Yesterday’s Clothes

By: Lesa

"Why does she work out of her house? Why can't she have a shop or a store like a normal person?"

This from Lance who had been complaining since they got into the car.

"Dude, shut the hell up, we're going for fittings. Try the clothes on, make sure they fit OK, take them off, leave. And then you won't have to see her again til next tour," JC said, not opening his eyes. His body twitched rhythmically as he went over the choreography they'd just spent the entire day learning.

It was a hot, muggy April evening and the guys were busy preparing for their No Strings Attached tour.

"Well, I don't want to see her now."

The 'her' they referred to was Sara Thomas, their seamstress. They had a wardrobe mistress who traveled with them to take care of their costumes, but Sara was the one who actually created them.

"Damn, I forgot about this thing y'all got going. I shoulda rode with Justin," JC moaned.

"Whatever," Lance mumbled as he turned on his blinker to switch lanes. He had to slow down to do so and shook his head as Justin, once again, cut someone off.

Five minutes of precious and rare silence later, he pulled up behind Justin in the driveway of Sara's tri-level house. It was an amalgam of architectural styles. With a wraparound porch, dormer and bay windows and a widow's walk, the house looked clumsily put together but in a nicely aesthetic way. It looked cozy.

The inside was a continuation of the outside. Family heirlooms competed for counter space with cheap bric-a-bracs. Homemade quilts and dolls lay everywhere, haphazardly placed here and there, with no eye for structure or order. The hardwood floors gleamed in the light of the waning sun. Paintings, original and copies, hung prominently next to children's crayon art. It was as a home should be. Clean, neat, comforting…lived in. It was exactly the sort of house Lance had always pictured himself settling down in and that pissed him off even more.

Joey smiled as he sat on the rattan couch. "I love this place. It reminds me of my grandma's house."

Lance opened his mouth to make a rude comment but was interrupted when a large ball of fur shot past his feet.

"Tweety? Tweety? C'mere, girl, it's just one drop, it won't hurt!"

They heard the voice before they saw the person it belonged to.

"Tweety? Tweety! Dammit, when I catch you, I'm gonna-oh, hey guys."

Sara Thomas, at twenty-six, was a fireball of energy. Her naturally curly auburn hair hung just past her shoulders and her blue eyes, framed by a pair of wireless glasses, gave off an air of calm radiance that was betrayed the moment she opened her mouth. Even though, she stood at almost six feet, there was an air of vulnerability about her, an unwavering innocence that seemed at odds with the world around her.

Clad in short blue jean shorts and a tank top, her hair in a messy ponytail with tendrils dangling to curl around her face, she looked more like a teenager than the competent business woman she was. As owner and proprietress of Sew What?, she was the seamstress to the stars. Going to the Oscars and want something wildly unique? Call Sara. Doing a period piece and need costumes authentic to the era? Call Sara? Embarking on a sold out world tour? Call Sara.

Everyone loved Sara. Her sharp wit, quick smiles and up-front candor garnered her several invites to the social events she was commissioned for. Everyone thought she was a real sweetheart. Everyone, that is, except for Lance Bass.

He didn't know what it was about her that set his teeth on edge. She was nice enough to him and his band mates. She never asked for any favors and she always delivered on time. He just…didn't like her. But, true Southern gentleman that he was, he never let her see that.

"Sara, what are you doing to that poor cat?" Joey stood to embrace the tailor.

"She's sick. I have to give her a dropper of this stuff every day after she eats." She shook an eyedropper filled with a vile-looking pink liquid. "Only she got smart on me. Now she eats and runs."

"Only you would have a cat named Tweety and a bird named Sylvester," Chris quipped.

Sara grinned. "You're just mad you didn't think of it first."

Chris pretended to ponder that for a moment. "True."

"Let me go clean up the mess we made. Y'all know where to go. All of the clothes are bagged and marked. Please, be extra careful with the Space Cowboy outfits. I just finished those this morning and those pants are not reinforced." She disappeared through the doorway and the guys trooped up to the second floor. They walked into the sewing room and saw five plastic hanging bags, stuffed to almost bursting, hanging from a rack in the center of the room.

