Chapter 35

Sometime Later

I sat at the island in the kitchen, drowning my sorrows in chocolate milkshakes.
Four empty glasses sat before me and I was halfway done with my fifth.
I didn’t know who I was more pissed at.
I had received the dreaded phone call from Michael--he was going to be staying the night in Beverly Hills at Jermaine’s house.
I saw no true reason for Michael to even be there.
The fight between Selena and Jermaine had nothing to do with him.
So what if Selena had spent two thousand dollars more than she was supposed to for a new necklace?
It was like she was using Michael’s Visa card; it was Jermaine’s.
And it wasn’t Michael that called her a gold digging bitch; it was Jermaine.
And it wasn’t Michael who had an angry Mexican woman letting the air out the tires of his green Jaguar--it was Jermaine!
I slurped on the remaining swallows of milkshake, and pushed the glass aside.
The drinks had merely offered a distraction. I hadn’t been thirsty; I had just wanted someway to deal with my frustration.
I just knew that if I had found alcohol instead of milk and Nesquik, I would have been a slurring, stumbling mess.
I felt so empty alone without Michael.
His house seemed so big without him in it. And without the screams and laughter of the Jackson Trio, the house was a shell of it’s former self.
I was outrageously bored and there seemed to be nothing to do beat the feeling of abandon I felt.
I mean sure, Michael hadn’t left me on purpose. He was going to help his brother. I couldn’t stop Michael from helping his brother. That’s the kind of man he was; if someone reached out for his help, he grabbed their hand.
But still, the feeling was that of an itching rawness mixed with disappointment.
I glanced up at the clock mounted to the wall over the French doors leading outside. (It was cute, in the shape a Swiss cottage with little owls hanging from it.)
The time read as half past one in the morning. I sighed and tossed my hair angrily.
I knew that if the trouble with Jermaine hadn’t broken out, I’d have been wrapped around Michael’s slim pale form like a flesh belt.
I sprang away from the table suddenly.
An antsy feeling was consuming me.
For some reason, I had to get out of the main house, or I knew my indignation would cause me to toss glasses around the way Michael had in his You Rock My World short film.
Rushing over to the phone next to the refrigerator, I picked up and dialed the hut that housed the bodyguard who kept a watch over the front gate.
It rang several times before he picked up.
“…Yes Miss McAllister?” The guard answered attentively, like a soldier to his commandant. It was nice to hear a man’s voice. Soft and baritone.
“Hi…Scott?” I questioned, twirling my hands in the beige cord that dangled from the receiver. I had an idea in mind.
(NOT THAT!!!!)
“Yes?” Scott replied.
I leaned against the fridge. “Scottie, do you know how to work the popcorn machine and projector in the theatre?”
“Yes, Miss McAllister.” Came the response.
“Well, would you please come and put on Gone With the Wind for me and make me some popcorn. Some popcorn for yourself too if you’re hungry.” I added, with a smile.
“Of course, I’ll be right around Miss McAllister.” Scott vowed.
“Okay, thank you Scott.” I smiled, and hung up.
I don’t know why, but when all else failed watching the exploits of Scarlett O’Hara seemed to make me feel better. Seemingly no matter how screwed up I got, nothing could top her.
But as I made my way to the Theatre Neverland, I had no idea how screwed up I was about to become.

