March 5th, 2001
Mariah was in the studio working on the soundtrack that was to accompany her film. Though acting was fun for her, she was happy to finally get back to her first love--music.
“Okay, Mariah. You ready?” Her producer, Clark Kent asked.
Mariah nodded. “Yeah, let's do it.”
The song took a sample of an 80s song “Firecracker” to go with the time period of the movie.
“I got myself a lover who knows what I like, when he invites me over I come every time-” She sang, making her way through the lines of the song. She and Clark continued to work through the song--tweaking different parts here and there. She wasn’t the perfectionist her husband was, but she definitely knew what she wanted.
Suddenly, music shut off.
Mariah raised an eyebrow. “What's up?”
“You got a phone call.” Clark said.
She put her headset down and walked out of the booth to answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mrs. Jackson.”
Mariah pulled back from the phone. “John? What's going on?”
“Well, an alarm in the house went off. One of your house guests was in a restricted area.” John explained.
Mariah's jaw dropped. “What? Did you do something about it?”
“Yes, we took the kid back to his mother and reset the alarm.”
Without responding, she hung up her phone and angrily snatched a bottle off the coffee table. She probably should’ve listened to the whole story from John, but her anger got the best of her.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let that asshole stay in my house!” She shouted.
Clark looked taken aback. “What’s going-”
“I tried to be nice but nooo! They wanna take advantage of us! Especially Michael! Poor Michael.”
Clark nodded, understandingly, though he clearly couldn’t understand why she was so angry.
“I wish I could kill that little motherfucker! Getting all up in my baby’s head making him feel like he owes him something!” She shouted, taking a sip of water. She swallowed before continuing on her rant.
“Honestly, fuck him! I don’t care what kind of cancer you have, it’s not okay to take advantage of a sad man with a huge heart. That sick mama knows what she’s doing! Fucking up my house! Stepping all over my husband!” Mariah lifted the water bottle toward her lips, but paused when she thought of something new to fuss about. “And you know what?”
Clark looked on with shaken eyes.
“That bitch had the nerve to excuse her triflin’ ass daughter when she stole my baby ice cream! I could’ve tore her head off!”
Mariah shook her head--her face emblazoned with anger.
“I am so fucking shitty right now!” She shouted, chucking the water bottle at the glass casing around the booth. The little bit of water left in the bottle sprinkled out over the soundboard causing an electrical short on that end of the board.
“Woah there, Mariah! You gotta calm down.”
Mariah cocked her head to the side. “Who you tellin’ to calm down!”
Clark pulled back.
“Huh? Answer me! Since you wanna tell people to calm down, why don’t you say it again?”
Clark backed away from the woman in his rolling chair. “Mariah I didn’t mean offend you. I just don’t want you to get all upset.”
“I ain’t upset!”
Carl, the engineer, gave a skeptical expression.
She flung her head around to him. “What?”
“I think you are being a little ridiculous.”
Without even thinking, Mariah grabbed the rolling chair next to Clark and pushed it into Carl. It just missed him, but created a large crack in the wall.
Carl hopped up. “Okay, you’re going to have to leave.”
“Fuck you!” She shouted, flipping him the bird.
She soon ran to the back of the room, picked up a large ceramic vase of flowers sitting on the floor, and hurled it at the glass booth--the plexiglass on the booth cracked in multiple areas, while ceramic vase shattered over the soundboard. In her fury, she’d rendered the soundboard inoperable.
Clark jumped up and darted out of the room like a man in distress.
“That’s it, I’m calling the police!” The engineer shouted.
“You gotta catch me first, dickhead!” She yelled as she picked up anything she could find in order to ruin all the equipment and instruments in the room.
In a matter of moments, Wayne, Louise, and the studio owner came rushing into the room--each trying to figure out what was going on.
“You’re gonna pay for this you crazy bitch!” Carl shouted.
“Oh fuck you!” Mariah shouted. “I know you’re working with him! I will kill you!”
Suddenly, Mariah felt Wayne lift her off the ground and carry her bridal-style.
“Put me down!” She shouted, swatting at the air.
“I’m gonna kill him! I’m gonna kill him!”
March 19th, 2001
“Baby sister, come here!” Noelle shouted, directing her tiny, but mighty, voice at a distracted Elizabeth.
“Noni, stop yelling, baby.” Michael requested.
