| Behind Closed Doors Chapter VI |
| She opened the door as quietly as she could, and slipped upstairs to her bedroom. Of course, Danny was still out like a light. She changed out of Michaels T-shirt and into one of her own nightdresses. She was just about to put the discarded T shirt in the laundry basket, when it occured to her that Danny might find it and start asking questions, although what Danny might be doing in the laundry basket was something she couldn�t quite fathom. She stood for a moment, wandering what to do with it. Finally, she decided to put it in the large wicker basket, anyway. The old housekeeper would surely just return it to Michael�s wardrobe without asking questions. She buried it right at the bottom, just to be sure, and climbed into bed next to her boyfriend. She lay rigid on her back, waiting for him to regain consciousness. ** Michael lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, not wanting to think. If he thought, he would have to deal with the mass of unanswerable questions threatening to break loose and start tormenting him at any moment. Had he pushed it too far? Not far enough? Had she needed to feel more wanted? Had he been too clingy? Had he frightened her? Done something, possibly in his sleep, to chase her away? What was he supposed to do now? Michael closed his eyes and groaned. This was all way to much for him to cope with this early in the morning. Okay, so maybe it wasn�t that early, but he was sure as hell tired enough for it to be. He sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, knowing he would never get back to sleep now. He dressed quickly, and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. It was Saturday, and, per his request, nobody would enter the house to clean before three, if that early. He looked around. Now, what to have for breakfast? As he contemplated this all important decision, it occured to him that he might like some company. You�re pathetic, you know that? He nodded to himself. He knew, but that certainly wasn�t going to stop him. ** She groaned as he bit her, but managed to make it sound like a moan of pleasure. She was good at that. She closed her eyes, and tried to think of something else, something comforting, like the scent that had enveloped her last night, or the arms that had held her, but it was no use. Just when she felt she was going to scream, the phone rang. She moved away from Danny, glad of the excuse, and picked it up. ** �Hey� �Good morning, Sir� Came the frosty reply. Michael was just about to let himself get hurt and offended, when it occured to him that she probably wasn�t alone. He composed himself. �You wanna join me for breakfast? If you�re busy, just hang up now. I�ll understand� ** She looked at Danny, who was looking at her cleavage with undisguised desire. �I�ll cook you an omelette?� The voice on the other end of the phone sounded very inviting. �Just tell him your childish boss will fire you if he doesn�t get his way� She looked over at Danny again before answering. ** �I�ll be right over� Then she hung up. Michael was just about to jump up and down for a few minutes, when it occured to him that he might not have any eggs. Oh Dear Idiot He rushed to the fridge, silently praying to whatever was listening, and tore it open. It was surprisingly full for one person. Mostly stuff ready made by Mrs. Jones that he could just throw in the oven. Truly, that woman was a godsend. When she had arrived, she had discovered that her boss didn�t like not being able to eat when he wanted to, but, on the other hand, he didn�t like the idea of people hanging around waiting for him to want to, so she had come up with this solution that suited everyone. Unfortunately, it did mean that he hardly ever cooked, and thus didn�t have a clue what was in the back of the fridge. He dug through the mounds of food, and, just as he thought all hope was lost, he spied an egg-carton. He reached in and grabbed it, as though it might vanish if he didn�t hold on to it. Yay! He found a frying pan and switched on the stove. ** When she was finally dressed, she kissed her somewhat pissed off boyfriend on the cheek, and promised him she wouldn�t be long. Then she made her way outside and started off across the courtyard that lay between her little cottage and the main house. It was surprisingly warm. The snow had melted, leaving the ground rather muddy, and the sun was shining. All in all it was a beautiful day. She reached the front door. For a moment, she considered ringing the doorbell, but thought better of it, and wandered in unaccompanied. Once inside, she removed her shoes, reasoning that she wouldn�t like to get his carpeting all muddy, and proceeded on white stocking-clad feet. The thick carpet felt slightly springy underneath her as she wandered through the maze of corridors, a not all together unpleasant sensation. A bit like walking on air, she mused. When she finally reached the kitchen, which