Chapter 7
So that evening, Michael called Bill Bray and asked him to make preparations for the hotel’s night club to get closed for him and his entourage and then to let know all the crew that tonight there will be a party; and what a party it was; wine, champagne, whisky, cocktails and shots; loud music, cigars, even pot and of course, a lot of dance.
“Come on man, come on, dance with us Mike, it’s your favorite song,” LaVelle Smith, one of Michael’s most trusted dancers and choreograph but also a good friend yelled from across the room as the first beats of Billie Jean started to blast through the speakers.
Michael laughed hidden behind his dark shades but he didn’t move from the coziness of the leather couch where he sat down some time ago. He motioned for the dancers to go on without him and he just continued sipping from his whisky.
“Come on; please dance with us MJ, what’s a party without you dancing? And you didn’t move a muscle all night,” LaVelle insisted coming next to Michael and the other dancers circled him clapping and chanting, “MJ! MJ! MJ!”
“Oh damn,” Michael smirked and putting aside his glass he stood up and made way to the middle of the room, “This is the reason why I don’t go to clubs, people always put my music on and make me dance,” he laughed and if it wasn’t for the many glasses of whisky and champagne that he gulped down that laugh would’ve been a very sad one because Michael always hated how people treated him like a circus attraction, the freak that can dance, the 40 year old midget as newspapers started to call him ever since they signed with Motown.
“Smile Michael, wear this Michael, say that Michael, walk like this Michael, lie about your age Michael, sing Michael, show us the Moonwalk Michael; through here sir, is better for you this way sir, sign here sir, do this, do that…” It was always a never-ending list of things to do for him and of people manipulating him and treating him like a puppet; a horde of puppeteers pulling the strings of his life and deciding what was best for him like he was a brainless imbecile that only knew how to dance.
But that night Michael had one too many drinks and he smoked a few cigarettes that made him dizzy and he had a big plan for later in the night, a plan that made him excited like a boy in his first day at school and above all that, Billie Jean was indeed his favorite tune to dance on, so all of a sudden the idea of being the circus freak that entertains others didn’t seem so bothering anymore, on contrary; somehow that night Michael felt some sort of weird arousal when he unleashed himself on the music like he never did before, not even on stage; forgetting about anything and anyone that was with him in that room. He let the bass and the drums and the violins run through him, he emptied his mind and his soul and where just a few hours ago was pain and anger and doubt and fear; where it was love and yearning, thoughts and projects; where it was magic and madness as he often liked to think of himself, now there was only sound, rhythm, moves and music. And these were the things that excited and incited Michael most in the world.
“God dam’ man! This is what watching the masters at work means,” Michael came back from his trip to loud claps and curses of appreciation, if that even exists.
“You’re fucking awesome man, fantastic, just fucking fantastic,” LaVelle backed up his colleagues.
“Fuck man, you should try and get some drinks before going on stage too because you were a bomb, a fucking bomb man, hear me out,” Rich, a young enthusiastic dancer practically jumped on Michael and kissed his both cheeks after hugging him tight.
“Okay guys, thank you, thanks, calm down now,” Michael blushed still hidden behind his Aviators and grabbing a bottle of whisky from the bar he walked back to his corner.
“You were fucking,” a soft voice purred in his ear just as Michael was about to crash on the couch.
“Huh?” he turned around intrigued just to find Stacy grinning her pearl white teeth at him.
Stacy Walker the new dancer that replaced a girl who broke her ankle during the pause between the first and the second leg of the tour was young, beautiful and very very cheeky. Since her first day on the job she made a point in showing off her sexy body and not hiding her craving for her boss.
“I have a sweet tooth and he is such a candy,” she laughed and said loudly after the first rehearsal with Michael, making the crew cheer and Michael blush madly and run to his cabin pretending he didn’t hear a thing.
