Deb Hanson
02-06-2010, 09:42 AM
New Beginnings
I prayed they would be edible, my culinary skills being known as somewhat suspect. Delectable was asking too much, but then again I was just trying to keep my wits about me, given the circumstances.
I was putting the finishing touches on the hot, cheesy panini’s when Michael offered his help.
“No, I’m fine, but your stomach may not be after eating this,” I said, flashing him a sly smile. “My cooking has been known to send people to the hospital.”
We were standing in the 20’s era country kitchen of my small West Hollywood bungalow, a bright and cheerful room with gingham curtains and French doors that opened onto a happy patio. An East Coast transplant seeking warmer climate and big city living, I had moved here just over a year ago. Little did I know how much this decision would change my life in ways I could only begin to imagine.
I caught a lucky break finding what seemed to be a challenging position advertised on Santa Monica Boulevard while out exploring the neighborhood, and I was luckier still to snag this job that most people would kill for. Being just a few steps from home was frosting on the cake.
I had already met so many big name recording artists at Westlake Studios, I was becoming a pro when it came to working with celebrities. Being asked to do menial tasks I considered beneath me brought them down to my level in a hurry. Conducting doggie runs was not a bullet point I could add to my resume. But it was a minor part of an overall exciting job, and I accepted the fact that working with the glamour crowd meant going the distance to keep them happy.
It was hard to fathom the fascinating lives these people led when work was done for the day. But I’m sure they had their share of problems, just like us regular folk, and probably a few more. Seeing them as people became easy when exposed to their egos up close and in person. Their flamboyant behavior sometimes spilled over into the studio and I had already seen some pretty wild things, things that turned into captivating stories that kept my friends back home entertained. But I tried not to let it get in the way of doing my real job, which was to keep the facility running smoothly.
The studio featured several state-of-the-art recording rooms and a suite of administrative offices. Located in a building one might pass on the street without a second glance, there were no signs posted out front announcing the magic that unfolded daily within its walls. Its hallways were lined with the portraits of the celebrated music industry giants who recorded there, including Michael Jackson’s.
I plated the sandwiches and made my way to the refrigerator to pour frosty orange juice into two tall glasses.
“Thanks for letting me come,” Michael said, and sat at my tiny bistro table, folding his hands in his lap. “I needed a change of scenery…I’m a little exhausted.”
“I’m really happy you’re here,” I smiled, setting the food on the table, “and so glad I can offer a respite. By the way, it’s not every day I have a famous person in my kitchen sharing lunch with me.”
“I see Quincy has been working you like a dog,” I said, and it was so true. Michael was one of the hardest working artists I had encountered so far, and he exhibited consummate dedication to his music. He and his producer Quincy Jones had fallen asleep in the studio on many occasions, after working late into the night. Sometimes they were still wearing the same clothes when I returned the next day, this morning being no exception. I admired that Michael worked hard, and it’s something we had in common.
“Yeah, he’s like that,” Michael grinned. “But he brings out the best in the people who work with him, me included.”
“When will the album be done?” I asked, searching for napkins.
“It’s taking longer than we thought, and Epic is demanding delivery next month. They’re really putting the pressure on, but I’m not willing to compromise on anything less than perfect.”
“From what I’ve heard so far, every song will be a hit.” And I wasn’t exaggerating. Being the official studio photographer sometimes put me in close proximity to Michael, to snap him as he worked. One day, Quincy was completely keyed up and animated over a new song for the album, a piece Michael had written just the night before. There was more than just run-of-the-mill enthusiasm about this project percolating throughout the building. The anticipation over its pending release was palpable, and there was a sense the album would fly off record store shelves at an even faster pace than Michael’s last masterpiece.
I had taken to bringing my photos of Michael home after each batch was developed to have a closer look without being interrupted. Over time, I had accumulated a large stack and found myself examining the images often.
He typically came to the studio dressed casually, wearing t-shirt and jeans, and sometimes he sported stylish Civil War inspired shirts in a rainbow of colors. Some shots revealed the hint of a gold chain peeking out from beneath his neckline. More creative angles caught him looking joyful and completely lost in dance.
He seemed meticulous about the way he looked. Subtle changes in his appearance were hard to pinpoint but definitely there. It could be the way his hair was styled on a particular day, or maybe the selection of curls he chose to pull down onto his forehead from his dark, kinky mass that made the difference. I noticed, too, his eyebrows were thinned in more recent images. But comparing photos side by side, I found the fact that I couldn’t quite put my finger on it intriguing.
His luminous almond-shaped eyes were undoubtedly his most striking feature. Captured in more thoughtful poses, they penetrated my soul and revealed a certain sadness I had yet to understand. They were pleading eyes, seemingly longing for something yet unfulfilled. Full, pink lips were perfect for the pouty attitude he threw off while performing, framing a radiant smile that lit the room when he entered. His coloring was rich brown, skin flawless and smooth. Defined cheekbones and a soft chin accentuated a face like none other I’d seen. His body wasn’t what one considered muscular but pleasing just the same, sinewy and taut, ready-made for dance and ideal for the glittery costumes he wore. An adorable child, Michael had become a stunning man.
We each took a bite of our sandwiches, and I readied my napkin to wipe away potentially embarrassing crumbs left behind on my lips.
