my clit and my entire body responded, thighs tightening around my hand like a vise, breath coming in heavy gasps. "Oh god." I was so close, too close, when it hit me. There was another person in the room with me. A man with a hard dick that he was willing to share and here I was about to finish the job on my own! Just goes to show how long it had been since I'd gotten some.
My eyes fluttered open, hungry for the sight of him touching himself, too, and I was stunned to find him directly in front of me. His eyes searched mine, "Wonderful job with the stain." He said, raspily, tucking his warm hands into the jacket and clutching my waist in an eager grasp.
"Oh god, thank you." I didn't know what I was thanking him for, the compliment or the feeling of his hands running all over my body. I wondered if he could feel it on my skin, smell it on me, how long it had been since I'd been with a man. I hoped it wasn't too obvious. His hands moved behind my back and he pulled my body to his completely. I felt him hard and fast between my legs as he brought me to my toes, the jacket fanned out across his back as I held him, warming both of us up as we came face to face, nose to nose.
"Tell me you want me, Kiki."
"I want you." I clawed at his back, breathing erratically. It wasn't a lie.
"I've wanted you from the second I laid eyes on you. Reading that book. My book. Fuck." He breathed in deeply his eyes falling to my lips, "Why the hell haven't I kissed you yet?" He took the back of my neck and pulled me into him.
I only had time to whisper, "Fuck if I know..."
Then the my phone rang. And rang.
An irritatingly joyful chime with a highly distinct melody.
To this very day, I can barely listen to it.
--
The phone call had been from my father, Vince Brown, a man who only picked up a telephone when someone was missing or dying. Since Jess and I were in elementary school, when our mother passed away, our father had been taking care of us and, we knew, whenever we got a phone call from dad that wasn't initiated by someone else, that it meant it was time to come home. I was sick with fear, sure that he'd figured out that me and Jess weren't in San Diego, at all, but in Las Vegas living it up, his youngest about to fuck one of the biggest superstars on the planet.
I was already near tears, having been stunned to have seen his name on the caller id when I'd tore myself out of Justin's arms. To think that I'd thought about not answering it, at all. I'd taken a seat, naked, on the edge of the bed, "Daddy?" I beamed into the phone, "Daddy, are you okay? Is PopPop okay?" I listened to his response, relieved by his tone of voice. He didn't sound angry, which meant he hadn't found out about Vegas, thank god.
Justin had pulled his boxers back on, thrown the jacket across my naked shoulders and was sitting next to me with a glass of water, rubbing my back. He was being so nice. Any other guy, assuming that they were still as hard as Justin was at that moment, would completely resent the girl who was almost making out with them one minute and damn near nears on the phone with Daddy the next.
My dad continued to assure me that he was fine.
"Is somebody dead?!"
Justin's entire face dropped and his eyes were full of stunned question in mine. His hand rested firmly on my back.
Nobody's dead, my dad reassured, he just needed Jess and I to get home right away. It was important. No, it could not wait.
"Okay. We'll be there. We'll be there as soon as we can."
Justin was disappointed at the words he was hearing, and it showed. After I hung up he bombarded me, "Who died?"
I looked at him, sitting next to me on the bed with a glass of water ready, and it reminded me of how nice it was to have a boyfriend. How long it had been since I had one of those. It had been so long since I'd done anything and that had never been more glaringly clear then it was right at that moment.
"What's wrong?" Justin asked, "What do you need? Anything."
I wiped my eyes, "Nothing. It's nothing. I'm just being dramatic." I swept the jacket off my shoulders and didn't miss the way his eyes immediately took in my naked form. "Nobody's dead it was just..." I looked all around, then jumped up from the bed when I found my dress pooled on the floor. I hurried over to it, much to Justin's dismay. "It was just my father." I said, pulling the dress over my head.
"Do you have to leave?" He asked with a surprising amount of regret in his voice.
"Definitely." I stood tall and took in the expression on his face, "I'm sorry, Justin. I really am. If it were anyone else- anyone else-- it wouldn't matter and we would probably be fucking right now, but it's my dad, you know?" No, Kiki, he doesn't know. "He's the kind of guy who only uses phones when someone is dead in the street or he heard from someone that me or Jess was dead in the street. He needs us to come home and he wouldn't have asked if it wasn't something really, really important. And you're standing here half naked and you smell so good and it has been a long, long time for me and I'd love nothing--nothing more than to make you come right now, hopefully with my coming in a close second," With every word I said he touched me a little more, pulled me a little closer, and I didn't even realize I'd been letting him until I could feel his dick against me. So I pulled back, "but I just can't. Maybe this was all just..." I waved an arm, "A stupid, stupid mistake."
