Chapter 24

Three Days Later

“…the wheels on the bus go ‘round and round….the wheels on the bus go ‘round and ‘round…all through the town…”
I was roused by the sounds of the little childish tune playing.
I sat up in the bed and it was several moments before it came to me as to where I actually was.
As I glanced around in the dusky light from shaded windows, I caught sight of several posters tacked to the walls.
Transformers, The Wiggles, a poster of Kelly Clarkson…
This wasn’t the room I shared with Michael in the master suite.
I glanced down and saw that I was covered by a small quilt embroidered with little yellow ducks.
I was in Blanket’s bed.
Over the last few nights, Michael and Rusty had been clocking extremely long hours in the city wheeling and dealing on the Not Over single.
Michael would often be gone before I awoke in the morning and wouldn’t be back until after I had gone back to sleep.
And I was once again left with the task of watching over the Jackson Trio.
But luckily I had Taryll along with me to help.
It was a full time job trying to keep Paris from all things caffienated and Blanket from jumping on and/or off of the furniture.
And Prince kept to himself a bit, playing with a Game Boy system to the point his thumbs had little blisters on them!
I chuckled to myself, remembering how I had ended up in Blanket’s bed.
The night before, Taryll and I had somehow, by the grace of God, managed to get the Jackson Trio fed, bathed, and into bed by their eight-thirty bedtime.
Taryll and I were in the middle of a heated Poker game--for a pile of Twizzlers--when a little face had appeared next to us.
Blanket.
He claimed he didn’t want to go to sleep until someone had read a bedtime story to him.
Easier said than done.
For the next two hours, Taryll and I had to have read over fifteen little books; everything from The Little Engine That Could to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.
I had hummed to him; Taryll sang to him.
We even sat and played Old Maid.
Eventually, Taryll went to sleep at the dining table smack in the middle of the game.
Tired myself, I picked the boy up--Blanket, not Taryll!--and put him bed, vowing that I wouldn’t leave until he dozed off.
I think I dozed off before the child did!
Rolling over, I expected to see a snoozing Blanket next to me.
I was surprised to find that, lying on the pillow next to me, was a blush pink rose.
Nestled under the rose a little note written on a sheet of thick, almost lacy paper that matched the rose.
In the dim light I quickly made out Michael’s tiny script on it:


Honey,

I know that you’ve been busy taking care of the children these last few days and I truly appreciate it. There’s a special gift for you in our room.

