18 - old feelings

"Come on, Frecks, just the tip," he whispered.

"It's not going to be just the tip."

"It's all about self-control."

"Ha. Nope."

"Just let me put it in. I know you want it."

"I don't."

"You always do."

"Michael if you don't get that thing out of my face-"

"Your loss," Michael shrugged, biting into his cheesesteak and wincing at the harsh light pouring into the private jet as the sun was setting. We were heading to London and had been on here for nearly ten hours. He had a performance for the Brit awards and then to Italy where we were meeting with the designers of my dress, Gianni and Donatella Versace.

Sitting across from me, he pulled the window down a little as I heard Aiden's soft snoring. He had been trying to bite my shoulder with his gums for the past 30 minutes but now he was finally knocked out. He had on a onesie that said Who's Bad? printed on the back in red and it was the most adorable thing ever. "You know I'm on a diet."

"You look beautiful to me."

I stared at the cheese steak and almost shed a tear. "Okay maybe just a little bit." He put it to my mouth to take a bite. "Oh my god," I moaned, chewing the heavenly goodness. I've been eating like a bird for weeks.

"I bet that trainer can't do this to you, huh?" He set the sandwich down back on the plate.

"Because he actually cares that I have a job. You are so jealous. And sound oddly dirty." While I was working with Dudley four times out of the week Michael would "coincidentally" show up just for those days. Then I would catch Michael's glare from the windows of various parts of my house.

The jealousy I wasn't used to but even his personality to me was new and dare I say... mature?

It was freaking me out. Now it seemed like I had to ask him to laugh at me or provide some comedic relief or come at me with an insult or something. He was being too nice, as if having a baby was softening him more and more everyday. I don't know if this is me complaining or not but I wasn't accustomed. And almost suspicious.

"For the fifth time, I'm not jealous. All I'm saying is I don't see why you need a personal trainer to do everything you can learn from a home fitness video." Michael pulled the gold necklace I got for him for Valentines Day out of his pocket, fastening it around his neck. And ever since that mind blowing quickie we had the other day, I've been longing to kiss it again. But I can't give him too much. I tease to please.

"Because hands-on is better. Just look at me. I look great."

"Well it's pretty hands-on, Giovanna!"

I ignored him as I heard Aiden do a tiny sneeze in his sleep. "Aw, bless you baby," I said quietly and kissed his hair. My eyes met Michael's irritated expression. "Would you like me to be with a female trainer, master?"

"As if that's not worse."

"Your wish is my command, my lord."

He exhaled. "Stop doing that. It's corny."

My eyes darted the young blonde woman sitting in the back of the plane, bobbing her head to the music in her phone. When I first saw her, I assumed she was an attendant, but now she was dressed more casual, her deep plunge line revealing her full breasts as her shirt hugged her tiny waist. She couldn't be over 22 years old.

"Who is that?" I whispered.

"Brittany. My new assistant," Michael grinned. "I'm sorry. My new personal assistant."

Ha. Haha. HA. "When did you hire her?"

"Yesterday. She graduated from one of the top universities in the country last summer."

I raised a brow. "Okay? And I went to Juilliard."

"But she went to Yale," he said, chewing on a mouthful of his sandwich. "I mean sure, Juilliard is world class. But she went to Yale."

I almost flashed him a death stare but put on an unbothered poker face. Mature my ass. Michael was still the same asshole. "So she does what, exactly?"

"You know, does what personal assistants do. Handles my personal needs and desires. Because hands on is better, you know?" he smirked.

I balled up the hand that wasn't on my baby in a fist under the table. "That's nice." I wasn't playing his little game, trying to make me jealous because I had a personal trainer. "Brittany, huh? Well... she's definitely your type."

He continued to eat his sandwich before he froze, catching on to what I just said. "You think you're just so funny."

I chuckled, pleased with myself, and looked out of the window and saw the ant sized buildings and cars get bigger and bigger and realized we were about to land.

"Mr. Jackson and Ms. Wolf, welcome to London," the pilot said over the intercom.

Once the plane landed I carefully stood up with Aiden's head resting on my chest as the steps lowered to the ground. Shielding his face from the cameras with a blanket, Michael and I quickly stepped off the plane as the guards formed into a diamond formation around us. I groaned at all of the screaming of the media as well as a few fans, I did not want Aiden to wake back up.

"Michael let's see your baby!"

"Giovanna give us a shot!"

"Where's Lisa?"

"Welcome to London!"

"How does it feel to soon be the second wife?"

Second wife. That almost broke my stride but I didn't let them see me affected. Michael's hand reached behind and I grabbed it as the security rushed us to the car.

Brock closed my door as I adjusted Aiden into his car seat in between Michael and I. He yawned as I secured him in and I was grateful he was still asleep. Now that he was out of his newborn stage and wasn't sleeping so many hours of the day, getting him to sleep now was more of a miracle. Sometimes I'm still so shocked that I'm a parent. And with Michael, which made it even more unbelievable.

Michael seemed to notice my perplexed expression. "Frecks?" he whispered.