Since that day she kept on making that kind of remarks and Michael kept on ignoring her, not because he didn’t like her but just because he couldn’t afford one night stands, especially with his staff members. But that night there was something different about Michael and Stacy was quick in noticing that.
“I said you are fucking,” she smirked and sat down on the couch crossing her long and bare legs.
“Elaborate please,” Michael laughed and sat closely next to her putting a hand on her knee; the adrenaline of his early dance and the alcohol intoxication making him bold and a bit sassy.
“Fucking awesome, fucking fantastic, fucking bomb the boys said but I’d say you’re just fucking,” she bit her lips and then coming even closer to Michael she continued, “Or better said fuck-able.”
Michael took off his shades and measured her from head to toe and then back staring her straight into the eyes, “You’re very naughty Stacy,” he purred and then he returned to his bottle and glass.
“Aren’t you going to offer me a glass too?” the girl licked her lips and let her hand slip accidentally between Michael’s legs.
“Oh sorry, of course I will,” Michael smiled and reached out for another glass to pour the girl some whisky, “How do you like it?” he asked and winced as Stacy’s hand moved slower up his thigh.
“In your room,” she whispered and winked when Michael turned his head in a move and looked at her; his eyes showing the contradiction in him.
This was wrong, she was his dancer, the rest of the staff would probably find out; it would be such a mess he knew but in the meanwhile this woman was beautiful and so sexy, she wanted him and that made him feel powerful and strong; the strange arousal from earlier wouldn’t leave him; her hand on his thigh felt so good and the alcohol made his mind blurry and his body hot. He felt a fire burning him inside and his flesh was burning too; for the first time in weeks he was not cold anymore and that excited him even more.
He gulped down another full glass of whisky in one quick shot and then another and as the liquor burned down his throat a thick veil laid on his brain and all he could think of was how to get that girl quicker up to his room.
“Fine, let’s go,” he growled and grabbing another bottle of whisky he lead the way to the elevator.
It was a long night for Michael and Stacy and it started from the elevator. The mirrors in the small cabin giving Stacy all kind of ideas and the long trip to the top floor gave her time to put some of those ideas in practice.
She bent down and unzipped Michael’s jeans with a quick and smooth gesture.
“You’re good at this,” Michael grinned watching her body curving so nicely in the mirrors of the elevator.
“I’m good at many things sugar,” she whispered and then curled her lips around his long and already hard shaft. Her lips were cold but her tongue was hot and the girl didn’t lie when saying that she was good at many things because the way she played with her mouth and her hand made Michael go crazy.
“Damn girl, take it easy,” he swore and then he took a quick sip of whisky right out of the bottle.
“I was so right sugar, you are so sweet, I can’t stop,” the girl hissed and took all of him down her throat, making Michael tremble and squirm, feeling his orgasm just a few more licks away.
“Stop girl, just stop,” he growled pulling at her long blond hair but she was determined to make him finish; she wanted to taste him and she knew he needed the liberation too so she never stopped sucking him hard and fast making him moan and whimper like a baby.
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum girl, damn,” he sighed and dug his nails deep in her shoulders.
“Yeah baby, do it; I wanna taste you sugar; I’ve been waiting for this so long,” she smirked and her words made Michael explode in her mouth, bolts of electricity running through his body over and over again.
“Mhmmm, this was even better than I imagined it to be,” Stacy licked her lips and swallowed all his juices just as the elevator reached his floor.
“I’m not done with you girl,” Michael purred, his voice thick and gruff, betraying the craving and the lust.
“I hoped for that,” she laughed loudly, her voice echoing around the long corridor. Thanks God that everyone was still down at the party, including the guards that were always watching his suite.
“It’s my turn now,” Michael whispered and shutting the door with his foot he pushed the girl on the closest couch and bent down between her open legs.
“I see you came prepared for the party,” Michael smirked seeing that Stacy was not wearing any underwear.
“Just lick me Michael,” the woman pled and he couldn’t help but indulge her.
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