Michael Jackson: Imaginations

Special Request

Era: Any Era you'd like.... I don't recommend J5, or Jacksons though.

     I sat and fixed the buckles on my heels, 'I don't want them slipping off at all,' I thought to myself sitting on the bench in the middle of the tiny locker room. I'd been at this job for about a year now, not the proudest career choice but it pays the bills. As far as I knew, that's what the rest of the girls here thought too. "Hey Y/N, you got anything?" One of the girls that was supposed to go out front with me asked. She was referring to alcohol, I liked to sneak in a bottle of Smirnoff in my bag so I can take a few shots before I go on; it calmed my nerves.

     "Yeah," I answered while digging through my gym bag. I took out the bottle and handed it to her. Quickly, I took out my deodorant and put some on; The stage manager just said my colleague and I had 5 minutes till our time on stage. I got up and opened my locker to get one last check in my little 5 dollar mirror to make sure I looked the part. I looked back at the girl with my vodka and said, "Hey pass it over here." She handed me my drink and I put my head to the bottle and took two mouths full of fiery liquid and squeezed my eyes tight as I swallowed.

The stage manager peeped her head into the locker room, "Y/N, Raini, you're up." She gestured her hands to outside. Carefully I stepped over the other girls' bags and fixed my bra in the process.

"It pays the bills," I mantra to myself walking up the stairs unto the figure-eight shaped stage, no longer than an SUV. I grabbed the pole closest to the front and the other girl, Raini, went for the one toward the back. I looked at the men at the edge of the stage, assaulting my body with their eyes, gearing up thoughts of what they could do to me if they could have me. If it wasn't for the alcohol I would be significantly more uncomfortable than I am now. I sighed and nodded to the DJ... 'it pays the bills.'

~

I winced when I grabbed the door handle to the locker room, my hand hurt from gripping the pole and holding my body weight for 30 minutes straight and I was relieved it was all over. I planted myself on the bench with a hefty sigh. I stretched my legs and rolled my neck just grateful that I finally get to go home.
I start to take off my jewelry— then the stage manager cracks the door open and sticks her head inside and lays eyes on me. I gave her a tired what do you want look and she beckons me to come outside the room with her. "Y/N, I'm here to inform you that you have a request-," a request normally is when an individual or group asked a dancer to perform for them privately.

I cut my stage manager off, "I don't want to right now, get another girl Jessica." I wanted to go home, I wasn't interested in entertaining patrons anymore and I made good money tonight, I'll live. I turned around to go back in the locker room but Jessica stops me.

"No they said wanted you exclusively-,"

"No."

"Five thousand..." Jackie said quietly just loud enough for me to hear.

I furrowed my eyebrows and instantly was in denial that she meant that regarding money, "What?" I slowly turn around to look back at the skinny blonde.

"Five thousand dollars," she repeated, but slowly.

Five thousand dollars? I was in a state of shock. I've heard of dancers getting this kind of money in more popular clubs but this club has only been around for about 3 years. Who could be willing to pay this much just to see me? Imagine what I could do with that money! Though I was confused, I wasn't dumb, "I'll take it," I said instantaneously.

Stage manager, Jessica chuckled, "Room 7," she said walking away.

I raised an eyebrow and asked aloud, "Aren't you gonna give me a run down of who they are???" Jessica tends to tell us girls who or what she thinks private costumers are— based on looks. Most of my private costumers are either 18 year old virgin boys who were most likely forced here by their friends or the occasional divorcée. Jessica looked like she didn't hear me; not sure how she could seeing how loud out there in the front was. I shrugged and proceeded to walk to private entertainment room, Room 7. The curtain, the entrance of the small room, was closed, indicating it was in fact occupied. Five paces before the curtain I slow strut, one foot in front the other. I seductively slid the curtains over and leaned onto the door frame, "You called?" I asked my consumer, in efforts to seduce him.

My customer, he sat in what the club called, a love seat. He was wearing a fedora and a surgical mask on, an incredibly tailored jacket and jeans and his head laid low. 'Who are you?' I asked myself full of curiosity. I proceeded to walk into the room with him and shut the curtain behind me. The man sat neatly with his legs lapped, but this was a strip club, there's nothing neat happening in here. I rest my hands lightly on his thighs and pried his legs wide open. I stooped to see if I can have a better look at his eyes but his hat was too far down his face to catch a glimpse. I stood back up and politely sat myself on one of his legs and crossed mine. I took my finger and held up his chin so the mysterious man could look at me. The shadow of the fedora was still too dark to see anything below due to the dim lighting in the room. I'll see who he is sooner or later, I decided to actually start doing the thing I'm getting payed for than play private investigator. "What do you want me to do baby?" I held the sides of his face with my hands and guided him to my chest, to tease him.

My guest pulled away and grabbed my wrist, "I want to get to know you," he said. I look at him disgust and pull my hand back into my possession.

Impatiently I spoke, "Look, this isn't speed dating sir..." I trail off. The man took off his surgical mask and adjusted his fedora above his eyes. I couldn't not believe what my eyes are seeing. "Are you...?" I asked, refusing to say his name from utter disbelief.

"Hi Y/N, my name is Michael Jackson," he greeted me politely.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't— but then I did. A gigantic grin was slapped across my face and I started to scream but was abruptly cut off by the gentleman's impressively large hands then he whispered, "Shhh." He didn't want others to know he was here and I nodded my head.

"Uh- erm," I struggle to speak at first, "Michael Jackson?"

He chuckled, "Yes?" He answered.

"You're paying me five grand just to talk to me?" I questioned, "Why?"

"Why not?" He replied, "Look I'm really mesmerized by the women in this industry and how not only physically but mentally strong you are..."

I blushed, no one really thinks 'strong' when the word stripper os said.

"And a dream of mine was to make some woman's life better so they wouldn't have to do this anymore. But I can't change your life if I don't know it, Y/N." He continued

I started to tear up, not only was I sat on the lap of a pop star but I think he was telling the truth about trying to help me. No one wanted to help me out this hell hole. My friends abandoned me, thinking I was a whore and my mom kicked me out the house, expecting I come back with a different job. A year without support and withstanding this brutal industry by myself took a toll on me as a person and seeing someone genuinely try to make an effort to help me was a gift heaven sent. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" I asked cautiously, dabbing tears off my face in efforts of not smudging my make up.

Michael held my body close as he shifted his weight to one side of his body that I don't fall off his leg. He reaches into his back pocket and takes out the thickest roll of money I've ever seen. Michael looks into my eyes and said, "I am willing to pay you five thousand to quit this job. I want to help you,"

I stared at the money he nonchalantly held in his hand, this was happening. I let out a sigh of surrender, "Okay..."

Michael shifts to the one side of the love seat to make room for me. I got up and sat in the vacant area and took a breath. "Well," I exhale. I look back into his eyes and I somehow felt a sense of security and that alone gave me the courage to continue.

"It all went down hill when I turned 25..."

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Author's Note:
     Hi everyone! Thank you for welcoming me to Wattpad with open arms! All of you who messaged me, you guys are the sweetest people I've met! If you have an idea for an imagine, inbox me and I'll see what I can do! Thanks again loves! <3