Michael looked up from eating. “Debbie, you do fantastic work. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me at the studio.”
“Hey, it’s my job, Michael, and I enjoy doing it,” I replied, hoping that his expression of gratitude was more than just an exchange of pleasantries.
“I told Q and the others they shouldn’t ask you to do all that personal stuff for us.” Q was his nickname for Quincy. Michael’s whole team had given each other affectionate, sometimes silly, names.
“You mean like taking his car to be detailed?” I asked, light sarcasm registering in my voice. I was still smarting over this latest request. It wasn’t so much the doing, but the way it was asked of me that was bothersome.
“Mm-huh,” Michael replied, navigating the gooey, melted cheese. “I don’t want him taking advantage of your good nature…it’s not right. So it’s going to end today, okay?”
“Well, sure, Michael. I wasn’t expecting you to run interference for me, but that would make my life a little easier. I didn’t realize you notice those kinds of things.” But I had noticed him noticing me on more than one occasion, at least I wanted to believe it to be true, but I had quickly brushed it off as wishful thinking.
“I notice everything about people who give their all,” Michael replied.
“I guess it’s hard to believe an important person like you would be concerned about my well being.”
“I can understand that. I felt the same when I met Fred Astaire for the first time. You wouldn’t believe how nervous I was, absolutely shaking. He really inspires me, and he’s just so great!”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Deb,” he said. “Without you, that crazy place would be in shambles.”
And, indeed, it had gotten raucous lately, with lots of outrageous pranks and uproarious laughter. Michael intentionally made his time at the studio fun for everyone there, unlike some of the ******* artists who enjoyed throwing their weight around just because they could. Michael’s flamboyance was of a different, more outlandish, sort. Debauchery was not part of his vocabulary. We had already met his newest friend, a chimpanzee that loved getting into everything like a three-year old child. Just the other day, Michael had introduced us to his ten-foot boa constrictor, and his handling of the beast made an impression on everyone.
“Well, it is a little hard sometimes, Michael. I admit I’m enamored with your talent and stardom. I can’t imagine achieving all that you have, and you’re still so young! Up until now I’ve only known you from watching TV. But seeing you in the flesh…guess what? You’re a real person! Down to earth too. Plus your wicked sense of humor keeps us all entertained.”
“And just as long as you keep your little snake in his cage, I’m okay with all the other stuff!” I laughed. “Seeing him wrapped around your neck really freaked me out.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. You just have to make sure he’s fed first so he doesn’t think you’re dinner,” Michael giggled. “I have Q taking care of him right now.”
“I’m sure he’s absolutely thrilled about that,” I laughed, picturing with some satisfaction Quincy having to babysit the reptile. He had made it known he didn’t like having the creatures around while trying to get work done, but Michael was emphatic that having his animals close by stimulated his creative juices. “Studio A’s been turned into a nursery for all your babies and you’ve put Q in charge…I love it!”
Although he normally spent the entire day in Studio A, Michael was around so often lately he’d become somewhat friendly with all of us who work there. On one occasion he’d given us each a hug on his arrival. He smelled so heavenly I hadn’t washed my shirt that touched his body since. I told myself it was to inhale his unique fragrance, but I knew it was really to relive the encounter over and over.
I tried as hard as I could to keep my emotions in check when we interacted, being the professional I was being paid to be. It was difficult, though, when I saw Michael’s brilliant smile right in front of me. His special aura filled the room and there was inexplicable electricity that permeated the whole place when he was present. Engaging him in person was an exhilarating experience, and I found it hard to concentrate on work, knowing he was just down the hall. I sometimes stayed as late as possible, waiting to catch him walk past one last time on his way out.
After our first introduction, there was only one name my eyes hungrily sought out on the studio calendar. My heart raced when I saw it and knew he would be coming in. I couldn’t wait to see Michael each time he was ushered in through the back door by his burly and ever-present bodyguard. Combing through my closet had become a nightly ritual to come up with something tasteful and sexy without going overboard.
If only he knew how turned on I was just being near him. Then again, what woman wasn’t? His sweet voice had given birth to a million female fantasies, and there just had to be a long line of Hollywood honeys vying to be the one seen on his arm. He was a superstar, after all. Who was I kidding?
The girls in the office amused me to no end as I watched their ridiculously overt attempts to put the moves on Michael, but I found it interesting he didn’t seem to notice. He had women falling all over themselves just to get him to look their way. Even the cleaning lady had begun making every excuse to linger around Studio A, her humongous jugs threatening to pop out of her absurdly low-cut top at any moment. I suppose I couldn’t claim to be all that different than the others, but I did give myself credit for displaying a modicum of grace in the way I conducted myself. I was lucky to be near him at all.
So I was utterly shocked this October day when Michael approached my desk and asked if he could come along to lunch. He said he noticed me leaving several times to walk home and it seemed a peaceful way to spend the hour. I’m sure my blurted response came out completely tongue-tied, but somehow he got the message he’d be welcome to accompany me.
He ordered his junkyard dog to play dead as we left on the short walk to my place, making awkward small talk before reaching my door, where I begged a patient Michael to wait as I quickly tore through the house hiding clutter. I was certain he had spent time in hotel rooms nicer than my bungalow, but he never let on that my home was anything but lovely.
