Sneak peek! Feeling sexy & seductive on set with Mark Liddell filming… – Legendtina
“Class, elegance, refinement: These are just some of the traits Legendtina Christina María Mi Reflejo Nina Pinta Santamaria Desnudate Aguilera possesses,” the New York Times reporter mumbles into his tape recorder while observing the Back To Basics beauty writhe across the bedspread with a handheld vintage video camera in her hand.
He was sent here against his will, in order to avoid a legal battle after the paper launched a ruthless shade attack against the superstar earlier this year.
“Yes,” the blonde “Bobblehead” songstress purrs, looking up at him from the bed: “And don’t forget glam,” she winks.
It’s been a good few months for Legendtina: Not only has her return to the red swivel chair on The Voice been met with nothing short of rave reviews (aside from actual viewers of the show), but her Hunger Games soundtrack contribution, “We Remain,” has ushered in an entire new era of advanced sound.
Today, the legend is hard at work on an exciting new project.
“As you can see, I’m here today working on an exciting new project,” she explains to the reporter. “I’m collaborating with acclaimed photographer Mike Liddell, who also happens to be one of my biggest fans. I’m thrilled to be doing something like this right now in my career, which has thrived for well over a decade. What’s it for, you ask? HA! Why…a girl never shares all her secrets,” she cackles.
“Interesting. There seems to be a few pop stars making waves in the industry with artistic statements as of late. Is this part of Madonna‘s #secretprojectrevolution?” the Times reporter inquires.
“Who?” she asks, racking her brain for a minute. “Oh! Right. No, no. This is something relevant.”
“Is this going to be a racy photo shoot to generate controversy, like the one Miley did with Terry Richardson?” he presses on, eager to find an answer and head back home.
“You see,” the “Get Mine, Get Yours” songstress seductively moans while arching her back and lifting her head up into the air. “There are some girls out there who need to shake their non-existent rumps and licky licky yum yum all sorts of things to get noticed.” She closes her eyes, raising her arm and flicking her wrist with Burlesque-like precision. “And then, there are those of us with actual talent.”
Outside the bedroom, an entire gaygle (a gaggle of gays) pressed against the window suddenly erupts into excited screams, fawning over the legend. Dozens of magazines, posters and fan editions of Lotus come together to create a mosaic of pandemonium against the glass. She glances over and smiles warmly. Just then, she takes out a piece of “Red Hot Kinda Love” promotional gum from her mouth and throws it against the window.
“You’re welcome,” she mouths.
“Anyway, where was I?” she continues, reaching across the bed and grabbing a bottle of Royal Desire from the nightstand. “What I seek to do is inspire, to challenge and to explore,” she explains between spritzes of the scent against her neck. “I’m not here recycling self-empowerment anthems or slapping hashtags on song titles and then dialing up a rent-a-rapper to do something more urban. I already did that. I’ve already set those trends. They were called ‘Beautiful’ and ‘Dirrty.’ I’m here to create true music — for true lovers of music. Yes, my music is ‘pop,’ but it’s only ‘pop’ in the sense that it’s overwhelmingly popular. I can’t help that. In fact, my pop is a form of art.”
“Like ARTPOP?” he snorts suddenly, stifling his laughter and looking up. She is not laughing.
A tenseness fills the air.
The legend rises up like a lotus from the bed. “Like what, now?” she prods, pushing away a stray blonde lock from her eyes as she slowly saunters toward him. Click. Clack. Nothing but the sound of her Louboutins hitting the floor, one after the other. She gets closer to the quivering reporter, now biting his lip and sweating profusely.
“N-nothing, Miss Legendtina.”
“That’s right,” she assures him, caressing his cheek slowly. As she turns away, he lets out a sigh of relief.
“Oh yeah, and just one thing,” she purrs, flipping her hair and turning back around.
“I bought ARTPOP the first time it came out on iTunes — back when it was called BIONIC,” she roars while raising her hand high, her voice sailing across three octaves with ease: “SAY!”
SLAP.
He falls to the floor in a daze of pink glitter, paralyzed.
Legendtina kneels down and pries the tape recorder out of his cold hands. “Now then, let me talk to you about my upcoming album,” she purrs into the microphone. “It’s called Legendtina María,” she smirks, throwing her head back and cackling loudly.
And the legacy lives on.
Legendtina is an ongoing fan-fiction series — and if you don’t like it, fuck you.