Michael

A special gift? For me?
Oh Michael was kind beyond words!
Intrigued, I hopped out of the bed, rose in one hand, note in the other, and jogged across the room, wondering what my gift was.
Michael had already given me so many things, his most impressive so far being a king’s ransom in jewelry. If the man had bought me a Lear Jet, I’d just go ahead and faint!
I flung open the doors to Blanket’s room and immediately felt my heart swelling.
“Oh my God!” I whispered, putting my hands to my face.
The sight lying before me was truly one for the record books.
Extending from Blanket’s doorway to the bedroom was a path made of fresh pink rose petals, lined with tall, glowing, lit pink and red candles.
The petals sparkled with silver and gold glitter.
The entire room was filled with the scent of light rosewater.
I jumped slightly as the sound of soft music began playing.
Regaining my composure, I recognized the melody as an instrumental version of Billie Jean.
The music was coming from behind the closed door to the bedroom.
Excited and giddy, I tiptoed, barefoot across the petals to the bedroom door, careful to keep the hem of my nightgown free of the flames.
I timidly tapped the door.
“Michael?” I called softly, curiosity burning in me.
“You may enter…hee-hee.” Came the reply.
My hands trembled as I turned the brass knobs and pushed the doors open.
All the air in my lungs whooshed out at the sight that met my eyes.
Lying on a bed covered with rose petals, perched on a stack of throw pillows, was Michael Jackson.
He was truly a beautiful vision in a somewhat erotic take on his traditional Billie Jean ensemble.
Setting on his head, and pulled down to cover his eyes, was a black fedora. A large peacock shaped pin was hooked to the side of it and caught the candle light.
Michael’s slim, sexy frame was clad in a black sequined jacket, but wore no shirt under it.
His sleek, soft, tantalizing alabaster skin shimmered.
A pink nipple peeked out from behind the cloth.
As my eyes traveled down his body, a gasp caught in my throat.
Michael’s privates were just barely covered by a scrap of white cloth, fashioned as a pair of bikini style underwear and was studded with rhinestones.
His right hand, encapsulated with a glove that matched the underwear, rested on his bare, milky thigh. His feet featured bespangled socks and shiny black loafers.
The shoes had to be brand new; they showed no signs of wear on the bottoms.
“Michael!” I exclaimed, hands to my face again, completely stunned.
Shocked.
Astonished.
Arousal hit me like an A-bomb.
Oh, I was burning.
The instrumental continued to play.
Silently, Michael slid from the bed and began walking towards me.
Every step was deliberate, his long body swaggering and swaying.
Michael’s crotch gently swung.
His head was still lowered.
Stopping a few feet in front me, Michael tucked his bare hand behind his head, the gloved hand pointing at me and quickly swirled into a spin.
As he twirled before me, I made another shocking discovery:
Michael wasn’t wearing bikini underwear; he was wearing a thong!
A jeweled line glittered from between his soft, luminescent cheeks.
I leaned against the door frame for support.
Popping his long, lean legs back and forth, Michael scooted side to side in front of me, his gloved hand wigging over his flapping groin.
His leg kicked, and for a second, a soft pink jewel was exposed.
Instantly, Michael was back in the beginning position, a grin creasing his features.
“Hi Sweetie.” Michael murmured sheepishly, whisking his hat off and tossing it over my head and into the front foyer.
Michael’s long locks had been slicked back into a ponytail, making his taut, chiseled face stand out all the more.
His eyes, lightly lined in Kohl, shined under his perfectly arched brows.
His lips, bending up into a wide smile, were a bright juicy red.
“Oh God, Mike!” I squeaked, my heart throbbing in my chest.
The man was sexy personified.
Taking my rattling hands, Michael continued talking in a shy falsetto.
“You look so gorgeous, Brynn. I’ve missed you so much these last few days…and nights.”
“I…I missed you too.” I whispered as Michael pulled me against, his soft, precious chest in a strong hug.
“Honey…” Michael’s soft lips brushed my lobe and I feared I’d soil myself.
“I want to make love to you.” He confided, his voice dropping in octaves.
He leaned back, his warm eyes searching out mine.
“You want to make love to me?” I giggled, a rush of horniness washing over me.
Biting his bottom lip, Michael nodded, “Mmm-hmm!”