Justin was the first to reach it and passed the proper bag to each guy.

They all began to strip down. Unzipping his pants, JC said, "Let's try em on in the order of the songs."

"Do you remember it?" Chris asked as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"No, but I'm sure Sara has it written here somewhere."

Lance toed off his shoes, then paused. Bare-chested, he stood with his hands on his belt buckle. "So, we have to wait til she finishes whatever's going on with the cat?"

"Yeah. Well, not really. We know 'No Strings' is first and 'Bye Bye Bye' is last." JC stood, clad only in a pair of gray sport shorts and some white athletic socks.

Chris laughed. "Yeah, but which is the outfit for it?"

"Which is the outfit for what?" Sara walked into the room, followed by her assistant, Lesa. Neither woman seemed fazed at the sight of the five members of *NSYNC standing around in their underwear.

All of them usually wore sports shorts or some kind of supporter when they performed. Sara, being the perfectionist that she was, always asked the guys to wear whatever underclothes they'd wear on stage to fittings. The first time she'd made the request, years ago, Chris had stupidly asked, 'You mean, we're supposed to wear the same underwear every night?"

They'd had many fitting since then and they all knew the drill.

"Which one do we put on first?" Chris asked, scratching his arm.

"They're hanging in order," Lesa said as she walked over to Justin and ripped the plastic off his clothes. "But please be careful. These are only prototypes, so to speak. Eventually, we'll make four other versions of these. Hey, baby." She lifted her face to Justin's for a kiss. She expected only a brief meeting of lips and so was surprised when he wrapped his arms around her and parted her lips with his tongue.

Business went on as usual around them as the kiss continued. Chris was almost completely dressed, buttoning up the black vest that went over his outfit when he noticed that Justin and Lesa were still lip-locked. He walked over to them and smacked Justin on the back of the neck. "Fitting now, make out later."

"Aye aye, cap'n." Justin mock-saluted Chris' retreating figure. He looked back at Lesa. He waited til she turned to face him, then pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth. She grinned at him then walked away to answer Joey's cry for help to find the pin that was sticking him.

The fitting went on normally from there. The guys tried on an outfit, did some experimental movements in them and told Sara and Lesa if any adjustments needed to be made. Chris, who had drank an entire bottle of Gatorade on the ride over, became more and more hyper as time passed.

They were in their outfits for Space Cowboy. Lance checked himself out in the mirror. He thought the leather pants were a bit too tight. They showed off more than he was comfortable having on display. He loved the shirt, though. It fit him like a second skin. He looked over at his friend's costumes and frowned. "We don't match."

"Huh?" Sara looked up from where she was kneeling at JC's feet, pinning the hem of his pants to a more appropriate length.

"Our outfits. They don't fit together."

"Yes, they do," Justin pointed out as Lesa pulled his belt through the loops of his jeans. "Space Cowboy…I got the cowboy thing, you and JC have the space thing, Chris and Joey have a mixture." He looked down at his girlfriend. "I am capable of dressing myself, you know."

"I know. It's more fun this way."

"Whatever, girl, you know you'd rather be taking it off," Chris joked. He expected Lesa to blush or get flustered. She just grinned and wagged her eyebrows.

"Yup!"

"Oohh!"

"Shit!"

Justin was the one who got red in the face.

"Hey Lance, come here," Chris beckoned.

"What's up?" Lance asked.

"I can't remember what comes after second ride it part."

"What's the ride it part?" JC asked, adjusting himself.

"Take a space ride with the cowboy, baby," Chris sang as he demonstrated. "What's after that?"

"It's the hop part," Lance told him.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks."

Lance turned to walk away.

"Lance?" Chris whined.

"What?" he said in an exasperated tone.

"I said, 'thank you'!" Chris ran over and jumped on the blonde's back. He tripped over a footstool and they both went down amidst a tangle of arms and legs. There was a loud 'RIIIIIPPPP' that sent chills down Sara's spine. She and Lesa looked at each other for a second and then ran over to see what the damage was.