The Jacksons were in Michael and Mariah’s Master bedroom at their condo in New York, all occupied with various activities. Mariah was snacking and watching TV, Michael was watching the girls and nursing his newly broken foot, the twins were making up a game they could play with their little sister, and Elizabeth was coloring. With Mariah a bit more off-kilter than usual lately, Michael tried his best to keep Twizzie out of her hair--if only to quell all of her unanswered questions. It was probably for the best anyway, since the girls were to be going over Rachel’s later on while Michael and Mariah attended the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for his second induction. If Michael could keep Twizzie calm for now, that would make a whole day where Mariah wouldn’t have to stress.
“I’m just saying!” Noelle exclaimed. “Lizzie, you s’posed to come here! Come here baby sister!”
Elizabeth ignored the girl.
Noelle huffed and stormed over to the other side of the room, aggressively snatching Elizabeth’s hand and messing up her picture.
“No!” Elizabeth called out. “Stop!”
Michael frowned. “Noni, don’t grab her like that, baby. That’s not nice.”
Noelle, face a pout, folded her arms.
Michael frowned. “Noni, stop that-”
Ring. Ring.
Michael picked up the phone while Noelle stood, silent and stiffened, angry with her father and sister.
“It’s me.” He answered.
“Hi Michael, it’s Denise.”
Michael smiled. “Got good news for me? Filed my taxes? I don’t owe nothing?”
Denise chuckled, nervously. “Uhh- Well, you don’t owe the IRS but uhm…”
“Well, go ahead. I’m all ears.”
“Well, I just received an invoice from Mariah’s office and uhh- Well- I don’t know how to tell you this? It’s a pretty big charge here.” She said.
Michael leaned forward, crossing his legs on the bed. He tried to keep his foot elevated, but was never the best at following the doctor’s instructions.
“What’s up?”
“You two have an invoice for four-hundred thousand dollars. The bill here outlines two pages worth of damaged equipment and property at a Manhattan studio. It even includes a letter signed by the owner that threatens to sue if all the charges aren’t paid in full by the 31st.” She explained.
Michael, shell-shocked, shot a sneaky side-glance at his wife. She didn’t seem particularly angry--laughing along with an episode of Moesha. He wondered how someone so unassuming could do so much damage.
“Uhh- Are you sure that’s the case?”
“Yes, I have the letter right here. Mariah apparently went into some fit of rage and completely trashed the place. There’s also another letter from the sound engineer threatening to sue you guys for five million dollars over his near-death.”
Michael’s eyes widened dramatically--his mouth falling open.
“Michael? You there?”
“You sure she caused all this?” Michael asked, catching Mariah’s eyes.
Mariah chomped on her popcorn, clearly trying to eavesdrop.
“Positive. They sent digital pictures of the damage.”
Michael gasped internally, watching Mariah’s cold eyes.
My wife is going crazy…
“Uh- Okay. I um- I wanna get that out to my attorney first. Fax that to her. Maybe she can help.” He replied.
“Sure thing. Do you want me to release it out of your accounts?”
“Not yet- Not until she looks over it. We honestly can’t afford this right now.” He explained.
“Your cash looks fine-”
“I wanna invest in some things.” He interjected, cryptically. Mariah furrowed her eyebrows. He hadn’t told her yet--heck he hadn’t told anyone--but he had a flurry of projects he wanted to initiate in addition to the concerts he’d wanted to put on with his brothers. Producing a film, hiring separate homeschool teachers for the girls, purchasing a house for the Arvizos, and starting a new foundation as a subsect of Heal The Kids were all projects he planned on championing. But in order to do these things, he’d need lots of liquid capital--something to the tune of one hundred and three million dollars total.
“Oh? You hadn’t mentioned anything.” Denise noted.
Michael cleared his throat. “Mhm...We’ll talk.”
Denise took a deep breath. “...Alright, Michael. I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, you enjoy your honor tonight, okay?”
“Alright, thanks.”
“Yuh-have a good one.”
Click.
“What was that about?” Mariah questioned.
Michael, afraid that even breathing would cause his wife to beat the living daylight out of him, hesitated.
“Uhh-” He giggled, nervously. “It’s uh- Don’t worry about it. It was nothing.”
