| ...part three... Several beers later, Lance was spinning, literally, on the dance floor with a topless stipper, all tits and teeth. He made Justin's figure out in the shadows, holed up in the corner of the club with a tall, leggy woman, who was sitting on his lap as he fed her god knows what out of a shot glass. The topless dancer moved closer to Lance, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. She smelled of cigarettes and sweat, two scents that did not endear her to him. He frowned and stepped back, wishing that the MTV intern would emerge from her tiny room and say something to him, preferably something like, "take me home with you" or "I'd love to fuck you, thanks". But she was not coming out, and much to Lance's annoyance, at least 5 men had gone in and out since his little visit. He glanced over, disentageling himself from this amazon woman, and without a word, headed toward the bar, never letting his gaze stray far from that glittery door. He ordered himself another beer and grimaced when tits and teeth headed his way, oblivious to his blow off. "Get me one?" she asked, all high pitched and giggly. He rolled his eyes a bit, but ordered her one as well. It's not like he didn't have the money, and the girl was working for a living. As soon as the bartender placed the brews in front of them, he grabbed his and walked away, again, hoping she'd get the hint and fuck off. This time, she didn't follow, instead approaching a well dressed business man in his thirties, hoping he'd be more generous. Lance didn't know what to do now. He was bored by the scene, and while normally it would have been enough to keep his juices flowing, after the surprise he'd had with the intern, his mind wouldn't let go of her face, the hate and anger that shot from her eyes, the way her half naked body felt struggling against his, and christ, here he went again, getting all hot and bothered by this....this fucking intern at MTV. Damn he needed to get laid, he reasoned. That was all. It had been a while between trysts, and he was overdue. A dull ache formed in his groin, and he tried to ignore it. "Gimme a shot!" He blinked, hearing her voice. Snapping his head up, he caught sight of her. "Hey," he said, attemting to make nice. He desired her in a way he hadn't desired anyone in so long. He forgot that tingle of want, so used to having women of all ages just lay down and spread their legs for him. She didn't, well, she almost did, but ultimately hadn't. She turned slowly, that deep voice so unmistakable now, burned into her mind from just hours before. "You still here?" she snorted, hoping the blush in her cheeks was masked in the dimly lit room. The waitress came back with her shot, and she downed it in one long gulp. Placing the empty glass back down, she stared at Lance, biting her lower lip as the alcohol burned a warm trail down her throat to her stomach, where it began it's slow spread into her blood, still on fire from his earlier advance. Lance took a step back, unused to being talked to like this. He actually got off on it though, admiring her petite body. "So, having a good night?" he asked, glancing toward the door. "None of your business," she replied, coolly. "Excuse me." It took every ounce of strength she had, but she turned and walked away, wishing to god she smoked or something, because Lance Bass was making her horny as hell, with his drunken, droopy eyes and hard body hidden beneath that baggy tee shirt, and damn! She shut her eyes, pressing his image from them, remembering that she had a career path in mind, one that he was already into, and it would do her no good to have him as some kind of complication. She quickly entered the "staff only" bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. Lance stood and watched her go, unable to take his mind off her. Why? When he'd seen her at MTV, she had been an annoyance to him, as most people were. He didn't have long to think about her becasue in the corner, he heard Justin's loud voice. Looking over, he noticed a large, wrestler type man yanking him to his feet. "Fuck," Lance muttered, hurrying over just as the first punch was thrown. Justin fell back with the force of the suckerpunch, but recovered nicely. "You motherfucker!" he screamed, spearing the mammoth man in the gut, sending him flying backwards. Justin had quite a body, mostly muscle. Lance himself had been on the receiving end of a punch or two in his day, and it hurt, hurt like hell. He rushed over, positioning himself nearby, in case Justin got in over his head. He knew him well enough to know that he liked to finish what he started, alone. The man laid on the floor, stunned momentarily. Justin didn't miss a beat. He jumped on the fallen man, pummeling him with angry fists, his face contorted in anger, drunken anger, but anger nevertheless. The girl he'd been feeding shots to stood by yelping, and the sound reminded Lance of a rat. He chuckled as he watched Justin dominate the entire situation. Soon, an army of bouncers surrounded the two men, now rolling about on the floor. "Get up!" one of them yelled, yanking Justin by the arm. "We don't like that shit around here." Justin pouted, not liking where this was headed. "He started it, the dumb fuck. I was just having a good time." The man rolled onto his stomach and tried to stand. He was woozy, though, and had underestimated the kid's gusto. He couldn't really speak as a small trail of blood ran from his mouth. The bouncers lifted him up and pointed to the door. "Go on now, before we call the cops." They knew damn well that many famous patrons gathered in this club for privacy, and fights would not do for their reputation. Lance pulled on Justin's arm, ready to go. He knew where to find his intern, and his was getting tired, all the action boring him. Justin had other ideas, though, and was turning into a mean drunk. "I don't have to go," he spat. "I'm Justin Timberlake, and he should have to leave." Lance cringed when he stared getting belligerant. "J, man, come on. It ain't worth it. Let's roll. Come on." Lance tugged and yanked until they were at the exit. He gave one more pull and they were out on the street, that cold NY air smacking them hard. Lance hailed a cab as Justin sank to the chilly sidewalk. "Goddammit!" he hissed, reaching up to adjust his bandana. "Who did that guy think he was? He could have fucking scarred me!" He rambled on and on, but Lance ignored him, knowing better. When Justin drank, there was no stopping his ego, or his fists. The yellow cab pulled over, and Lance opened the door, pushing Justin in, wishing he'd shut the hell up. In no time, they were back at their hotel, and headed up to their rooms. Lance rubbed at his eyes, hoping to have time the next day to call over at MTV and get that girls' name. He stepped into the elevator, Justin in tow, and held the door for two pretty girls, about their age. Lance moved back, his mind elsewhere, and if they fucking screamed, or asked for an autograph, he thought he would just die. He was in no mood. But Justin had other ideas, immediately turning into Mr. N Sync, wrapping his arms around one, and boasting about himself to the other. Lance sighed, and leaned back against the back of the elevator, watching the numbers creep up. The jolt surprised him, and the cute red head smiled at him. "I guess we're stuck," she grinned, her perfectly manicured hand positioned on the brake button. Oh, it was going to be a long night indeed. Lance sighed as Justin pushed the blonde's skirt up, and shook his head. Sex in the elevator. God, he wanted to punch him, hard. The redhead looked at him with expectant eyes, all lust filled and screaming 'fuck me'. Lance watched Justin lift the girl's legs around his waist, stuggling to unzip his jeans. He felt a familiar stirring in his own pants, being privvy to such an intimate scene, but Justin didn't seem to mind, not at all. He let his jeans fall around his ankles, and thrust into the girl. Lance watched with widened eyes as she gasped and tried to look away. The redhead moved closer to him and tugged at his jeans. "Come on. They'll move it soon." She spoke with all the knowledge of an experienced star fucker, and Lance debated. Her hands found his hardness, and she rubbed him deftly. His body screamed at him to do it, and after wanting that little intern, who was he to say no. She pulled him down ontop of her, and he obliged, his mind back in that room. Justin caught his eye in the mirrored walls and smiled. This was too much, even for the likes of Lance. He gritted his teeth and got to work. It wasn't such a bad gig afterall. |