　
* * *

A Couple of Hours Later

“Hmm…let’s see, do I want Jujubes or Skittles?” I wondered aloud to myself as I raided the expansive candy counter situated in the front of the theatre.
My movie had broken for intermission, and finding my popcorn tub empty, it was time to rely on a sustenance of the sugary persuasion.
I was once again on my own. Scott had disappeared back to his post once he had loaded my movie onto the projector and popped the corn. (He took none for himself.)
Finally choosing a bag of Skittles, I hoisted myself up onto the Plexiglas counter and ripped the bag open.
As I munched on the candies, I sighed angrily to myself.
I still felt the same empty sensation I’d had earlier.
I didn’t need candies or popcorn or an epic love story to fill the void.
I needed Michael.
A cold shiver wafted through my body as I thought of him.
I needed to feel his arms around me, lips pecking gently at me, hands running a marathon on my body…
I wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow my mind drifted from Michael and over to Prince (Nelson).
The last conversation that I’d had with him.
A zealous shiver ran the length of my spine as I thought of how Prince had so blatantly told me that he’d want me… “on a bed of watercress.”
I wondered where he was. I hadn’t heard from him since I had gone to dinner with Selena.
Prince could fall off the face of the Earth and seemingly dissolve from mankind when he wanted to.
I had tried calling him numerous times and each time the phone would ring and ring.
But once again, the effect wasn’t wasted, I wondered about him, as I was sure was his true intention of being just out of reach in the first place.
I brought my knees up to my chest, which was heaving with the onset of arousal.
My mind drifted back to that night in Minneapolis--it often did. The expression on Prince’s face as he was eyeball deep in…me, and how he had paused to wink at me.
It had all be so outrageously naughty.
Just like Prince himself.
Click.
I jumped slightly at the sound of one of the double doors to the theatre closing.
Thankful that I finally had company, I hopped off the counter and whirled around.
“Hey Scottie, you came back! Let’s make some more popcorn--heavy on the butter.” I grinned. “I’ll help…”
I trailed off as all my bodily functions seemed to come to a screeching and rip roaring halt.
I felt as though I was dying, my chest was tightening up and my heart seemed to be throbbing somewhere behind my eyeballs.
A lone person loomed just inside the doors of the Theatre Neverland.
This wasn’t Scott.
This wasn’t Scott at all.
“Oh…no…” I gasped, bringing a shaking hand to my mouth and backing up until I collided with the old-fashioned popcorn machine behind me.
Framed perfectly by the teak doors of the building, was Prince.
I gazed at him unable to speak.
This couldn’t be happening.
This couldn’t possibly be happening.
There was no way in hell that Prince could have gotten into an all but empty Neverland Valley Ranch that had at least ten guards patrolling it at all times.
Had he killed them all?
I trembled as I continued to stare at him.
Prince was tantalizing in a lavender shirt, loosened to expose his chest tufts and third skin black trousers. A silver symbol twinkled at his waist.
The four inch heels of lavender boots clacked as Prince slowly sauntered over to the counter.
Each step was deliberate and each sound that the shoes made threatened to make my ears bleed.
His hair, sleek and glossy, fell into his eyes and bounced with every movement he made.
His expression was unmistakable and unnerving.
Eyes glowing emerald and outlined in purple, lips glossed and puckered, cheeks hollow and caved.
The man was horny personified.
Placing his hands on the counter--the rings on his hands tinkling against the Plexiglas--Prince leaned against it, acting as if the place were his own at Paisley Park.
His eyes seemed to devour me.
Silence filled the space between us.
Those eyes….
They seemed to take in my entire being, greedily.
Finally….finally, the man spoke.
“Hello my Pretty Brynn. Don’t you look cute in those pink leopard print pajamas.” He commented luridly, his voice dripping from those rose petal lips like honey.
“Prince…” My voice was strained as I tried to slide around the popcorn maker. “Why are you here?…Aren’t you supposed to be in Minneapolis?”
All I could think about was how the hell he gained access to the property.
A sly smile curled his mouth as he chuckled deeply.
“Does this look like I’m in Minneapolis, Baby?” He questioned, and the scent of his floral cologne invaded my nose.
He smelled so sweet.
“My, God…how did you get in?” I murmured, shaking my head at him.
This was unreal.
Prince started to inch his way around behind the counter, closer to me.
“It’s incredible what a thousand dollar bill can do. The big bastard at the gate with the blonde dreadlocks, started babbling like a bitch when I flashed the money at him. He even offered to park my Beemer for me.” Prince blew a stray lock of hair out of his face.
I was once again dumbfounded.
Prince was tossing around a grand to get into Neverland?
To see me?
Furthermore, just what kinds of characters did Michael have on his payroll when I knew he had given all his employees explicit instructions to beat the hell outta Prince and send him home in a gum wrapper if he appeared near the property?
I became aware of Prince coming dangerously close to me.
His aroma was engulfing me.
“Aren’t you happy to see me? I’m happy to see you.” He announced sweetly. Too sweetly. There was something perverse bubbling just below the surface--as always.
I stared down at my bare feet, to avoid looking into his face.
If I looked into his face….
Who knew what would happen.
“You wanna know something Sugar?” He whispered, his voice dropping several octaves.
I remained silent, too fearful to answer him.
“I was lying in my bed in my house in the Hills and all I could do was think about you my Sugar Doll…” He confided with a squeak.
“I always think about you Brynn…it…it helps me…to get off.”

