Teacher's Pet (A Michael Jackson Fanfiction)

Teacher's Pet..9..

I groan as my eyes flutter open to complete darkness.

"Michael?" I whisper into my dark room, but he doesn't answer.

Stupidly, I look around the darkness for him as I sit up and press the warm, sex scented sheets to my chest.

A flash of lightning brightens the room, and I notice his absence from my bed.

He's gone?

Well, he's gone from the room.

"Michael?" I call into the darkness again, hoping he'll magically appear. "Michael?"

No answer again.

I lean over to the nightstand and click the lamp light on.

Thunder rumbles outside as the room illuminates, but, still, there is no sign of Michael.

Where could he be? I ask myself, staring at the sex-mangled sheets around me.

Maybe he's in the bathroom.

I scoot out of my bed with the sheets wrapped around my naked body.

"Hopefully you're in the shower, Michael," I whisper as I walk to the end of my bed. "so I can join you."

My clothes are on the floor, and so are the gym clothes I loaned him.

We had sex for hours.

Wonderful, mind-blowing hours.

Michael is--God, words can't even describe what that man is and he's so sweet.

I remember falling asleep in his arms as he stroked my hair, whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

I'll remember this night forever.

I smile bigger as I stare down at our clothes again.

But here is he?

We fell asleep naked and he was holding me.

He wouldn't just leave without saying anything to me... right?

I hope not.

I breathe in deeply and drop the bed sheet before slipping into my robe.

I'm so sore--a delicious reminder that Michael was inside me.

I clear my throat as I walk out of my bedroom into the hallway.

I'm heading towards the bathroom when my front door doorbell rings.

The doorbell rings again as I look at the clock on the hallway wall, frowning.

"Who could this be at my door at two o'clock in the morning?" I murmur, slowly making my way down the hallway to my living room then to the front door.

The doorbell rings again as I rise to my tiptoes to peek out the peephole.

It's a man.

Oh, shit.

The doorbell rings again and more frantic.

"Who is it?" I ask the door with my baseball bat in hand.

"It's Brad, Jenna. Open up! It's raining cats and dogs out here, girl!"

I drop the bat, roll my eyes, and lean against the door with my arms folded under my breasts.

"Hopefully one bit you in the ass! What are you doing here, Brad?"

"You wouldn't answer your phone." He speaks to the door from outside as the rain continues pouring. "Look, Jenna, I know it's late, really late, but I'd like to apologize for not walking you home."