8 - pain before pleasure

As I predicted, Michael refused to leave my house. He's like a stray cat sometimes. Once you show him a little love and affection he won't leave your side. I remember when he called me over to his apartment for one night and begged me to stay. Then the next night, he pleaded me to stay again. Then the third, then the fourth, then the fifth, then the entire week. I told him I had to go, that I needed clothes, and he had a delivery for everything in my size. Then I said I had to go, my mother is coming in town and he broke down in tears, holding onto my leg and asking for just one more hour. I looked down at him, bewildered and almost in pity. The most famous man on Earth is literally terrified of being alone. I didn't get it at all, it flustered me, but nowadays I completely understand him.

The house was tranquil and I assumed Michael was still asleep. I watched the fire ignite before I placed the skillet on it. I have such an excellent culinary set but the truth is I never cook. I rely on paying extra on delivery and have restaurants come to my doorstep. But I can make simple things.

Just Add Water!

Simple enough.

I put on my glasses, read the box's instructions, and put some vegetable oil in the pan. I proceeded to make the batter, combining the powder and water together watching the two forms combine into one, and poured it carefully into the large skillet beginning my first pancake.

Observing, I noticed it was a little on the dry side. Maybe I didn't add enough water?

I poured some water in and the skillet erupted in flames. I shrieked at the top of my lungs, and jolted back, feeling the heat on my face. Even after turning the burner off, the fire was still burning high. I proceeded to scream like a madwoman, which is always my last resort when I simply do not know what to do.

"What in the world?!" Michael ran from behind me in a white tank top and black fitted boxer briefs.

"I just put water in the pan and-"

"Water in the pan?!" Michael yelled, his breath smelling like fresh mint toothpaste. He looked around and spotted one of my dish towels hanging on the hook. He grabbed one and soaked it with water, then threw it over the flaming skillet.

I clutched my robe and exhaled as the fire smothered into nothing but smoke. "Jesus."

"You never combine hot oil with water, Gia, haven't you taken one science class?!"

Now I was starting to feel stupid. "I'm sorry.. the batch looked too dry."

"You're sorry? This isn't my house about to be burned to ashes." He picked up the pancake box and read the instructions for himself. "It literally says just add water. How can you mess that up?"

"I did that!"

"You can't add it while it's in the skillet already! For the sake of our safety and lives, next time I'm making breakfast. I'll do it." He shoved me out of the way.

"I can do it!" I protested, reaching for the box.

He held it out of my reach, too tall for me to grab. "No. Just sit down and wait."

I relunctantly obeyed. "Dick," I mumbled under my breath.

"What was that?" he asked over his shoulder as he took out a new skillet and prepared a new batch of batter.

"Nothing, honey-pie."

"Whatever you say, angelface."

"Hurry up, sugarbear."

"My apologies, I just prevented a fire from killing us all, but I'll try my best babycakes."

I smirked and turned on the morning news as I waited for him to join me. Finally having him here with me and his marriage in shambles, were we not lonely anymore? Wasn't this what I had wanted for the past year? Or was it only us sharing eachother's loneliness? I couldn't help but ponder as I studied him from across the dining room table.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked me, drizziling maple syrup over his pancakes.

"I'll do it."

He waited to chew his food thorougly before asking. "You'll do what?"

"I'll have the baby."

Michael's eyes flashed at me, trying to process what I just said as I walked in the kitchen and grapped a plastic cup. "You're serious?"

This has been running through my thoughts forever. I'm ready, the time is now, and I know who I want it with. If it wasn't with Michael, it wasn't with anyone and it was something I had to admit to myself. I put the cup in his hand. "Jerk off in this."

His face of shock turned into confusion.

"Go in the room, fantasize about your wildest dreams, and do it before I change my mind. We're doing this off the books. I dont need a doctor to shoot some nut up in me." I know doctors can't share medical information, but who knows nowadays.

"May I have some help? Voulez-vous venir avec moi?" he said, smirking, as if asking me in French is going to make me fall to my knees or something. He noticed my unamusement. "Just the tip?!"

"Five.. four.. thr-"

"Alright, alright!" He took the cup and skipped to the bedroom.

------

"Here," he handed the cup back to me and turned around to sit on my counter. "You know what I was thinking about while I was stroking my way to victory?" he looked at me, biting his lip.

"What?" I already knew this was about to be something ridiculous.

"I never knew how much of a freak Lisa is."

"Comedy," I muttered, looking into my drawer.

"It's as if she's determined to suck the skin off.. and rubs herself like mad while she does it. God, I love it."

I grimaced, not even wanting to picture that in my head. I couldn't imagine what Lisa's moan sounds like with that man voice of hers. Maybe something similar to a dying walrus compared to the falsettos Michael can hit when he climaxes. The two are just hilarious. "I really didn't need the visual."

