The Lady in My Life : MJ imagines

Snow Crystals

1977.

For the first time since your arrival in New York for the filming of The Wiz, Diana, Michael and you granted yourselves a night out at the famous Studio 54. The disco of all excesses, where neither drugs nor sex were taboo, which was why Diana insisted on accompanying you to keep an eye on both of you.

You entered the night club hand in hand, your eyes opened wide in amazement as if you were in the midst of million-dollar works of art. You heard this was no ordinary place, but seeing it with your own eyes was something else.

On the dance floor, you saw a man with his face covered in white paint and his mouth bright red, Marilyn Monroe's pillow case white blonde curly wig, and he was dressed only in a black corset—obviously belonging to a woman since it didn't reach his chest—with a embroidered see-through front with briefs of the same color to hide his manhood.

As you threaded your way between the sweaty moving bodies, you also noticed a couple in the corner, passed out on one of the leather sofas, the woman's shirt unbuttoned, revealing her bare breast.

Diana slipped away to get you a beverage, and you were so mesmerized by these outrageous outfits and practices that you didn't realize that Commodores' Brick House was booming in the speakers. For an unknown reason you and Michael had been jamming to the entire album since the beginning of the year.

"Shall we dance, my lady?" he whispered in your ear.

You grinned before wrapping your arms around his neck and moving your hips with his with one of his large hands on your lower back to press you flush against his body. There was nothing sensual about the song, but every time you and Michael had to dance, you turned each track into a dress-up love-making session. You were floating in your own bubble and his intense gaze made you feel more precious than any pearl.

You tenderly stroked his cheek with the back of your hand, he leaned into your touch before resting his forehead on yours. There was no shortage of handsome men on this earth, but none could compete with Michael's divine beauty. Even his minor imperfections, such as acne scars and hyperpigmentation spots, made him appear like an angel fallen from heaven. Whenever you went out with him, you didn't feel jealous of the leers from other women and their stares towards you, on the contrary, because you were the one sucking his dick right?

You kissed him soft at first, your tongue was at the seam of his lips so, you parted his mouth, taking you without hesitation, he tasted like the grape gum he had been chewing earlier. In two strong hands, he gripped your behind and hauled you upwards until your center was against his. You were still rocking with each other and to feel his bulge even more, you lifted your leg up to his waist, he slid his hand instantly along your naked thigh to your panties under your dress.

Fire coiled in your abdomen when he undulated his hips feverishly, his erection rubbing against your pussy, you melted into one person. He bent over, making you lean backwards, testing the suppleness of your back before straightening up and continue your passionate dance.

"Wanna know a secret?" you asked breathlessly. His eyelids were blinking heavily, not by exhaustion but by lust and your intoxicating scent as he hummed lowly. "I got some white crystals tonight."

Michael furrowed his brows in confusion, watching you pull away and slip your fingers into the outline of your thong to produce a small clear bag from the confines. You wiggled your brows at him and looked around briefly before opening it up. It was unlikely anyone would be sober enough to cause a problem with it except Diana.