Lance and Chris struggled to untangle themselves. They stood and Chris stared in shock. Lance's pants had split right down the middle. And it wasn't a small rip either…it went from the front of the waistband to the back.

Lance looked at himself in the mirror, raised horrified eyes to Chris' and reluctantly looked to Sara to see her expression.

Her eyes were centered on Lance's crotch and the gaping hole. His dark green boxer briefs were visibly through the rent in the black leather. Sara's mouth was compressed in a line so tight, it looked white. "Take them off," she said softly.

"What?"

"Take…them…off," she enunciated each word very carefully, still not looking at him.

"Sara, I…I'm really sorry. I play too much, I know it and…" Chris trailed off.

Sara took a deep breath. They could visibly see her sloughing off her anger, much the way a cat sheds his hair. "It's OK. Just try on the rest of the clothes and try to be more careful, OK?"

Lance gingerly stepped out of the pants. He handed them to Sara and watched her as she studied the fabric. "You're going to need to stay late, you know?" she said quietly, finally bringing her eyes to his.

"What?"

"I'm going to have to measure these again."

"OK." Lance didn't know what it was, but he felt strangely entranced by her eyes. He didn't feel any of the animosity he normally felt when he was around her. Maybe it was the way she had looked as she'd examined his pants. He'd had a whole list of reasons of why he didn't like her, but just then, he couldn't remember any of them.

The rest of the fitting went quietly. Everything fit as it was supposed to except for Justin's pants for Digital Getdown and Bye Bye Bye. Lesa promised to fix that herself, knowing that Sara had a long job ahead of her. These outfits had to be presented to Johnny Wright and some representatives from MCY.com. Not to get approval or anything like that. The only ones who had any say in what the guys of *NSYNC wore were the guys of *NSYNC. It was just a formality to make the big spenders who were footing the bill for the tour feel like they were doing something. The bad part was that the showing was scheduled for the next morning. Sara had already had a long night ahead of her, reinforcing the all the seams on all their pants for Space Cowboy (except for Justin's-she had to sew the rhinestones onto his pants), and now she had the added job of fixing Lance's pants. It wasn't a big deal but it was more than one person could possibly handle.

"I'll take all of Justin's and JC's stuff," Lesa quietly offered while the guys changed back into their street clothes.

No," Sara sighed. "Tonight is your anniversary, you can't take work home tonight."

"No, it's cool," Justin said, coming up behind Lesa to grab her hand.

Sara shook her head. "I got it. You go be with your man."

Lesa and Justin shared a look. They seemed to be communicating with only their eyes because after a few intense minutes, Justin nodded his head. Wordlessly, he gathered his things up in his arms and took them to the rack to re-bag them.

"Wait, no," Sara protested.

"Sara," Lesa put her hand on the older woman's shoulder. "It's cool."

Sara sighed and nodded her assent.

Ten minutes later, only she and Lance remained.

Sara looked at Lance; his light green eyes were focused on the retreating taillights as his friends drove away. She sighed to herself and turned to walk back into the house. She had a feeling that he would rather be anywhere than here. He tried to hide it but she knew that she was not one of his favorite people. It really bugged her because she always went out of her way to be nice to him; she couldn't figure out what his problem was and it really hurt, considering the fact that she had to restrain herself from jumping his bones every time she saw him.

She walked through the living room into the kitchen. "Do you want anything?" she called back to him. She turned to face him as he walked into the room.

He was in his street clothes, an orange sweater vest and dark blue jeans. His bare toes peeked out from the cuff of his pants. He had been wearing a white t-shirt under the vest, but he hadn't bothered with it when he'd dressed to see the guys out. Sara surreptitiously peeked at him through her lashes. He stood in the doorway, light from the living room spilling over him, casting his face in shadow. The orange in his vest nicely accentuated his tan and the muscles in his arms stood out in stark relief when he lifted his hands over his head, stretching. Sara's mouth went dry when his vest mirrored the motion of his arms and raised a little to reveal a trail of hair, starting at his belly button and narrowing down until it disappeared in the waistband of his jeans. It was like a beacon, pointing; X marks the spot.

