For All Time

Early Thriller Era

Early Thriller Era:

(Now, Here is where the story really picks up. I won't be switching eras as frequently. Enjoy):

"Wow, Michael!" Ebony exclaimed, sprawling herself across his mattress. "That's alot of money! And that place is huge!"

"It is pretty huge, huh?" Michael wiggled his brows at her, causing her to slap him on his shoulder.

"Owch!" He wailed in faux agony, chuckling at his disgruntled friend. She was always adorable when she got annoyed with him.

"But all jokes aside, E—what do you think? Do you think it's too soon? Too big? A waste of time? Do you think I'm ready to leave home?" The playful glint in Michael's eyes was replaced with one of insecurity and uncertainty. He still felt that he was just a boy. However, he did understand that anything was possible right now; Especially with the recent success of his Thriller Album, he was untouchable. He was now the biggest star in the world, but he was still her AppleHead.

"Listen, Mike—I can't tell you what to do. I certainly don't have that kinda' money lying around. And if I did, I'd probably buy the damn place just because I could."

He shook his head at her honest answer. "Would you come visit me?"

As the question lingered in the air, she listened to it, thought about it, and then looked right at him. "No," she replied before tossing a pillow at him and darting out of his room.

"That's it!" He exclaimed, chasing her down the hallway. The Encino house was semi-empty. The family was on vacation, but Michael had to stay back to attend a few award shows. Ebony was back home from college with her shiny new degree, and he was so happy to see her.

However, what Michael didn't know was that Kathrine had petitioned Ebony to keep an eye on her son. She knew Michael was capable of taking care of himself, but she didn't want him to get hurt. You see, Michael had a very close relationship with his fans. In Michael's youth, he'd been indifferent to his fans. He'd understood that people liked his music and dancing, but he didn't see it as a big deal. All he knew was that he had to keep working to get better at his craft. He didn't have the time or capacity to really think about what it meant to have fans, and what that love felt like. He enjoyed it when girls screamed his name, and he used to always think about how cool it was that girls had posters of him on their walls. It wasn't until Michael got alittle older that he understood that his fans loved him—they really did. And once he realized that, he felt that he had to reciprocate it in any way he could. He often loved to sift through his fanmail and even reply to some. When he was on breaks from touring or recording, he would spend hours reading, saving, and replying to fanmail. All of that sounds good right? Wrong. You see, Michael loved his fans so much, that he would often sit and talk with them at the gate of the Encino family home. It would just be him and a small crowd of shy girls. Kathrine just didn't want things to get crazy and have him be all alone when it did happen.

Ebony gladly accepted the task, and was at the Jackson's front door with her bags in a matter of days. She was greeted with a warm hug, but now she was being pinned down and tickled.

Ebony and Michael were close. They weren't like siblings, but they weren't a couple either. Everyone thought they were, but they weren't. Ebony didn't think of Michael that way. And Michael did think of Ebony that way, but he never really thought anything could happen. He doubted that she's ever look at him that way, so he never said anything. He was scared that she'd catch on to the longing stares and the lingering hugs, but she didn't. Well, she never said anything. So here they were, Ebony rolling around on the floor, and Michael straddling her. His hands danced across her ribs, causing her to flail and scream with laughter. Ebony had this laugh that was boisterous, and often evoked a feeling of joy from him. 

"Uncle! Uncle!" She yelled, causing Michael to stop. There she was: her full afro fanned around her face, her pools of alluring dark chocolate focused on him, and her chest heaving. Her breasts were only covered by a lacy bra and a thin tank-top that she'd stolen from him.

"I hate you," she smiled as she grabbed a pillow and hit him with it.

"I hate you too," he replied, catching the offending object and tossing it away in a haphazard manner. "I'm hungry!" Michael whined.

"Shut up, big baby," she stuck her tongue out at him before sauntering into the kitchen.

"I was already cooking, but you're helping." She informed him before beginning to wash the chicken she'd taken out a few hours ago.

"What am I doing?" He asked, trailing behind her.

"You're doing what I say, and you're not asking me a million questions."

Rolling his eyes, he sat himself at the bar. He remembered not being tall enough to sit comfortably in these stools—having to climb up into the stools. Now, he was almost too tall for almost everything. He knew he wasn't the tallest guy around. However, he was thin, so it made him look taller than he really was. Standing at 5'11", he was a nice height for women.
He wondered if Ebony liked tall men.

He was pulled from his thoughts at the sight of a perfectly-manicured set of fingernails in front of his face. Her hand was so close that it caused his eyes to cross as he jumped, causing Ebony to howl in laughter. Michael just shook his head and tossed a fake apple at her. The apple was comfortably nestled in the display basket on the table, and now it was being used to assault Ebony.

"I need help reaching a skillet, Mr," She requested of him as she sobered up from her laughing fit. Blushing slightly, Michael walked over to the counter and reached up into