Mariah rolled her eyes. “Is it those fucking people again? I swear if those little brats ruined my home-”
“It was Denise.”
She seemed to relax. “Oh...what's going on? Did she file our taxes?”
“Umm, no. She got an invoice from a studio that says that you trashed it.” He explained.
Mariah promptly turned away from and back to her show.
“Mariah…” He ground out.
“What?” She asked, avoiding his eyes.
He pulled on her hand. “What happened?”
“So, um” She scratched her head. “So Tommy-”
Is she really gonna tell this lie?
“He showed up at the studio and he was super pissed off like he always is-”
She is really doing this I see...
“So I got scared and threw a water bottle and it accidentally landed on the soundboard. Then he was like 'oh you crazy bitch you're gonna pay for that!’”
Good cause uh...I'm sure as hell not paying for this.
“And then he tried to hit me with one of the rolling chairs and that broke the wall.”
Should I stop her now or…?
“Then he pushed me and that's how the glass got cracked.”
Nah, this is kinda entertaining.
“I don't know what else happened. It was really a blur-”
He chuckled internally at his own thought process.
Okay, forreal though, I should probably stop her...
“So baby where was the sound engineer all that time? And your Producer?” He asked.
Mariah paused, making herself look pitiful. “Are you saying you don't believe me?”
Do you believe you?
“No, I'm just asking. You shouldn't have been by yourself so where was everybody?”
Mariah closed her eyes briefly. “They were at lunch.”
“So how were you working if no one was there? Don't you need a sound engineer?” He asked.
She looked at him with innocent eyes. “Baby I told you what happened.”
“I'm just asking for some clarification.” He said, flashing her a smile.
She sat up glaring at him. “Oh so you think I'm a liar?”
“No! No baby! Calm down. I just- Look, we need to start getting ready, okay? Call Rachel and I’ll get the girls dressed.”
“I don’t even know what I’m gonna wear-”
Michael interjected. “I’ll have my stylist bring you something.”
He soon slid off the bed, limping over to his cane.
“Alright y’all, go with Daddy.” Mariah said, looking toward their children. “He’s gonna get you ready to go with Auntie Rachel!”
Elizabeth was the first to jump up, she was just happy to finally be getting out of the house. The twins followed, escorting Michael toward the door.
Before he walked out, Michael looked back at his wife.
“I’ll be right back, okay? If you need anything, just shout it.”
March 23rd, 2001
Michael was cleaning off the table from dinner while the girls sat on the living room floor, coloring. Mariah sat on the couch nearby, watching TV. He picked up two bowls from the table to take back into the kitchen, when he noticed something slimy sticking to the table.
Is that…?
Michael curled his lip in disgust, glancing at his daughters then back at the table.
“Mimi?”
Mariah looked over to him with a raised eyebrow. “What?”
He jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Come here.”
She got up off the couch and joined him by the table. “What's up?”
“Look.” He said, gesturing to the table with his free hand.
Mariah's eyes scanned the table before she pulled back. “Gross... Who was sitting there?”
“I don't remember.” He shrugged. “This is disgusting.”
Mariah nodded. “I'll take the bowls. You go figure out who did it.”
So you gonna make me do this, huh?
He passed off the bowls, opting to go into the bathroom to look for cleaning supplies rather than confront his daughters immediately. He picked bottle of bleach, a sponge, and some disinfectant wipes then marched his way back into the dining room. He sprayed the table with the bleach while Mariah looked on with a bemused expression.
“Baby, it's just a booger.”
Michael looked up from the table. “Do you know how many germs are on that thing?”
Mariah threw up her hands in surrender and walked over to the girls. “Alright, girls. Who was putting their fingers in their nose?”
“Her did it!” Elizabeth exclaimed, pointing at Nicole.
Nicole jumped up. “No I didn't! It was Noni.”
Noelle looked at Nicole, then at her mother, and shook her head. “No I didn't.”
Michael, vigorously scrubbing the table, looked up. “Y'all better say who did it or y'all all going to bed. No more play time.”
“It her!” Elizabeth screamed, pointing her finger in Nicole's face.
Noelle looked at her parent innocently. “It wasn't me, Daddy.”
“Girls!” Michael exclaimed, his voice slightly raised.
Nicole started to pout, forcing a cry.
Guess we got our answer…
“Nicki, why did you lie and say it wasn’t you?” Michael asked.