“I don’t want to forget that I brought along some lyrics for you to read,” Michael said. “I need your honest thoughts, no fibbing allowed.” He retrieved a folded piece of paper from his pant pocket and laid it in front of me.
“I thought you were supposed to be taking a break,” I gently chided. “But needless to say, I would love to read your lyrics,” and I felt so honored to do so. That he wished to share one of his special writings made my heart hammer inside my chest, even as I thought it couldn’t thump any faster.
Michael worked on his sandwich while I unfolded the paper and read each handwritten line.
The words of the love song were breathtaking ….more precious than any pearl…a love so complete… and spoke of a woman who had transformed his life. I wondered if he had experienced this kind of love himself to write of it so vividly.
“This is beautiful, Michael, and I’m not just saying that,” as I found myself reflexively lifting the paper and holding it to my heart. “Truly wonderful. Did you write the melody yet?”
“No, it’s not finished. The song will have to go on a future album,” he replied. “So glad you like it, Deb.”
“Oh, I really do and want to hear you sing it when it’s finished. Are these words describing someone you know?” I pushed myself to ask, hoping my self-interest wasn’t apparent. This might be my only chance to find out if Michael was seeing anyone. Surely there must be a special someone inspiring these sentiments.
He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “No…but I want them to be.”
There were so many questions I wanted to ask this man, but now was not the time. I didn’t know him well enough and, as excited as I was to have him here, I was reluctant to pry into his private life.
“I hope you find that special person someday, Michael,” I said, expressing a feeling that came from deep in my heart. Over time, I found myself wanting only his happiness. He’d demonstrated he was a special person and deserved to find what he was looking for in life. I had grown to see he was much more than the sum of his awe-inspiring talent and physical beauty.
“How about you? Do you have someone who makes you happy?” he replied. “I probably should have asked before inviting myself over. I’d never want to cause trouble for you.”
“No, just my cutie there,” pointing to my cat, Sparkles, who was keeping her distance and staring at us from the safety of the hallway. “She’s keeping a low profile because she doesn’t know you, but she’s good company and has a reputation for getting into a lot of trouble around here.”
“I’ve done some looking, but never came up with the right match. Sparkles and I have high standards,” I added, refolding the paper and inching it with my fingers toward him.
He quickly set his sandwich down and stopped my hands with his. Our eyes met in what quickly became a gaze across the small table. “You keep this,” he said. “When the song comes out, read it and remember our lunch today.”
How could he possibly think I’d ever forget this special time with him? Didn’t he realize I would replay this moment in my mind forever?
“Michael, I don’t know what else to say but thank you. I will treasure it,” fighting back welling tears and now feeling like melting butter in his hands.
He squeezed tighter. Leaning toward me now, our faces almost touched.
“I feel so comfortable with you. There’s something about you that’s different, Deb, unlike any woman I’ve come across,” he said, the words spilling out. “I want to know you better when things are finished here, and hear all about your life.”
With that, Michael released his hold and sat back, reaching for his sandwich to take the last bite.
Did my ears just deceive me? Did he say what I think he said? I was completely floored, but at the same time my heart swelled at hearing these words. I want to know you better…. Welling tears became a hot torrent that ran down my cheeks, as my heart exploded with joy.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, a perplexed look on his face. He got up from the table and crouched next to me, taking one of my hands in his. “I want you to be happy about what I said.”
“I’m so sorry, Michael,” I snuffled, my face red and hot. I could barely push the words out. “It does make me very happy. I just so want to know you too.”
I continued to sob, embarrassed I had let my emotions get the better of me in front of him. My desire for him had been building for months, and I couldn’t contain myself any longer after hearing his words.
He smiled up at me with bright eyes. “Deb, let’s agree that we’ll both look forward to seeing each other again soon, okay?
“Okay,” I finally said through my happy tears that wouldn’t seem to stop. “I think I need some Kleenex,” I sniffled.
“Where is it? I’ll get it.”
I let out a heaving sigh. “In the bathroom.”
It was such a relief to let my pent up emotions pour out, but I was also disappointed in my teary outburst. This isn’t how I had fantasized a first meeting between us. Having him here with me and saying the things he did were more than I could handle.
Michael returned and knelt beside me, handing over a wad of tissues.
“Thanks for lunch, Deb. I loved it,” he smiled. “I hadn’t eaten since yesterday.”
“Do you want more?” I replied, looking down at him and trying to pull myself together as I used the tissues to wipe my running nose.
Pausing for a moment, he asked coyly, “Do you mind if I use your shower?”
The question came out of nowhere and I was left flabbergasted. This morning I was Q’s gopher, by lunchtime Michael had brought me to tears and was asking to shower.
“I didn’t go home last night, and I really think I could use one,” he said, rising to his feet.
“My shower is your shower, Michael,” I laughed, recovering from my sob-fest and going with the flow of this surreal request. “Let me see if I can come up with some towels.”
Sparkles padded into the living room to hide, as I made my way down the hall. I saw that my hands were trembling as I reached in to pull clean towels down from the closet shelf. I was unaccustomed to having men in my house, let alone having a celebrity in my shower. This was a first and completely unheard of situation in which I found myself. My friends would never believe I was about to have sexy Michael Jackson steam up my bathroom. I could hardly believe it myself. But he was here with me now, in the flesh, and it was all I could do to keep myself from asking to jump in with him.