My hands were twirling a mile a second in front of me as I began wringing them wildly.
Prince was thinking of me….as he masturbated?
“You should see me Brynn Baby, the way I go at the end…I think you’d like it. It’s so…messy.” He purred the last word at me, and I shuddered.
I was trying my best to not get pulled into this dirty realm that Prince seemed to be a permanent resident of, but it was proving so damn hard.
“I know you like it when I pull my candy cane out. You like that sweetness that you can get out of it.”
Soft fingertips brushed my chin as Prince gently tugged my face up, forcing me to stare into his.
Prince’s eyes, hazel and glittery washed over my face.
“You have such a pretty little mouth Brynn. I really liked the way you kissed my cane that night. So greedy, so hard. Best I ever had.”

“Please….stop.” I begged, pulling free from his grasp and turning my head away.
It was alarming how just moments before I had been happily reliving the tale in my mind, but now that Prince was there, speaking of it, it seemed like the tawdriest thing in the world.
My pleas fell on deaf ears.
“And when I got a hold of you…” Prince continued nastily,
“The taste…didn’t know a woman could be so sweet. Give a man cavities Brynn. Shee-oop!”
“Prince…” I started and a manicured finger was pressed to my lips.
“You were so ripe, so pure. I knew Michael Jackson couldn’t handle you.” He noted snidely. “He can’t handle you the way I can…”
Prince carefully looped his arm around my waist and began drawing me against his body.
I numbly let myself be brought to him.
“I bet Michael just messes over your body. He can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be with a woman built like you. Those plump titties and that bouncy ass…” He looked down and over my body. “And he probably turns into a blithering idiot when it comes to that treasure box of a p**** you have.”
His eyes locked with mine.
“I need to shut the fuck up.” He said quietly.
Nestling his hand in my flowing hair, Prince brought my mouth against his damp one and instantly he was smacking away at me like we were on the Titanic and had no life preserver.
At first I tried my best to resist the kisses.
But Prince’s mouth was so intoxicating and seducing and in sheer moments, I was submitting to him.
As I wrapped my arms around his slender figure, I felt a twinge of guilt. I knew I was doing incredibly wrong.
Horribly, incredibly wrong.
Kissing The Other Man on the property of The Main Man. I was really breaking rules left and right.
Reaching back, Prince took a hold of my hands and clamped them down on his abundant backside, steadily sucking away at my mouth, his tongue venturing inside several times.
I couldn’t seem to control myself.
I needed desperately to be touched and kissed and Prince was miraculously filling the void.
Prince broke his mouth from mine and his breaths, damp and leaden were puffing in my ear.
“Do…do you want me?”

He mumbled.
“Mmmmm.” I whined, resting my head on his sweet shoulder.
I wasn’t sure what to say.
Was I really about to get nasty with Prince?
At Michael Jackson’s home?
I was going to pull away from Prince, run and find a guard to toss him on his long face.
Do the right thing.
And then Prince spoke once more.
“Brynn…I want to drink you dry. Slurp you all up ‘til there ain’t no more.”

I don’t know where it came from, but I heard some voice reply,
“Do it! Do it Princey! Do it!”