"Balls too."

"Michael!" I barked, trying to get him to stop talking about it. 

"What are you doing?" he inquired, pointing his finger at the turkey baster. He watched his seed rise inside of the large dropper. "That's so repulsive."

I chuckled. "So your own semen is repulsive but you are upset whenever women tell you they don't swallow?" It was almost a deal breaker for him and sex. It drove him wild. "I read about this in one of my urban hood eroticas," I informed proudly.

"Hood eroticas," he mocked.

"It worked for her, it's going to work for me," I carried the cum-filled turkey baster in the bathroom and closed the door. I slid my panties down a little and heard his voice on the other side. 

"But she's a little too freaky for me."

"Why?" I questioned, gliding the dropper inside of me, feeling the plastic rub against my walls. I wasn't wet at all and it was very uncomfortable.

"She offered me a rimjob, Frecks."

"Oh god," I groaned, feeling the now cold fluid shoot into me. "Disgusting."

"I know right. Unbelievable."

"I was talking to myself." I pulled the dropper out and grimaced looking at it, not quite sure what to do with it now. "Wait, what's a rimjob?"

Michael laughed. "I don't want to say it."

"I thought a rimjob was a blowjob," I said as I opened the door and took a quick glance at his buldging dickprint. Blessed. I roamed towards the dishwasher and ran the turkey baster over the sink, pumping soap into the tip. I definitely wasn't doing to use this for food again but I decided I should keep it in case I'm not pregnant this time around.

He followed me, shaking his head. "Two compeletly different things."

I paused. "You mean like butt eating? Eating ass?"

"Yes."

I learn something new everyday. "So she wanted you to eat her ass?"

"She wanted to eat my ass."

I didn't even laugh. I howled.  "Wait a minute! Lisa Marie eats ass?!"

"She was in the mood and all, said she wanted to try something different," he explained. "I don't know what I was expecting, but that wasn't it. I'm willing to explore kinks and push the limit, but that was a limit I didn't even know existed."

"Yeah, but did you let her though?"

He looked at the floor and pursed his lips. "I plead the fifth."

"MICHAEL! Oh my god!" I literally dropped to the floor, water still running, and gripped my stomach. The tears were streaming down my face. That's was it. I have heard it all. I am satisfied with my life now and I'm ready for God to take me home.

"It was a one time thing!" he defended, looking down at my shaking body. "I didn't want to say no. That's embarrassing, for her."

"The visual!" I cackled.

His facial expression was priceless. "Very funny. As soon as she was five seconds into it I stopped her anyway. I couldn't do it. I cried myself to sleep."

I tried to catch my breath as I stood back up. "What's next? Anal beads?"

"Hell no. I would feel completely emasculated at that point."

"You have made my year and it just started. Whenever I'm feeling down I'm just going to imagine her spreading your little asscheeks-"

"Gia," he said, moving his hair out of his face and absolutely not here for my jokes.

"Wait a minute. You don't have any STD's do you?"

"No, Giovanna."

"Okay Michael," I replied, stressing his name. I secretly hated when he called me that when he was annoyed or dismissing me. He swung his arm over my shoulder, pulling me in to give me smooches on my cheek. I reached behind him, grabbing his tiny butt.

"Stop!"

----

"Gia?"

"Hm."

"Wake up."

"Yes, Michael," I mumbled, still very asleep.

There was a pause. "I love you."

"I love you too," I mumble again. "So much."

"Have my children."

"Okay."

"Marry me."

"I'll marry you, Michael."

"Kiss me?"

I did a slight smile. "Mhm."

I felt the pair of lips come into mine as I fluttered open my eyes and noticed someone a lot darker than Michael. "ALISHA!" I screamed, pushing her off of me.

She was dying of laughter. "Good morning to you too!"

"I am going to fucking... urgh! Not funny!" I yelled as I rubbed my eyes.

"I'll marry you, Michael," she imitated in my sleepy voice.

"You are a sick individual. Sick. That's it. I'm changing my locks." No one is going to have a set of my keys now. I was tired of people just popping up and scaring the soul out of me.. or impersonating someone else while I'm half concious.

"Sleep talking is the same as drunk talking, you know. Both brutally honest," she commented, walking towards my curtains and opened them up wide. I glanced out of my large window, not sure if it was late at night or early in the morning. "Get up, sleepyhead."

"What are you doing in my house?!" It was entirely too early for this shit.

"Did you forget we are going to Chicago today? It's already 4:30 and you have to be in the plane in an hour."

