The Difference - Chapter 10

Merry Christmas!

"Consciousness expresses itself through creation"

Michael Jackson: Dancing the Dream (1992)

Chapter 10



If he lived to be a hundred years, he would never understand what evil force had propelled him to follow her.  It made no sense.  He had reached his goal.  Success was his after his admittedly horrible behavior had finally penetrated her civil mask.  Lisa always thought she could outwit and outplay him, usually realizing too late that she herself had been played and had lost.  What had she expected?  Did she really think she could corner him, force him to deal with her in public, and not get burned?  She must have lost her touch dealing with all those wimpy losers over the past years. 

After her hasty exit, he had made his apologies to Julia and Bret, telling them he felt unwell and needed a second to pull himself together.  Part of that was true.  His chest was burning and he felt like coming up from a very long dive.  Julia attempted to read his eyes, but he averted contact.  Maybe he had known he had to steal one more glance at Lisa, making sure she was indeed leaving.  Was he scared she would stay or was he terrified she would leave? What a familiar feeling.  Familiar and unwelcome.  Briefly, he wondered if he felt guilty, and discovered that concern for Julia was at the very periphery of his mind.  It was like Lisa’s presence had drowned out any and all other images in his consciousness.  He just needed to make sure she was really out that door, so he could return to being the gentle and polite person Julia thought him to be. 

Coming down the long hall, he immediately had spied Lisa and Riff Raff, who funny enough shared his first name, by the exit.  They were talking, then Lisa leaned in.   He held his breath, watching them kiss.  Something inside tripped a switch and emotions rushed in, drowning him.  The hall converted into a glass tank.  He was trapped inside, quickly running out of oxygen yet refusing to pull the lever promising a quick rescue.  What was this?  Anger? Hurt? Jealousy?  Possessiveness?  He felt his brain shutting down.  This was not good.  Not good at all.  

Still, this was more than cute.  She had shown up here, obviously having browbeaten Bret into inviting her.  Knowing he had company in New York, she had dragged her newest puppet along with her to rub in being engaged for the hundredth time.  She had forced a conversation, had hinted at their history, had insulted his date, and now was sexing it up with her boy toy?  Right here?  Who does that?  Oh yeah, that’s right, he forgot her penchant for public dalliances. He flashed back to a hot hand on his crotch in an elevator.  His security team was right there, standing in front of them, facing the door.  His back had been against the wall, in more ways than one, when she had reached down there and started to play.  God- he had been so horrified.  And so turned on. 

Michael! Walk the hell away.  She is no longer your concern.  She’s outa here.  She’s gone from your life.  Let her have her blissful happiness with this milky dude.

He had been this close to listen to that well-meaning, rational voice inside.  Sadly, this close was not close enough.  Lockwood left.  Her whole posture changed after the loser closed the door.  Very interesting. When she disappeared into the bedroom, he glanced behind one more time to ensure he was not being watched.  He did not need an audience following her into the bedroom.  Not that he had anything to hide.  He only wanted to find out what the hell had been behind all her attempts to reach him.  The otherworldly sexual pull toward her had nothing whatsoever to do with his behavior. Or the hard on in his pants.  Totally irrelevant.

Entering, he leaned against the door.  The water was running in the bathroom and she had the door pulled, but not shut.  The glare from the ceiling light gave him a headache, so he switched on one of the small lamps, turning the brighter illumination off.  He heard the water go off, and heard her calling out, obviously expecting to see his name sake.  Then she finally appeared at the door, stopping, staring at him as if he had two heads. 

Surprise, baby-girl. Ambushes are fun, aren’t they?  At least when you are the one springing the surprise.

The plan had been to simply ask her what she wanted from him.  Such a basic endeavor.  Too bad, her presence in the small room once again hypnotized him.  She was like some dangerous but irresistible siren that would lure him into certain disaster.  His body, his heart heard her song, and he steered his ship toward her, seeing the dangerous cliffs without heading the danger.  And, since his brain obviously had been short-circuited, he insulted her, knowing full well the reaction he would exert. 

