@-cleosthriller | 𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗰 FINE PRINT Francine Fine thought getting fired was the worst thing that could happen to her. She was wrong. After losing her job as a personal stylist in Flushing, Queens, her best friend talks her into applying for a live-in nanny position for a wealthy Manhattan family. She expects a spoiled kid, an impossible boss, and a paycheck that keeps her mother from reminding her she's still unmarried. What she doesn't expect is Michael Jackson answering the door. Now living in the Upper East Side townhouse of the King of Pop, Fran finds herself raising Prince, Paris, and Blanket, surviving celebrity drop-ins, dodging relentless tabloids, trading insults with Michael's business partner, and somehow becoming the one person who can make the quietest man in the room laugh the loudest. Michael keeps calling her Ms. Fine and she keeps calling him Mr. Jackson. Five years, countless almosts, and one house full of people who see it before they do. Some stories are written in bold but the best ones are hidden in the fine print. This story is based of "The Nanny" - 90s sitcom. VOTE AND COMMENT ( it's free! )

······················•✦•······················ Michael had never liked photoshoots. He hated the way cameras always seemed to turn him into a product rather than a person. But the moment he stepped into the New York studio of a French photographer, something felt different. For the first time in a long while, the lens didn't make him feel like it was invading his privacy. It didn't take long for his attention to drift from the camera to the woman standing behind it. And when the shoot ended and he returned to his hotel room, he kept thinking about her a little too much. (𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙡 𝙅𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙊𝘾)

Dear Professor, Does it bother you that you're ten years older than me? Have you even thought it's wrong that you watched me fuck another person on camera for months? What do you want from me, really? All | wanted was my letter of recommendation, but now l'm stuck, aren't I? Stuck under your thumb... and your body. From cam girl to personal whore, and all by the age of twenty-two. You've got me good, haven't you? But guess what? I can play too. Grab the polish, because I've found your skeleton, and it's time to dust. I'll see you in class. Oh and sir? I'm not wearing any panties. Love, Lauren PS: you're an asshole.