| Behind Closed Doors: Chapter III |
| Okay, so it�s abit heavy so far, but I promise, that will change fairly soon. Promise! "So, are you happy with a blow job, or do you wanna fuck me?" Had she thrown a bucket of freezing water in his face, she would have achieved much the same effect. Of all the things he had expected to hear, that definitely was not one of them. He looked at her, stunned. �Huh?!� �You heard me� Her voice could have frozen over hell, and she stuck her chin out defiantly as she spoke. �I have to be honest and tell you that I really don�t have a clue what you�re talking about� **** He sounded legitimate enough. Maybe he should have been an actor �Oh come on, drop the act why don�t you. You�re wasting both our time. You know exactly what I mean. Don�t tell me you don�t want something in return� **** He stared at her, totally baffled. He was amazed at how she just seemed to naturally assume that he wanted something just for being there for her, but even more so at how cool she was about the whole thing. How almost professional. It chilled him to the bone, and he pushed it aside. Or tried to. He looked at her again, and realized just how much he wanted her to open up to him. To let him see that soft, vulnerable side again. To let him in. And when Michael Jackson wanted something, Michael Jackson did whatever he had to to get it. Except this time, he wasn�t quite sure exactly what he wanted, or how to get it. This wasn�t a boardroom negotiation, and he didn�t simply want another month to finish an album, or another 50 grand to make a video. He wanted someone to love him. Or, failing that, at least like him. And how did one do that? Well, one could try to befriend them. Everyone had to start somewhere. Admittedly, this wasn�t a very good somewhere, but that couldn�t really be helped. . . With this in mind, Michael spoke up, somewhat timidly: �Well, I was hoping to get a friend out of it. . .� He offered her a shy, hopeful smile. **** What?! She looked at him in disbelief. Why is he dragging this out?! She looked down, not quite sure how to react, and then back up at him. He opened his arms slightly, as though wanting to offer a hug, but not quite sure how to go about it. After giving it a moments thought, she decided that, even though she had no idea what he was doing, it was better to play along, because, even if he was a wimp, he was still much stronger than her. She moved closer to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and put her chin on his shoulder, but try as she might, she couldn�t conceal the discomfort she felt as she stood there. Actually, it wasn�t really discomfort. She was quite cozy standing there, or would have been if she just let herself go a little. It was more a sense of apprehension that filled her, and made her resist the pressure of his arms as he beckoned her closer. **** He felt a mixture of surprise and delight when she made a move to cuddle up to him, but that feeling was soon replaced by a feeling of pure horror. She remained stiff and unyielding in his embrace, seemed indeed to be disgusted and horrified by the whole thing, and in that terrible moment, Michael realized something. He did it Her boyfriend, the one he had seen come and go so many times, he had done this to her. Made her afraid of men. Of him. It had been nagging him since last night, the question of who exactly had done it, gnawing away like a gnat in the back of his mind, and now he had the answer. It was so obvious! That son of a bitch did it, didn�t he? That�s why she hadn�t run to him, but chosen a guy she could barely stand the sight of to go to. And it wasn�t the first time either, was it? Of course not, if it was, she wouldn�t be acting like this now, like this was something she did on a regular basis. He had read about cases like hers. Cases of abuse. He cringed inwardly at the word. He looked at her, and thought about how she had been last night, and just couldn�t believe how anyone could ever knowingly hurt her. According to the books he had read, one rainy day on tour, she displayed the symptoms of abuse over a long period of time, years most likely. She was a proud woman, in her way, or maybe she just didn�t want to burden anyone else with her problems. When he considered it, the latter was probably more likely. Either way, she had probably never told anyone about it, which meant that he was probably the only one who had ever held her and let her cry. Well, Michael thought, he might not be able to make it stop, much as he wanted to, but he could certainly make sure she always had someone to go to afterwards. He tightened his arms around her as much as her rigidness would allow, and resolved to stay there until she accepted him. When Michael thought about it later, he decided that that probably hadn�t been the best way to go about befriending her, and could very well have contributed to what would happen later on, but at the time he had had this overwhelming desire to protect her, and comfort her, and throttle anyone who so much as looked at her wrong. She stared at the wall behind them and decided that, although he might be a crude perverted coward, as all men inevitably turned out to be, who would eventually force her to perform some despicable sexual act with him, right now it would be wonderful to just forget all about what was to come, and let him hold her. She relaxed a little against him, and took her chin off his shoulder, instead putting her forehead on his chest so that she could breathe him in. She sighed, before closing her eyes and leaning heavily on him, allowing him to be her only support, the only thing that stopped her from falling. |