Teacher's Pet (A Michael Jackson Fanfiction)

Teacher's Pet..24..

Twenty minutes later, Michael and I arrive at the venue for the gallery.

The ride was pleasant.

We made small talk and he didn't get fresh.

However, I know Michael is going to try something with me tonight.

When that will happen I'm not exactly sure.

I'm also not exactly sure I'll stop him when he tries.

As the young valet opens my door, Michael gets out and jogs around the back of his car to hand him his keys.

"Thank you, sir." I smile at the valet as I step on the sidewalk with his help.

"You're welcome, ma'am." He smiles as he looks me over.

Michael takes my hand from him and pushes his car keys into his chest.

"Dent my car." Michael smiles, but it's to intimidate. "I dent your ass."

The valet's smile disappears as he mutters. "I'll do my best to make sure it remains dent free, sir. Enjoy your evening."

"We," Michael wraps his hand around my waist, staking his claim, and pulls me to his side. "We will. Enjoy parking cars."

"Michael!" I scold him.

Michael rolls his eyes and gives the valet a tip. "I was kidding, Jenna."

"Great jokes, sir." The valet smiles tightly.

He should have taken that opportunity to be sarcastic, but he didn't.

"Have a good night, sir." I smile at him to show, at least, one of us has some sense.

"You too, ma'am." The valet winks. "You look lovely."

"Thank you."

Michael rolls his eyes and turns us around as one.

"Are you trying to get me to get him fired?" Michael whispers fast in my ear.

"Why would you do that?" I ask as we walk into the gallery side by side.

Michael puts a professional distance between us as he greets familiar faces.

Once we pass the group of people, he whispers again. "His eyes were locked on your cleavage. Could you show any more?"

"Last time I checked, sir," I mock, looking down at my cleavage. "these are my tits."

"Not since they've been in my mouth, Miss Toussaint." Michael scoffs, cocking a brow.

The next second, he walks away from me as my mouth falls open.

I follow behind him at an even distance before grabbing a flute of champagne from a server's tray.

I'm tipping it to my lips when a familiar voice speaks from behind me.

"Are you old enough to drink, ma'am?"

I turn around and smile at Whitney. "I don't know are you old enough to paint phenomenal works of art?"

Whitney smiles as she pulls me into a hug. "I was starting to lose faith, girl. You know you're late."

"Yeah, I know," I sigh, hugging her tighter. "but I'm here. You look great, by the way."

"You look great too." Whitney compliments, holding me at arm's length. "Where's Brad? I know he's looking sexy in his tux."

I breathe in slowly. "Umm, actually, Brad isn't here tonight."

"But your car's in the shop." Whitney comments then she taps her forehead. "You took a ride share--that's why you're so late?"

"Actually," Michael smiles, walking up beside me. "she came with me."

I give her a nervous look and shrug as he pulls me to his side.

Whitney's brows lift then she grabs my arm to pull me to her side.

"Didn't I tell your ass to be discreet?!" She whispers, pulling me from Michael's earshot. "Discreet is not showing up to a public gallery with your professor! Jenna, does Brad know?"

"Yeah," I nod. "he's the one who asked him to bring me." Whitney frowns as I go on. "He doesn't know about us, Whit. Michael was still there when he came back and I told him about the gallery tonight. And he asked Michael to bring me because he couldn't. He had to work tonight."

"Did you object?"

"Of course I did, but Brad insisted. He says he trusts Michael."

"That poor doofus." Whitney mumbles, shaking her head. "Sending his girl out with the man who wants her and she wants in return."

"I don't want Michael." I refuse the notion.

"The way the electricity goes haywire when he's around you speaks of something else, Jenna."

"If you'd knock on doors before walking into houses," I mock. "you wouldn't even know about us."

"Pshh!" Whitney scoffs. "If you didn't want me to know about him, Jenna. You would have hidden him better. Who hides men under laundry when they have closets to spare?"

"Finished talking about me yet?" Michael smiles as he appears beside me again.

"Yeah, for now." Whitney smiles firmly at me then at him. "Thanks for coming, Professor. Enjoy the art and your night."

"I will be." He smiles down at me and I sigh.

"I'll be talking to you later, Jenna."

"I'm sure you will." I chuckle as Whitney walks away from us. When she's gone, I take a long and much-needed sip of my champagne and Michael stares at me. "What?"

"Do you want to walk around and observe the art?" He asks in a very sexy voice and it kind of throws me off.

I clear my throat and take another sip of champagne before asking. "Don't tell me you know art, Professor?"

"I'm a connoisseur of a great many things, Miss Toussaint." Michael says within inches of my face. "I would think you would know this by now." I scoff, rolling my eyes, before walking away from him. Michael's chuckling when he appears at my side again. "So where are your friend's paintings? I'd like to see them."

"I don't know." I shrug, staring at a large abstract painting of a "woman's beauty". "They're somewhere around here."

Michael continues speaking, but I tune him out as I stare at the painting before me.

The woman in the painting has full lips, almond-shaped pupil-less eyes, round perfect breasts, shapely arms and legs, a flat stomach, and long flowy hair.

The hourglass shape of the woman is breathtaking, but it's the colors behind her, the strong yellows, purples, reds, pinks, and blues, that really pushes her beauty forward.

She's not exactly woman, but she's woman, and she's gorgeous.

"You like this?" Michael asks and I jump a little, because I'd forgotten he was there.

"Yeah, its beautiful." I admire, staring up at the painting still. "It's simply breathtaking."

"The artist must have used you as their model, Jenna." Michael says, taking a piece of my hair between his fingers and twirling it around. "She has your beautiful shape, your lovely breasts, your sexy full lips, and your gorgeous, inviting thighs."

A shiver runs up my spine as Michael's fingertips brush the skin just above my collarbone.

"Have I told you how lovely you look tonight, Miss Toussaint?" He whispers as I swallow.

"I'm sure you have, Professor Jackson," A shrill voice comes from behind us. "but you haven't told me how good I look yet."

Michael and I turn around together and I scoff at the person I see.

There's Tia and her claws are out.