I heard Michael trying unsuccessfully to make friends with Sparkles in the next room as I made the bathroom presentable. I was still reeling from his display of tenderness. But I shouldn’t have expected any less, coming from the man who created exquisite love songs that made a woman feel he was singing only to her.
I thought about his characteristic bashfulness and how different he was with me here today. Bashful, yes, but bold. Shy, yet straightforward. Sensitive, yet strong. He was complicated. I don’t think he realized how the dichotomy affected women’s libidos. I couldn’t help but smile that he had come right out and asked me for a shower. I made a mental note to tease him about it when we saw each other again. …when we saw each other again… I liked the way that sounded and it made a smile break out on my face just thinking about it, as I laid out the towels and retrieved a fresh bar of soap.
He approached from behind in the close quarters of the small room. “You don’t know how much this means. I need to get energized to work late again tonight,” he said.
“I don’t want to stir up gossip at the studio, so can we keep this just between us?” he asked.
“Of course, Michael, don’t give it a second thought. I really understand, and it’s nobody’s business. There should be plenty of hot water,” I said, brushing past him and into the hall.
I heard the water start to flow a few moments later. Not knowing what to do with myself, I sat quietly and tried to relax, giving Sparkles’ fur some love as I stared from the next room, knowing Michael was naked behind the door just a few feet away.
I closed the shower door as he pulled me into his embrace, bodies clinging, arms encircling, as hands began to seek and feel … rising steam enveloped us in our own secret love cocoon … mmmm, I heard him murmur, warm spray hitting us and streaming down our bodies … he reached for the bar of soap that fit perfectly in the palm of his large, sensuous hand and slid it over my shoulders and back, and down to my round cheeks … he pulled them in tight as I rose up on my toes to meet his mouth for a hungry, searching kiss that left us both panting … he held my head in his hands and ran his fingers through my wet hair, playfully nibbling my earlobe … my head went back as he softly drew the tip of his forefinger from my chin to my heart, making me hum … he painted swirls on my neck and throat as I quivered from the artistry of his warm, tickling tongue … I turned so he could hold me from behind, as he moved my hair and planted tiny, gentle kisses on the nape of my neck … his hands rubbed my hardened nipples and explored my stomach … lower, too, as I accepted his light, rhythmic touch between my legs … girl, you feel so good, he whispered in my ear, causing the first wave of euphoric pleasure to hit, as he held me tight to absorb my shudder … I felt his hard muscle make itself known against the small of my back, and I turned again to see how our passion excited him … looking into his eyes, I reached down with warm, soapy hands and he gasped for breath with my first touch … eyes closed, lips parted, his face went slack as I worked him … head back, arms opened, he splayed his fingers on the tiles to steady himself, as I took my time in showing how much I love him ... he throbbed in my hand and grew bigger, just as his eyes squeezed tight and a sweet whimper involuntarily escaped from deep inside …
The bathroom door flung open and startled me back into the moment, sending Sparkles flying from my lap. I hadn’t even noticed the water had stopped. A cloud of steam escaped the room as Michael emerged, shirtless, t-shirt and boots in hand, a shiny gold pendant hanging from his neck. His belt hung open from his pant loops, the top button of his jeans undone revealing his cute button. Seeing him approach me in the living room, ruffling his hair with his fingers, I struggled to regain my once more diminishing composure, if there was any left to be found.
“That felt great,” he said. “I’m ready to go again.”
“Mmm-huh, ready to go again…,” I grinned, my dreamy thoughts of him still teasing.
Michael sat across from me, his skin still dewy and damp hair glistening. I watched as he put on one boot, then the other, and sat back.
“After the album’s done, I want you to come to my house and meet the rest of my animals,” he smiled. “I think you’ll like them.”
Glued to the sight of his shirtless body staring back at me, all I could come up with was, “That would be so great, Michael. I would love to see them.”
“I’m in the middle of tearing the whole house down to build a new one for my mom,” he said. “I’ll have my own apartment there and more privacy to work on music. I want you to come see it when it’s done.”
“I can’t wait....” Way past making witty conversation, I was too mentally exhausted to care anymore, knowing he had witnessed the revelation of my true self earlier. All I wanted now was simply to know everything about him.
“I feel brand new and ready to go, thanks to you!” he exclaimed, hopping up with renewed energy. Wrangling with his t-shirt, he was just finished putting his arm through one of the sleeves when something caught his eye on the fireplace mantel.
When I realized what he was reaching for, the blood rushed to my face. After everything that happened here today, I thought I was over being embarrassed, but I was slightly mortified as Michael began to flip through my stack of photos. I had forgotten it was lying out in plain sight. How could I have been so stupid? Or could it be I subconsciously hoped all along I would be discovered?
“Those were just developed and I haven’t had a chance to take them to the studio yet,” I said, stumbling over my words as I grabbed the stack from his hands, obviously caught red-handed.
“Don’t worry, Deb,” Michael laughed reassuringly, tucking his shirt and fastening his belt. “I like looking at you too.”
