Mr. TWELVE Stories

▪ Inch 1 - Lust Of Love

[Dangerous era)

When I woke up in the morning, I felt stiff and achy all over. But the hurt was nothing compared to what it felt like to wake up and not feel him by my side.
I didn't want to open my eyes, for fear that my body's aches and pains would fade away, and last night would have been nothing but a dream. Oh, who was I kidding? A night in bed with Michael Jackson? That was merely one of my fantasies. No way in Hell it actually happened, right?

I frowned, and my eyes slowly fluttered open to the harsh light of the morning sun. The aches and pains didn't go away, and I sat up slowly in bed, letting the sheet fall from my body. I was naked. And the side of my bed that was usually unoccupied was now crumpled, and the sheets held a trace of the cologne he'd worn after the show last night.
Oh my God. It really happened. I had sex with Michael Jackson.

The elation that filled me was quickly replaced by sadness, as I realized I was alone with nobody to talk to, and I couldn't even call my closest friends to tell them what had happened. That one night only existed between the two of us, and now...now it was gone forever, to be left as a silent memory in my heart. And I was never going to see him again.
I slowly peeled myself out of bed and made my way to my bathroom. As groggy as I was, I didn't even notice the fact that the door was shut, when I always left it open.

When I staggered inside, my eyes widened at the sight of steam filling the room. The sound of water splashing and going down the drain was also obvious. Then came the sweetest sound of all: Michael's voice. He was singing. In my shower!
"Hey pretty baby with the high heels on. You give me fever like I've never, ever known!" My heart skipped a few beats, and I found that I was holding my breath and gripping the sink to keep from melting into a puddle on the floor.
I must have been breathing quite heavily at that point, because his wet, soapy fingers pulled back the shower curtain, and I stared dumbly at his naked form. He smiled at me with that perfect, pearly-white smile, and I trembled.

"Good morning," he smiled, covering himself a little with the wash cloth. Not like I hadn't already seen that glorious cock of his, but I couldn't help but find it adorable that he was suddenly somewhat shy this morning.

"Morning," I said slowly. "I...didn't think you'd be here."

"I overslept," he admitted. "That's ok, right?"

"Yeah," I said with a smile, biting my lower lip. "I don't mind."

"What time is it?" Michael asked. I ducked my head out and peered at my clock on the wall.

"Nine thirty," I frowned. "When do you have to..."

"I should probably go after I'm done in here," he said quietly. Was that a frown on his face?

"Oh. Ok. Um. I can make you breakfast...if you want."

"It's ok. I have rehearsal today. I usually eat when I get to the studio."

"Oh. Ok," I said with a little nod.

"Just, uh, don't worry about picking up the towel or anything. I'll get a shower when you're done." I turned to leave, but Michael reached out to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. It was then that I realized I hadn't even bothered to put on a robe. I was stark naked in the bathroom. With Michael Jackson.
I turned to face him, blushing this time because of my realization.