Predictably, she had ended up slapping the daylights out of him, and then, before he knew what the hell happened, her sexy little body, clad in that ridiculously provocative dress had been smack up against him as he tried to keep her from castrating him with her knee.  All the desire he had kept bottled up for years blew the cork on his self-control.  Was he surprised?   The development was about as startling as getting showered with soda after taking the can for a ride on a pogo stick.  His need for her battled with his anger at her explosive behavior, one fueling the other, whipping each other into the frenzied vortex of his emotions.  He hated her with an intensity that bordered on insanity.  And he could not remember the last time he had been this aroused and hard.  The pain he experience inside his pants made him even more irate. The pain inside his heart morphed into its own entity and directed the progression of the next scene.

Her arms behind her, towering above her, he had a prime view of her heaving chest. Her dress had slipped slightly, revealing a red, lacy bra, bringing her breasts up in voluptuous mounds.  He had been right- her underwear was red! Her legs were up in his crotch, and each of her movements heaped added pleasure and agony upon him.  And worst of it all, her eyes…they were his undoing. Knowing their power he had attempted to evade them.  Too late: they found him as sure as the magnetized needle finds true north.  He discovered his own torrential feelings perfectly mirrored in the almost smoky green depths: Arousal, anger, fear, passion, confusion…they all swirled in the cauldron before him.

Catching a glistening movement, his eyes dipped lower. Her mouth was slightly open; her pouting wet and full lips were no doubt a copy of what was going on in other regions of her body.  Her heaving breath seemed an extension of his own exertions.  Her unique scent entranced him, luring him unlike any other perfume he had ever encountered. His mouth, his soul, his whole being thirsted for her.  Then, in the utmost moment of insanity, he had allowed himself a taste of her skin.  No spices in the world could ever rival her…His tolerance lowered after years of abstinence from his favorite drug, he instantly yearned for more.  Had to have more to sustain being whatever she turned him into. 

She told him she knew he would not force her.  Her body was arched into him and had become fused with his boundaries.  The membrane was becoming thinner and thinner- if he did not watch out, he would bleed into her. An aquarelle in the making.   Force her?  Does one have to force one color on the  canvas to add splendor to the other? 

This was the moment.  He had to know.  What was she feeling right now? She did not seem to be unaffected, did not act indifferent at all.  And if she was not indifferent now, had she lied before?  If so, how dare she shatter his universe and crush his soul at a time when he had not possessed the resources to withstand her attack. 

“Michael…” Her voice was so deep and dark, the velvet cloak of a magician.  He resisted falling under her evil spell. He was not so sure it was working. 

Where was her answer?  Did she swallow her tongue?   Nope, there it was, licking her lips.  A second ago, he had felt it against his mouth.  His penis strained against him driven by pure envy.

Control it Mike.  Don’t let her confuse you.  Stop the distractions.

“Well? Are you?”

She stared up at him and he thought he saw tears rising. The green fire retreated as she lowered her gaze before being able to utter the next words. 

“What I said…it was a long time ago.”

His eyes widened.

“Long time?  It was a couple of months ago.  You remember, right?  That little inconvenient trial I was facing?   I needed you and you fucking tore my heart out.”

He instantly regretted the outburst, offering her too much information.  Her throat moved as she swallowed with difficulty.

What’s wrong, girl?  Does the truth make you uncomfortable? Well, too bad! You should have lived my truth.  Talk about uncomfortable…

Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, but suddenly, he no longer could bear to hear her voice as no answer in the world sufficed to tame the demonic beasts inside.

All the circuits exploded at once.  Depleted of any internal regulating mechanism, his mouth crushed down on her, taking her lips in a ravenous kiss devoid of any tenderness or caring.  His tongue forced its way into her hot mouth, and he was almost surprised to have his attack met with equal fervor.  No defenses.  Just a counter strike. Letting go of her hands behind her, he grabbed her head, fisting his hands in her silky hair without any thought or consideration for destroying her hairdo.  Instead, he applied enough pulling force to lift her mouth up to him more. Pulling back the silky fabric of his dreams, he continued to devour her like the starving animal he discovered he was.  He heard her moan and responded with his own animalistic growl that sounded terrifying and foreign to him. 

