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YellowHampster wrote:

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YellowHampster wrote:

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Mercy

You can't believe what you're doing.

Any other night, sure, but tonight. You can't believe you listened to them.

That's what you keep saying to yourself, maybe if you close your eyes the scene in front of you will be gone when you open them again.

You blink. But you still see the edge of the stage, the spotlights, and the gray-toned faces of the people seated at the tiny tables staring back at you.

Towards the back, at their usual table- three of your best friends are giggling and pointing to a table a few feet in front of them.

Where, seated in the dead center of the front row, holding what you think may be a jack on the rocks in his hand and watching you like everyone else...

Is Justin Timberlake.

You, the reigning karaoke Queen of Onslow County is swallowing hard and second guessing your lengthy resume.

But, as you friend Jenny was saying to you when you suddenly decided you weren't going to come back out and sing your second 'set' tonight, that it wouldn't be karaoke night at the Washington Tavern if you didn't.

And of course Haley just had to add that this could just be the shot you've been waiting for in a small town like Holly Ridge. Fan moments aside- he owns a record label and you have the dream.

So you stand off to the edge of the stage as Billy introduces you like he does every week, the song is the only thing that changes.

"Closing the house down tonight- like every week- singing "Mercy" by Duffy. The voice of Victoria Street, my neighbor and yours, the only girl in here with her own dressing room backstage, please welcome back…" you take a deep breath as he finally says your name; his introduction speech you swear gets longer every week.

You feel your heels click against the floor, and you shift into autopilot working what your momma gave you.

You strut out center stage and the soft 'yeah's' float out of your mouth, you don't even need the prompter with the words as you start in on the first verse. Flirting with the crowd as you walk from one side of the stage to the other and back.

"I love you but i gotta stay true my morals got me on my knees, im begging please stop playing games…" you point at random men, toss a few winks and kick your heel up. You've eased right into the role you play.

The first chorus approaches and you tilt your head back, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead, and then straighten back up again, fanning your face as you sing it out. And when its time for the second verse to come in you find yourself center stage again.

Curios blue eyes locked right on yours. Your bottom lip tucks between our teeth and you smile, winking at him before jumping into the lines just a half beat behind.

"Now you think that I will be something on the side…" You sway your hips and sink down to the floor; now closer to his eye level you wave a finger back and forth and shake your head slowly and then stand back up. You notice him grin.

You head towards the right side of the stage and place a hand on the railing as you side-step down the stairs. "but you got to understand that i need a man who can take my hand yes I do, I don't know what this is but you got me good, just like you knew you would." You move back towards where he it and the spotlight follows you.

If you're going for this- you're going for it all the way. You see him sit up a little straighter as you approach, and you walk behind him, sliding your hand across his broad shoulders and turning in a circle as you walk back in front of them.

You're sure your friends' jaws have hit the floor- along with every other regular in the room. Normally you don't leave the stage. But, Justin Timberlake doesn't normally walk in at half past 11… nothing about tonight is normal.

"I don't know what you do but you do it well. I'm under your spell" you lightly tug on the sleeve of his shirt and he raises an eyebrow at you.

"Ladies and gentleman, we've got a professional in the house." You completely bypass the second run through of the chorus. "Mr. Timberlake, can I get your professional opinion?" You say, you voice a little lower than usual- a sultry infliction.

But you don't actually offer him the mic, or even wait around for any kind of response; you just wanted him to know for sure that you noticed him.

And you brake into her speaking solo in the bridge as you make your way back onto the stage. Reaching your mark, just in time for the final chorus.

"You got me begging you for mercy why won't you release me?" You shake your shoulders and hips in a half beat, bopping to the beat and dragging dramatic arm movements, reminiscent of the 50's. "you got me begging you for mercy, why won't you release me? I said you'd better release me…"

As the song ends you take your bow, not even discreetly searching for his gaze, you lock eyes with him and wink.

"Goodnight everybody!" You wave and then head backstage and straight to your dressing room.

You'd bet your life savings that it's only a matter of minutes now before there's a knock at your door.

I wrote a little more to this in hopes that someone... anyone at all might want to play tag with meeeeeee.

You really wish that there had been someone to take that bet when not even two minutes later there is indeed a soft knock. Just because you are well aware of the game you are entitled to play you wait for the second set of three taps before you actually respond.

"Come in." You speak just loud enough for it to be heard on the other side of the door and you sit up a little straighter where you are poised on the edge of the seat at the vanity. You watch through the mirror as your suspicions, and your wildest dreams, prove true.

"Hello." A voice you are only familiar with through speakers or a TV set beckons your attention; you meet his eyes through the mirror briefly before you turn around and come face to face with Justin Timberlake for the second time that evening. You slowly lift up your right leg and cross it over the left, your tongue sneaking out between your lips to slide over the small grin that forms when the lights from the vanity behind you act like a spotlight for your slightly seductive movement, and his eyes fall for it.

"Hello." You reply and his eyes dart back up to meet yours. "Can I help you?"

He looks shocked by your question. As if you were supposed to fall over yourself for him. Frankly, you're amazed that you aren't. But the notion that he has approached you in your dressing room is giving you a sense of poise that you've never had before. You almost feel too confident.

"I'm Justin." He clears his throat and introduces himself. A motion not really necessary, but appreciated none the less.

You smile and place your hand in his when he reaches for it, anticipating his gentlemanly gesture of kissing the back of your hand. You knew when you took that stage that there were two ways you could work this situation. Option A was to sing your heart out and hold onto the tiniest bit of hope that he might be searching for some untapped talent. Option B was to… well option B was the less honorable of the two, but also the one with the highest chance for a more instant gratification.

So you worked what you had and this is where the real fun begins.

"Hello Justin." You hold his gaze but offer no other words. Someone like him needs a challenge, and who are you to deny him of that.

"Intriguing performance you gave out there. Impressive." He stands in front of you, just slightly closer then what would be normally acceptable.

"I'm happy to hear you think so." Because of his close proximity you're forced to look up at him. Its clear he's well versed in this form of poetry as well.

"I'll have to thank you for including me in it." You start to stand, expecting him to step back, but he doesn't and now you stand almost chest to chest. Well, more chin to chest with his height. His scent fills your nose, dragging you into his spell. You can only hope that you have mastered the same power over him.

"It was my pleasure." You raise your chin to meet his eyes.

"Really now? Because I'll have to admit when it comes to having your hands all over me, the pleasure was all mine."

And then it all changes. Until now it was non-verbal. It was in the tone of the voice, the slow movements and the eye contact. But apparently the aura of the low lighted room and the purposeful conversation wasn't working its magic fast enough.

He knows he's won when you're left speechless. But to be honest it wasn't ever about that. You knew what was coming the second you stepped off that stage and into the crowd.

"So…" He says.

"So…" you repeat, neither of you having any idea what to follow that word with.

His bottom lip tucks between his teeth and his right hand lifts; the backs of his fingertips dance along your jaw line and then his hand slides behind your neck, his thumb coming to rest just underneath your ear. Then his left hand lifts and mimics the same motion.

"I thought I might return the favor." He explains. He then leans forward and his lips land on your chin. Soft, kisses rain along the path his fingertips had taken for a few seconds before he pauses above your lips.

"Would that be alright with you?" He breathes.

"God yes." You choke out, your voice failing you at the pure deliciousness of knowing what he's going to do to you.

"Good." He halts all further conversation by releasing his hold on your head and crushing his lips against yours. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck as his hands smooth down your back and his lips nudge yours apart, deepening the kiss and his tongue expertly searching for yours.