"What?" I snapped with a lot more attitude than I meant to. I didn't mean to take out my frustration out on him.

"Why do you have that look on your face?"

"What look?"

"As if you're constipated."

I did a convincing laugh. "I'm alright."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm." I tried to keep my cool and not let it get to me. They were only ignorant paps trying to get under my skin.

"Hm. You're lying but it's fine."

-----

Later that evening, I closed the large windows of the hotel room, trying to silence the apeshit British fans below chanting Michael's name. They were so sweet but it was 1 in the morning.

Alisha called me from four rooms away. "Yes?" I answered

"Are you and Michael having a romantic evening?"

"Um..." I looked over at Michael by the television tossing up skittles in the air and catching them in his mouth. One of them went down the wrong pipe and he leaned over, coughing hysterically. I tried not to laugh but failed, making Michael cut his eyes at me. "Not really. Why? You want me to get Aiden?"

"No!" she said quickly. "Don't take him away from me. He's too cute with his chubby wubby baby thighs." Her voice turned mushy. "Who has the chubby wubby baby thighs?"

I heard him squeal in the background. Aw.

"But no seriously Gia, what the shit? How often are you feeding him? He's fat."

I took the phone off of my ear and looked at it as if it was the one saying something so ridiculous. "One, if my baby's first word is a swear word I'm beating your ass. Two, he's a baby. Babies are chubby. And he's not even a chubby baby!"

"Diabetes, heartburn-"

"I'm about to come get him. Why did you call me though?" I inquired as I sat back down on the bed and slid my legs underneath the sheets, trying to feel warm.

"Another security video leaked. It really shows Michael's face this time. And his suitcase."

So this is back again. People still wanted answers about the video tape scandal but I avoided it as if ignoring it long enough will make the whole situation evaporate. But now it's here again, and whoever is leaking this is obviously looking for a pay day. Welp. "Oh well," I shrugged as Michael climbed on top of me and planted kisses on my cheek.

"Hang up," he demanded lowly in my ear before he kissed below it.

"Oh well?" Alisha asked as if she was expecting a different reaction.

"Yeah. What else am I supposed to say? I can't sue them. It's public footage."

"Just hang up," Michael demanded again before moving his lips down to my stomach.

"How are you going to handle this?" she asked.

"I don't... oh wow." My words got quiet when I felt him bite the inside of my thighs, determined to leave a hickey. "I don't know," I breathed. "I have to call you back."

"Are you going to just ignore it?"

I sighed as Michael looked up at me, holding one leg over his shoulder, planting kisses right next to my entrance, teasing me to no end. He finally gives me what I want, moving my panties to the side and placed his warm mouth there. "Mm.. mhm."

"Are you getting..." her voice fell to a whisper. "Fucked while on the phone with me, Giovanna?!"

He spreads my lips with his finger and kisses my clit softly before sliding his tongue down my slit and back up again. I pursed my lips, trying to conceal my sounds, feeling his tongue trace right... there.

"Gia!" I heard Alisha scream from the speakers of the phone on the floor, which I didn't even know I had dropped. I was too distracted.

"Michael..."

"Mr. Jackson," one of his bodyguards called out from outside of the door.

We groaned simultaneously as he sat up from in between my legs. "Yes?"

"May you come out for a second, sir?"

Is there an equivalent for blue balls for women? Blue clit? Because that's exactly how to describe that interruption. He exhaled and came back up to my face to give me some parting kisses, making me taste my own sweetness. "I'll be right back."

-----

Michael put on a shirt and greeted the man. His head of security did a silent hand motion for him to come out and close the door behind him. "What's wrong?"

"Lisa Marie is on the phone."

He was caught off guard. "Really? Let me see," he grabbed the phone and headed to the room across from his where his team stayed inside. "Hello?"

"Hi Michael."

He leaned on the wet bar. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the force, Lisa."

"Can we talk?"

"I knew I'd have you begging for it," he grinned, his security guards laughing under their breath. He was surprised she was able to hold off this long.

"Can we talk?!" she repeated, irritation in her voice.

"We're talking, angelface."

"I need some closure. I need to know what happened with us."

Michael stroked his chin. "Why do I feel like you're recording this conversation?"

"Don't be silly. I'm not recording anything."

"Prove it," he challenged. He couldn't trust anyone.

"I, Lisa Marie Presley, gave you a rimjob."

"Elaborate."

She sighed. "I put my tongue on, and slightly in, your asshole."

"Because you asked to do that."

"Because I asked to do that," Lisa repeated.

"Alright I'm listening."

"What happened in that hotel room?"

He wished this entire situation would cease. "We didn't have sex if that's what you're asking."

"So why is it saying you had a suitcase? You were planning on staying?"

"We had an argument. It's a long story," he said, stomach turning at the memory of him calling Giovanna a bitch. He couldn't sleep that night. "Trust me, we weren't on the best of terms then. And why am I even giving this explanation as if I owe you one?"

"Can I just see you? Just to talk. I have so many questions."

Michael chuckled. "You and I both know that's a terrible idea."

"I can meet you at your condo? Whenever you're back in the country. It's the least you can do."