He gave me his brightest smile as he took my hand and we made our way out the front door.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night.
I prayed they would be edible, my culinary skills being known as somewhat suspect. Delectable was asking too much, but then again I was just trying to keep my wits about me, given the circumstances.
I was putting the finishing touches on the hot, cheesy panini’s when Michael offered his help.
“No, I’m fine, but your stomach may not be after eating this,” I said, flashing him a sly smile. “My cooking has been known to send people to the hospital.”
We were standing in the 20’s era country kitchen of my small West Hollywood bungalow, a bright and cheerful room with gingham curtains and French doors that opened onto a happy patio. An East Coast transplant seeking warmer climate and big city living, I had moved here just over a year ago. Little did I know how much this decision would change my life in ways I could only begin to imagine.
I caught a lucky break finding what seemed to be a challenging position advertised on Santa Monica Boulevard while out exploring the neighborhood, and I was luckier still to snag this job that most people would kill for. Being just a few steps from home was frosting on the cake.
I had already met so many big name recording artists at Westlake Studios, I was becoming a pro when it came to working with celebrities. Being asked to do menial tasks I considered beneath me brought them down to my level in a hurry. Conducting doggie runs was not a bullet point I could add to my resume. But it was a minor part of an overall exciting job, and I accepted the fact that working with the glamour crowd meant going the distance to keep them happy.
It was hard to fathom the fascinating lives these people led when work was done for the day. But I’m sure they had their share of problems, just like us regular folk, and probably a few more. Seeing them as people became easy when exposed to their egos up close and in person. Their flamboyant behavior sometimes spilled over into the studio and I had already seen some pretty wild things, things that turned into captivating stories that kept my friends back home entertained. But I tried not to let it get in the way of doing my real job, which was to keep the facility running smoothly.
The studio featured several state-of-the-art recording rooms and a suite of administrative offices. Located in a building one might pass on the street without a second glance, there were no signs posted out front announcing the magic that unfolded daily within its walls. Its hallways were lined with the portraits of the celebrated music industry giants who recorded there, including Michael Jackson’s.
I plated the sandwiches and made my way to the refrigerator to pour frosty orange juice into two tall glasses.
“Thanks for letting me come,” Michael said, and sat at my tiny bistro table, folding his hands in his lap. “I needed a change of scenery…I’m a little exhausted.”
“I’m really happy you’re here,” I smiled, setting the food on the table, “and so glad I can offer a respite. By the way, it’s not every day I have a famous person in my kitchen sharing lunch with me.”
“I see Quincy has been working you like a dog,” I said, and it was so true. Michael was one of the hardest working artists I had encountered so far, and he exhibited consummate dedication to his music. He and his producer Quincy Jones had fallen asleep in the studio on many occasions, after working late into the night. Sometimes they were still wearing the same clothes when I returned the next day, this morning being no exception. I admired that Michael worked hard, and it’s something we had in common.
“Yeah, he’s like that,” Michael grinned. “But he brings out the best in the people who work with him, me included.”
“When will the album be done?” I asked, searching for napkins.
“It’s taking longer than we thought, and Epic is demanding delivery next month. They’re really putting the pressure on, but I’m not willing to compromise on anything less than perfect.”
“From what I’ve heard so far, every song will be a hit.” And I wasn’t exaggerating. Being the official studio photographer sometimes put me in close proximity to Michael, to snap him as he worked. One day, Quincy was completely keyed up and animated over a new song for the album, a piece Michael had written just the night before. There was more than just run-of-the-mill enthusiasm about this project percolating throughout the building. The anticipation over its pending release was palpable, and there was a sense the album would fly off record store shelves at an even faster pace than Michael’s last masterpiece.
I had taken to bringing my photos of Michael home after each batch was developed to have a closer look without being interrupted. Over time, I had accumulated a large stack and found myself examining the images often.
He typically came to the studio dressed casually, wearing t-shirt and jeans, and sometimes he sported stylish Civil War inspired shirts in a rainbow of colors. Some shots revealed the hint of a gold chain peeking out from beneath his neckline. More creative angles caught him looking joyful and completely lost in dance.
He seemed meticulous about the way he looked. Subtle changes in his appearance were hard to pinpoint but definitely there. It could be the way his hair was styled on a particular day, or maybe the selection of curls he chose to pull down onto his forehead from his dark, kinky mass that made the difference. I noticed, too, his eyebrows were thinned in more recent images. But comparing photos side by side, I found the fact that I couldn’t quite put my finger on it intriguing.
His luminous almond-shaped eyes were undoubtedly his most striking feature. Captured in more thoughtful poses, they penetrated my soul and revealed a certain sadness I had yet to understand. They were pleading eyes, seemingly longing for something yet unfulfilled. Full, pink lips were perfect for the pouty attitude he threw off while performing, framing a radiant smile that lit the room when he entered. His coloring was rich brown, skin flawless and smooth. Defined cheekbones and a soft chin accentuated a face like none other I’d seen. His body wasn’t what one considered muscular but pleasing just the same, sinewy and taut, ready-made for dance and ideal for the glittery costumes he wore. An adorable child, Michael had become a stunning man.
We each took a bite of our sandwiches, and I readied my napkin to wipe away potentially embarrassing crumbs left behind on my lips.
