Britney feels like she's been watching her life through beekeepers' gauze. All fuzzy, big gloves on. Pretty Britney over there, see?

Six months ago she started flipping off the cameras and it tasted sharp and tangy.

She has in-focus dreams about stopping in the middle of her concerts, right in the middle of "Ooops, I Did It Again" and giving the entire audience the finger, magnified up on the screen, huge middle finger. In her dream, her microphone is on and she laugh-screams out, "Fuck you, Seattle!"

In Portland, she almost does it. She feels hot and hard and imagines herself telling them off in every show after that. Whispers it when the mic is off.

Britney is dangerous. Bad is a good feeling and she gives the finger to lots of people. Including her mother. Especially her mother. Her mother loves when the circus comes to town. Pretty ponies in sparkly headpieces, prancing around the ring. Jamie Lynn loves the circus too, drags Britney with her. What a good big sister. Britney imagines keeping Jamie Lynn in a box, sparkle costume, standing on her hind legs. Except humans are already on their hind legs. Britney laughs at that, crisp. Hind legs.

Jamie Lynn turns and gives her a questioning look, nervous at Britney's bark.

Britney decides Jamie Lynn will just have to stand on her hands, smiles and says, "Oh, nothing. I just love the ponies, don't you?"

Britney's out of the haze and she has too much energy. Everything is coming clear and she knows how she wants it and that's how she wants it now. She calls Justin and says, "I want to fuck you."

She isn't pretending, not now that she doesn't have to. She is free of him, raw and full of energy, and wants to fuck him so bad her insides are pacing big heavy footsteps.

Justin hesitates, says, "Brit...we're...I'm not having sex with y-"

She cuts him off, clicking her nails against the heel of her shoe. "No. I want to fuck. You."

She fucks Justin good, hard, and now Britney is power. Wild, spicy. She has a new video to shoot and she doesn't care at all. She's supposed to be in makeup. After only her eyes are done, wild rimmed, she kicks the makeup artist out. Because she can.

Britney stretches lazily, lion smile, watch out. She puts her hand on the prettiest dancer's thigh. "I want to fuck you."

Britney locks the door and licks her up and down. Her toys are at home so she uses her hand, spreads her wide, inside. The girl is moaning and Britney thinks, that's right, that's right. Britney can make her moan any time and she will.

She thinks this video will be different. She is in charge and she wants this one.

In her next interview, she gets asked about the video. Hot, steamy, touching the girl. Britney's got the girl with her right now because she fucking wants to, wants to touch her right then and there, hand snaking up inside her skirt. She does it. Up up up. She can make her moan any time.

He ignores her hand, ignores the girl, asks about Justin, how was the breakup, are you still friends. And the important one, What America Wants To Know. Did you have sex with him, are you still a virgin. He wants a good story. Britney will give him one.

Britney smiles sweetly at the reporter. Her voice thick with honey, she says, "Fuck you."