I suddenly remembered about my taping for Oprah. It had completely slipped my mind. "Oh god." I threw the covers off of me but Alisha beat me to the bathroom.

"Hold on, I really have to pee."

I leaned on the wall and closed my eyes, trying to get some more sleep for the one minute I had left to spare. I stayed up way too late the night before.

"Bitch, are these pregnancy tests?!" she shrieked as she washed her hands.

I yawned on the back of my wrist. "Yes."

She opened the door, eyes buldging out of her head. "You're pregnant?! You fucked him?"

"No, I didn't have sex with him. Sorry to burst your bubble."

Her smile fell into dissappointment.

"It was an at-home insemination if you know what I mean. And I'm not pregnant because I got my period like two weeks ago. And what is with your fantasies of us fucking?!"

"For my birthday, please make me a sextape for me. The thought of it really gets me off," she said, more or less serious. More serious than less.

I chortled. "Get out of my way," I pushed her off, closed the bathroom door, and started to undress for my shower. Alisha has a few missing nuts and screws but she makes my day. She was always inappropriate. 

"You had your period two weeks ago? That means you're ovulating. You have to do it again, today. Or tomorrow. Where is he?"

"No idea. But his marriage is open now. He told Lisa about his feelings about me."

"That's what I'm talking about!"

"No, I feel bad." I put my fingers under the water and waited for it to get hot. "I want Michael to be in a honest, happy relationship. Whether it's with me or not. He deserves that." Michael was coming to an age where he needed to settle down and over these past few weeks I have been thinking about it. Am I in the wrong right now? Should I just leave him alone?

"Well hurry up, please. We're late."

-----

Right after my hair and makeup was done, and I looked all glammed up, I dialed Michael's number and hoped he would pick up.

"Hello?" another man said, most likely his security team.

"It's Giovanna. Put Michael on the phone. It's urgent."

"He's visiting King Nanan Amon N'douffou right now.. with Lisa. He's in another room."

"Well I'm with Oprah and I have to ask him a question."

"You're going to have to wait, Ms. Wolf. Five minutes."

My fingers massaged my temples. "I don't have five minutes," I stated, watching Alisha wave for me to come to her. I held out my finger signaling to wait.

"Well.. wait, here he is." I heard Michael's soft 'yes?' in the background and suddenly missed him, strongly. I hadn't talked to him since he left my house three weeks ago.

"Hi," he greeted, sounding distracted.

"I'm with Oprah. If she asks about you, what do you want me to say?"

"What you always say."

"And what about.." I went into a whisper and covered my mouth to the phone. "And what about your marriage?"

"Say me and Lisa are stellar. And the relationship is authentic, if she asks."

I was a little hurt at that, not sure if it was a lie or not. "Alright."

"Are you.. you know?" he asked, not wanting to say it out loud.

"No, but I need to see you tonight to do it again. It'll probably work this time, maybe. I don't know."

"What time will you be back in Los Angeles?" he asked.

"At like, 8." I glanced up at Alisha giving me a death stare. "Gotta go. See you later."

"Good luck."

I smiled. "Thanks. Bye."

--------

"She was introduced to the world as a teenage star. and now is one of the most photographed, most recognizable, and highest paid actresses in Hollywood. She is also one of the music industry's most sought after songwriters and has recently received an award from the UN for her outstanding humanitarian work. She is described as the woman who has everything. Giovanna Wolf, come on!" Oprah exclaimed as the crowd cheered.

I walked on and waved at the audience, blowing kisses at them. I never got enough of their faces.

Oprah cheesed at me, embracing me into a hug. "Look at you!" she rubbed my back before we both sat down. "May I ask you a question? Can you cry on cue?" 

I giggled, "I'm an emotional wreck sometimes, yes."

"But I've been told that you can cry on cue."

"I'm so sensitive. If I see someone crying, or even think of it, I will literally break down myself. I think it's what makes it so easy for me to get into my character."

"Well, you make it seem easy!" The crowd laughed. "Your awards speak for itself. I remember your first Academy award, when was it, 1989? Can we play that clip?"

I covered my face. "Oh god," I whimpered, completely embarrassed. I was stuttering and weeping so much it was in the media for days.

The clip played as the list of nominations for the Best Actress in Leading Role were called. The camera showed me and Michael sitting together, my hand tightly enclosed around his fist, probably cutting off his circulation, as I pressed my lips into his knuckles and closed my eyes to pray. When my name was announced as the winner, Michael's jaw dropped and I immediately went into tears as he pulled me in to hug me before I went to the stage. Literally, my first sentence of my acceptance speech was, "I'm so in love with Michael right now!" I exclaimed into the microphone, choking on my tears. The camera panned to him, smiling and blowing a kiss at me. That's what really made the media go wild.