Michael looked up from eating. “Debbie, you do fantastic work. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me at the studio.”
“Hey, it’s my job, Michael, and I enjoy doing it,” I replied, hoping that his expression of gratitude was more than just an exchange of pleasantries.
“I told Q and the others they shouldn’t ask you to do all that personal stuff for us.” Q was his nickname for Quincy. Michael’s whole team had given each other affectionate, sometimes silly, names.
“You mean like taking his car to be detailed?” I asked, light sarcasm registering in my voice. I was still smarting over this latest request. It wasn’t so much the doing, but the way it was asked of me that was bothersome.
“Mm-huh,” Michael replied, navigating the gooey, melted cheese. “I don’t want him taking advantage of your good nature…it’s not right. So it’s going to end today, okay?”
“Well, sure, Michael. I wasn’t expecting you to run interference for me, but that would make my life a little easier. I didn’t realize you notice those kinds of things.” But I had noticed him noticing me on more than one occasion, at least I wanted to believe it to be true, but I had quickly brushed it off as wishful thinking.
“I notice everything about people who give their all,” Michael replied.
“I guess it’s hard to believe an important person like you would be concerned about my well being.”
“I can understand that. I felt the same when I met Fred Astaire for the first time. You wouldn’t believe how nervous I was, absolutely shaking. He really inspires me, and he’s just so great!”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Deb,” he said. “Without you, that crazy place would be in shambles.”
And, indeed, it had gotten raucous lately, with lots of outrageous pranks and uproarious laughter. Michael intentionally made his time at the studio fun for everyone there, unlike some of the ******* artists who enjoyed throwing their weight around just because they could. Michael’s flamboyance was of a different, more outlandish, sort. Debauchery was not part of his vocabulary. We had already met his newest friend, a chimpanzee that loved getting into everything like a three-year old child. Just the other day, Michael had introduced us to his ten-foot boa constrictor, and his handling of the beast made an impression on everyone.
“Well, it is a little hard sometimes, Michael. I admit I’m enamored with your talent and stardom. I can’t imagine achieving all that you have, and you’re still so young! Up until now I’ve only known you from watching TV. But seeing you in the flesh…guess what? You’re a real person! Down to earth too. Plus your wicked sense of humor keeps us all entertained.”
“And just as long as you keep your little snake in his cage, I’m okay with all the other stuff!” I laughed. “Seeing him wrapped around your neck really freaked me out.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. You just have to make sure he’s fed first so he doesn’t think you’re dinner,” Michael giggled. “I have Q taking care of him right now.”
“I’m sure he’s absolutely thrilled about that,” I laughed, picturing with some satisfaction Quincy having to babysit the reptile. He had made it known he didn’t like having the creatures around while trying to get work done, but Michael was emphatic that having his animals close by stimulated his creative juices. “Studio A’s been turned into a nursery for all your babies and you’ve put Q in charge…I love it!”
Although he normally spent the entire day in Studio A, Michael was around so often lately he’d become somewhat friendly with all of us who work there. On one occasion he’d given us each a hug on his arrival. He smelled so heavenly I hadn’t washed my shirt that touched his body since. I told myself it was to inhale his unique fragrance, but I knew it was really to relive the encounter over and over.
I tried as hard as I could to keep my emotions in check when we interacted, being the professional I was being paid to be. It was difficult, though, when I saw Michael’s brilliant smile right in front of me. His special aura filled the room and there was inexplicable electricity that permeated the whole place when he was present. Engaging him in person was an exhilarating experience, and I found it hard to concentrate on work, knowing he was just down the hall. I sometimes stayed as late as possible, waiting to catch him walk past one last time on his way out.
After our first introduction, there was only one name my eyes hungrily sought out on the studio calendar. My heart raced when I saw it and knew he would be coming in. I couldn’t wait to see Michael each time he was ushered in through the back door by his burly and ever-present bodyguard. Combing through my closet had become a nightly ritual to come up with something tasteful and sexy without going overboard.
If only he knew how turned on I was just being near him. Then again, what woman wasn’t? His sweet voice had given birth to a million female fantasies, and there just had to be a long line of Hollywood honeys vying to be the one seen on his arm. He was a superstar, after all. Who was I kidding?
The girls in the office amused me to no end as I watched their ridiculously overt attempts to put the moves on Michael, but I found it interesting he didn’t seem to notice. He had women falling all over themselves just to get him to look their way. Even the cleaning lady had begun making every excuse to linger around Studio A, her humongous jugs threatening to pop out of her absurdly low-cut top at any moment. I suppose I couldn’t claim to be all that different than the others, but I did give myself credit for displaying a modicum of grace in the way I conducted myself. I was lucky to be near him at all.
So I was utterly shocked this October day when Michael approached my desk and asked if he could come along to lunch. He said he noticed me leaving several times to walk home and it seemed a peaceful way to spend the hour. I’m sure my blurted response came out completely tongue-tied, but somehow he got the message he’d be welcome to accompany me.
He ordered his junkyard dog to play dead as we left on the short walk to my place, making awkward small talk before reaching my door, where I begged a patient Michael to wait as I quickly tore through the house hiding clutter. I was certain he had spent time in hotel rooms nicer than my bungalow, but he never let on that my home was anything but lovely.
