You Give Me Fever || Michael Jackson

Chapter 23: Billie Jean Is Not My Lover - You Are

Michael's POV

"Mmm, Michael," Billie groans into my mouth, still sprawled all over me on the examination table.

I need to stop this! This is wrong!

What can I do? She's out of control!

Wait.. I have an idea!

"Oh, Billie, keep going!" I whimper. "You're amazing..!"

This is all just an act, it's part of my plan.

She kisses me harder, and starts touching me.

Ugghhhh, this is awful, but I've gotta do it for my plan to work!

I feel like I'm betraying Becky, I really do.. but it's the only way to stop this.

"I tell you what, Billie," I pull away from her, and look into her eyes.

"What?" she asks, eyes full of lust.

Ew.

"Let's go back to mine, and finish this off there," I say seductively, raising my eyesbrows at her.

She doesn't need to be told twice.

She grasps my hand, and drags me out of the doctors.

"Hang on," I say, turning back around to lock the building. I place the key in my pocket. "C'mon, let's go."

We arrive at the car, and get in.

"Wait.." Billie stops me. "Won't Becky be home?"

"What, her?" I scoff. "Pfft, nah! She's gone out with her friends Jasper and Charlie, she won't be coming home tonight!"

"Oh, well that's fine then," she smiles, doing her seatbelt.

I start the ignition, and begin to drive. "But if you feel nervous just walking in, I'll go check inside beforehand."

"Oh, you would?" Billie grins. "That would be wonderful. But what if she's in?"

"I'll find a way to get her out," I lie.

"Ooh, sounds good," she replies, a smile forming on her icky lips, as she sits back on the seat, and rests her arms behind her head as we drive.

--

"Right, you stay there, and I'll go inside and check Becky's out," I say, getting out the car once I'm home.

I know for a fact that Becky's here, that's why I'm doing this.

I creep up to the front door, and open it quietly.

It's only 6:00pm, but I wanna be quiet.

I arrive at the living room door, which is ajar. I peer inside the room, and see Becky sat on the sofa, her dressing gown on, and her slipper-covered feet up on the coffee table.

She's so cute.

I widen the door ever-so-slightly, until my movement catches her attention, and she looks over at me with a warm smile.

"You're a little late today, sweetheart," she chuckles, leaping up from the sofa and walking my way.

She pecks my lips, but pulls away quickly, and gives me an evil look.

"What?" I ask, my eyes widened.

"W-Why do you smell like women's perfume?" she asks sternly.

Crap, never thought of that!

"I don't know, do I smell of women's perfume?" I ask, trying to hide my awkwardness.

"Yes! Why?" she demands, her voice more raised.