Pulling me forward a bit, Michael closed and locked the doors behind me.
Michael gave me a bashful grin,
“I sent Rusty, Taryll and the kids to a huge film festival, they won’t be back until late. I’ve got you to myself.” Michael rubbed his large hands together greedily.
I looked at my feet, a sudden shyness taking me.
I wondered just what Mr. Jackson had in mind for me.
And I was dying to find out!
I became aware of Michael’s hands on my shoulders, pushing aside the thin straps of my green nightgown.
A moment later, my gown fell at my feet.
I stood before Michael, in nothing more than a pair of mint green and white dotted panties.
“You are so beautiful.” Michael whispered, and wrapped his arms around me, the sequins mildly scratching my skin.
His touch was so kind, his body smelling of a just a hint of musky cologne.
His soft lips pecked at mine, almost fearfully for a while.
The pecks soon melted away, as true, long, deep kisses took their place.
Michael’s mouth was more intoxicating that a bathtub of bootleg whiskey.
I encircled my arms around his waist, my hands finding their homes on each of Michael’s sinewy buttocks. I even fingered the jeweled line.
“Oh gosh!” Michael gasped into my mouth as his continued to kiss me.
His tongue picked at mine for a moment and my knees weakened at the effect.
Drawing his mouth from mine, Michael stooped and quickly picked me up, cradling me in his arms like an infant.
“Oh Mike, Honey.” I tittered, wrapping my arms around his sweet neck.
He carried me and gently laid me on the bed, rose petals soundlessly being crushed under me.
I nibbled nervously on my own lips as Michael dropped his jacket to the floor.
The only thing separating us from nudity was the sparkly tissue of a thong.
“I want to love you…” Michael announced, crawling across the petals to me. “…until I don’t know how.”
Michael giggled and pushed my back against the pillows, making my chest pop up.
He bit his glove off and threw it across the room.
“Hee-hee. I love you boobies, Brynn.” He confided as his hands slid over them and began to gingerly massage them. “They’re so cute.”
Once again, goose pimples appeared all over my body at his touch.
“Mike…”I whimpered and rubbed his long ponytail as he bounced them.
Oh, I wanted this man to “wreck” me.
An intelligible shriek escaped me as Michael leaned and began kissing on them, his tongue darting out ever so often to meet my nipples, standing at full attention.
“Please!” I groaned and Michael’s mouth continued to peck and pick around my bosom.
As he continued to smooch away, I felt one of Michael’s hands finding a new residence in my undies, his fingers seeking out my special areas.
He tapped my love button several times.
“No…please.” I whimpered, covering my face with my hands and trembling against the pillows.
“You’re still so tight, Baby.” Michael chuckled, raising his mouth and sucking on my neck.
“I’ll fix that.”
Leaning off of me, Michael deftly stripped me of my underwear, dropping them to the floor alongside the bed.
I was once again nude.
In front of Michael Jackson.
The red hot lover.
I watched, speechless, as Michael stood and removed his own underwear.
Michael’s “little” (or large rather) Jackson was saluting me, and was the same shade of blushing pink as the rose I had found earlier.
I was ready, raw and burning for Michael.
I started to part my legs for him.
Time to get this party started.
“Brynn! No!” Michael reached out and grabbed onto my knee.
“Not like that. Turn over.”
“What?” I shook my head, not fully understanding him.
Michael Jackson…
Want to do me…
From behind?
“I said ‘turn over‘.” Michael repeated, his neck and shoulders beginning to glow red.
Nodding, I obeyed, rolling onto my stomach.
“You’ve never wanted to do this before…Michael.” I said, feeling a surge of heat.
I was so excited, I was shaking. I had seen Michael get dirty, but not like this.
“I know…I wanted to do something different.” Michael hee-hee‘d.
He definitely had his “freaky” hat on and I hoped he never took it off!
Michael, leaned over me and tucked a pillow under my chest.
The bed squeaked as he climbed in behind me, his ample genitals bopping against bottom, sending electricity through me.
Michael’s lips touched my ear again as spoke.
“I love you…”
Famous last words.
I screamed as Michael entered me with such force, I flew face first into the pillows.
Had he somehow managed to get even bigger?
As Michael steadied himself behind me, his thrusts, once soft and tender, turned to pounding.