Nicole, on a mission to guilt trip her parents, didn’t say anything.
“Nicki!” Mariah shouted.
Nicole jumped back in plain fear. “I no wanna whoopin’ I sorry, Mommy!”
Michael shook his head, shooting a leer at his wife. “Baby you’re not gonna get a whoopin’, okay?”
Nicole nodded, afraid of even making eye contact with either of her parents.
“Okay, but since you lied to me and you wiped boogers on the table, you go to bed. No play time, okay?”
“But Daddy, I said sorry.” She plead.
“No ‘but Daddy’, okay? Go to your room. Daddy will be in there in a minute to tuck you in.” Michael replied.
Nicole shot her sad eyes down to the ground and kicked imaginary rocks on the way to her room.
Michael frowned, glancing at his other two daughters. “Y’all got thirty more minutes until bedtime too. Use it wisely.”
Noelle and Elizabeth each nodded, clearly unaware of the implications of their father’s words.
Michael walked over to Mariah, gripping her hand.
“You gotta stop whooping them.”
“Oh please, I don’t do it that often.” She replied.
“Okay but the fact that they’re scared of us is the issue. No more of that, please, okay?”
She rolled her eyes.
Michael smirked at her. “Please baby, I’m serious.”
“If you’re serious then why are you laughing?”
“Because, Nicki’s such a drama queen.” He started. “Did you see her exaggerated little pout?”
Mariah snickered. “She was trying so hard. She thought she was really gonna play somebody.”
Michael chuckled, letting his boisterous laughter fade into tiny giggles.
“Sometimes I wonder what the hell am I doing? Like as a parent. What am I doing?”
Mariah nodded in agreement. “Being clueless. Trial and error.”
“Right. But still. It’s just like- Sometimes I don’t even know what to do with them. Like did we really need to take away playtime over a booger?”
Mariah and Michael thought on it for a moment.
“Yes.” They said, in unison, chuckling at the thought.
“That’s some nasty shit.”
“I know. I hope that ain’t a habit.” He replied.
“Shit, me too.”
March 27th, 2001
It was Mariah’s 31st Birthday and she and Michael had stayed in for dinner and drinks--their children with Rachel. They wanted to celebrate as a couple, preferring to get to know each other rather than throw a lavish party with hundreds of strange guests. Now, the two laid next to each other, staring at the ceiling in near-drunk whimsy.
“So, what do you wanna do, now?” Michael asked.
“I really just don’t feel like doing anything--I feel lazy.” She giggled.
Michael, still a little tipsy, sent her a cheeky smile.
“But you know what we could do…” She started again.
He shrugged. “What?”
She lifted her hand off the bed in front of her and walked her fingers down his stomach, prompting his teeth to grace his lower lip.
“What?” She asked, her tone low and sultry.
He shook his head, still biting his lip. “I didn’t say anything...”
She smirked as her warm hands slid across his shaft.
He pushed his pelvis out toward her, and she quickly sent him eyes that read ‘I know you want it’.
Excited by her foreign touch, he grabbed her by her neck and brought her lips in for a lingering kiss.
First, just the lips.
Next, a little tongue.
Last...he reserved for the other lips.
It was all happening a little fast for Mariah--but she couldn’t complain. If there was anything her man could do better than entertain a crowd, it was entertain her clit.
She focused on him as he pressed his tongue firmly against her pelvic bone and dug it into the underserved area in that way he did so well.
He seemed more eager than usual. She figured the lack of sex was catching up with him as much as it’d caught up with her.
She pushed his head down, gently, her body nearly begging his tongue to graze the ultra-sensitive skin.
She’d begun to subconsciously thrust upward--up and down, up and down.
“Oh- Oh!”
She began panting, frustrated with how slowly it all seemed to be happening. Her body was in a never-ending torture bind of just some pleasure but not enough to get her off.
“Come on, baby!” She shouted. “I wanna go there!”
He shot his head up, against her grip. “Look, my tongue going numb. What’s taking you so-”
Mariah pressed his head back down between her legs, begging her husband to get back to work.
To her disappointment, he quickly popped his head back up. All he wanted to do was get his dick wet.
He pulled her up by her waist, bringing her face-to-face with him.
