The party was pretty much your standard industry party, full of a mixture of bleach-blond and dyed black, boobs popping out and too-tight pants, vacancy and pretension. The only difference was, at music parties they at least had the decency to stay in their own seperate corners, being punk or pop or whatever label was on the side of their cd. This was a Hollywood party, and everyone just sort of milled around and air-kissed each other, ignoring whatever feud-of-the-week was currently getting their collective panties in a bunch. There was a lot of venom in the air, disguised with bad acting to resemble vague affection. It was...really fucking creepy.

Aaron, to his credit, kept to himself and kept out of mischief, despite the attention his leather pants kept attracting. Middle-aged women covered in diamonds and young guys in jeans and leather boots kept asking him what his price was, and he had finally just retreated to a corner to avoid both offers and Jamie's 'I told you so' smirk.

Poor Britney, on the other hand, was right in the middle of everything. She was surrounded by a circle of hip young actors, most of whom had at least had a cameo role on a WB show in the last three years, and she looked scared out of her wits. Aaron decided to momentarily leave his dark corner, if only to comfort her.

When he got to Britney, she clutched his hand and whispered in his ear, "Help. Me."

He laughed. "Britney. They're fucking WB actors."

"But they're discussing the economy. I'm only in this fucking country half the time, how can I be expected to keep up with it?"

"Seriously, Britney. WB actors. And I think that one guy used to do porn. You're just as smart as them and twice as cool, okay?"

At that point, though, she wasn't looking at him anymore. "Porn? Which one?"

Aaron pushed her in Simon Rex's direction, shaking his head when she practically bounced over to him. Britney really, really loved porn stars. Jamie was still traumatized from getting a lecture on contraception from Jenna Jameson.

Speaking of Jamie, she was next to the bar, talking to a comedian at least thirty years older than her and gesturing hugely with her hands. The comedian, to his credit, looked somewhere between amused and terrified, and Aaron decided not to rescue him.

Instead, he headed for Ryan Gosling, who was standing off to the side in deep conversation with...someone. Now that he had a focus, Aaron wasn't really paying attention to anyone but Ryan, which was just fine, because Ryan was really, really hot. Hotter than he looked on film, even.

It was too bad he already had his heart set on Michael Pitt, because Ryan was, as previously stated, both hot and already there. And, due to his fucked up former Mouseketeer status, he'd probably be much more susceptible to screwing a fifteen-year-old. But, when Aaron set goals, he stuck to them--he didn't change them mid-plan.

Of course...plans could be altered. You know, just to make them work better.

At the very least, it would be something to hold his interest for the remainder of the party; attempting to seduce people was fun, except when they told his mom about it. At most, it would work and he'd get both an orgasm and the opportunity to ask Ryan to invite him and Mike to the same party.

Aaron decided that the plan definately needed to be altered.

Shiny Tops and Soda Pops: Part Four