~NOVEMBER 1988, LOS ANGELES~
Valerie's skin tingled with excitement, feeling every fibre of her being vibrate with anticipation. She could barely stand still, she had a wide, permanent smile on her bright face, and she chattered senselessly to her blue-eyed, blonde-haired friend, Christina. A type of electric current surged through the charged crowds of fans, yet Valerie felt the energy pump through her veins stronger than anyone else there.
Backstage at the arena was simply chaotic. Thick cables hung from the ceilings and sprouted out of the grey walls. Fans and people and crew members and press swarmed through the place. The air was hot and hazy, smelling like smoke, sweat and alcohol. Valerie and Christina waited somewhere towards the end of a long line of about 30 people, a spectrum of strangers, but they had one thing in common: they were all fans of music icon Michael Jackson, and tonight, they were lucky enough to meet him in the flesh. Valerie had brought along her copy of the Bad CD, hoping to get it signed.
"It's gonna be so worth you sneaking out of the house for the concert," said Christina.
"Not even," objected Valerie, twirling a lock of her ash-blonde hair around her finger, wearing a look of contempt which silenced her friend in mild shock. Then she broke out into a grin and smiled, "it's gonna be totally worth it!"
Christina shook her head and playfully pushed Valerie's arm. "No duh! So, what did it take before you could get out of there?"
"Hm...like, two arguments, and on top of that, my dad hid my house keys, but I found them because the only place he can think of leaving them is in that same old plant pot; he said if I go, I can't come back."
"But it's your birthday, Val."
They both moved forward in the line. Each step they took brought them closer to the superstar.
"I know," sighed Valerie, "and they still said no. I'm 24 now; they can't keep me on a leash forever."
"You should be able to be free, like a bird. Live your life on your own terms,"
And she wanted to. More than anything. Her life was tedious, filled with simple tasks, yet it lacked stimulation. She rinsed the same routine day in, day out, having worked a lousy, soul-draining 9-5 office job around the same monotonous people. She needed something; a spark of adventure. The concert hadn't started yet, but she was the most excited that she had been in a very long time, and she didn't want the night to ever end. But little did she know that her world was about to be flipped upside down once it was over.
"Hey," said Christina, "we're gonna have a blast."
Valerie nodded, beaming. "I know. Thanks for helping me make this a totally awesome birthday, Christie."
They shared a side-hug, which was interrupted when a tall, dark-skinned heavy-set member of security in a maroon suit and black top hat grabbed their attention. His thick, trimmed beard made his chubby face look rounder. He beckoned them forward. They were next. The girls squealed and pointed at him, standing just a few feet away from them as a white camera flash lit up his features while he posed for photographs with a young boy dressed similar to him, buckles and all. The very first sight of Michael took Valerie's breath away, made her weak in the knees, and evoked feelings in her which she wasn't used to.
The child and his mother walked away, and the same security guard told the ladies it was their turn, and gave them permission to rush towards the megastar, and Christina was the first to be greeted by him. Michael was a lot taller than Valerie imagined, and even more attractive than in the pictures or videos. He then turned to her, and as their eyes met, Valerie's heart skipped; for the first time in two years, that something burst inside of her. She found herself drawn to him, unable to turn away.
"And you are?" he asked, sweet and soft spoken yet exuding charm as he flashed her a mesmeric smile.
Red quickly spread on her cheeks when she realized she was starstruck. She gulped and regained composure. "V-Valerie,"
What a pretty name for an equally pretty girl. Her porcelain skin looked smooth and clear, her lips full and a faded pink. He liked what he saw so much that she elicited a quiet "damn" from him as he eyed her up and down; her face, the way her little black dress hugged her shapely figure and highlighted the contours of her breasts, hot fantasies were already playing out his mind; imagining what type of positions he could get her in, what her moans would sound like... He snapped out of his trance and extended his hand towards her in greeting. She took it in hers, feeling the warmth from his palm heat her own as he gently squeezed, the size of his hand enveloping hers. She looked into his round auburn eyes, dark and mysterious, and utterly hypnotising. They consumed her. She didn't know what it was about this man that drove her absolutely insane, but their sexual chemistry was intense, instant. And he knew that he had her.
Michael released her hand. He asked the girls, "so, are you looking forward to the show?"