Lowering his arms, Lance caught Sara's gaze. To say he was shocked at the desire he saw there would be putting it mildly. He never thought that she would think of him that way.

Sara, realizing that he had caught her staring, blushed and turned away. "So, you want-" Her voice was a little high pitched and reedy. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Do you want anything?"

'Yeah, you,' Lance thought to himself and then frowned. 'Where the hell did that come from?'

"Lance? You hungry? Thirsty?"

"Huh? Oh, um…what you got?"

His thoughts ran rampant as Sara opened the door to the fridge and peered into it, calling the contents over her shoulder. His eyes centered on the curve of her hips, the arch of her back. He felt a tightening in his groin. 'What the hell?' He'd never had this kind of reaction to her before. Then again, he'd never been alone with her before…she'd never looked at him like that before. 'But still…I don't even like her…do I?'

"So, what's it gonna be?" Sara stood up and turned to him, reaching up to brush a tendril of hair out of her face.

"Um, I'm not really hungry, but if you need to eat, that's fine."

"No, I'm cool. I was just making sure that you're OK."

"OK."

They shared an awkward glance, then looked away.

"OK, so, I guess, let's go get those pants fitted." Sara walked over to the staircase. Lance followed her up the stairs, trying to look at anything but her butt. He failed.

They made it to the sewing room. Sara immediately went over to the ripped pants. She passed them over to Lance. "Put these on."

He grabbed the pants from her and stood. He took a deep breath and unzipped his jeans. It hadn't been a big deal to undress in front of her earlier. But the other guys had been there then.

He gingerly stepped into the pants and walked over to the footstool. He stepped onto it and waited for Sara to get all of her supplies together. He watched as she gathered everything into a woven basket and then walked over to him. He swallowed when she kneeled in front of him. For the first time, he realized what a compromising situation they were in.

He jumped slightly when Sara reached up and grabbed the back of his pants. "Could you do me a favor? Take you shirt off, it's gonna get in the way."

Breathing heavily, he reached behind himself, grabbed a fistful of material and pulled the shirt over his head.

Sara grimaced to herself. In order to accurately measure the width of the groin, she was going to have to touch him intimately…very intimately. She glanced up at him. "Sorry."

Her fingers flew lightly over his skin as she made measurements, tucked material here and there. Lance grew increasingly more uncomfortable as she worked. His body began to swell and he knew that it wouldn't be long until Sara noticed his reaction. He looked down at her. She was on her knees in front of him, her hands pressing against his growing manhood. And his shorts weren't doing anything to help conceal him.

Sara was so focused on getting this part done with quickly that for a second, she didn't even notice it when the flesh at the back of her hand began to harden. The sensation finally registered in her brain and her shocked eyes flew to his burgeoning manhood. She slowly moved her hands away. Seeing the physical effect her touch was having on him ignited a similar fire inside of her. She raised her eyes to his.

He stepped off the footstool and grabbed her elbow, pulling her to her feet. The heat between them flared and her body went up in flames. She knew what he was going to say even before he spoke.

"I want you."

Those three little words stole her breath; every part of her melted in anticipation.

"I want you," he repeated, his voice husky with desire.

Sara did not know where this newfound desire for her had sprung from, but she knew that she liked it. She wasn't certain she wanted to take the next step, considering how he felt about her. He didn't like her. But he wanted her. 'It wouldn't mean anything,' she told herself. 'It would be a one-time-only kind of deal. Is that enough for me? Can I live with those rules and not regret it?' She had, in the past, indulged in fantasies of what it would be like to make love to Lance. She had a very vivid imagination so the scenarios she created were very detailed and very realistic. She'd even had a dream or two about him. What if reality didn't live up to her imagination?

What if it was better?

Her eyes met his again and she realized that the decision had already been made. She grabbed his hand and led him down the hall to her bedroom. She flushed when she saw how messy she'd left the room. She ignored all that and walked over to the bed. She turned to face Lance. The look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine, straight to the pit of her stomach. She sat on the bed and then scooted back to lie down. He followed her.

