Neighbors (A Michael Jackson Fanfiction)

Neighbors..3..

That fucker licked my lips!

 And you better believe I found the nearest store and slammed an entire container of Listerine Breath Strips into my mouth.

 Actually, I placed two containers of Listerine Breath Strips into my mouth, (they lit my mouth on fire!!), but it had to be done.

I probably looked mental hopping around that store fanning my flaming mouth, but, at least, his wallfucking germs were gone.

 The taste of his lips are gone.

 The taste of his tongue on my lips is gone.

 His taste is gone!

 Ugh! I can't believe he licked me!

 I didn't give him permission to lick nor kiss me. I have the right mind to kick his ass when I get back to my apartment.

 I do, but I don't.

 I do want to kick his ass, because he's a fucking slag.

 And I don't want to kick his ass, because—okay, I'll admit it, Michael is gorgeous, beautiful, sexy, and, he even smells nice.

 If he wasn't such a tosser, I would probably like him.

 However, he is a tosser. And he is just too much.

 Michael knows, all too well, that he's every woman's wet dream incarnate.

 That damn smile!

 He's the physical manifestation of what most women want.

But he shouldn't capitalize on that.

Just because most women would gladly hand him their panties, gift wrapped and monogrammed, doesn't mean he should use his "charm" to get them all.

 All women may think Michael's good looking, fine, charming, sexy, but all women won't bend to his will nor at their waist for him.

 With me, Lyric Clarke, at the top of that list.

 I'm happily acting President of women who will not drop down and get their eagle on for Michael the Wallfucker.

 And I'm taking my position seriously.

 I wipe at my lips again. Though they're still tingling with delight.

 How dare that fucking prick put his harem ho kissing lips on mine. And after he'd been with another woman?!

 He knows I heard him with that harem ho earlier this morning yet he still put his lips on me!!

 What did he expect?

 Did he think that kiss would get me to finally see things his way?

 That it would make me want to give him birthday sex?

 Was he expecting me to drop trou and toss one of my legs over his shoulders?

 Though I am flexible, and could have done just that, I will never do it for Michael.

 I don't like him even more now.

 He is a prick!

 A fucking harem having prick!!

 I've been in the park, running off steam, for almost two hours now.

I stop jogging and take a seat on an empty park bench to catch my breath.

 I'm wiping sweat from my forehead and brows when I spot two black women a few yards away staring at me.

 They're standing beside the park fountain and it's clear they're staring at me.