A pause, and then a simultaneous bursting into high-pitched squeals and incomprehensible compliments, flapping their hands, interrupting each other.
He chuckled to himself, running his thumb across his lower lip. "I take that as a yes?"
That was one thing they could both agree on. "Yeah," they both breathed, nodding compulsively.
"Good," he said.
"Actually," Christina interjected, gently pushing her friend forward, "it's her birthday today, right, Val?"
She turned her head, silently warning Christina with her eyes to zip it.
"And she couldn't think of a better way to spend it than to see her favourite singer perform," continued Christina.
Valerie slightly leaned back from Michael, who she was now inches away from, not wanting to invade his personal space. She caught a trace of his scent; mint and sandalwood laced with smoke. It intoxicated her in the best way and threw her senses into disarray.
"Really?" he asked, not fearing the closeness.
Valerie shrugged and smiled, admitting it. He noticed the album in her hand and gently eased it out of her grasp.
"Well." He looked down as he signed the CD. "Happy birthday, Valerie," he told her, handing the it back.
She glanced down at his cursive writing and signature, then met his eyes, smiling. They had time to pose for a quick photograph. Michael stood in between the two girls, with his arm around each of them, like he did with every fan he met. Only he pulled Valerie closer, causing a light gasp to escape from her. Unable to resist the invitation, he discreetly ran his hand down the curve of her body, sparking electric shocks, even through her clothes, as his fingers caressed along her waist, over her hip, stopping at her thigh—though under her long black sweater, so nobody could suspect him. His touch was so sudden and unexpected, that her eyes fluttered up towards his face. He returned her stare and bit his lip, having found her perfect, round ass which he gently squeezed. She wasn't uncomfortable or appalled. Not at all. In fact, she held back a moan, feeling her lust for him building. She pressed her legs together and forced herself to stay calm and act natural.
"3...2...1...smile!"
A click and then a blinding flash. Then he let them both go, as if nothing happened.
"Enjoy the show, ladies," said Michael. He looked at Valerie with silence for a moment, and she felt her breath quicken. And then he smirked, if only just slightly. She blushed in response.
Was it just her imagination, or was something starting between them?
~
The girls' heels clacked on the hard floor of the narrow hallway as they walked down it. The walls and floors were grey and chipped, and the ceiling was dotted with the same dim, round light. They were making their way back outside to join the rest of the fans who were waiting for the show to begin.
Michael's touch had left an impression on Valerie. Heat slowly crept up her face as she replayed the provocative encounter in her head, not missing a single detail. It was still so fresh in her mind: the way he did it so slyly, so effortlessly. Why didn't she stop him? Deep down, she knew it was because she secretly liked it. She was so absorbed in her thoughts, she hadn't realised that she abruptly stopped dead in her tracks.
"...right Val? Val!"
And she heard it—Christina's faint voice in the background.
Valerie blinked. "Sorry." She resumed walking again. "What were you saying?"
"I said: do you remember if there's an opening act? I thought I read or heard somewhere that—"
"I don't know...Christie, I got a serious question."
Valerie stopped walking again, and Christina mimicked. She could tell that Valerie looked troubled about something. A small group of fans which met Michael shortly after them made their way down the same hall, excusing themselves to get past.
"What's up, Val?" she asked once they were gone.
"It's just...back there with Michael...do you think he was acting a certain way with me?"
Christina's eyes glanced in all directions as she thought. "I'm not so sure. What do you mean?"
Valerie shrugged and scratched her temple. "I don't know, I guess I just think that he...liked me. Or something."
Maybe she was she simply overthinking it. But surely, he didn't feel up every female fan that he met, did he?
A look of realisation dawned upon Christina's face. "Oh, I get it."
Valerie's eyes widened. She must have noticed the way that he touched her. "You do?"
"Totally."
"What is it then?" she urged.
"He's a total flirt, Val. Everyone knows that."
Valerie sighed; that wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. "No..." she mumbled. She put a hand to her chin as she paced down the hall a few steps and back to her friend. "That can't be it, Christie."
"Maybe he was just being extra nice because it's your birthday—"
"But the way he was looking at me, Christina," she insisted, before taking a pause to inhale and exhale steadily.
She didn't want to encourage Valerie to get carried away, but out of curiosity about what possibly could have happened between them in those 5 short minutes, Christina asked, "how did he look at you?"
