True Affair

Take Them Off, Please

"Don't acknowledge my smile when I try to say hello, to you."
Butterflies By Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson's Point Of View

"Who is she, Frank?" I ask. My head never moves from its position, I enjoy the view in front of me too much to look away. My manager, Frank, looks up from the paper that contains the details of a ridiculous lawsuit and glances at the woman standing at the door of the boardroom.

"Oh, her," he says as his attention goes back to reading. "She's your assigned lawyer, I'm assuming," Frank says with a circular motion of his wrist.

"Hmm," I hum in response. My smirk grows large as the woman nears the table I'm seated at. I lean my head to the side to get a better look at her figure.

My eyes land on her 5-inch black heels that make her legs appear much more toned and longer than they actually are. My eyes travel up slowly. Which takes longer than expected- her legs seem to be endless. Soon enough, my eyes travel up her figure as I make a mental note that her dark complexion looks exceptional in white. The dress is loose- fitting, but it tugs on just the right areas. Her body is not voluptuous, but it is womanly, to say the least. Her long-sleeved dress ends at her collar bone. Large bedazzled silver earrings frame her neck and land on her slim shoulders. Though her face is now contorted into a disapproving expression- due to my prolonged stare and position, her face is smooth and aesthetically pleasing. Her broad- set nose thins down into a button that rests on top of her cupid's bow. Her voluptuous lips are framed well by her sharp jaw and high cheekbones. I stare at her eyes for a few seconds longer than any other part of her body. Luckily, my aviators are on, they spare me from the awkwardness of her catching me staring directly at her eyes. Her eyes are a deep shade of brown- much like mine and hold tremendous amounts of emotion. I notice her hair cut is extremely short, as she sports her natural afro-curls. I smile as I finish staring at the beauty before me. She is the most sophisticated- looking woman I have ever seen, and the fact that she seems unbothered by my presence attracts me even more.

There's a slim chance she views me as a star, I think to myself. My smile grows wide at the thought. Or maybe she's just acting professional, after all, this is her workplace, I add to my thoughts. My smile dies down at the realization.

I turn my head and look away as the mysterious woman sits directly beside me. She glances at me with a blank expression before letting out a small breath. She taps her stack of paper upwards on the table so that the article would be even. Once she is satisfied, she runs her pointer finger on top of the pile and places it down.

She flashes me a closed- mouth smile and extends her hand to mine. "Hello, Mr. Jackson, a pleasure to meet you," she says in a professional tone. I return the smile and shake her delicate hand. Her hand is soft- as if she hadn't touched one single thing for the entirety of her life. "My name is Isabelle Shae, I'll be your lawyer for this case," she adds.

"Thank you, God," I say to myself. "Nice to meet you, Isabelle," I say as I bite my bottom lip- a habit of mine. I let go of her hand as she glances around the table and shares a smile with the rest.

"Who's here with you today, Mr. Jackson?" she scoots further back into the chair. Her subtle wiggling catches my attention- I scold myself for staring at her breasts while she speaks.
I swallow the overwhelmingly large lump in my throat.

"Well, this is Frank DiLeo, my manager," I say as I motion with an open hand to Frank, who's on the left of me. He smiles at her briefly, allowing me to continue introducing the men with me. "And these, wonderful men" I laugh. "Are my bodyguards" they all nod at me with a smile.