“I don’t want to forget that I brought along some lyrics for you to read,” Michael said. “I need your honest thoughts, no fibbing allowed.” He retrieved a folded piece of paper from his pant pocket and laid it in front of me.
“I thought you were supposed to be taking a break,” I gently chided. “But needless to say, I would love to read your lyrics,” and I felt so honored to do so. That he wished to share one of his special writings made my heart hammer inside my chest, even as I thought it couldn’t thump any faster.
Michael worked on his sandwich while I unfolded the paper and read each handwritten line.
The words of the love song were breathtaking ….more precious than any pearl…a love so complete… and spoke of a woman who had transformed his life. I wondered if he had experienced this kind of love himself to write of it so vividly.
“This is beautiful, Michael, and I’m not just saying that,” as I found myself reflexively lifting the paper and holding it to my heart. “Truly wonderful. Did you write the melody yet?”
“No, it’s not finished. The song will have to go on a future album,” he replied. “So glad you like it, Deb.”
“Oh, I really do and want to hear you sing it when it’s finished. Are these words describing someone you know?” I pushed myself to ask, hoping my self-interest wasn’t apparent. This might be my only chance to find out if Michael was seeing anyone. Surely there must be a special someone inspiring these sentiments.
He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “No…but I want them to be.”
There were so many questions I wanted to ask this man, but now was not the time. I didn’t know him well enough and, as excited as I was to have him here, I was reluctant to pry into his private life.
“I hope you find that special person someday, Michael,” I said, expressing a feeling that came from deep in my heart. Over time, I found myself wanting only his happiness. He’d demonstrated he was a special person and deserved to find what he was looking for in life. I had grown to see he was much more than the sum of his awe-inspiring talent and physical beauty.
“How about you? Do you have someone who makes you happy?” he replied. “I probably should have asked before inviting myself over. I’d never want to cause trouble for you.”
“No, just my cutie there,” pointing to my cat, Sparkles, who was keeping her distance and staring at us from the safety of the hallway. “She’s keeping a low profile because she doesn’t know you, but she’s good company and has a reputation for getting into a lot of trouble around here.”
“I’ve done some looking, but never came up with the right match. Sparkles and I have high standards,” I added, refolding the paper and inching it with my fingers toward him.
He quickly set his sandwich down and stopped my hands with his. Our eyes met in what quickly became a gaze across the small table. “You keep this,” he said. “When the song comes out, read it and remember our lunch today.”
How could he possibly think I’d ever forget this special time with him? Didn’t he realize I would replay this moment in my mind forever?
“Michael, I don’t know what else to say but thank you. I will treasure it,” fighting back welling tears and now feeling like melting butter in his hands.
He squeezed tighter. Leaning toward me now, our faces almost touched.
“I feel so comfortable with you. There’s something about you that’s different, Deb, unlike any woman I’ve come across,” he said, the words spilling out. “I want to know you better when things are finished here, and hear all about your life.”
With that, Michael released his hold and sat back, reaching for his sandwich to take the last bite.
Did my ears just deceive me? Did he say what I think he said? I was completely floored, but at the same time my heart swelled at hearing these words. I want to know you better…. Welling tears became a hot torrent that ran down my cheeks, as my heart exploded with joy.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, a perplexed look on his face. He got up from the table and crouched next to me, taking one of my hands in his. “I want you to be happy about what I said.”
“I’m so sorry, Michael,” I snuffled, my face red and hot. I could barely push the words out. “It does make me very happy. I just so want to know you too.”
I continued to sob, embarrassed I had let my emotions get the better of me in front of him. My desire for him had been building for months, and I couldn’t contain myself any longer after hearing his words.
He smiled up at me with bright eyes. “Deb, let’s agree that we’ll both look forward to seeing each other again soon, okay?
“Okay,” I finally said through my happy tears that wouldn’t seem to stop. “I think I need some Kleenex,” I sniffled.
“Where is it? I’ll get it.”
I let out a heaving sigh. “In the bathroom.”
It was such a relief to let my pent up emotions pour out, but I was also disappointed in my teary outburst. This isn’t how I had fantasized a first meeting between us. Having him here with me and saying the things he did were more than I could handle.
Michael returned and knelt beside me, handing over a wad of tissues.
“Thanks for lunch, Deb. I loved it,” he smiled. “I hadn’t eaten since yesterday.”
“Do you want more?” I replied, looking down at him and trying to pull myself together as I used the tissues to wipe my running nose.
Pausing for a moment, he asked coyly, “Do you mind if I use your shower?”
The question came out of nowhere and I was left flabbergasted. This morning I was Q’s gopher, by lunchtime Michael had brought me to tears and was asking to shower.
“I didn’t go home last night, and I really think I could use one,” he said, rising to his feet.
“My shower is your shower, Michael,” I laughed, recovering from my sob-fest and going with the flow of this surreal request. “Let me see if I can come up with some towels.”
Sparkles padded into the living room to hide, as I made my way down the hall. I saw that my hands were trembling as I reached in to pull clean towels down from the closet shelf. I was unaccustomed to having men in my house, let alone having a celebrity in my shower. This was a first and completely unheard of situation in which I found myself. My friends would never believe I was about to have sexy Michael Jackson steam up my bathroom. I could hardly believe it myself. But he was here with me now, in the flesh, and it was all I could do to keep myself from asking to jump in with him.