A smile slowly spread across Valerie's face as she reminded herself of the way his lust-filled eyes had raked her long legs, the way his lips curled into that smirk, whilst trying not to go weak at the mere memory. "Like...like he wanted me."
Christina was at a loss for words. Although she truly believed that nothing in particular happened, she didn't want to disappoint Valerie by disagreeing, but she didn't want to play into her fantasy either. She was the type of person who could easily be led astray. In the past, her firmly-rooted beliefs had acted as an iron mask which permitted her to only look in one direction or at one thing, like an addiction. It was dangerous, it was risky, and Christina knew it.
"Word on the streets is that he sleeps around. A lot. It's just how he is. The ladies love him and, well, he loves the ladies."
Valerie stared down at the hard grey floor. Maybe Christina was right...there was nothing out of the ordinary, or special, about their encounter. He was a naturally friendly and vibrant guy who had this remarkable ability to put women under his spell with a single look and she was one of many who had fallen victim. Surely, many other female fans had questioned the same thing.
"Yeah..." murmured Valerie, "you're probably right. It was nothing,"
But her heart wouldn't let it go.
"Come on, then. We should probably get outside," she said.
They only managed to take two steps before a deep voice in the distance called out after them. They both turned around and witnessed the same bearded, hatted security guard from before approach them with a large stride.
"Which one of you is Valerie?"
The girls exchanged glances. The right one reluctantly raised her hand.
"Follow me," the man requested.
Valerie's mouth parted. She hesitated, looking at her friend again for guidance. Christina shrugged.
The guard sensed the uneasiness frizzling between them like static. "Don't worry; she won't be long. I'm Marvin, by the way."
Valerie considered going once more. The security seemed awfully friendly, so she probably wasn't in trouble. Or maybe that's how she knew she was.
"I'll be right back, Christie," she said.
"Sure will," assured Marvin, tipping his top hat as he began to walk the other way again.
Valerie stood in the same place. Christina shooed her friend; go! She listened and scurried in her heels to catch up with Marvin. Momentarily, she turned her head to glance back at Christina, who wished her good luck with two thumbs up.
She followed Marvin in silence as they continued back down the same long, grey hall.
"Can you tell me where we're going?" she asked.
"Nope," he replied, rather shortly. She thought that she saw him smirking.
"B-But my friend and I, we're here for the concert and we really don't wanna miss it," she persuaded, as Marvin pushed open a heavy double-door.
"You're not gonna miss the concert, lady," he stressed. "It can't start without him, not till he's done."
What in the world was that supposed to mean? Until who was done with what?
Valerie didn't ask any further questions for the rest of the walk, which proved to be longer than she expected, and all the while, she felt as though she was drifting further into darkness and obscurity rather than into clearness. She had no idea where they were going. Their destination appeared to be at another hallway, only this one was nicer and better lit. What was that she smelled—fresh paint? They stood outside a spotless mahogany door, and that's when Valerie saw it: a gold-plated star screwed onto the wood.
Marvin knocked with the back of his fingers and gruffly cleared his throat. "Yo, Mike—that snow bunny you asked for is here."
Valerie's eyes almost popped out of her head. What did he just call her?! She made a sound of protest but her nerves rendered her speechless. Why was she here? She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the door unlocking. She completely expected someone to open it and let them in, but a few seconds later, from inside the dressing room, it was none other than who Michael informed:
"Let her in,"
Marvin took a step back and gestured towards the door, as if to say: he's all yours.
She grasped the door knob and exhaled slowly as she mentally prepared herself for whatever was about to happen once she entered that room. She slowly opened the door, just wide enough to let her body snake through the gap. She closed it behind her. Perhaps the term 'dressing room' didn't do it justice; it was so spacious and well-lit, that it was more of a suite. It was not so average like any other place in the arena, but it was a mess. A powdery, cosmetic smell hung in the air. There were two blue velvet couches on one side of the room and on the other, a vanity and a large mirror with bright round bulbs around the frame. A wide, furry bearskin rug lay in the centre, and the the walls bared random artefacts. There were also large wooden crates and several clothing racks lined with different outfits.
And of course, he was there too.
Michael's presence alone made Valerie feel both awkward and hot. Literally. Her skin felt fevered, her body tingled with heat, and all he had done, so far, was look at her.