He bent down and pressed his mouth against hers. His lips were warm and firm. He moved with a sureness that told her he knew exactly what he was doing. He held her in his arms and moved his mouth back and forth as if searching for the most perfect fit.

One of his hands moved behind her shoulders. He gently tugged at the rubber band holding her hair in place. With his fingers, he freed the long curls and combed them into place around her face.

When he was done, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer. She wanted to feel him press against her. She wanted to absorb his heat and his strength.

He tilted his head slightly, then opened his mouth and pressed his tongue to her lower lip. She instantly parted for him. He slipped inside, a quick, confident movement that made her wonder what else he would do well. Would he know how to touch her? Would he find the right places to stroke and tease, discover the proper cadence to send her soaring into perfection?

She couldn't answer the question and when his tongue touched hers, she didn't care. The warmth flowed through her, as if her body was melting against his. She moved one hand to his head, to hold him in place. His hair was surprisingly soft, and cool beneath her questing fingers. Her breasts swelled, her nipples puckered. An aching tingle began between her legs. She wanted this…wanted him.

He shifted, sliding one leg between hers. His rock hard thigh pressed against her feminine place. The pressure teased her with promises of what would later come. Gently, slowly, almost as if she didn't want him to notice, she began to rock her hips up and down, sliding herself against him. The action both eased and increased the feeling of tension within her.

"Sara," he breathed against her mouth, "I want you so much."

His hands cupped her face. He lifted his head slightly, so they could look at each other. His expression was hard, his muscles tense. His breathing came in heavy bursts. Against her hip, she felt the proof of his desire.

He kissed her cheek, her jawline, then forged a damp trail to her ear. "I want you," he repeated, "so bad." He rubbed his hardness against her hip, then groaned. "I could lose control right now."

Boldly, not sure where the courage was coming from, Sara slipped one hand down his chest to his the waistband of his pants. Her hand snaked into the hole in them to caress him though his shorts. He swore once, then bit her earlobe. Arousal shot through her, brought on by the feel of him pulsing against her palm, the word he'd uttered and the sharp feel of his teeth.

"You're going to make me embarrass myself." His voice was a sexy growl in her ear.

"Then we'll just have to do it again til you get it right."

"That," he grinned down at her, "will not be a problem."

His slow, masculine smile made her toes curl. She wondered where on earth she'd gotten the nerve to say those things to him. She felt strangely powerful. He didn't like her and yet, she'd still managed to make him want her. Of course, she realized, a man's libido was very separate from the rest of his mind, but still…With Lance, she wanted to be bold-she wanted to be the kind of woman he would want and admire.

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. This time he didn't wait-this time he plunged inside instantly and she was ready for him. Her tongue met his; they brushed against each other, stroking, circling. She inhaled his breath. Her body softened against his hardness, dampening, swelling, readying. She continued to move herself up and down against his thigh. Her panties were wet and she had the feeling that if she could just figure out the right spot or rhythm, something wonderful would happen.

One of his hands traveled, from where it was cupping her cheek, down her body to her waist, then back up to the underside of her breast. She arched her back, encouraging him to touch her there. Her skin tingled, her nipples were hard and her body ached with a need that threatened to overwhelm her.

He slid over the curve of her, then cupped her. His hand moved lower until he reached the hem of her t-shirt. He tugged on the garment, pulling it up. They broke apart long enough to help him free her of the cotton. The cool night air kissed her skin. She shivered, knowing that soon he would be on top of her, touching her everywhere, warming her through and through.

He knelt, straddling her legs. With a quick movement, his pants were gone. His green eyes glowed as if lit from within. His breathing was as ragged as hers. He stretched out beside her and pulled her close. Their mouths met once again. With his free hand, he tangled his fingers in her hair, stroked her bare shoulder. Shivers rippled through her-shivers that had nothing to do with the air temperature and everything to do with anticipation.

She didn't notice when he unfastened her bra, but the undergarment suddenly fell away. "So beautiful," he whispered as his tongue grazed the soft skin of her neck and his finger circled the underside of her breast.

Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted him to touch her there, on the tight peaks. She wanted to know if it was going to feel as good as she thought it would.

He didn't disappoint her. He moved down her neck to her shoulder, peppering light kisses to her skin along the way. Her upper body arched toward him. His mouth closed over her nipple and the breath that she had been unconsciously holding exploded from her. It felt better.

Soft, wet heat encircled her. He teased the taut bud with his tongue, then gently scraped it with his teeth. A moan escaped her, then another. She grabbed his head, her actions a silent plea for him to never stop what he was doing.

His fingers mimicked the action of his mouth, then he switched. As the dampness between her legs increased, her hips began to move with a will of their own. She needed him more than she needed air to breathe.

"I never thought--" she began, but couldn't finish. There wasn't enough air in her lungs. She'd never imagined that anything could feel so good. It put all her fantasies to shame.

He licked a trail between the valley of her breasts. At he same time, he unfastened her shorts. Large hands tugged at the heavy fabric and slowly pulled it down. She lifted her hips to help him. He tossed the jeans on the growing pile of clothes. He knelt between her legs and kissed her belly. Until that moment, she hadn't realized that he'd pulled off her panties, too.

But there wasn't time to worry or protest, even if she'd wanted to. Before she could figure out what was going to happen next, he kissed her right on top of the soft auburn curls protecting her femininity. His fingers urged her legs apart, then gently parted her. With unerring accuracy, he touched his tongue to that single point of pleasure.

Sara gasped, and nearly launched herself off the bed. No one had ever done that to her before. She liked it…a lot. Even as he braced her weight on her hands, she parted her legs even more.

His tongue was magic. He circled and danced over her. He began a fast rhythm, then slowed until she thought she might scream. Tension filled her, a tension she'd felt before but not like this. In the past, she'd experienced a mild anticipation. Now she knew she would die and take him with her if he didn't finish what he started.

Even as he continued to please her, she watched him. His head was bent low as he loved her so intimately. The play of the moonlight on his bare back, long legs tucked underneath him. When had he removed his underwear?

Then she decided that she didn't care. As long as he never stopped what he was doing. As long as-

She collapsed onto her back and exhaled his name. Pleasure raced through her making her tense more, making her want to plead and demand and scream. All her attention was focused on the places he touched. Not only on his tongue teasing her so deliciously, but also on the single finger he'd inserted inside of her.

He went in deep, exploring her, urging her on. Her hips jerked, driving him in more, needing him. His tongue moved faster, then stopped, letting her concentrate just on his finger. In and out, rubbing against her, forcing her to a place she'd never been.

She tried to catch her breath. Her heels dug into the mattress, her fingers grasped at the quilted fabric of her comforter. More. She needed more.

He read her mind. His mouth pressed against her again. The finger inside her circled and plunged. The movements conspired together to force her to the edge. Every part of her body tightened in anticipation. Then he stopped.

One heartbeat. Two. She knew he was making her wait, letting the tension build inside her. A whimper escaped her.

He touched her again-in tandem. His tongue, his lips, his hand. And she exploded.

She knew what was happening, but she couldn't control it. She didn't want to. The moment was too perfect. He continued to move, faster and lighter, drawing it all out of her until every cell of her body had filled itself with passion and pleasure.

Slowly, very slowly, she relaxed. He pulled his mouth away and sat up. Perspiration coated her body. Her legs trembled. She would never be the same again.

"You are incredible," he said.

She opened her eyes and stared at him. "Me? You're the one who-" she broke off and motioned vaguely with her hand. What do you say at a moment like this?

"You told me what to do."

"What?"

"All those sexy little sighs and moans…they let me know when I was doing it just right."

He moved to kneel between her thighs. "We have a problem. I think you know that I want you." He glanced down and she followed his gaze to his very impressive manhood. The thought of him filling her made her tummy tighten in excitement.

"I want you, too," she whispered.

He leaned forward to kiss her, then touch her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I don't have anything with me." At her blank look, he elaborated. "I don't have any condoms."

Sara smiled. "You don't have any condoms? What would you say if I told you I have some?"

He sighed, "Thank God."