was right at the other end of the house, overlooking the back-garden, and therefore quite a walk, she stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him work. Objectively, he was really a very nice-looking man, she thought, as she watched him in his black jeans, forest-green turtle-neck and curly ponytail. Very nice. ** When he heard her in the doorway, he turned immediately. She looked so beautiful, in her knee length flowery dress with a plunging neckline, which, set in the paisley material, didn�t seem sexual at all. Some of her hair was gathered in a ponytail with hung on top of the rest of her dusty-blond mane. She offered him a nervous smile, not really knowing what was expected of her. It was of great relief to her when he finally spoke. �Why don�t you sit down, and I�ll be right with you� He gestured to one of the chairs at the table laid for two. She smiled again, appreciatively this time, and wandered on into the bright, airy room, sitting down at the large oak table when she reached it. Soon after, he sat down opposite her, placing her plate in front of her as he did so. Now, Michael wasn�t much of a cook, but the two things he could cook, eggs, and pasta with a seemingly never-ending variety of sauces, he could cook better than anyone he knew. He looked at her expectantly, and she looked back, as though waiting for some sort of hidden signal that it was okay to begin. �Well, dig in, then� She did, and he followed her example. They ate in uncomfortable silence for a while, neither really knowing what to say. ** �You�re a wonderful cook, you know� �Thanks, but I�m not, really. The only things I know how to cook are eggs and pasta. Thanks, though, I�m glad you�re enjoying it� He smiled at her, and she smiled back. Feeling that the ice had been broken, Michael pushed the conversation. �So, tell me about yourself� �Nothing to tell, really� �Well, just give me a summary� �Um, okay. I was born in a middle-class family here in LA, got good marks in school, was pretty much ignored by the other kids. That was how I met Danny, actually� she said, staring off thoughtfully into space. �He asked me to a high school dance when I was 15. He was the only person who had ever shown any interest in me, so I went. I�ve been with him ever since� She trailed off, not meeting Michaels gaze. Michael felt like a cold, blunt object had just been shoved forcefully into his gut. 23 years! He started to wonder when the abuse had started, and the object turned. �Oh� He swallowed hard, and gestured for her to continue. �I went to med-school, and then got a job at a small practise. I worked there til it closed, then I came here� They had both long since finished, and she got up to clear the table. �That�s okay, just leave it� �Okay, well, unless you need me for anything else, I really should be going� Her phrasing jolted him. He had been hoping that she had enjoyed being with him. No such luck, apparently. �Sure, I�ll see you out� They got up, and she walked off ahead of him. He trailed behind, wanting to make conversation, but not knowing what to say. As they walked, her in front and him behind, he had the peculiar sensation of not being able to catch her, even though he knew perfectly well that he only needed to reach out to touch her. When she reached the door, she turned to him, hesitant. �Thank you� �For what?� �For letting me sleep here yesterday, for cooking breakfast� She looked away. �For putting up with me. . . . I won�t bother you any more, I promise� �You know� He reached out to touch her shoulder. �You can always come over here, whenever you want. We could watch a video, or talk, or just sit quietly, or I can leave you alone, just, whatever you want. . . . � Her eyes visibly lit up as she looked up a him. If he would make her feel good for a couple more nights, she would be more than willing to hand over whatever he wanted in return. �That would be nice, thank you� She smiled at him, and he returned her smile. She reached up, took his hand off her shoulder, and left. ** Over the next two or three months, she spent roughly 5 nights in 7 in Neverland mansion. At first she was wary, but, with the help of a little coaxing, Michael eventually got her to settle down. Sometimes she would be upset, but most of the time she would just want to forget, and they would curl up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and watch a video. They became quite close like that. |
| In between this chapter and the next chapter I might add some more scenes of home life for the two of them. However, these will not be relevant to anything really, they will just be there to illustrate more thoroughly how they interact with each other. They have not been written yet, and might never be, this is just a warning. BTW; I am fully aware that this chapter sucks as far as writing is concerned. It might be rewritten in time. I promise that the next chapters read much more fluently. Thanks for reading:) |