It was a stupid mistake. What the hell was I thinking? I was not the type of woman who could pull off a one night stand without becoming extremely attached and I knew that about myself. How I'd convinced myself that it would be any different with Justin Timberlake I would never know. I was just a woman in a long and endless line of women. And even if hell were to freeze over and he and I did stand a chance I knew he would run for the hills screaming at the top of his lungs when he found out I was seventeen. Just because he'd been the first man to chose me over my sister I was ready to jump in bed with him without thinking things through, at all. It made me hate myself right there, standing in the middle of his ridiculously overpriced suite.
"I'm really sorry." I said, again, grabbing my bag. The phone in my hand rang again and I flipped it open without looking, "Hello? Yeah, Jess, he just called me. I'm leaving right now. At the Venetian. Okay." I took a deep breath, "I love you, too. I know. It scared the shit out of me, too. I'll be out front. Okay. Bye." I closed the phone and looked at Justin. For a long moment we just stood there in the middle of his suite. We had nothing to say to each other because we didn't know each other. Two strangers. Two strangers who were this close to having wild, passionate sex. Or, at least, I like to believe that it would have been wild and passionate, but I don't like to believe that it would have been with a stranger. Justin was just that.
He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. "This is probably better." It was better. "I don't know what I was thinking." I wasn't thinking. "It would have been a really, really bad idea." I would have been setting myself up for one hell of a heartbreak.
Justin didn't respond. He was clearly uncomfortable and didn't know what to say. "Do you need a ride?"
"No." I immediately declined, "Jess is going to pick me up downstairs and we're going to drive back to California." I began heading towards the door.
"California?" He asked me, shaking his head.
"Yes, LA." I pulled the door open. He set his hand on top of mine.
"Give me your number." He said, softly, "I live in LA, too." He faultered, "You never know what kind of stain I might need to get out." He added, when the look on my face wasn't what he must have been expecting.
"I don't think that's a good idea." Why give him a number that he wasn't even going to call? "It was a nice night. Why don't we just call it what it was? A one night almost-stand."
He didn't laugh, but he did smile, very small, not because I'd said anything funny, but because it was the nice thing to do. He was a nice guy. I released the door handle and wrapped my arms around him. I wanted to thank him for looking at me and not Jess at that party, for making me feel more like a woman than I had in a long time, for giving me a story that would make me the envy of my friends for the rest of our natural born lives. I wanted to thank him for being so nice, to promise him that I would splatter how nice he was all over every message board that had ever trashed him for being an asshole. I wanted to do so many things at that moment, but I didn't know how, so I hugged him because that was the one thing that I really did know how to do. I hugged him as tight as I could and waited for him to squeeze back, pat my back, something, but nothing came. Just me standing there with my arms around him like an idiot. When I was willing to humiliate myself no longer, I let him go, pulling away quickly as a blush crept to my cheeks.
He grabbed my arms and pulled me back, wrapping his own around me as tight as I had him. I hadn't expected that, but it was nice. And it held so much promise. Promises that couldn't be kept.
My father had better have just won a billion dollars.
Because that was the only thing that would be worth walking away from this.
--
After a five hour drive where both of us were contemplating the million and one tragedies that may have befallen our father in the twenty-two hours we'd been gone, the sun was rising, and we were shocked when we rang the bell of our small childhood home and were met with Daddy's smiling face. He was a tall, golden brown man with hazel eyes and a smile to die for.
Jessica was not smiling back, neither was I. "Dude, you just pulled us out of San Diego, CA on the last week of summer. Somebody better be dead in a ditch." Translation: "I was on a roll at the blackjack tables in Ceasar's Palace with another mans money and Kiki was about to get laid for the first time in two years, somebody better be dead in a ditch!"
I elbowed Jess. Though I did partially agree with her, I didn't want her to regret her words if somebody actually was dead in a ditch.
