Payback
SS by Amanda

Music has always been my sanctuary. When I was younger, it was an escape from the constant bickering between my parents. When I was with the group, it was a way to step back from the glitz and glamour we reluctantly subjected ourselves to. And now, it’s may escape from her.

Her. I can’t even bring myself to say her name, though it’s flowed from my lips thousands of times before. But now when I say it, it’s different. It’s no longer the name of the pop star, the friend, the girlfriend of my best friend. It’s the name of the woman who’s image I can’t erase from my mind, who’s scent I can’t scrub from my body, who’s touch still teases my skin though she’s long gone from it.

It’s been a week since I’ve seen her. A week since we let a little flirting and a lot of alcohol go a long way. A week since I woke up to a bed laced with her scent and a small note with the words “Thank You” scribbled across it.

“Thank you.” The words leave a bitter taste on my tongue as they are spoken. I shake my head as I quickly return to my sanctuary, raising the volume level on the control board to drown out the words that seem to echo through the room.

My head falls slightly and begins to move in rhythm with the music. My finger and foot soon follow, my entire body slowly succumbing to the sounds around me.

But all to soon, the room grows silent once again, the music disappearing as everything else in my life has. It’s when the music ends that the sanctuary becomes the prison.

I move my hand back to the board, desperate for an escape from the silence but from behind me, a soft voice stops my movement.

“I thought I’d find you here,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Justin would laugh at her at this moment. He always said he hated how she’d mimic her voice to the situation. He would call her on it every time she’d lower her voice, telling her that it made her appear small and weak. And as I catch her reflection in the glass of the soundbooth, I know that she’s reliving his words.

“You’re so predictable, JC.” Her small and weak voice is now replaced by a strong and confident one and I turn to meet the same determination in her face.

I cock an eyebrow, studying the face that has come back to haunt me, “How’s that?”

“No phone call. No e-mail message. Not even a note on my door telling me to fuck off.”

“You were in London,” I scoff, turning back to the board.

“Yeah and you were here. Probably all fucking week, sitting here in this studio thinking that the music will change what happened between us.”

Her irritation bites in her voice and I know that I’ve probably hurt her more than she’ll ever be willing to admit. I’m supposed to be, at the very least, and as her friend, I should have faced this problem with her, but instead, I chose to ignore it.

“Fine Jayce, I see that you’re still an ass. I guess some things never change. You have you’re out now. It never happened.”

My eyes catch her returning back in the glass and I turn quickly, grabbing her arm as she’s leaving the room. She jerks her head back, the venom evident in her eyes.

I struggle to find any words to diffuse the situation, but I know that none exist. Releasing her arm, I run my hand through my hair and sit back down in the chair.

I shake my head, “You know that what happened was wrong. Justin would blow a gasket if he ever found out.”

She laughs sarcastically, shaking her head in disbelief at my words, “Justin’s gaskets are none of my concern. He gave up the right to my concern when he fucked Jenna.”

“Is that what this is,” I hiss as I cock my head to the side, “your revenge? Justin fucks the backup dancer so what better way to get back at him than to fuck the bandmate. Congratulations Britney, I think you win at the game of payback.”

She’s shocked, her mouth falling open just slightly as she takes in my words. I watch from the corner of my eye as she slowly shakes her head, allowing a wicked grin to form on her face.

“What about you? Is this your revenge Jayce? Justin fucks your career, your dreams, so you fuck his ex-girlfriend.”

I can feel my jaw clench as her bitter words slam into me. I say nothing for a few moments, only watching her reflection. Finally, I nod my head, “Maybe I am. Maybe this is my revenge. Or maybe it’s not.”

She smiles slightly at my response and then takes a step closer to me. Her hands find my shoulders and I shiver slightly, producing a knowing laugh from her.

“Maybe that’s what I’m doing too,” she sighs, as she begins to methodically knead my shoulders, “Maybe this is my revenge. Or maybe it’s not.”

My body relaxes into her touch and I allow myself to rest back against the chair. Her fingers are like magic on my skin, tickling and teasing it as no one has ever done before.

“You’re too tense,” she whispers after a few moments, “You’re always too tense.”

She moves in front of me, her hands never leaving my shoulders as she straddles my legs. I move nervously under this new position, “Brit . . . .”

“Ssshhhh, its ok,” she laughs, “I always wanted to do this to you.”

She smiles softly as she notices my confused look, “When I would come to the studio with Justin and he’d be working with you . . . . I would just watch you.”

“You watched me when you were with Justin?”

Her cheeks fill with a gentle pink, “I watched you all the time Jayce. You fascinated me. You were always so focused, so intense. It drove me insane that you never acknowledged my existence so I would sit there in the studio, just watching you, and thinking about what I could do to get your attention. To distract you from your music. Just once I wanted you to watch me like I did you. Of course, I never really could act of those plans.”

