not now I love you
by Gale

Britney hears about them months before she sees them. It's impossible not to hear about them; they're pretty Russian almost-lesbians who wear Catholic schoolgirl outfits and make out for photoshoots. It's the best marketing gimmick ever. Fuck whether or not they speak English, or if their songs are any good. They're teenage girls who dress like Catholic schoolgirls and make out in public. There isn't a straight man alive who's immune to that, and straight men have a lot of disposable income for CDs and concert tickets.

She doesn't think anything of it, though, not at the time. She's too busy writing songs and trying to forget how much she misses Justin to focus on anything that isn't directly related to her. That includes the competition.

She finally sees them a few months later, on TRL. They're at number four.

She's flipping through channels early one morning and hits MTV. Shakira video blah blah. B2K blee bling blah. t.A.T.- hello, and what have we here?

From a technical standpoint, it's a very simple video: three set pieces, a green filter for the lens, a lot of fake rain. No choreography, no interludes filled with famous people that scream, "Look how popular we are! We got [insert celebrity here] to do a cameo!" Just some rain, a chainlink fence, some extras, and the girls.

And the girls.

They're wearing the schoolgirl outfits again, she notices, sitting up a little straighter. Britney's had a thing for schoolgirls ever since she can remember. It's probably the short plaid skirts and high white knee socks. They bring out the butch in her. She keeps mentioning to her handlers that she wants to do another schoolgirl video, but they all shoot her down and mutter things about "wanting to go forward, not backwards".

The video cuts to the VJs - Britney can never remember their names; they're so interchangeable - and Britney turns the TV off, stares at the blank screen thoughtfully.

Really, they're very pretty girls. Long legs, soft mouths, budding breasts hidden under white button-up shirts. They're always so happy, so accomodating. Ready to give the press a show.

Britney moans softly and slides a hand under the sheets, slipping under the curve of her panties.


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