“Michael…! Michael! Oh no! Mike!” I wailed as Michael placed his hands around my hips, drawing me up and down on him.
More than once I felt the rude sting of him slapping my bottom.
The sting made me even crazier with carnal pleasure.
He could have beat me with nun-chucks and I would have been happy.
“Michael!” I moaned as I felt him leaning onto my back, his head a few inches above mine.
I felt a nail break as I clutched onto the pillow under me for dear life.
Then Michael found his zone of true, unabashed sexiness.
“Who’s Bad?” Michael asked suddenly, voice heavy with grunts of his own.
“Ugh…” I sighed twisting under him.
“Who’s Bad, Baby? Who’s Bad?” Michael yanked my hair, bringing my head up. “Tell me!…Oh!” He demanded.
“You…” I felt tears streaming out of my eyes and meeting under my chin.
“Who?” Michael gasped. “Ugh!”
“You are!” I screeched, starting to feel myself giving into the heat of the passion.
Another stinging slap to the ass.
Droplets of sweat dropped off Michael and onto my back and neck.
Unable to control myself, I squealed,
“Fuck me Michael!”
To which Michael, even in a torrent of hot and heavy nastiness, noted,
“I don’t fuck…I make love!”
His hips began flopping against my buttocks wildly.
“Oh…oh! Ugh! Damn! Oh!” Michael whined, and I felt his hands slipping up my perspiring back to grip my shoulders tightly.
His hands dropped down and cupped my breasts again.
Michael pulled me up until I almost stood on my knees.
With a wild cry, Michael pulled himself from me, his love soiling the sheets.
“I love you!” Michael declared, pulling me tightly against his wet body.
Sobbing, I managed to get out,
“I love you too Michael! I love you!”
As Michael kissed at my wet neck, I knew that he was the one I truly loved.
And I knew he loved me.
“Brynn…” Michael’s voice trailed off, shyly as he pulled me off the bed into a full standing position.
“Yes Michael?” I struggled to catch my breath.
“Um…” Michael let go of me and walked around me, a small smirk on his face. “I wanted to try something else. If you want to, of course.”
From his head to his waist, Michael was flushed.
He was so pretty.
Michael had me so wrapped up and hyped that I would have done just about anything he wanted.
I was at his disposal.
“What did you want to try?” I giggled, running a hand through my tangled hair.
Michael’s tight little ass bounced as he walked across the room and sat in an overstuffed arm chair.
“I want you to uh, hee-hee.” Michael pointed down at his groin.
I stared at Michael, stunned.
Did Michael Jackson, the king of all things conservative really want me to… “go down” on him?
“Are you serious?” I squinted at him, wondering if he was joking.
For Christ sakes, the man couldn’t even say ‘titties’!
The smile on Michael’s face formed a straight line and his eyes glazed over with worry.
“Oh… Brynn! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you!” Michael blabbered, clearly embarrassed. He rested his head in his hands.
“Mike…” I flaunted over to him and knelt before him.
“Huh?” He peeked at me from around his fingers.
It turned me on even more when Michael was withdrawn to the point where it was almost painful.
Taking hold of his male member and resting it between my breasts, I whispered luridly,
“I want to do it.”
“Woo…” Michael covered his face with one of his hands. “Are you sure? I won’t force you.”
He was so meek.
“Yeah.” I smiled up at him. “I’m sure.”
Lifting Michael’s thin legs, I parted them and set them so that they hung over each arm of the chair.
“Gosh!” Michael exclaimed as I bent and softly pecked at his “soul pole”.
As went after his, making sure I was gentle as possible, I stole a peek up at Michael.
His head was tossed back, mouth opening and closing in silent screams.
“Oh God! Oh…! Baby!” Michael gasped, placing his hand in my hair and pulling down on to him more.
His little booty was wiggling with ecstasy.
His groin smelled heavily of this musky, woodsy cologne.
He was so sweet and lovely.
“Damn! Brynn! Whoa!” Michael was tugging on hair hard and my scalp was actually starting to go numb.
I tickled at his pink “jewels”.
Michael’s moans and groans were escalating in pitch and decibels as I continued suckling and feeding off of him.
“Love me…” Michael begged weakly, his hands tremoring in my hair.
Michael was rocking and nearly kicking in the chair, sinking down so low that he was actually starting to slide out of the seat and onto the floor with me.
His face was contorted, beet red, and his teeth were grinding loudly.
He was close to the end, so very, very close. I could tell by the way he was rattling.
“Aaow…shit!” Michael screamed suddenly and with a sharp tug, pulled my head away from him.
A hot dampness covered my neck and chest.
He sank into a pile of nude flesh in front of me, covering his head with his arms.
Spent.
I glanced down at myself; Michael’s love was dripping down me.
“Michael…” I pouted, not really angry. “…you got me all wet.”
Michael chuckled from under his arms and slowly got into a seated position, facing me.
“That’s my job…” He tapped my chin with soggy fingertips, “I’m your man.”
We both laughed.
Michael Jackson was indeed The Man.
Little did I know that soon I would get more trouble from The Other Man.
* * *
The Next Morning

