As many of you very well know, Michael Jackson has been married--and divorced--twice. And while I’ve never been divorced, or even married for that matter, I am aware of how, not only emotionally, but physically taxing the process can be to an individual. The feelings of lonesomeness, shame and depression and how it can leave a person seeking any kind face and delicate word of friendship. With that idea in mind I sought to give a shy, battered man a chance to feel whole again…and to also be felt.
The Divorcé
A Michael Jackson Erotic Story By:
MJsLoveSlave
Briar Heights Homes
Beverly Hills, California
August 31, 2008
Beverly Hills was a tough place any woman to live.
And if she didn’t possess just the right combination of tenacity, will, and outright defiance, the city of extravagance and excess could eat a woman alive with no bones left behind to even show she had existed in the first place.
Yes, wealth was a prerequisite for anyone trying to make a stand, but money was not everything.
In the plastic surgery capital of the world, a nearly unattainably high premium was placed on looks.
If a woman was naturally born with good looks, she invested a great deal of her time--and money--into the maintenance of it.
If a woman was not lucky enough to be born to beauty, she could certainly buy it.
Tessa Ashton was one of the fortunate ones, born beautiful.
At twenty-eight years old, the only child and heiress to the Ashton Denim Company Empire appeared an alarming ten years younger than her true age.
But it hadn’t come without decades of work, sacrifice and determination.
In her teen years, she’d suffered though braces to straighten her teeth and correct an overbite.
She’d been on every diet imaginable to hang onto her size ten figure, which, remarkably was still too large where size double zero ruled the bubble in which she lived.
Tessa’s figure had always been a source of anxiety to the twenty-something.
For twenty-nine days out of the month, she adhered to a very strict diet of her own creation, culminating out of a succession of failures of previous methods.
Breakfast was half a grapefruit and black coffee. Lunch and dinner were green salads, with a shot of lemon juice and all the unsweetened tea she wanted.
She worked out diligently for three hours daily, running miles in the local parks and doing high-impact cardio in her home gym.
Tessa was routinely underfed, overly hungry, anxiety-ridden to the point of needing a depressant each morning.
But her clothes fit and that was all that mattered. It was worth the constant maddening struggle.
For one night a month, though, the last day of every month, all of Tessa’s inhibitions went out the window.
She ate merrily and lavishly in the very best restaurants in town.
Gorged herself on her favorite rich, extremely caloric foods, as a reward for her hard work.
Real food, instead of rabbit feed.
That last day was all Tessa lived for.
Sure, it was unhealthy to live that way, but what other choice was there?
As dusk began to take the sky over the city from a rich, brilliant azure to a deep, dark aubergine, Tessa Ashton was readying herself for her night out.
Seated before the lighted vanity of her bedroom, decorated in expressly shades of pale pink and cream, and a beautiful display of Art Deco design.
But none of the beauty of the room, the antique porcelain dolls, the king-sized bed wrapped in satin with a marabou feather headboard, the velvet adorned windows that showcased the view from forty stories up….none of it held her attention.
Instead, as she did every day, Tessa was scrutinizing her figure.
If she didn’t focus on the false rolls of fat and imaginary wrinkles, she would have been party to seeing an enchanting, almost hauntingly beautiful woman.
A figure of average height, with generous curves--unwittingly being starved away--skin smooth and clear and a warm shade of chocolate brown.
Dark, mysterious and turbulent eyes, framed by thick, bristly lashes and rimmed in dark blue liquid liner.
High cheekbones, tinged red with blush and plump, sumptuous lips, sparkling with champagne colored gloss.
Her hair, worn in large barrel curls, wafted around her soft shoulders, a section held behind her ear by a hidden bobby pin.
Her angelic form was covered, barely, by a navy blue strapless bra, promoting maximum cleavage and a hardly visible thong.
Rising from her quilted seat, she soared an extra six inches, thanks to her navy satin stilettos.
Crossing her room, Tessa approached the cocktail dress she had taken half the day to select for her special night out.
A body-hugging garment of satin that matched her shoes, with generous, forgiving diagonal ruching to give the appearance of a smaller frame.
It was short of fabric to show off her bosom and legs and draw attention away from what she considered her problem area.
In an instant it was on.
The look rounded out with large sapphire studs and a thick, gem covered cuff on her right wrist.
A crystal clutch in hand, Tessa was on her way.
And every inch of the way, she was preoccupied, she missed how she was being watched, stared at, nay lusted after by each and every man she passed.
And the only one who dared to speak, was the lowest man on the totem pole.
