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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♛ 1999 New York City Word Count:5.5k
It was a late November night, and you found yourself perched on the sidelines, watching as Michael held his interview with MTV. He was being celebrated for having created the best video of all time, with "Thriller" triumphantly at number one.
From your vantage point, you couldn't help but admire Michael. His hair was meticulously styled, and the stubble he had been growing for the past few weeks added a rugged, yet endearing charm. You loved seeing this laid-back version of him during interviews; it was such a contrast to the anxious, nervous demeanor he often had when faced with probing questions. Tonight, however, Michael seemed exceptionally at ease. His posture was relaxed, and even his outfit was unusually simple. Michael typically went all out with his appearance, always showcasing an impeccable sense of style.
Michael glanced over at you, his lips curling into a warm smile that made your face flush. A familiar wave of weakness washed over you, the same weakness you had when you first met Michael and him becoming your Sugar Daddy. You crossed your legs, adjusting your black mini skirt and noting how your heels sparkled under the bright studio lights.
"You know, I hear a radio next door," Alex, the interviewer, remarked with a chuckle. "Someone just picked the wrong time to start cranking a tune."
Michael laughed softly, a little squeak escaping as he turned to look at you, still chuckling. You gave him a reassuring smile as the cameras cut briefly before resuming. His focus shifted back to the interview, and you loved watching him delve into his work. His passion for his art was palpable, and you never tired of hearing about his creative process. It was fascinating to see how his mind worked, how ideas flowed seamlessly from him.
Your gaze remained fixed on Michael, captivated by his every move-the way he licked his lips, the subtle squint of his eyes, the rhythmic rubbing of his thumbs. You could never take your eyes off him.
"When was the last time you watched 'Thriller'?" Alex asked.
Michael sighed, "Gee, I don't know. I've thought about watching it again, but I don't because I don't want to scare the children," he said with a chuckle.
You rolled your eyes, knowing full well that it was a playful lie. Michael often roamed the house wearing the werecat mask from the video, delighting in scaring both his kids and you.
Michael began to talk about his dreams and his love for the Three Stooges. You adored listening to him share his passions; it was like falling in love with him all over again. Your eyes roamed over Michael's relaxed form, lingering on his hands every time they moved, their elegance mesmerizing you.
As Michael discussed "Thriller" and its iconic choreography, he demonstrated a few moves. His shoulder popped, his head twitched to the side, and a loud snap from his fingers echoed against the chair, the sound mingling with the soft rustle of his leather jacket. Something about those gestures stirred a deep feeling within you. You shifted in your seat, trying to ease the sensation until you could be alone with him back at the hotel.