"Hi, Valerie," he said, rising from his seat at the vanity.
She loved the way that he said her name, how it rolled off his tongue so smoothly, igniting a fire deep inside of her.
"Wow, it's...cool to be here," she replied, a little distracted in her observation of the place. She stepped forward, and something crunched under her heel. When she glanced down, she saw that she had stepped on an empty water bottle. Gradually, she began to ease into her surroundings roamed the space, sitting on the arm of the blue couch, then standing up again immediately. "I mean, it is so cool!"
He took few steps towards her. "So, do you know why—"
"Like, Christina is not gonna believe me when I tell her that—"
"Valerie,"
"—I'm in Michael Jackson's private dressing room!"
He sighed, rolling his eyes. Was this girl ever going to let him get a word in? And that squeal of hers—annoying.
"I've been a fan of you for years, ever since I saw Thriller on TV," she continued. "If someone told me 5 years ago that I'd be standing right here talking to the man himself, I wouldn't believe it!"
"Yeah, that's sweet." Now take your clothes off.
"We actually stayed up for an entire just to get the backstage passes. I'd never been so tired yet so happy in my life!"
He'd be a lot happier if she put a sock in it.
"You know there's a reason why I wanted you back here, don't ya?" he asked, changing the subject.
She nodded, "I tried asking that big black guy but he wouldn't tell me a thing, and the entire time, he was acting like some sort of hit man; I thought he was gonna take me to the big house!"
"That's my security guard—"
"Marvin! Yes, I know! What a creep..." she said, shuddering, before she softened into smiles and looked at him in awe. "Oh, but you're like, so nice and cool and this is a dream come true and," she sighed, "I really like you, Michael."
"I like you too, girl."
She expected to wake up any second.
He felt an usual shiver down the length of his spine when she turned her eyes upon him, like two bright emeralds staring into his soul.
A hand flew to her chest as she breathed out a "really?"
"Yeah," he admitted, closing the gap between them with a few steps. "Really,"
She held his gaze in silent assessment for a moment. Then she smiled, her lips full and inviting. She knew it. She wasn't reading the signs wrong. She couldn't wait to tell Christina all about this. Their closeness made her cheeks blossom with pink against her creamy skin. She chuckled nervously when he tucked her hair behind her ear and raised her chin with his finger.
He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "Actually, Valerie, you caught my eye from the very start." For some reason, he couldn't resist touching her hair again; it was silken and smelled of the fruity products she used. This time, he pushed her hair back over her shoulder, revealing her collarbone. "I think you're cute. And I'm...interested,"
She furrowed her brows, so he clarified,
"In you,"
Her gaze momentarily dropped to his hand, placed firmly around her waist to subtly draw her in, the heat radiating between them. She looked back up at him as he continued,
"And unless I'm wrong, which I rarely never am, I'd say you're interested in me too. And I can make your birthday one to remember. You know what I'm trying to say?"
His hand smoothed over the curve of her ass, as if she needed another hint.
"Yes..." she said, dragging out the sound. She surprised him when she moved his hand off of her. "But no." And she stepped out of his space.
"No?" He almost laughed. "What do you mean no?"
That was the first—and he prayed the last—time that ever happened to him.
"Yes, I really like you too, but no, I'm not gonna have sex with you," she elaborated.
He stared at her blank faced. "You're shittin' me, right?"
"No, I'm not."
Michael was confused. She actually turned him down. What the hell was wrong with her?
"Say that I did," she added, "what would happen after?"
He shrugged. "Nothing..."
"Exactly; I don't wanna go down as just another chapter in your book of flings."
"What, you want me to take your ass out for dinner after?"
She laughed, "not even..."
"Look, I don't make the same offer twice," he stated, walking to the mirror. He lifted his curls and dabbed a beige-stained sponge onto his forehead. "So if you ain't down, you should go. I got a show to start in a few minutes."
"No, that's the thing—I am," she stressed. The desperation in her voice stalled him. "You want something for me and I want something from you. Maybe we can compromise...or come to an agreement."
Considering how strongly attracted he was to her, he put down his makeup sponge for her suggestion, and made his way back to her. "What you want?"
She swallowed. "An escape."
"From...?"