In the lobby, Alejandro, the doorman, could be counted out to express himself when others bit their tongues.
“Looking lovely as usual Miss Ashton!” He greeted her, his voice thick with his Cuban accent.
As always, Tessa offered the petite, Hispanic man in the penguin suit a thankful grin.
“Your…your car will be around directly, Ma’am…”
Protectively, he followed her to the sidewalk.
“Last day of the month--your big night?.”
Alejandro was well aware of her obsessive routine and waited around just to see how she did it up.
“You know it…” Tessa giggled, a bit self-consciously.
“Going to The Wharf? I hear the lobster is excellent this time of year?” He stared up at her, his admiration apparent in his green eyes.
“No…” That curly head shook. “…I have reservations for Le Grille.”
“Ah, steak!” Alejandro was nodding as if her knew, but when a single meal could leave him broke for the rest of the month, he’d never venture inside.
(Or be able to treat a woman like Tessa to such a meal.)
Eventually, a silver Lamborghini appeared and came to a slick halt, a valet disengaging.
“Your car, Miss Ashton.” He grinned, just as star-struck as Alejandro.
“Thank you.”
The two men stood, shoulder to shoulder, watching that impossibly lovely creature slip in and ride off into the night, until the luxury vehicle disappeared from view.
“It’s a crying shame that Chica is always down on herself…” Alejandro spoke in his native tongue. “She needs a man to look after her, make her know she’s beautiful…”
“Well, unless your ass hits the lotto, forget it, you ain‘t the man for the job, Esse!. She’s too rich for your blood!” The valet cackled and slapped his back.
Grimacing, the two split and at the door Alejandro looked off down the road hoping that even if it weren’t him, that someone would help Tessa Ashton.
And Tessa had no idea the fates would conspire to assist the woman, in ways she’d never have known.
Le Grille
Downtown Beverly Hills
By eight p.m., Le Grille, one the poshest and most popular eateries in the city was full to capacity, with all of its wait staff flocking wildly from one table to another, garnering orders, bringing and refilling drinks and rushing loaded platters to hungry patrons.
The place was alive and thriving, with everyone vying for a coveted table near the restaurant’s namesake, the grill.
In the very center of the floor, where all the surroundings were mauve and silver, a huge four-sided square grill was had flames jumping several feet into the air, cooking everything from thick aged T-Bones to fresh oysters on a half shell to perfect, charred, juicy perfection.
So popular was Le Grille, there was a wait six-months long to get a table.
But with a name like Ashton attached to her, such contrivances were overlooked, as people like Tessa, a semi-celebrity in her own right, garnered good publicity and kept favorable buzz going.
And so she sat, at one of the many round, mauve covered tables, set for one, glancing over the lengthy and intricate list of cocktails and beverages being offered, right near the grill.
Tessa wouldn’t have sat anywhere else. She was there to see and be seen.
Off to the side, an eager waiter stood at attention, ready to run her drink order to the bartender the moment she came to a decision.
“Hmmm….” Tessa paused, dark eyes rambling over the page, “I believe I’ll have the Manhattan to start with, and a glass of the Davenport red, 1876, with my meal.”
“Excellent choice, Miss Ashton.” The waiter was bowing and whisking the drink menu from her hands replacing it with one featuring the pricey, opulent entrees, “I shall return for your meal order…”
As he moved away, Tessa settled in to people watch, as she did whenever to herself. That was what everyone did in such places.
All the usual faces.
There was Mrs. Whitmore, kissing on her fourth husband Daniel, who was three years younger than her grandson and boffing the towel girl at the country club.
There was Judge Rainey, drinking himself into a stupor on dessert wine; he’d do a shitty job on the bench the next day.
There was Gertrude Von Steed, eating her way through a bloody steak, when before the night was over, she’d be hugging a toilet bowl puking it back up, on purpose.
Tessa sighed with disdain.
It was all so very boring to her.
If it weren’t for the promise of a meal so delicious and tasty, she’d cry her Dior mascara off, she wouldn’t have set foot in that hovel.
But Tessa was so very hungry--
“Oh my!”
An audible gasp escaped her shiny lips.
Across the floor, near the grill, a gentle man was being shown a table.
Her breath hung up in her throat and in spite of herself, she was staring.
The gentleman, chatting with the maitre ’d, lingered above the chair, explaining something, his hand flicking as he spoke.
Tessa couldn’t remember ever seeing him before--he was the kind of man one wouldn’t dare forget too quickly!
His face was what drew Tessa to him.