"Baby." Daddy stepped out of the doorway and gave Jess a big hug and a kiss. He turned to me, "Baby!" and did the same. He pulled back, took in the sight of us, heavy sunglasses to hide the bags under our eyes and thick curly hair pulled into equally sloppy buns. "I missed you guys."
"Okay, Daddy, enough with the pleasantries." I was beginning to believe that he really had brought us out here for nothing and if he had I was really, really going to kill him. "Tell us why you called us."
Ever smiling, Daddy motioned into the house, "Come inside, we've got breakfast and tea set out--"
"No, fuck that, Daddy! Maybe you didn't hear me but I was lying on a beach in San Diego now why the fuck am I no longer lying on a beach in San Diego, huh?!" Jessica was no longer having it and I thanked god that our father wasn't a tight ass about profanity. Any other parent and she would have been slapped into next week five minutes ago. Instantly, her entire face collapsed, "Wait a minute..." She pointed to him, "You just said we."
Daddy pulled a innocent look that did not belong on his face, "I did?"
I had heard it the moment he'd said it, before Jess had gone into her second tantrum of the morning, "Yes, you said 'we've got breakfast and tea set out'. We all know that PopPop doesn't rise from the dead before noon and you don't have any friends so who the hell is 'we'?" I crossed my arms over my chest.
"I wanted to surprise you girls, but it looks like I got caught in my own web." Daddy jumbled with laughter.
Jessica and I stood, seething.
"Look, I know you girls were having the times of your life in San Diego, but you are a big part of my life and when my life changes dramatically I think it's important that you be there and, well... I got engaged last night."
The air fell from my lungs as Jessica cried out from behind me and lunged herself into Daddy's arms. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. Immediately, I knew that I wasn't angry about the news, but I wasn't happy either. When the hell had he had the time to meet anyone? Between Jessica's weekly visits, the fact that I lived with him and his job at the construction site there wouldn't be any time for him to meet anyone. Hell, there wouldn't be any place for him to meet anyone. He never left his couch unless it was the get another beer from the fridge or jump into his truck for work. The last time I'd seen my father with a woman was the night before my mother died so who the hell was this?
He and Jess were now staring at me with their arms wrapped around each other, as if they'd both just delivered this news and were waiting for my response.
I didn't have a response. Oh, wait, yes I did. "Who?" I asked, my voice dead with displeasure. I wasn't sure that I wanted to know the answer.
My father opened his mouth to speak, but before any words could come out there was a foreign voice behind him, a female voice. Then there was an arm wrapped around him from behind, a white arm with skin that was damaged from too much tanning. Then an expensive looking pair of boots that I see Jess liking, a black dress and a face.
My mouth dropped open and I took a huge step away from the woman like I'd seen a ghost. That was certainly what it felt like.
"Baby!" My father beamed proudly, "This is Lynn. Lynn this is Kiki, you know Kiki."
"Oh yes." The southern accent that I'd become so familiar with because it often accompanied the man I was crazy about filled my senses and rendered me speechless. I remembered her face along side of him in the tv specials that I'd recorded in middle school and watched over and over, the dvds I owned. I remembered the name from all of the cd jackets and interviews that I'd read, how proud he was of her. I remembered it all, and I didn't know what to say.
Lynn sensed my complete horror, but she held her hand out, anyway, "I'm Lynn Harless. It's such a wonderful pleasure. Vince has told me so much about you. I got so excited when he told me you're on your school's dance team. I was too! Maybe you could teach me some new moves." She laughed a sweet little laugh.
I couldn't speak.
My father was extremely pissed off, "Keelah!"
"It's okay." Lynn pulled her hand back, camouflaging her wounded expression beautifully, and rubbed Vince's shoulder. There was a familiarity in her gesture, an intimacy, "She's in shock! Which is completely understandable, right?" She looked at me and giggled, "I mean we did kind of spring this on you out of nowhere."
"No, Kiki just has no home training, that's all." Jess crossed her arms over her chest, obviously failing to have made the same connection I had.
"I'm sorry, I..." I. Couldn't. Speak.
The three of them examined me as I struggled to construct an acceptable sentence, they had so much hope in their eyes, as if I were a retarded child who was coming this close to getting it right, but kept falling short.
"I... I... I..." I could only construct one, correct thought.
Thank god I didn't fuck him.
Chapter End Notes:
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Story Tags: jailbait interracial