"I am so in love with Michael right now," Oprah mocked me. "Why did you say that?!"

I shook my head, red as a beat. "It kind of slipped out."

"I see!" The crowd chuckled.

"Well, he worked with me a lot on it. He was on tour at the time but despite how busy as he was, he would call me to practice my lines and critique me on my delivery. I don't think I would've gotten the award without him."

"We saw you two everywhere. I mean, everywhere girl. You didn't see one without the other. And you wrote a few of his hits, hm?"

"Co-wrote mostly, but yes." I grew a little nervous, wondering where this topic was leading to.

She turned to the camera. "I first met Giovanna at Michael's Neverland Ranch when I interviewed him in 1993. You've been very outspoken about the allegations against him, but what about his marriage?"

I tried keep my pokerface on. "Well, they are lovebirds in my eyes."

"So this marriage is real?"

"So real. They're cute." The words tasted so bitter rolling off of my tongue.

"Do you go on double dates?"

"Oh, I'm not dating at the moment, but with our friends, yes."

"Do you want children?"

"Of course. Maybe soon," I mentioned, stopping myself before I talked to much.

"Well with those genes, I'm sure they will be cute as a button."

The crowd clapped in agreement. "Thank you."

------

"Did you stick it in deep enough?" he asked, tilting his head at me.

I stared at his face, my whole bedroom upside down. I was on a headstand balancing my body with my legs leaning on the wall and had been that way for nearly five minutes. "Yes, I stuck it in deep enough, Michael. I'm getting lightheaded." I felt like I was about to faint any second feeling all of my blood rush to my head.

"No, stay like that. You have to let it marinate."

That made me fall down to the floor. "Marinate! Hilarious!" 

"Do it again!"

"No," I stated, turning off the lights and crawled up into my bed. I turned on the Martin marathon. It was me and Michael's favorite show to watch together. "I'm too dizzy."

"Maybe it didn't work because we should just do it naturally, you know, like regular people."

"Says the person who asked me to be a surrogate in the first place!" 

"That's when my marriage wasn't open. Now it is."

I disregarded him and increased the volume, laughing at Martin and Gina singing "Fire & Desire." It reminded me of when Michael and a nineteen year-old me sung the duet in his apartment while making dinner (well him doing most of the cooking), his wooden spoon as his microphone and a broom as mine, hitting the notes as high as I could. Afterwards he tried to persuade me to change my career into singing.

Michael climbed on top of me, blocking my view. He pushed his hips into my pelvis with an urgency. I moved my head to the side but his face followed mine. "Why are you resisting me?"

I turned a deaf ear to him again and tried to push his shoulder to the side. "Michael, you're blocking the television."

He moved my chin to him, forcing me to look at him, and pressed his thumb on my bottom lip. "Tell me why. And don't 'ha' me either."

I tried to keep my mouth sealed as his fingers found it's way to the outside of my lace, brushing lightly where my pearl was, causing me to twitch involuntarily.

"You don't want to?" he asked me softly, already fully aware of his control. His middle finger rubbed against it again, caressing it this time, and I felt myself soaking.

"You're not mine," I breathed, having no idea why tears were forming in my eyes. Maybe it was the feelings I've contained in me for so long, a mix of emotions that I have tried to mute, feelings for him that have gone unspoken. I was so thankful that it was nothing but the light of the TV shining in the room.

"What? Yes I am.. you know that. It was always you.." He followed my eyes as I peeked at his left hand that was holding himself up and he realized my reason. "It's just a ring. It doesn't mean anything."

"So what? If you had married me you would said the same thing too to some other woman? It's just a ring?" I really didn't want to put my heart out there again, being that it was now more sensitive than ever.

"Of course not. I'm yours." Sitting up, he slipped the ring off of his finger and put it on my nightstand, then went back on top of me again, coming close to my face. "Let me show you. May I?" His index finger moved my panties to the side as his middle finger stroked lightly up and down the outside of my entrance, feeling how wet I already was.

"Fuck, I've missed you," he growled against my lips, finally slipping his finger inside. I felt his finger stroke the top of my walls. I sighed into his ear, finally giving into him. I couldn't hold off anymore.

My fingers desperately undid his belt and pants, pushing them down his hips. Michael stood up, removing them in a quick and fluid motion and took my underwear off as well, and gave me slow kisses from my stomach all the way down to my smooth folds. He came back up and kissed the side of my mouth before pulling my shirt over my head, taking all of me in with his eyes.

Martin: "Gina.. you really love me don't you, girl?"

Gina: "I'll always love you, baby."

-

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A/N: Sorry for the long chapter, I had a lot on my mind! Lol. I need to come up with a new teaser for this book.