She just couldn’t miss a face like his!
His complexion was a porcelain, alabaster white with gentle, peachy undertones. He was so light, Tessa couldn’t quite determine what race--or mix of them--he was.
(Not that she minded, whatever he was.)
His hair, long and b lack, fell into his face, still moving and showing protruding cheekbones, accented by the way his straightened hair was arranged to flick back from a center part.
Dark eyes flashed with fire and light as he continued chattering.
The lower half of his face, very faintly, was shadowed in black by a laughably sparse mustache and beard.
This detail seemed out of place to Tessa.
The man’s features were almost feminine in nature and the facial hair lent a scruffy look to an otherwise pristine package.
His figure, tall and lean was draped immaculately in a rich, coffee colored suit, intricately embroidered on the front pocket and even more so on the vest underneath.
Eventually the man was seated and opened his beverage menu, a waiter standing beside him.
Seeming to know what he wanted expressly, the man spoke again, with a grin and the waiter wandered away.
It was then, Tessa noticed a swift change in the gentleman’s behavior.
His face went stoic, and his eyes, so bright and full of rapture, dropped down to the table top, where large hands thumped in beat to the classical music playing.
He wasn’t even paying attention to the grill flaming near him.
Why…he looked downright sad.
“Here’s your Manhattan, Miss Ashton.”
A highball glass, filled with the concoction of whiskey, sweet vermouth and bitters was placed in front of Tessa and instantly her hand wrapped the stubby wrist still attached to it.
“Pardon me…who is the gentleman in the brown suit, there?” She questioned, trying to sound as casual as possible. Inside she was doing somersaults.
Trying to be discreet, she indicated him with a flick of her gem-covered wrist.
“Oh, that’s Mr. Jackson. He’s already giving everyone a headache about his drink order, wants his wine a poured certain way…” The waiter sniffed with arrogance.
“Is…is he expecting anyone else?” Tessa wondered timidly, losing control of the veil she was hiding her interest in him with.
“Lord no…the few times a year we see him, he’s alone, Miss Ashton. Pardon me, Miss Whitmore is flagging me. I wonder if Junior wants more chocolate milk…” The waiter was ambling away, and intrigued, Tessa continued to watch the man, still thumping at the table.
He was alone like her, and appeared so dejected and downtrodden.
She glanced at the other tables where it seemed everyone else were in duos and crowds.
This was crazy.
This was insane.
But Tessa wanted desperately to approach this man, and ask to join him.
She was suddenly, swiftly and strongly attracted to him, wanted to know why he was off to himself.
He was so intriguing to her; enchanting.
Mr. Jackson’s waiter returned, a chalice of white wine in hand.
His fuzzy mouth was moving, and his waiter, agitated, rolled his eyes at the smiling man, and jotted down an order.
And as soon as the waiter departed, again, the mask dropped, and Mr. Jackson seemed near tears.
He resting his cheek on his chin, running a fingertip around the edge of the table, lashes fluttering as his lowered his eyes.
The corners of his pinkish mouth were all drooping, along with sagging shoulders…
Unable to bear her curiosity much longer, Tessa rose, Manhattan in hand, purse in the other.
Taking sips every so often to foster courage, she slowly made her way, weaving around packed tables, ignoring the many hellos--and few catcalls--she got, until she was near the man in brown.
She had on blinders and was deaf to everything, everyone else and only saw him.
Mr. Jackson.
She came up on his right side and stood, staring down at him.
Up close he was even more handsome in his sadness.
The upturned nose, the bit of stubble on his chin and upper lip; how pink and pretty his lips were!
His hands now still, framing the foot of his glass, head bowed as he stared down into his wine.
His hair was so beautiful, so thick and lush, Tessa wanted to run her fingers through it!
“Hello.”
The salutation popped from her mouth and jumping, the black mane bounced and swayed, as Mr. Jackson turned in his seat.
His eyes coming up and finding her, Tessa could clearly see the surprise in them as the pupils dilated for a second.
Had he not expected anyone to speak to him that night?
As alluring as he was?
“Oh, hello--”
Like a switch, the false happiness filled his face, convincingly, and plump shrimpy-colored lips parted in a grin.
Tessa couldn’t bear it.
This act of his had to be stopped.
“Why are you unhappy?”
At the question, the man’s chest expanded, as did his eyes, even wider, in utter shock, as though he suddenly stood stark naked in the crowded room with everyone laughing at him.
And quickly his head turned from her.
“Miss, I’m not--”
“But you are, I saw you.” Tessa laid a hand on his shoulder, and reluctantly, the head turned back and he gazed at it, like he couldn‘t imagine her gall to touch him.
Ignoring the cold glare, she continued softly, looking him up and down, and trying to shake off his innate sourness.
“You’re the life of the party with company, but as soon as they walk away, you look like you’re contemplating bungee jumping from the roof of a tall building without a cord.”
“Oh, it isn’t as serious as all that!” Mr. Jackson grumbled, his voice light and high-pitched. It was a strange voice for a strange man and Tessa liked it.
She liked everything about him in that moment.
His eyes came back up and narrowed on her.
“Why…why do you even care?” He wondered meekly, bare confusion all over him.
A tender smile creased Tessa’s lips.
“I’m alone here…same as you are.”
There was an expression of wonderment that crossed his face. The audible inhalation, the small nostrils of his nose flaring, his chest expanding once again.
And as she had looked him over, he was looking her over.
The soft, plump, full body, shown off to perfection in the blue satin, the long, shapely legs, lengthened by the pumps, the glittering, eye-catching jewelry.
And the sweet, friendly face smiling down at him.
The deep, troubled eyes peering down into his own.
“You’re…alone?” He stammered slowly as if the concept were foreign to him. “How? You’re…you’re so pretty…”
At the timid compliment, Tessa smiled sheepishly.
“I could ask you the same…” gracefully she slipped into the seat across from him, and got no objections. “You’re very handsome--”
“Oh no!” The man’s face tinged scarlet with embarrassment and he snickered like a schoolgirl. “Please!”
He was too adorable to ignore.
Tessa felt so bold, so forward…she didn’t typically act this way.
Didn’t try to pick up strange men she’d never met before.
But this man was different. He seemed to cry out for a friend.
And she wanted to be his friend.
Reaching out, her smaller hand latched on to his much larger one and squeezed it.
His hand was so huge and smooth, it almost felt as though she were holding hands with another woman .
And at her touch, his hand seemed to go cold and limp.
“Why are you unhappy?“ She repeated, “Why are you alone…?”
Those eyes, so stormy, met her briefly, and then fell to the table.
“I just got back to California the other day…” Mr. Jackson sighed with a grunt, and shook his head, as if trying to ward off a flood of tears.
“For the last six months, I’ve been in New Jersey…I’ve just gotten a divorce.”
The last word came out choked and huge, sparkling eyes came up and sought Tessa’s.
“You may not believe it, but it’s my second divorce. I’ve been married twice and now divorced twice--”
“This is California. With the way people get together and leap apart here, you’re a lightweight.” Tessa offered, desperately wanting him to laugh. “Look at Elizabeth Taylor, she’s been to the altar so many times, they keep a spot on permanent reserve for her!”
“Don’t say that, please…” Her hand was let go of, and the top patted. “I know Liz, she’s a close friend of mine...”
“I’m sorry…” Great, now she had offended him. “Do you want to talk about it--the woman you divorced?”
“What is there to say?” The man laughed bitterly ,and tilted his wine to his mouth. “I was made a fool of, not once, but twice. Found two women, fell in love like an idiot, had my heart broken when I discovered the infidelity. The second one gave me my three children. They’re eleven, ten and six. Found out she’d been seeing other men since the day we were practically wed. Had DNA tests--my children are mine, even if she were a no-good, low-down, conniving-ass whore--”
His eyes showed his pain and it was his turn to apologize.
“Pardon me, speaking like this in front of you…”
Tessa stared down at the hand still stroking hers feeling more remorse than she ever had in her life, as if it were who had wronged him!
“What is your name…you Angel, who’s come to my aid…?” He inquired somberly and on the tabletop, his fingers were intertwined with hers.
An angel, he thought of her as an angel!
She was fairly dizzy with flattery.
“Tessa…and yours?” Her hand curled and his along with it.
“Michael.”
Michael…what a wonderful, unassuming normal name for such an extraordinary man!
“Why are you alone, Tessa?”
“Well, this is the only night I have to myself to eat as I like. The rest of the month I’m on a pretty strict diet--”
“You don’t need a diet, you’re breathtaking as you are.” Michael spoke over her mutedly and touch of a smile, a real smile, came to his face.
Her heart was beginning to quiver in her chest wildly as Michael cupped her hand in both of his and started to knead it.
If she grew any hotter, her dress would scorch.
“Michael…” She started tentatively, “Would…that is, would you like to get out of here? Go someplace quieter, more secluded? This place is so full--”
Any thought of a meal was abandoned. Who could be hungry--for food--around Michael? When he offered so much more than a bleeding hunk of cow?
POP!
Holding his arm up, Michael snapped his fingers so loudly, that at the surrounding tables, several people’s conversations halted and they stared at him in bug-eyed startling.
Directly, his waiter appeared.
“Yes--”
“Check, please. And tack the young lady’s drink on with mine.”
For the first time all night, Michael Jackson showed authority, his voice coming out much deeper and stronger than before.
Hearing him sound that way gave Tessa a case of the fidgets and she was trying vainly to control herself. It was rude the way she knew so little of Michael Jackson and wanted all of him.
“Of course.” A pencil and pad appeared and a bit of scribbling done. “Here you are, Sir--”
Michael barely glanced at it, before he handed over a black credit card, watching the waiter closely as he disbanded…
And Tessa was watching him.
Leaning forward, she hissed, feeling more alive and vital than she had in weeks.
“My place or yours?”
Michael’s hair flew outwards in a wave he whipped around so hard.
He wore his expressions to obviously, it was clear it hadn’t crossed his mind what he had agreed to until that very moment. That endeared him to Tessa all the more. There was a queer innocence to him. He seemed almost like a little boy attempting to behave as an adult.
It was charming.
“Oh! Ahem…”He cleared his throat, tugging at his necktie.
“Your place--my children are with their nanny at my home--”
“That’s fine.”
Tessa was up and smoothing the front of her dress as the waiter returned with the credit card.
“Here you are Mr. Jackson, will you sign the receipt, please?”
He didn’t even look at it as he scribbled his name across it.
He was looking up, after Tessa, nibbling thoughtfully on his bottom lip.
“That’s nowhere near the line, Sir!” The waiter exclaimed as Michael pushed his seat back and rose, standing alongside Tessa.
Taking her hand, he mashed his to his mouth, smooching it like the gentleman he was.
Holding her arm out, he allowed Tessa to start away, leading him.
Whap!
Lightly, she felt him smack her backside and couldn’t contain her giggles as his hand laid itself on her hip.
And he was beside her, in step with her as the two moved past tables of gawkers, not caring who saw, who speculated, who gossiped.
They were in their own world, and all that was needed was the two of them.
Tessa’s silver Lamborghini was summoned, via the restaurant’s valet. Michael mentioned something about a Ferrari with an alarm loud enough to raise the dead, and chose to leave it to ride along with her.
The drive from Le Grille back to Briar Heights was marked by an intense, nearly visible silence. Only one sentence was spoken the entire way.
It came from a bewildered Michael Jackson, who, shaking his head, a hand mashed to his forehead had commented,
“I’ve never been picked up before in my life!”
Picked up.
Tessa Ashton had picked herself up a man, twice divorced and a father three times over.
And she didn’t care.
She didn’t care.
All she wanted was him and wouldn’t besatisfieduntil she had all over him…
All over her.
* * *
An Hour Later
The night wasn’t quite going the way Tessa Ashton had planned.
By that time, about half-past midnight, she had expected to be nude, covered in perspiration and hovering somewhere around her fourth or fifth climax.
Instead, she sat in the center of the couch of her living room, pouting, swirling a glass of port in hands.
Another glass sat untouched.
Across the room, Michael Jackson stood, as he had since they had arrived, at the large bay window, looking over the east side of the city, so many stories below.
He hadn’t even taken his jacket off.
Michael had wandered there and remained motionless for sixty minutes.
This was strange.
Tessa thought she knew men, and most men would have been all over her even before the wine cork had been popped.
Michael Jackson was a rare one.
Setting her glass aside, Tessa rose, and slowly approached him.
Tessa was different. Usually she was a self-conscious, giggling, crazed mess around any man and was trying valiantly to have him like her.
With Michael, for some reason, she felt confident and assured.
It was a most uplifting feeling.
And she wanted to share it with him.
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable on the couch?” She offered, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’m so lonely sitting there by myself.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Michael asked, his hand coming up and pressing the glass.
“That you’re divorced? A father? A few years older than me? Lord no…” Tessa tittered and her hands ran down his back before looping around his thin waist and hugging him from behind.
He was so warm and soft to the touch.
“But what does this mean? I have an idea of what you plan to do to me…what happens when its over?” Michael was pensive as Tessa undid the four buttons that had been cinching his jacket closed.
“Anything you want can happen…” Tessa, standing on tiptoe pressed her lips to his supple, furry cheek. “We can become an item…or you can walk off and never darken my door again…”
That was said in an effort to appear mysterious and devil-may-care.
Tessa, in reality, never wanted him to leave her, ever.
The jacket was pulled off and dropped to the floor.
Michael had such broad shoulders, such a tiny tapered waistline. His upper body formed a perfect inverted triangle.
Tessa hugged him again, loosening the vest, before slipping it off, leaving him in his white dress shirt and trousers.
“Six months slugging it out in court…” She whispered, pressing against him, feeling his taut little booty against her. “…maintaining your estate, proving the legitimacy of your children. Looking after them. Three under thirteen must be a massive chore to you. You poor man, you must be so exhausted…all because some tramp didn‘t have the decency to remain true to you.”
Stealthily, her hands slid down and were mashing Michael’s groin, exuding heat and a stiffness in which Tessa had experienced from previous lovers.
What gave her an acute, breath-stealing chill was that the size of Michael’s bulge was much larger, stretching far more than the average six inches she was accustomed to.
If she was feeling right, he was at least double that amount.
What kind of man was this? Where had he come from? How did he grow…
“I…I am so tired…” Michael admitted and reflected in the black glass, Tessa could see his little nose wrinkling--he was growing aroused, just as Tessa had wanted.
“Won’t you let me take care of you?” She purred and went to fondle him harder.
“Tessa…” Michael turned and stared down at her biting his bottom lip.
Stared down at the beautiful young woman who had enticed him on home with her and had him partially unclothed.
The stunning little vixen in azure, smiling slyly up at him.
“Yes?” Hand on his backside, Tessa embraced him, her cheek against his, feeling the roughness of his ‘beard’.
Smelling him…so fresh, so citrusy, and just a hint of warm spice.
“My God…” Voice heavy and husky, the words were spoken into Tessa’s mouth as Michael bent, his lips flush on hers.
There weren’t enough stars to be seen, as Michael’s arms wrapped around her, with his entire front mashing hers, his hand on her back, crushing her bosom against his.
His other hand eased down her back to her buttocks.
The kisses began as timid, held back as if both were scared of where it would lead.
Inhibitions melting, Michael and Tessa were eventually holding onto each other, as if their very lives depended upon it, and Tessa was forcing her tongue as far down his throat as possible.
“Mmmm-mmm-mmm!” Michael mumbled as she pulled away with a stifled laugh, before sinking to her knees in front of him.
“Tessa!”
Grabbing both his hands, she was kissing the fingertips.
“Tessa--oh!” Purposefully, she took his left hand, and examined his ring finger, bearing a faint tan line where his wedding band had once been.
“She can’t hurt you anymore…”
And the finger disappeared in her mouth as slowly, with her eyes up at him, poked it into her mouth, past her pouted, sparkling lips and commenced sucking on it.
“Oh…oh…Ah!” The hand was jerked from her mouth and stumbling, Michael backed into the glass. Had it not been shatterproof, he’d have gone right through it and fallen to his death!
“Ah…” He bore his teeth and swore, “Shit!”
Eyes bulging, he pounded a fist against the glass, legs trembling underneath him.
Tessa starting to rake her hand through her hair, stopped, her fingers still tangled in her curls as a new sight called her attention.
“OH!” Head turning and being hidden by a hand, Michael Jackson couldn’t hide the disaster appearing elsewhere on him.
On the front of his pants a gushing wetness was spreading from his crotch and going outwards towards his hips and dripping down his right leg, turning everything darker and causing his pants to stick to him.
“Son of a…” Michael collapsed to the polished floor, grasping at it, gasping for air loudly. “Jesus….that’s never happened…oh…oh my….”
Watching him continue to mumble nonsense for his premature ejaculation, Tessa stood.
“I…I don’t do that. Oh my goodness…first time with a woman in six--”
The blue satin dress landed on his head.
Head coming up, the fabric framing his face and giving him a hint of the Virgin Mary look, he stared at Tessa, standing in her scant under things, hands on her hips.
“I have a Jacuzzi tub…”
Was all she stated, then turned and walked away, her rounded ass cheeks jiggling and wiggling accented by the lace of her thong as she went to the double doors of her bedroom and entered, leaving the door open for Michael.
He would follow.
They all followed.
In her cream and gold bathroom, Tessa took a seat on the side of her oversized tub that was about half the size of an Olympic sized swimming pool, turning on the spigots and allowing hot water to flow in and start to churn into a white froth.
Picking up a bottle she drizzled in potent rose scented oil, and in moments the entire room was perfumed.
Leaving the tub, the picked up a small box of matches and lit the collection of golden candles lining the back wall casting a faint glow that grew stronger as she dimmed the lights.
Casting off her bra and panties, Tessa settled into the water, and momentarily sank below the surface to wet her hair.
Coming back up for air, pushing her soaking tresses away, she was treated to a becoming sight.
Hovering in the doorway, hand to his chest, was Michael Jackson.
And as he clung to the doorframe, Tessa marveled in his nakedness.
His smooth, pale, delicious body. The chest with it’s small, far-set nipples, down his slick abdomen, the somewhat thick and jarringly contrast of the mass of stark black hair on his groin.
The huge endowment springing from loins, swaying limply between his strong thighs. Sparkling with his spilled seed and covered by a little pucker of uncircumcised foreskin.
“Michael…” She called in a singsong voice, and was wiggling her finger.
He had to come to her now…
She was so loose, so brash, so unthinking.
Saying what came to her mind without reflection.
“Don’t you want to fuck me? Or do you want to just decorate the doorway?”
She teased, bobbing in the water, the teardrop-shaped globes of flesh on her bosom being fully shown to him.
Michael Jackson’s voice came out strongly with one word.
“Fuck.”
Crossing the room, Michael, hand to his mouth, as if he was stunned by his own actions, stepped over and into the churning water of the tub.
And slid up beside Tessa.
“You look like a mermaid…” He smiled and kissed at her moist cheek.
“You’ll find more than a fishtail on my lower half.” Tessa winked.
“I’m sure!” Michael’s mouth was on hers again, and feeling through the water, Tessa took hold of his shaft.
Michael’s head jerked back, and his eyes snapped shut as her hand began to slowly move up and down it’s length just below the surface.
“Ugh…oh my God….oh Tessa….” He whispered his hands cradling her breasts and squeezing on them.
“You need a woman who can take care of you, Michael…” Tessa inched closer to him and kissed his bare shoulder. “Let me…”
Her tongue swirled around it and teeth flashing the gnawed on it lightly.
“Damn it…” Michael’s head fell back as the combination of being stroked and nibbled at was getting good to him. “Oh, Baby…”
“You like that, don’t you, Daddy?” Tessa’s voice dropped with lust and she put her lips to his long graceful throat
Suckling and biting at the pale, hot flesh.
“Shit…yes…yes…Baby…yes….you’re what I need….” Michael’s arm was around her waist, possessively, his Adam’s Apple vibrating as he breathed in and out heavily.
More kisses were planted on his chest, and pursing her lips, Tessa sucked at his right nipple.
“Yes! Yes! Oh!” Michael shifted suddenly, and Tessa found herself making out with the air, Michael gone.
A white, naked slice of flesh in the huge tub, he was underwater, swimming across to the other end.
A few seconds later he popped up laughing.
“Hee-Hee!” He was cackling loudly, his hair drenched, and transforming back to it’s natural curly texture, hanging around his shoulder.
Running his fingers through it, Michael’s face was more defined, his angular features unobstructed by his hair.
Just looking at him was enough to cause Tessa to nearly pass out under the waves.
“Come back to me!” Tessa called, and water flying, Michael refused shaking his head.
“You come to me!” Michael called poking himself in the wet chest. “Hee-Hee!”
Standing, Tessa moved slowly, advancing at him.
Feel pure joy at Michael’s looking at her.
His eyes covering her face, her breasts, her hips, the little slit adorned with a heart-shaped patch of hair.
Her long legs…
Tessa didn’t give a single word of fair warning, simply straddled Michael and sat on his lap, his hardened engorged cock slipping behind her.
She sat on her knees, feeling his thighs under her, her eyes penetrating his.
Arched, whittled brows went up as Michael stared back, quizzically.
“Fuck me.” Tessa breathed into his face and smacked his mouth with hers.
“Okay.”
Lips converged on each other, and reaching downwards, Tessa took hold of that huge meat…
“I …I hope it fits…my ex-wife said it was too big--” Michael’s head rolled back as Tessa raised herself and began easing onto him.
“UGH!” Tessa cried feeling the width of him going so far into her.
“Yes…yes….tight…oh…oh…hmmm” Michael was stammering and Tessa, feeling a wonderful pain, cradled his face in her hands.
“I want you to come inside of me…” She grunted and forcing her knees against the many jets of the tub started to raise herself and began to bounce on Michael Jackson.
“Yes! My little lover! Yes!” Michael’s hands intertwined with hers and Tessa had him spread out all against the side of the tub and was licking at his face.
He was wearing makeup, it was bitter to taste, but she savored it.
It was Michael.
Pulling his hands free, Michael’s hands rested on that immaculate ass of hers, a finger lodging up into her anus as she continued to bounce.
“Ugh…yeah…yeah…you like my ass don’t you?” She taunted, her tongue, wagging out and being met by his little sliver of pink, flicking against each other obscenely.
“I like everything about you…” Michael grunted, cheeks glowing “Damn it…oh, Girl! YES! YES! Ride me! Ride me! Ride it! Oh….UGH!”
Water splashing as Tessa got her bearings her hands found Michael’s shoulders and she fell against him, her chin on top of her hand rocking and grinding herself into him.
“Yes! YES! I’ve been without…too long! OH Tessa! Tessa! Jesus Christmas! Yes. YAAAARRRRR Yes!”
Hands mashing and kneading her ass cheeks, Michael was shaking his head between her breasts, motor boating Tessa as she shook herself on him.
Holding her, Tessa threw her head back.
“You feel so good to me Michael…hmmm….” Face squinching, as Michael’s Michael was kissing all over her throat and décolletage.
Deliberately, Tessa pulled herself off Michael and stood.
“Don’t go--!” Michael hugged her waist, smooching after her heaving abdomen, fingers running between her cheeks and tickling after her clit causing her to snort.
Cupping his chin with her hand, Tessa demanded,
“Tell me it’s the best you ever had--”
Michael replied with a paraphrase,
“It’s the best pussy I’ve ever had!”
And Tessa was back on him, hugging him.
“Shit…shit….shit yeah….oh Michael…Michael! Mike!” Tessa’s breathing rate increased and her pupils dilated, the feeling of him sweeping back and forth was exacerbated by the bubbles flowing around them.
“I know! I know Baby! UGH! HOO! HOO! OH! AW AW!” Michael shook. Whipping his head back and forth, his wet curls sticking everywhere on his face, he declared.
“I’m gonna come! Tessa! Tessa…TESSA!”
No man had screamed her name like that, and Michael clutched her to him, for the first time since they’d gotten in the tub, was thrusting into her, instead of letting her do the work.
“I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come! Oh God! Oh God! Ohhhhh! I’m gonna come!” Michael was gasping repetitiously.
“JESUS CHRISTMAS!”
With one last, powerful thrust, Tessa was brought to tears it was so forceful.
Inside of her, in her deepest depths there was hard, frantic jizzing.
“Uh! Uh! Uh! Ugh! My God! Oh! Jesus! Oh! Oh my God! My dick…my woo…”
At the same time, both Michael’s and Tessa’s heads fell back, both of them staring silently, dazed and opened mouthed at the ceiling overhead.
A very long intermission of silence passed, and Michael, placing his hand on her head, brought Tessa’s face close to his.
“Thank you…”
* * *
“…yes…I’m aware I told you I was supposed to be back by one a.m. You will be compensated for working overtime. I was with a friend last night…”
The sound of Michael, speaking quietly and covertly woke Tessa late the following morning.
Rolling over, hugging the pink satin bedding to her bare body, Tessa saw Michael was sitting on the side of the bed, stark naked, the receiver of her pink French phone mashed to his ear, his back to her.
“…well that’s life. Things happen. I got detained overnight. You were there; you’re still there. I pay you to look after my children. You’ll be paid, damn it! Now quit questioning my choices in my personal life or you‘ll be extracted from all aspects of my life, period. Is that clear? Alright.”
The receiver was set down, and Michael unaware he was being watched snarled,
“Uppity bitch.”
“Good morning to you, too…” Tessa ran her finger down the center of his creamy back and poked at his little crack.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Morning…” Leaning over Michael pecked her mouth. “Nanny giving me Hell--”
Leaning back against the pillows, Tessa twiddled her thumbs and asked,
“Is your nanny prettier than me?”
“Huh?” Michael gasped and shook his head. “No, Annie is older than me--”
“Then we won’t fire her.” Tessa sighed definitely, and those winged brows went up.
“We?” A bemused grin crossed his face. “Yes…we.”
Tessa liked the sound of that.
Later that evening, a couple slipped into a silver Lamborghini, destined to pick up a green Ferrari.
As the car meshed with traffic and sped away, a pair of young Hispanic men watched them go, both smiling smugly and glancing at each other.
Now…maybe…just maybe…the neurotic heiress known as Tessa Ashton had found a man who would cure her of her constant dieting and low self-esteem.
And maybe, just maybe Michael Jackson had found a woman he could finally trust.
