the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice.|MJ Fanfic|COMPLETED

|1|•the darker the berry

com•plex•ion
the natural color, texture, and appearance of a person's skin, especially of the face.

Septemeber 7, 1996
Prague, Czech Republic

SORAYA
I was making my way through the hectic backstage, being led by one of the security guards, I believe he said his name was Bill. I had finally landed the day before Michael Jackson's HIStory World Tour took off for it's second show as his temporary hair and make up stylist. Karen Faye will be in absence due to a family emergency, which she will return during the second leg of the tour so, I was reccomended to Mr. Jackson by a good celebrity friend of mine who I styled and made up for three years.

Thank you, God for her.

I wasn't a popular makeup artist and hairstylist only because I wanted to remain a regular and normal life and just work behind the scenes only when needed. Honestly, it was all a dream come true when I got the phone call from Mr. Jackson's assistant who told me I needed to immediately pack two months worth of clothing and catch the first flight that was already paid for and handled. The only thing I needed to do was go pick up my passport and the rest is well... history.

With my makeup bag filled with my supplies in hand and my purse on my arm, we finally make it to a brown door that had Mr. Jackson's name on a plaque, which I assumed was his dressing room. Bill knocked a couple of times until a voice from inside answered. He opened the door, stepped inside, and said a few quick words. After that, he peeked his head back out and ushered me inside the room where I came in contact with none other than the famous singer himself being helped with his costume for tonight's show. I just stood by the doorway in amazment. I was really in the same room as this man. This fine ass black man. Leave it to him to have me getting ready to go all fangirl crazy when I've worked behind the scenes for a celebrity just like himself.

I just wanted to scream it to the world that I was looking at Michael fucking Jackson. Okay, yes, I am a huge fan of his and always found him to be very attractive throughout the years, but nothing beats the man in the flesh. His curly mane was down and all over the place, his bare face makeup free, and my God, was he gorgeous. I couldn't deal right now. I just couldn't. I was thirty-one years old and my insides were going crazy like a fast tailed sixteen year old trying to be grown. Bill had finally excused himself from the room, sending a quick head nod my way and I give a small wave as he shuts the door.

"Why are you standing by the door?" Said his deep yet soft voice.

My eyes instantly lock onto Michael whose eyes were already on me as I stood dumbly by the door. I wasn't a shy person whatsoever, but I just didn't want to set my things down as if I owned the room and make myself too comfortable without meeting the man who hired me. Still being helped with his costume, he let his eyes do the talking for right now. His gaze was burning a hole into me something serious.

First, he started with my afro that I had tamed to perfection, my curls weren't as curly since I had picked them out thoroughly to create a more bushier style. His eyes traveled further down and locked with my eyes and stayed there for a good few seconds.

"Your eyes are beautiful."

Not knowing where my voice had gone all this time but I finally found it and responded with a small smile, "Thank you, but they're just colored contacts."

He cocks a brow at this then nods his head as if to say 'okay'. His eyes continued to examine me and I felt like he was watching me bare naked through my clothes with the way his eyes were so intense and focused on only me. Letting them travel further down, he lick his lips obviously in approval of what he sees before him. I had to admit, I felt all kinds of butterflies in my stomach and weak at the knees, that I almost dropped my makeup bag on the floor.