Not reply, flat out demand.
With a satisfied snicker, Prince reached down and grasped my hand.
“Shall I lie you down right here?” He suggested, brushing my hair off my shoulder. As his fingers brushed my earlobe, I bounced with wanton.
Bringing his hand up to my mouth and pecking the knuckles, I shook my head, a smile creeping across my face.
“No, not here. But I know a place. Come on.” Tugging his hand, I pulled Prince along behind me towards a simple sliding door on the opposite side of the room.
“Holy shit!” Prince laughed as I slid the door open.
There lying before us, was what appeared to be a bedroom.
A king sized, freshly made bed stood just inside the room, lit by a lamp on a bedside table.
Through a large glass window, I could see that Gone With the Wind had resumed in the theatre.
“What in the hell is this? You and Michael be fucking and watching porno in here or something?” Prince cackled, doubled over as I led him inside, closing the door behind us.
Did everything have to smut laced for him?
“No Prince, “ I shook my head. “This is a room Michael has for sick kids who come and can’t sit in the theatre.” I explained, taking a seat on the side of the overly soft bed.
“Oh…” Prince paused and rubbed at a laughter tear.
“Speaking of old Needle Nose, was that babbling guard right? He really left you here all alone?” Prince sat and inched his booty closer to me.
“Um,…yeah.” I admitted, feeling a pang of pain. Why did Prince have to bring that up?
Damn Scott for telling Prince everything like a stool pigeon.
“That’s some bullshit for the chickens there. I tell you: You’re fucked up in this place. Michael going off and leaving a little lovely like you all by yourself.” Prince pecked my cheek fiercely.
“Michael Jackson doesn’t know what’s good for leaving at home, is even better for me.”
Prince passed his hands over my shoulders and down my arms.
“I’ve been thinking of this for weeks. Oh…shit.” His voice fell into it’s lower registers again.
His fingers flashed over and loosened the buttons of my top and a second later, the material was being pushed back, my breasts fully exposed to Mr. Nelson.
His eyes seemed to consume my chest.
“Goddamn, look at those tits.” Prince gasped, taking my shirt off me and tossing it behind him. “Bigger than I remember.”
Beyond us, Scarlett O’Hara kissed Rhett Butler passionately.
“You’re so pretty…Shee-oop!” Prince squealed as he laid me back against the pillows on the bed.
“Princey!” I exclaimed as he buried his face in my chest, heavily kissing and sucking away at my chest.
“Oh yes.” Prince kissing one breast, and massaging the other with his hands rejoiced.
My bottoms came off and I lay before Prince in a pair of barely there pink panties.
Prince leaned back long enough to rip his shirt off, breaking the chain of his symbol in the process.
His bronzy, tanned skin seemed to glow even though the lights were low.
He bent and started to take his shoes off.
“Prince--” I cautioned putting my hand up.
“What Sugar?” Prince glanced up at me, his hair falling into his eyes.
“Leave the shoes on…you left them on last time.” I pointed out.
“As you wish my little vixen.” His hands drifted to the waistband of his trousers.
“You ready for this? You ready for what I got Brynn? Cause once these pants come off, I’m not putting them back on until I get off, you understand?” An immaculate eyebrow was raised haughtily.
Prince was giving me a get out of jail free card.
I could have backed out of the situation, escorted him to his Beemer and forgot the whole idea.
I balled the card up and threw it away.
Eyeing Prince devilishly, I ordered,
“Take them off, or I’ll rip them off.”

“Oooh, you must be hornier than I thought Honey.” Prince teased, lowering the zipper on his trousers.
As the cloth slipped from his lower half, parts of him immediately sprang to life.
I drew in a shaky, shallow breath. Prince appeared to even more endowed and engorged that I had ever recalled.
What was I doing?
I knew it was terribly wrong, but I was mesmerized as Prince reached down and toyed with his pubic curls.
“You like what you see?” He questioned, arrogance oozing from him.
He spun around, pausing to jiggle his gigantic booty.
“Yes.” I hissed the word so lightly, I must have sounded like that creep Morris.
“I want the treasure.” Prince crawled across the bed to me.
Somehow my underwear came off in his hands. I don’t even remember how it happened. Did he slide them off or tear them like all the times before?
“I wanna try something crazy.” Prince announced suddenly, placing his hands on his hips, my panties still in his hand.
“What?” I asked tentatively. I knew that at it’s dirtiest, Prince mind could conjure up things that even the whoriest person wouldn’t do.
Pointing at me, Prince instructed,
“Flip over on your stomach.”
My erotica was overridden by a wave of pure, unaltered fear.
“No Prince!” I blurted, trying to curl into a ball. “You not doing me like that. I don’t do that!”
Laughter.
I was met with raucous laughter.
It was at the sound of the laughter, I truly felt awful.
For the way I was treating Michael.
For the way I was desecrating what was supposed to be a clean and pure place.
I should have been punished.
Once again, Prince spoke.
“I’m not gonna do you in the butt.” He snorted. “I love you--I won’t hurt you--unless you‘re into that.”
I looked up at Prince. He was grinning and glowing with perversion.
Maybe there was a way I could punish myself and still satisfy Prince’s needs.
“Princey…” I twisted my hands in my bare lap.
“Yes Darling?” Prince’s voice twanged with a hint of his Midwestern accent.
I barely heard myself.
“I want you to hurt me.”

Prince was wholly shocked.
“Oooh, this must be my lucky night! You’re into that! I knew Michael Jackson couldn’t handle you! You’re freakier than I ever thought Baby!”
Taking hold of my arm, Prince turned me over and gently positioned me on my hands and knees.
“Oh hell yes.” Prince whispered sexily, and he climbed into bed behind me. “Tonight, I get a nice, fresh bouncy ass…oh yes.”
An arm was wrapped around my waist.
“I’m sorry Michael.” I thought bitterly.
Positioning himself, Prince continued, “You’ll never be the same again Brynn. Trust me. This kind of shit changes people. But I like where you’re going.”
He smooched the back of my neck.
“I’ll be good to you…the best.”