Still smiling, she reached over ad opened a drawer in the nightstand next to the bed. She pulled out one square, foiled wrapped package.

The satisfied male smile returned. He took the package from her and ripped it open with his teeth. She took the prophylactic from him and smoothed it down his length. He hissed through his teeth when he felt her small hands on him. He pressed the tip of his arousal against her and then leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Please tell me you have more than one."

Sara's giggle of delight only excited him more. He'd meant what he'd said earlier. He had practically been able to read her mind when he'd been touching her. Maybe it was just instinct but there hadn't been any of the usual concerns when he was with a woman. He'd known exactly where to touch, how fast, for how long. He'd known when she was getting close and what she wanted to make it perfect for her.

Now, even before he entered her, he knew exactly how it was going to be. She would threaten to swallow him completely and he would surrender himself to her. He looked into her eyes. She was still the same Sara…and yet, oh so different.

She reached up and touched his face. "Please."

With that, he entered her. He moved slowly, not wanting to hurt her. But she was already so aroused, so ready. Her body stretched to accommodate him. He had to grit his teeth against the pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to ram himself into her until he found the release his body longed for, but he couldn't. He wanted to make it good for her too.

He pulled out, then pushed in again. Back and forth, moving a little faster each time. Her eyes widened and she clutched at him. 'Oh, if they could see him now,' she thought stupidly, meaning all the people who ragged on Lance for his less than stellar performances on the dance floor. Her fingers dug into his back. She raised her legs and wrapped them around him. "Lance, please!"

He knew what she wanted…what they both wanted. Hard and fast.

He plunged in and withdrew, pumping his hips, taking her with him. Her breathing came in little gasps. Soft moans, sounds that he knew she was unaware she was making, escaped her. He swore silently, willing himself to hold back, give her what she craved.

Suddenly, she dropped her feet to the bed and pushed up against him. He buried himself deep inside her. She grabbed his hips and held him in.

Her gaze locked with his, she climaxed around him. Her body rippled, massaging him, drawing him in even more, forcing him to give in to the incredible passion surging through him. She milked him until he exploded.

It took a long time for them to recover. He stretched out next to her and pulled her close. He wanted to tell her that it had never been like that for him before, but he didn't think she'd believe him. Even to his mind, it sounded like a line.

The problem was he meant it. He hadn't felt anything like this before. There had been a connection, a oneness. His mind was in turmoil. This was Sara…the same Sara he'd known since they kicked off their first US tour year ago. The same Sara he thought he'd disliked since then. So where were these feelings coming from?

They were quiet for a long time. Sara enjoyed the silence. She needed the time to catch her breath, both physically and emotionally. She had to reconcile the Lance who'd just made love to her in ways she'd never imagined with the Lance that merely tolerated her. What had happened? Had he changed his mind about her? Just like that?

"What are you thinking about?" Lance asked her.

Sara's head rested on his shoulder and her hand caressed his chest. Somehow, they'd worked their way under the covers. "Just that it's never been like that before."

"For me, too. Pretty spectacular. And that was just the first time out. Imagine what we could do with a little practice."

She smiled at his gentle teasing. "I knew it was going to be like this."

The words hung in the air. She stiffened, waiting for the inevitable questions. But Lance didn't say anything; he just held her tighter.

I knew it was going to be like this. The words filled his head until they were all he could think about. She'd thought about them being together. She'd assumed it was going to be amazing. He didn't know why it should matter so much to him, but it did.

And then, suddenly, he knew. It had never been about liking or not liking her. Sara had the power to turn his world upside down and, from the beginning, some small part of him had recognized that. As much as he talked about being a family man and wanting to settle down, now was not the time. He did see himself with the white house and white picket fence, two car garage, two-point-five children. But that was all further down the line. Much further. And he doubted that Sara would be able to wait til then. Everything about her screamed domesticity. She wouldn't want all the hassles that came with dating him. So he did the only thing he could do that would make him feel better: he turned to her.

He shifted until he was facing her, then kissed her. Their passion flared more slowly this time. Her arms wound around his neck and she opened her mouth to him.

