The Lady in My Life : MJ imagines

Wicked Games

1993.

When the presenter announced your name, you were greeted by applause, excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins. It was Albert II's idea that you make a speech to give a World Music Award to your husband. Although the whole world knew you had been together for years, you had never attended a ceremony with him.

Michael made sure you wouldn't go unnoticed for your first time by having one of the world's greatest couturier design a blue velvet bustier gown with draped sequin train for you. Diamonds sparkled on your skin as the spotlight kissed them. You never owned diamonds before meeting him, you weren't a materialistic girl, but he loved to see you adorned with expensive earrings, necklaces, and bracelets.

Standing behind the microphone, you waited for the audience to calm down, nibbling your bottom lip nervously as you looked down at Michael. He attempted to put your mind at ease with his million-dollar smile, and by mouthing you 'you got this'.

"The name of this year's best-selling pop artist I'm sure will come as no surprise to anyone. He rules the world for some time now with a musical style that blends Pop, Rock, Rhythm and Blues, Gospel, Rap, and Motown. It's a combination that has captivated the world and garner him this year's World Music Award as World's Best-Selling Pop Artist, and his name is Michael Jackson."

As soon as you cited his name, the audience gave a big round of applause, the fans at the back hollered, and your heart could only melt at the unconditional love these people have for Michael. The latter stood up timidly, and the more he approached, the more stirred you became, he didn't touch yet, but you were able to sense him, his essence, his magnetism.

Warmth blossomed in your chest when he leaned in close, lips brushing your skin, the smell of his perfume, of the scent of his conditioner was dizzying as he whispered in your ear. "You're beautiful, baby." Warmth consumed you when his soft lips kissed the corner of your mouth.

You handed him the golden trophy, trying to conceal your flustering by grinning proudly to his achievement, then stepped aside. During his speech, his every move sent shivers down your spine, from his long fingers coiled around the award to the subtle licking of his rosy lips. You were eager to get back to the hotel so he could soothe your ache.

At the end of his thanks, your heart plummeted in your chest as you felt his hand on your lower back when you walked backstage to wait for his final trophies to be given to him. Once you were out of sight, he turned you around before crushing his lips on yours, you clung to his black jacket as your knees wobbled under your weight.

Michael backed away too soon for your liking, but you faced the facts, if he had continued to kiss you, it would only make your wetness even more unpleasant inside your panties. Besides, you weren't alone, so you just gripped his sleeve, and intertwined your fingers. "Congratulations Michael Jackson."

He tittered, his gaze still directed towards the stage where Albert II was starting to speak. "Thank you, Mrs. Jackson, but you're embarrassing me."

Despite being the world's record-breaking artist, having revolutionized the music industry with an album of only nine tracks, the slightest compliment made him shy. His fans swooned at his static stage presence, they would sell their family members just to meet him, and yet he didn't like to be reminded of his true worth. He was the most influential artist, but also the most humble person you had ever met.

"Aw, is my baby blushing?" you poked his cheek playfully, your mouth a few inches from his. But you didn't even have time to feel his lips against yours before he had to return on stage, his arms laden with three awards.

You couldn't wait for that damn ceremony to be over, because just when you thought the heat in your stomach had subsided, it grew even more. It wasn't as though you were sex-starved, on the contrary, since Michael had returned from tour, he made up for lost time as much as he could. He was still a busy man, but not busy enough to make you want him so badly.