“Michael, you didn’t finish-”
“I can’t take it no more, baby! Look at me!” He shouted, pointing toward his friend that found his way out. “Look at this shit, baby! I need-”
Mariah pushed him down so that he laid in a way that his knees remained planted on the bed. Already on top of him, she-
Shlop.
“Oh fuck!” She shouted, her voice breathy and eyes bulging out. She quickly lifted herself off of him, startled at what she’d done. “That was-” Her body stiffened--guilting her for her impulsiveness.
“You okay?” Michael exclaimed, raising his back up from the bed.
“I-” Her mouth went dry. “That shit went so fucking deep baby, I-”
“You…?” He asked, confused.
“It’s just- I felt that shit in my eyeball.” She explained.
Michael nearly fell out laughing.
“You what?”
Mariah, shocked, started again. “I-” A slow grin started to form on her face, after she’d realized her husband was laughing at her. “Shut the fuck up!”
She giggled along with him before trying at her rodeo again.
She climbed atop of Michael--the man gripping her hips to guide her down, slowly.
“Ooh, shit.”
Michael started rubbing her ass, helping to relax her while she went for her nut.
She slid further down on him, nearly making him disappear. He raised impressed eyebrows--she usually had trouble taking him all the way, but clearly, she was on a mission.
“Ahhhhh, damn.” She expressed--her tone low.
“That’s good, ain’t it?” He said, thrusting up and out of her.
“Yeah, that’s fucking good.”
“That’s good, baby?” He hastened his pace. “That’s good?”
“Ahh yeah- Yeah. Keep doin’ that-.”
He let his eyelids flutter shut, her soaking wet pussy drowning his dick.
“Damn, that shit goes-” His voice dropped two octaves. “Ugggggghhhh. Don’t stop.”
She began clenching him inside her. Everytime she pulled up, she’d contract her walls--causing him to blush under her.
She allowed herself to shut her eyes, finger-combing her hair back into a ponytail. “I need this, baby, I need this. I need it-”
Mariah slowly felt her tiny shirt forced over her breasts. Her nipples stiffened at his touch. She flickered her eyes open so that she could adjust herself.
She lowered herself completely on his dick until the only thing that was visible was his family jewels, and moved her legs out in front of her. But before she could get comfortable, Michael flipped her legs up over her head so that they laid in a Viennese Oyster.
“J- Oh my- What-”
Michael placed his index finger over her lips.
What the hell is he doing? I can’t stretch this-
Shmap!
“Michael! You did it baby, you did it!” She cried out at the sensation of her husband deep inside of her--both their bodies angled for him to rub up against her G-Spot.
She felt so full and tender at the same time--her legs firmly behind her head.
She started rocking back and forth, rubbing her spot over and over and over again.
“Fuck!”
Michael, breathy, gripped her ankles.
“You look so fucking beautiful right now.” He said between breaths, his mind in another world. He had begun to simply plunge into her, slowly, while her rocking hastened.
She felt his head against every ridge. He was fucking her so properly she couldn’t bother speaking coherent sentences--every other word was begging for more. And she couldn’t wait to have him shoot inside her. The mere thought of him using her as his cum receptacle nearly sent her over the edge on its own.
“You mine.” He whispered into her ear, now maintaining his length in her. “You’re fucking mine.”
He shut his eyes tight, and began kissing and nipping on her neck--spitting out words in between each little mark.
She began sucking on his neck, which bore a silver chain.
“I’m yours? Huh?” She said, her voice wanting. “Show me...” She exclaimed as she’d begun pinching her own nipples.
“I’ll show you.” He responded.
“Show me! Give me what I want!”
He fucked into her with a vigor she hadn’t seen since they were years younger. His pace hastened and low groans emitted from the depths of his throat.
“Oh shit!” She exclaimed. “I want you to cum all up in me! I wanna leak with your cum, Michael!”
Michael stiffened--his breath loud and shrieks louder. He emptied his balls inside her, seemingly just waiting for her to explode.
Her orgasm wrecked through her body, pushing a little bit of his cum out with it. Instantly, she could feel the soreness of her nipples from pinching them, and the aching of her hips from her legs being thrown over head. She could feel the cold air over the heat of sex chill the fire in her throat, and the warm air from the sex stuff the room. Most of all, though, she could feel her and her lover’s bond grow supernatural. The way he pretzeled her and rested inside her showed her where he most wanted to be.