They were well matched. She was tall for a woman, and he liked that. He liked the feel and smell of her skin, the brush of her legs against his. He liked the way she kissed him and he utterly adored those little noises she made in the back of her throat.

Something had happened between them. He knew that now. He didn't want to get involved. They were leaving for a sold-out tour in less than two weeks. Past experience had taught him that tours and relationships do not mix and a tour and a relationship with Sara would mix even less. But he wouldn't stay away from her. Not anymore. He wanted her too much.

As he reached for another condom, he told himself he was risking a lot. Maybe he should back off a little. Then he looked into her eyes, filled with lust, desire and even a little affection. 'Maybe I should rethink that backing off thing.'

As her legs encircled his, he told himself that he would take only what she was willing to give. It would have to be enough.

(The next morning)

Lance woke with a smile on his face. He knew exactly where he was, remembered every detail. His smile widened. 'I'll have to remember to thank Chris for being a jackass.' He turned his head to look at Sara. In sleep, her face held the innocence of a child. It was hard to believe that mouth, those lips, that tongue had done the things they'd done to him last night. He watched the sunlight play over her features. He watched sunlight play over her features…sunlight…

Frowning, he turned his head, searching for a clock. His eyes found the glowing numbers and the thought sprang into his mind.

"Oh shit!" He sat straight up, jerking Sara awake.

"Wha?" she asked groggily.

"Fuck! I gotta meeting, I'm late!"

He jumped out of the bed and naked, barreled down the hall to the sewing room to find his clothes.

A minute later, a very disheveled looking Sara wearing only a sheet, dashed in after him, holding his green jockey shorts in her hand. She soon realized that they wouldn't be needed. Lance was already half dressed, stuffing his feet into his shoes while pulling his vest over his head. She smiled at the harried picture he presented. This was a very different side to him.

He spied her smile and matched it with one of his own. "What are you smiling at?" He buttoned his pants as he walked over to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm so sorry to leave you like this," he pulled back to look into her eyes, "but I have to go. They're already gonna kill me as it is. Forgive me?"

Sara looked deeply into his green eyes. 'I would forgive you anything,' she thought. She smiled and raised her face for his kiss. Lance happily obliged.

A few minutes later, he forced himself to pull away from her. "I'll stop by after the meeting, OK?"

She gasped, all of a sudden remembering a meeting of her own. And Lance's pants weren't done. "Shit! Your pants!"

His eyes widened as he realized what she meant. Unable to resist himself, he pulled her close for another kiss. Again, they lost themselves in the sensation. He pulled away and grinned in satisfaction at the look of dazed pleasure on her face. "Don't you have a meeting to go to? I'll be back later." He pressed another quick kiss to her lips and was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Nice of you to show," JC remarked wryly as Lance rushed into the room.

"Yeah, sorry," he said breathlessly.

"Where were you?" Justin asked.

Lance was spared having to answer when Chris said, "Who cares, let's just get this going."

An hour and forty-five minutes later, the guys were making conversation as they signed the contracts they had been poring over.

"So, Lance, you didn't have to stay too late at Sara's, did you?" JC asked.

Lance jumped and flushed at the mention of her name. "Huh? What for?"

JC looked at him incredulously. "To fix your pants, man."

Lance signed his John Hancock to the last of the papers and stood to leave. He was reluctant to tell the guys of the change in his relationship with her. First of all, he didn't know if Sara was comfortable with him broadcasting it and secondly, he wasn't in the mood to be teased about his fickleness. He could hear Chris in his head, 'You didn't like her, then you fucked her and now you do, what's up with that?' And he didn't know what he would do to hear him speak of Sara in such crude terms. Not that Chris would mean anything about it; Lance just found himself overly sensitive about the subject. "No, it didn't take that long."

Chris, who had been casting him speculative glances all morning, asked casually, "So what'd you do after that?"

"I went home."

"You went home?"

Lance turned to Chris, a feeling of dread in his stomach. "Yeah, I went home."

Chris nodded, then moved in for the kill. "If you went home, then why are you still wearing yesterday's clothes?"

The End

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