"I don't know, I just..." she faltered over her words, then took a deep sigh to gather them. "Sometimes, I feel the need to, like, get away. Get away from life—from everything."
His lips curled into a smile. He chuckled lightly to himself. "Valerie, Valerie, Valerie... Well, lemme tell ya, girl. You came to the right place,"
She listened intently.
"You don't know what I can do. I can give you all the riches in the whole damn world. I can make you a star."
"I don't know if I need that much," she said, "but I trust that you'll give me what I do need."
"Alright," he agreed. He'd think of something later. "And the sex?"
"One time just won't cut it for me."
Michael put his hands on his hips, eyes glued to the floor as he thought of a way around this: an 'agreement', like she said. But it was almost too easy, as if she had walked right into his trap.
He found his next one.
"How 'bout this? Every Thursday, we'll meet. You'll let me do whatever I want to you. In return, I'll give you what you need—your escape, or whatever."
"Wait," she interjected, "will anyone else see you on Thursdays?"
He let out an incredulous: "No!"
"Okay," she nodded, and then, "wait..."
He sighed and heard her out.
"I can't do this at my house," she said quietly, as if to prevent their exchange from leaving the walls of the room. "I still live with my folks; they'd kill me if they found out what was going on."
Man, was she high-maintenance. Without saying a word, Michael paced to his vanity and picked up a napkin from the dresser. He rummaged the surface for something to write with, and found a marker. On the napkin, he wrote the address of his personal condo, the digits of the code for access, as well as his telephone number. He gave it to her.
"We'll meet here," he said. At last, he extended his right hand towards her so that they could shake on it.
She pursed her lips, folding the napkin in half and smoothing her fingers along the crease. She glanced up at him, a mix of playfulness and seriousness in her eyes. "I think you're forgetting something..."
Michael made one final quick trip to the dresser. He opened each drawer from top to bottom and rummaged through them, not bothering to close them once he was done. In the bottom drawer, he retrieved a small, clear plastic bag filled with little white round pills, each one marked with a capital E. He intended on saving them for after the show, but he could definitely afford to make that compromise; it wasn't an issue.
She lifted the baggie up and inspected the contents. "What is this?" Medicine?
"Your escape."
She stared at him observingly, almost in disbelief, to carefully understand if he was being serious. And he absolutely was.
The more she thought about it—the conditions, the reward—the more she was determined to agree to it. She had been in two committed relationships in the past, both of which ended disastrously, but this?
No strings. Just sex.
She had never even thought about doing such a thing before, that too, with the world's biggest celebrity.
But she wanted to.
With him.
Finally, Valerie offered her hand to Michael so that they could shake on it. Make it official. He took her hand in his with the intention of doing just that, but instead, he used her hand to pull her closer to him with a stumble. She drew in a surprised breath. Letting go of her hand, his own rose up to cup the back of her neck, forcing her to look at him as his lips crushed on hers. At first, she was too stunned to respond. But when she felt his thumb caress along her jaw as if to alleviate her shock, she yielded to him willingly, closing her eyes and parting her lips as she clung to his shoulders. Taking her compliance as the perfect opportunity, Michael tilted his head to kiss her again, desperately wanting more as his tongue traced across her lower lip before entering. He deepened the kiss as his tongue stroked hers and dominated her mouth, hinting at what was to come, getting her drunk off his sweet, minty taste. His other hand slid around her waist, splayed on her lower back, pressing her body right up against him. A moan escaped from within Valerie, her thoughts running wild as she kissed him back, responding to his every demand as the heat of his touch ignited a fire inside her.
Michael broke away, but kept her in his hold. His kiss left Valerie breathless, and desiring so much more.
He looked at her with heavy eyes. "You better be good," he whispered.
"I'll be the best you ever had," she assured, though her mind was clouded with the doubt of her statement.
She leaned in to kiss him again, but her lips were met with his palm, and he gave her a firm, yet gentle reminder,
"Till Thursday."
And thus, a deal was made. She entered Michael's dressing room as Valerie, but when she left, she was known as his 'Thursday Girl'.
~A/N~
SO gassed to finally post this for you guys!
This is very different to anything I've ever written before, so idk what to say other than I'd really love to hear your thoughts on it so far!
Not gonna lie I've got so much writing to do with this one but you can expect chapter 2 sometime next week.
❤️