“…I always love looking at you when the sun is coming up…”
Michael whispered, gently brushing a strand of hair o ff my forehead.
“Really? Why?” I sighed happily, wrapping my arms around his nude torso and snuggling closer to him under the covers.
Behind us, the first rays of light were peeking around our closed curtains, sending shafts around the room.
“It makes the day the best ever and I get to feel that way every morning, Honey.” Michael rubbed my shoulder. “I have a calendar of best days ever.”
I giggled. “You’re too sweet.” I looked up at Michael.
His dark eyes were watching me intently.
Lovingly.
Michael’s eyes always read his emotions.
And this morning, Michael oozed love.
“Do you have to go to a meeting today?” I questioned, tracing the pink flesh around Michael’s left nipple absently.
It felt so good to be held, just the two of us alone in a soft bed.
It was almost as if the world could cease spinning; time stood still when I was with Michael.
Michael smiled sheepishly. “No, one of the executives had to go out of town and won’t be back until Monday, so you have me for the rest of the week.” He tapped the tip of my nose with a long index finger.
“That’s good.” I hugged Michael tightly and kissed his neck.
I felt Michael running his hand down my back. He eventually cupped my bottom.
Even though Michael was showing me enough sweetness to give me a toothache, there was a thought that had been nagging at me since the day before.
“Michael…” I paused, trying to organize the question just right in my head.
“Yes?” Michael looked down at me. “What is it Brynn?”
“About last night…what I did to you…um…” I stared of across the room, a sudden shame blazing across me.
“You mean the, uh, going down?” Michael questioned with a small chuckle, twirling a lock of my hair.
“Yeah.” This was hard. “I know that I did that to you last night, and I just don’t want you to think any less of me. I know that’s a pretty…dirty thing to do and I’m not the kind of girl who just goes and does that with anyone.”
I puffed.
“Just you and Prince” I added in my mind bitterly.
I just couldn’t get my mind around the idea that I managed to put my lips anywhere near Prince’s genitals and then went to Michael. And now I had done the same to Michael--made a meal of him.
“Brynn, I know you’re not that kind of girl.” Michael pulled himself into a seated position, and ran a hand through his own tangled mane.
“You’re nice and sweet. And it’s okay if we do some naughty stuff. We’re a couple, we can.” Michael nodded. “I like to get naughty sometimes.”
Since when was one plus one plus one just a couple?
I turned away; I suddenly couldn’t bring myself to look at Michael.
“Are…are you mad at me?” Michael’s voice was barely perceptible.
A wave of shock hit me. Michael thought I was mad at him?
I glanced over my shoulder.
Michael’s dark eyes were rapidly turning red.
Michael Jackson was crying!
“Michael! No! I’m not mad at you! I just didn’t want you to be mad at me!” I gushed and quickly reached out and embraced him. “Don’t cry, please!”
“I…I don’t want you to think that I’m using you or taking advantage of you. I’m not. I love you. I really do love you.” Michael’s voice broke tearfully. “I’d never do anything to hurt you. I swear.” A tear tumbled down Michael’s cheek. “I just wanted to do something different and special.” He hung his head.
“It was special!” The situation was rapidly spinning out of control. I had forgotten how sensitive a man Michael was.
I grasped his hands in my own.
“Michael, it was special. Every moment with you is special.” I said quietly, truly meaning every word.
“Really?” Michael peeked at me through his hair. He sniffled.
“Yes, really.” I reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear, exposing his wonderful, creamy face.
I leaned and kissed Michael’s damp cheek.
“Oooh!” Michael wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on my shoulder and laughed, happy and relieved.
A tear streamed down my own cheek.
Not from knowing that Michael loved me.
But from knowing how I was hurting him.


* * *