He vowed.
And with that he roughly introduced himself to my hind quarters.
The pain was unrelenting.
“Ow! Stop! Prince! Stop! Wait!” I cried out as Prince started bumping his hips against me.
“You’re so tight….damn!” He grunted, driving himself deeper into me.
“Please…no!” I begged in a shrill squawk.
I knew I had wanted to be punished, but not like this.
I would have rathered Prince physically punch and kick me compared to this.
“Damn girl…damn!” He wailed, his hands seeking out my breasts and stroking them while pounding away so harshly at me.
“Princey!” I whimpered, trying to rise, in an effort to toss him off me.
I forgot how strong he was.
“You wanted this Brynn! Shut the fuck up and take it! Ugh!” Prince growled, angrily pushing me back down against the pillows.
“Stop…Stop…Stop…” I moaned as Prince brought his hand down and began pressing my face into the mattress, seemingly smothering me.
The thrusting against my backside quickened and I felt Prince’s mouth bump my ear.
“Tell me you love me.” Prince demanded, twisting my hair in his hand until my scalp burned. “Say you love you me.”
“I…I love you.” I managed to get out as tears began rushing from my eyes.
This was wrong. So frightfully wrong.
Prince huffed in my ear. Another word.
“Bitch.”
The word shattered my world and my heart.
I fell limply under his still gyrating form.
Prince had called me a bitch.
I thought he had cared for me.
And here he was blatantly abusing me.
My pain grew and I lay sobbing under him.
“Oh Baby shut up already! Damn!”

A swift punch was delivered to the center of my back.
Shock wearing on me, I struggled to get away from him.
Prince was beating me!

“Let me go! Stop it! Please! Let me go!” I screeched, trying to claw away from him.
“You want it rough? I can play that game!” Prince declared, grasping my shoulders tightly, and whipping me onto my back, one hand clutching my wrists together over my head.
His face was hardened, his features darker, eyes evil green slits in his head.
“No!” I screamed when I saw he had his hand raised to strike me.
In an instance of adrenaline, I broke a hand free and backhanded Prince across his face with every ounce of strength I could muster.
Prince whipped to the side and off onto the floor.
“Don’t you ever call me a ‘bitch’ you bastard!” I screamed, pulling myself up into a seated position.
On the floor, out of sight, Prince exuded an audible sob.
“I’ve never called you a bitch! What are you talking about?”

A voice, several octaves higher than Prince’s ,whined.
Confused, I leaned over the edge of the bed and looked on the floor.
Crouched on the floor holding his cheek wasn’t Prince.
My eyes swelled in sheer horror.
My heart seemed to stop in my chest.
Clutching his reddening face, was Michael Jackson.
“Michael! Oh my God! Oh no! Michael!” I cried leaping out of the bed.
As I stood, I realized I was still wearing my pajamas.
I looked around.
Prince was nowhere to be found.
Had he ran away when Michael arrived?
My attention flooded back to Michael who was still wiggling in agony on the floor.
“Michael!” I cried, dropping to my knees alongside him and hugging him. “I’m sorry! Oh! Michael!”
“Brynn, what on earth were you dreaming about?” Michael demanded, still patting his sore cheek.
It shone scarlet.
“What was I…dreaming?” I whispered the words more to myself that to him.
“Yes Baby, Scott told me you went to sleep in here watching a movie, and I could hear you hollering from outside. Then when I tried to wake you up, you tried to knock my teeth out.” Michael explained, running a hand through his curls. “What happened? You though the Confederates were coming for you?” He joked. “You shouldn’t watch a war movie that late.”
Tears of grief welled in my eyes.
“Oh Michael!” I gasped and embraced him tightly.
Even though I had just beamed him, Michael was still caring about me.
I looked back at the bed with a relieved sigh.
Dreaming, I had only been dreaming.
Prince hadn’t invaded Neverland and tried to assault me.
I had merely gone to sleep in one of bedrooms in the rear of the theatre.
The whole thing had been a figment of my imagination.
“Come on.” Michael stood and helped me to my feet. “Let’s go to the main house and eat breakfast. I wanna tell you about what happened at Jermaine’s”
“Okay.” I sighed, relieved that nothing dire had occurred. But still shaken that I had struck Michael.
“I’m so sorry I hit you.” I apologized again, patting at his back.
The man I Truly Loved.
Grasping Michael’s long hand, I started to follow him out of the room.
As I passed through the door, I could have almost sworn that I saw something silver glimmer on the floor.
I hoped that it was just my overactive imagination.
It had to be.