Little Red Corvette (Thriller)

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I used the acoustic version as inspiration. It felt much more heartbreaking and fitting. 


1982

"Guess I should have known by the way you parked your car sideways that it wouldn't last. "

From where I stood, I could see the crowded dance floor, celebrities of varying levels of caliber and sobriety dancing with and on each other to the funky tracks the DJ hired was laying out. Normally I would be out there with them, rapidly reaching a deep buzz, instead I leaned against a wall taking in the scene. I wasn't meant to be there, I wasn't some big celebrity, no one knew my name, let alone my face. I was a freelance sound mixer for whoever would hire me. I pushed myself off the wall to the bar set up. "Beer, please?" Nodding, the bartender turned to grab my order. He popped the top off the bottle and handed it to me by the neck. "Thank you." I took a sip from the bottle, and shifted my weight against the bar, people watching. A figure moved next to me, and I didn't even notice him at first. A cleared throat and a hand on my shoulder pulled my eyes from the dance floor and to a dark skinned man with a jheri curl. He leaned in close to my ear to be heard over the people and the music, his warm breath fanning over my ear and the side of my face. "I don't think I recognize you. I'm Michael." I stuck out my hand and spoke over the volume. "No one here knows who I am. I'm Y/N." We continued speaking until "Abracadabra" played through the speakers. "Oh, I love this song!" I smile and bopped around in place. Michael smiled at me and took my hand. "Come on then, let's dance." He pulled me onto the dance floor and we grooved with each other. We both grew bold, him gripping my hips, and me letting him. I watched his eyes darken with lust, and we danced for a little while longer. He licked his lips before leaning in again. "You wanna go somewhere else? Maybe continue this somewhere a little more... private?"

I felt my cheeks heat and I nodded, letting him drag me to a car you wouldn't expect to see Michael Jackson driving. It wasn't a janky car, but it wasn't the Ferrari you'd expect. He opened my door with a wink and ran around the front of the car to get behind the wheel. He started the ignition and we're off, one hand on the wheel, the other rubbing up and down the fabric of the leg of my jumpsuit.

He pulled into a little motel, hurriedly parking at a strange angle. We raced to the door and got ourselves a room. We giggled and panted into each other's mouths like giddy teens whose parents were out for the night. After unlocking the door to his room, he pushed me against it, hungrily nipping and kissing down my neck. I let my head fall against the door with a dull thump, whining out a strained "Oh, Michael". With a smirk, he dove into me, moving things over to the bed.

"See you're the kind of person who believes in making out once, love 'em and leave 'em fast"

I stir in the hotel sheets, a beautiful ache in every fiber of my being. I reach out for the other side of the bed, but feel only cold sheets under my hands. I sit up in confusion, looking around the room for Michael, but am only met with the silence of an empty hotel room. His clothes are gone, and no sounds are heard. On the chair next to the bed, my clothes are neatly folded with a piece of hotel stationary sitting on top of it. I dress and read the note. It reads:

"Y/N, you were amazing last night, but I am afraid I can't stay. I don't do more than one night, and I definitely don't do relationships. I wish you the best, and ask for your forgiveness for leaving you alone.

M"

My heart sinks as I read the quick apology. I guess I should have seen it coming. He was parked so strangely without correcting it, he never planned on staying long. I wiped away my tears and packed up my things, checking out and calling a cab.

One Month Later

I felt strange all week. I'm late, but I've been late before with false alarms. I cave in to my anxieties and fears and purchase a pregnancy test. A lifetime later, the timer goes off and I check the results, positive. With shaking breathes, I remember the last time I had sex, Michael. I can't remember if he used a condom or not, but no matter who the father is, I'm keeping the baby. It isn't their fault they were the product of a one night stand. 


Part 2 will be out this week! Happy reading moonwalkers! 

You are here to change the world,

Lindsey

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