I can feel my body reacting as she moves against me, “What were those plans?”

She delights in my question, “I wanted to watch the nervousness on your face as I slowly unbuttoned your shirt.”

Her warm hand burns into my chest as she pushes my shirt away, her eyes delving deeply into my own as she acts out every word that she says.

“And I wanted to feel your skin against my lips as I kissed along your chest . . . . . . and I wanted to feel that gasp of air you would take when I sucked on your nipples.”

I throw my head back, the pain of the hard fall overshadowed by the pleasure she is providing me with every touch . . . . . every taste.

My eyes move back to her quickly as I feel her weight shift slightly. She meets my gaze briefly, smiling mischievously before she places one hand on the back of the chair and takes my belt in her other hand. My breathing grows more erratic as she pulls it out of the buckle and then quickly releases the button from my jeans.

“I wanted to watch the emotions on your face as my hand slipped inside your pants and my fingers played with the elastic of your boxers.”

Her hand slips inside the thin fabric, “And hear that soft moan escape your lips as I found the prize awaiting me.”

My breath is caught in my throat as she gently massages me.

“I wanted to see the pleasure I was giving you . . . . . and I wanted to hear the music of your excitement. . . .”

She moves toward me, nestling her head into the crook of my neck as her mouth bites at the sensitive skin there.

“ . . . . . your breathing . . . . . your moaning . . . . . your pleading.”

Raising her head, her lips massage against mine, parting them slightly so she can dip her tongue inside of my mouth. I hesitate for a moment, her hand still massaging, her tongue still exploring . . . . . she pulls back just as I run my tongue along her bottom lip. “I wanted to see that battle in your eyes, knowing that you shouldn’t want me . . . . but you did . . . . and then I would ask you to say it, to tell me.”

I grab onto her waist, picking her up and laying her on the board.

“I want you Brit,” I whisper breathlessly as I lean into her, my mouth attacking her neck.

“How bad?”

“More than anything I’ve ever wanted before.”

I hear her giggle slightly as my hands move under her skirt, finding the top of her underwear and quickly pulling them down her legs and off of her body.

She raises up slightly, meeting my hands at my own boxers as we anxiously push them down.

“Did you ever make love to Bobbie in the studio?” She pulls my shirt over my head and discards it onto the floor.

My hands move to her blouse. “No.”

I unclasp her bra and she pulls it off before she grabs onto my arm and prompts my eyes back to hers. She licks her lips and smiles softly.

She moves her hand to the back of my head as she gently tugs on my earlobe with her lips.

“Then let me show you what you were missing.”





“Hey man, I was hoping you’d still be here . . . . . . . Johnny said you were working on a new song you were excited about.”

Justin’s voice rings through the studio as he steps inside, taking a seat in a chair down from me.

“Yeah,” I say as I glance at my friend beside me, “Just got done actually. I’m pretty happy with it.”

I can feel his eyes on me, studying my every movement, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“Well, well, well,” he laughs, “I know those signs. The nervous eyes. The messed up clothes and hair.”

He pulls the chair closer, “That small patch of red on your neck. Looks like you got a little inspiration in the studio today.”

I can’t help but laugh as I run my hand through my tousled hair, “That obvious huh?”

His smile widens, “Yeah, I know all about how that feels. Brit always hated to be ignored, especially in the studio. Did my best work after she did her own work on me, if you know what I mean.”

I can only chuckle as he wriggles an eyebrow at me and then cocks his head to the side, “Ok, so who is she? Anybody I know?”

I look at the man beside me, the man who only vaguely resembles the man he used to be to me . . . . . and to her.

“Someone you used to know.”

He only laughs at my response, “Was she good?”

I scoff slightly, standing up before I look at him again. “She was amazing. Utterly fucking amazing . . . . Listen, I’m heading out . . . . . I’m sure you’ve got work to do. Maybe Alyssa will come by to give you some inspiration.”

He nods his head ever so slightly as he watches me turn away, “Maybe.”

Ignoring his prying eyes, I grab my jacket off the board and turn quickly toward the door. But the instant I hear the crash behind me, I stop dead in my tracks.

My body doesn’t move momentarily until I force myself to turn back around to meet his fiery eyes.

He holds my CD up, his hands shaking, “You son of a bitch.”

I watch his eyes glaze over and I slowly nod my head, reaching to him quickly and grabbing the case from his hands.

I glance at it quickly, my eyes moving over the words I wrote just moments ago . . . .

Britney’s Song

. . . . and then raise it in my hand.

“You’re right Justin, Brit doesn’t like to be ignored . . . . . especially in the studio.”

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