Oh now she's playing the guilt tactic. The least he could do. "I know I hurt you and I'm sorry for that, I really, really am but she's-"

"I was first!" He could hear the tears choke up her ability to speak.

Lisa wasn't first but Michael wouldn't tell her that. He had already hurt her enough. "I'll be back in a week from today."

"Eight? At night?"

"Why do you have to come at night?" he asked, suspicious of some hidden agenda.

"Because that's the only time I can come."

"Fine. Bye."

---

Cicada - Los Angeles, California - 7:13 pm

"Now we know you said next month, Mr. Jackson, but we were thinking of doing it a little later. Maybe May?" our wedding planner said.

"Next month," Michael smiled. "April."

The woman's face creased. "That's not a lot of time at all. It usually takes months."

It wasn't a lot of time at all. We've been procrastinating about it but I wanted it to be enough time where it turned out right. I didn't want a rushed wedding. I moved my hand under the table and pressed my nails into his thigh telling him 'no.'

Of course, he ignored me. "April." Michael winked and twirled his spaghetti with his fork. "Can you do it?"

"Well, of course."

"May," I interjected. "We want our guests to have ample time to plan their arrival. We'll pay for transportation. Don't you agree, honey?" I flashed him a look that said try me. Next month was too soon.

"May?" the woman asked Michael for approval.

"That's good too. May." His fingers went down the my forearm and he pinched it, making me wince. I pressed my high heel into the tip of his penny loafers, right into his toes. He grunted. Ha.

At the end of the dinner, I saw two cars in the front of the window. "You're not coming with me?"

"No, uh, I have someone to meet. Ill see you later," he mumbled as he was escorted to his car.

The way he said it so hastily made me suspicious. "Brittany?" Goddamnit. My mother is right. I really need to work on thinking before speaking. It's like I have a devil and an angel on my shoulders and the devil always gets to talk. I promise I'm not mentally ill.

His legs paused as he threw his head back and let out a bellowing laugh, as if that was the most hilarious thing he's heard all week. "Definitely not Brittany!" he called out before going into the limo. I cut my eyes as the door closed but got in my own. We departed in separate directions.

Nearing my house my phone went off. "Hello?"

"Hi... it's Brittany."

"How did you get my number, Brit-ta-ny?" I asked smartly.

"It's kind of my job, you know, since I do have your son."

I laughed at myself, getting so caught up in my own envy, I forgot the woman was watching Aiden at Neverland. Jesus Christ, what is wrong with me? "Oh, right. What's up?"

"Be at Michael's condo at 8:30 exactly."

I creased my brows. "What for?"

"Just.. do it. Please don't tell Michael I told you this. I like my job so far. I have always looked up to you and I want you to trust me."

What is she trying to do? Be a bootleg Alisha?

I stopped my thoughts. The girl was just being friendly.

"The door will be unlocked," she asked. "8:30 exactly. Just walk in."

How does she know all of this?! "Thanks," I hung up, a little bit weirded out and wasn't sure if I should go to Michael's condo or rescue my son from her hands. "Turn the car around, please."

"Where to?" Brock asked.

I gave him Michael's address.

--

Michael jumped at the sight of Lisa sitting on the couch staring back at him with fury. "Shit, Lisa, I forgot you had the keys."

"You're late. It's 8:25."

"Well excuse me, I was at dinner with my lovely fiance and our wedding planner. Emphasis on the word 'wedding.' And fiance."

"Did you love me at all?"

He hung his jacket in his coat closet and walked to his liquor cabinet. "Yes, I did actually. It's just..."

"It's just..." she said, trying to get the words out.

He moved some bottles around. "It's just that I am out of bourbon. Goddamnit."

"Wow," Lisa said, shaking her head in disgust.

"I know right! Guess I have to settle for Jack," he sighed, pouring himself a glass. He noticed her hurt expression as he sipped. "I am so sorry, how rude of me. Would you like a glass?"

"No I don't want a goddamn glass, Michael! I want answers."

"Well give me your questions."

"Our marriage was such a blur. I don't even know what happened. One day we were so happy, the next day you tell me that that woman is going to have your child."

He leaned on his wet bar. "Remember that really bad breakup I told you it took me years to get over when we first met?"

"Yes."

"That was a lie. I was talking about her and it actually happened about a month prior. And I wasn't over it. That's the only lie I told you though."

Lisa paused before asking the next question, completely thrown off at his brutal honesty.

"Did she really get pregnant through insemination?"

"Yes," he lied, sort of.

She frowned. "Do you ever miss me?"

"Oh yeah. I do. You were good to me. I'm sorry I hurt you the way I did."

Lisa checked her watch. 8:29. She stood up and walked towards him. "You don't know how depressed I've been. You don't."

"I get it?" he said, raising a brow at how she was grasping his collar.

"You don't.." she did a quick glance down at her wrist as the second hand approached the 12, making it 8:30 in 10 seconds. "Kiss me," she whispered in his ear.

--

A/N: Its so hard writing from my phone. I apologize if there's typos and stuff.

Damnit, Michael.lo