Sex Instructor (A Michael Jackson Fan Fiction)

Chapter 17: Five Questions

*Angel's POV*

"I don't feel anything."

I stared at Michael while he adjusted the two thin red belts around his waist and crotch.

"You don't feel anything?" I asked softly and emphasized the last word.

Michael looked up at my innocently confused face and kept a neutral stance.

"Well, I feel these hickies burning." He tried to smile while covering them up with his collar, "We should get going. Someone could check the locked door and ask about it." he changed the topic and looked away.

You know what? I'm not mad. Am I frustrated? HELL YEAH. But he showed emotion. Michael HUGGED ME. He did something, and if I'm gonna go through with this whole 'figuring him out' thing I'm gonna have to take it one step at a time and suck it up. And from what I've observed and predicted, he's REAL messed up. So I put my ass-kissing face on and didn't give him any shit.

"Yeah, we probably should." I agreed with a tight smile.

Michael looked at me with surprised eyes. I guess he was expecting an angry question or a snarky response. And lord knows dang well it was coming, but I'm better than that. I can be patient. I hope...

"Ok..." an awkward silence lingered in the air, "you go in the classroom first, and then I'll follow you some seconds after. It'll look weird if we go in together."

"Yeah...ok I'll see you there then." I stuttered stupidly only receiving a nod from him.

I quickly rushed over to the door unlocking it and walking out.

"I'LL sEe yOu tHeRe tHeN. Really Angel? That's all you could come up with?" I mocked myself and slapped my forehead in embarrassment.

On my way back when I was about to walk in the classroom but I heard a really girly voice call my name. I turn around to see Lisa walking out of the office. Class pet bitch. Ugh. That hoe that tried to get a picture with Michael. What the fuck was that all about anyway? Long story but to make it plain and simple; we don't like each other. Ever since freshman year really. But I guess we're both the type to keep our enemies close. So we're sarcastically 'nice' to each other. If nice meant bitchy.

"Hey, Angel! What's up with you girl? I saw you walk out of class with an angry frown on your face earlier. Did someone treat you wrong?" I could hear the fake tone in her voice from miles away.

"Oh, it was nothing. I guess I was just tired." I responded dryly, not really wanting to put up with her bullshit today.

"Are you sure? Or was it something Mr. Jackson did? Sis, he looks gorgeous, doesn't he? I don't know how you can work with him and not get nervous."

Oh believe me, I sure as hell do. But I guess the fact that I already know what he looks like naked...makes everything a bit easier.

I smiled at my thoughts and looked at the floor. "Yeah, I guess I'm just not interested in him in that way. But hey, what was the picture thing all about?" I asked very curiously.

"What about it? Who wouldn't like to take a picture with Michael Jackson himself? Do you even know who he is?" she scoffed dramatically.

I just stood there with my mouth hanging open in confusion. I was about to ask her to elaborate but that's when we got interrupted by the man himself.

"Ladies! What are you doing out here? Aren't you supposed to be inside the class?" Michael specifically looked over at me while walking over to us.

"We were just discussing you, Mr. Jackson! We were talking about how iconic you are! You know how you-.."

"We can save that talk for later! We gotta get to learning now ok? Come on go in." Michael interrupted her and pointed to the classroom door. I rolled my eyes as Lisa turned the knob to walk inside. Before we walked in Michael whispered in my ear: