Book I Of the 'Not Vanilla' Imagine Series.
𝚃𝚆: includes strong language, Sexual content, Explicit content.
Readers discretion is Advised
Imagines Between you & Michael Jackson.
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♡ 1985 Hollywood, CA Word Count:3.7k
The recording studio was a hive of activity today, the hum of equipment and the occasional burst of laughter or chatter filling the air. Michael had been busy finalizing the recording of the track he'd given to Diana Ross, "Eaten Alive," with him and Barry Gibb providing backing vocals. The studio was a mix of modern technology and cozy comfort, with plush sofas and state-of-the-art recording equipment creating an atmosphere that was both professional and inviting.
Michael had insisted you come along with him instead of staying back at the hotel. Secretly, you were glad to be there, knowing how touchy Diana could get with Michael. The studio lights cast a warm glow, reflecting off the polished surfaces and creating a vibrant, creative energy in the room.
As you sat on the sofa in front of the recording booth, Diana settled next to you, her presence commanding yet elegant. She leaned back, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she listened to the playback of the track.
"They sound amazing, don't they?" Diana said, her voice smooth and confident.
You glanced over at her, managing a weak smile. "Yes, they do," you replied, Michael's words echoing in your mind: 'Be nice.'
Diana's curiosity was palpable as she turned to face you more directly. "How have you and Michael been?" she asked, her tone casual but with an undercurrent of genuine interest.
"We're fine, thank you for asking," you responded, your eyes flickering away from her and landing on Michael. He was behind the soundboard, adjusting levels with an expert hand. Sensing your gaze, he pulled his aviators down slightly and flashed you a reassuring smile. You winked at him, causing a faint blush to creep up his cheeks. Michael bit his lip, momentarily distracted by your silent exchange.
The producer's voice crackled over the intercom, pulling everyone back to the task at hand. "Alright, let's run that one more time from the top."
In the dimly lit recording studio, the walls adorned with gold records and soundproofing foam, Michael nodded, giving you one last affectionate look before focusing back on the session. Diana settled back into her seat, her demeanor relaxed as she savored the music, her fingers gently tapping on the armrest in time with the beat.
You leaned back in your chair, the plush leather creaking softly, and listened to the track play. Michael's heavy breaths echoed in the room at the beginning of the track, his jaw flexing with each exhale. Diana's voice came in next, smooth and powerful, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, though she was sitting right next to you, her foot tapping rhythmically, her heel occasionally slapping against the floor.
As Michael and Barry's background vocals swelled, you watched Michael intently. Seeing him immersed in his craft made your heart swell with pride. His dedication and passion radiated from him, and you found yourself drawn to his intensity, feeling a warm rush of admiration and something deeper, more primal.