I heard Michael trying unsuccessfully to make friends with Sparkles in the next room as I made the bathroom presentable. I was still reeling from his display of tenderness. But I shouldn’t have expected any less, coming from the man who created exquisite love songs that made a woman feel he was singing only to her.
I thought about his characteristic bashfulness and how different he was with me here today. Bashful, yes, but bold. Shy, yet straightforward. Sensitive, yet strong. He was complicated. I don’t think he realized how the dichotomy affected women’s libidos. I couldn’t help but smile that he had come right out and asked me for a shower. I made a mental note to tease him about it when we saw each other again. …when we saw each other again… I liked the way that sounded and it made a smile break out on my face just thinking about it, as I laid out the towels and retrieved a fresh bar of soap.
He approached from behind in the close quarters of the small room. “You don’t know how much this means. I need to get energized to work late again tonight,” he said.
“I don’t want to stir up gossip at the studio, so can we keep this just between us?” he asked.
“Of course, Michael, don’t give it a second thought. I really understand, and it’s nobody’s business. There should be plenty of hot water,” I said, brushing past him and into the hall.
I heard the water start to flow a few moments later. Not knowing what to do with myself, I sat quietly and tried to relax, giving Sparkles’ fur some love as I stared from the next room, knowing Michael was naked behind the door just a few feet away.
I closed the shower door as he pulled me into his embrace, bodies clinging, arms encircling, as hands began to seek and feel … rising steam enveloped us in our own secret love cocoon … mmmm, I heard him murmur, warm spray hitting us and streaming down our bodies … he reached for the bar of soap that fit perfectly in the palm of his large, sensuous hand and slid it over my shoulders and back, and down to my round cheeks … he pulled them in tight as I rose up on my toes to meet his mouth for a hungry, searching kiss that left us both panting … he held my head in his hands and ran his fingers through my wet hair, playfully nibbling my earlobe … my head went back as he softly drew the tip of his forefinger from my chin to my heart, making me hum … he painted swirls on my neck and throat as I quivered from the artistry of his warm, tickling tongue … I turned so he could hold me from behind, as he moved my hair and planted tiny, gentle kisses on the nape of my neck … his hands rubbed my hardened nipples and explored my stomach … lower, too, as I accepted his light, rhythmic touch between my legs … girl, you feel so good, he whispered in my ear, causing the first wave of euphoric pleasure to hit, as he held me tight to absorb my shudder … I felt his hard muscle make itself known against the small of my back, and I turned again to see how our passion excited him … looking into his eyes, I reached down with warm, soapy hands and he gasped for breath with my first touch … eyes closed, lips parted, his face went slack as I worked him … head back, arms opened, he splayed his fingers on the tiles to steady himself, as I took my time in showing how much I love him ... he throbbed in my hand and grew bigger, just as his eyes squeezed tight and a sweet whimper involuntarily escaped from deep inside …
The bathroom door flung open and startled me back into the moment, sending Sparkles flying from my lap. I hadn’t even noticed the water had stopped. A cloud of steam escaped the room as Michael emerged, shirtless, t-shirt and boots in hand, a shiny gold pendant hanging from his neck. His belt hung open from his pant loops, the top button of his jeans undone revealing his cute button. Seeing him approach me in the living room, ruffling his hair with his fingers, I struggled to regain my once more diminishing composure, if there was any left to be found.
“That felt great,” he said. “I’m ready to go again.”
“Mmm-huh, ready to go again…,” I grinned, my dreamy thoughts of him still teasing.
Michael sat across from me, his skin still dewy and damp hair glistening. I watched as he put on one boot, then the other, and sat back.
“After the album’s done, I want you to come to my house and meet the rest of my animals,” he smiled. “I think you’ll like them.”
Glued to the sight of his shirtless body staring back at me, all I could come up with was, “That would be so great, Michael. I would love to see them.”
“I’m in the middle of tearing the whole house down to build a new one for my mom,” he said. “I’ll have my own apartment there and more privacy to work on music. I want you to come see it when it’s done.”
“I can’t wait....” Way past making witty conversation, I was too mentally exhausted to care anymore, knowing he had witnessed the revelation of my true self earlier. All I wanted now was simply to know everything about him.
“I feel brand new and ready to go, thanks to you!” he exclaimed, hopping up with renewed energy. Wrangling with his t-shirt, he was just finished putting his arm through one of the sleeves when something caught his eye on the fireplace mantel.
When I realized what he was reaching for, the blood rushed to my face. After everything that happened here today, I thought I was over being embarrassed, but I was slightly mortified as Michael began to flip through my stack of photos. I had forgotten it was lying out in plain sight. How could I have been so stupid? Or could it be I subconsciously hoped all along I would be discovered?
“Those were just developed and I haven’t had a chance to take them to the studio yet,” I said, stumbling over my words as I grabbed the stack from his hands, obviously caught red-handed.
“Don’t worry, Deb,” Michael laughed reassuringly, tucking his shirt and fastening his belt. “I like looking at you too.”
He gave me his brightest smile as he took my hand and we made our way out the front door.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night.