Lisa reached up with one hand, tangled it in his hair, and drew him toward her mouth as if she feared he would let her go and needed to keep him in place.  Her other hand grabbed his shoulder, clutching his shirt one moment before before he felt her glide lower and get between them, slowly approaching the pulsing and throbbing source of his agony.  Part of him longed for the impending touch; part feared making a total fool of himself and cuming right in his pants like a little boy.  When she did touch him, it was with feather light impact that nonetheless hit him like a blow torch.  Having started to see dots behind his closed eyes, he had to abandon her mouth, sucking in breath with frenzied urgency.

“Michael..Michael…” His name was on her swollen lips like a hoarsely whispered prayer. 

What the hell was he doing?  He had to get away from her or he would do something he knew he’d regret later on.  Lisa increased the pressure on his crotch, grabbing him hard now, starting to massage him through his pants. The fiery path of her tongue scorched his neck.  For someone with a fiancé downstairs she sure acted oddly into him.  The lightening slashing through him distracted him from worrying about her morals- or lack thereof. 

He looked around him and spotted a chest of drawers up against the wall by the bathroom. Moving her backwards, he approached the piece of furniture, while reclaiming her hungry mouth.  When her backside hit the wooden surface she broke away from his kiss, staring at him with glassy eyes.

“So…I guess…you missed me?” If he made light of it, maybe the gravity of his emotions would not count against him.

“God, Michael…” Her fingers left him, but only to open his fly and reach in to free what had become intensely difficult to contain. 

He needed to hear her say how much she missed him.  Her body gave him all the right answers, but he wanted to hear her say the words so he could laugh in her face, telling her that he was finally over her.  So that he could lie that he had not missed her at all.  Never mind he felt reborn just having her near.  Never mind her breath had provided light and oxygen to part of his collapsed universe.  Wanting her, needing her were nothing but instinctual, reflexive urges. She was never to know just how much he ached to be inside her again.

No, he could not let this get out of hand.  He had to stay in control here, and if she managed to get him in her hot little hand, or anywhere else, he would be lost.  Like so many times before. 

One hand came to rest over hers, applying pressure, but keeping her from going further. He allowed himself one single second in which he attempted to stop the world from spinning.  His other hand glided with a gentleness he did not feel around her hip and when he felt the soft yet firm globes of her ass he started to let them play in teasing circles and strokes over her behind. 

Lisa had many attributes, but he had always been very partial to her backside.  For a small woman she was cushioned in just the right places.  As his fingers reacquainted themselves with the feeling of that spectacular asset, he let them glide lower to the edge of her dress, fisting his hands in the fabric, causing it to climb higher on her thigh.  The second his fingers touched hot skin, she let out another moan that went straight to his penis, causing it to jump against her hand. 

Fuck! He was in such trouble.  He was a nanosecond and less than an eighth of an inch away from feeling up his ex-wife as his friends, the woman he has spent two marvelous nights with, and her fiancé were within shouting distance.  And knowing Lisa, if he kept things going, she would shout alright.

Resentment and anger were still mixed with the heady arousal as he thought that the little ice princess did not look all that cool and collected now.  Her face was flushed and she looked like she was partaking in her own drug of choice.  Could it be?

“Yeah, Lisa, do you remember now?  You miss me, princess? Can he make you tremble like this? Does he know all the little places to touch to drive you crazy?  When you scream his name, do you see my face?”

He hissed all those questions at her as he kissed her neck, nipped at her earlobe again, while his fingers dipped below the dress line now, ascending on heated skin, ready to find out just how unaffected she was.

“Oh God! Don’t do this…What are you trying to prove, Mike?”

He ran a finger along the outside of her panties- a thong.  Big surprise.  At least she was wearing something.  She whimpered once more, and he almost felt sorry for her.  Almost.  Then her hands dipped into his pants despite him having his hand on her, and she managed to pull him out. 

“Fuck, Lisa.  What am I trying to prove?  I am trying to get a fucking answer from you about the state of your indifference.”  His eyes closed as she gripped him harder, letting his skin glide along the iron core of him. 

“Me? Well, what about your state?  What about you, Daddy? Does little Miss J get you this hard and needy, Mike?  She must not be doing her job right if you can’t wait to feel me up in here.”

“You’re such a bitch.”

“A bitch that gets you horny as hell, seems like. Who missed whom here?”

Her hands touched her necklace. “Remember this?”

“Should I?”

No, I don’t remember your screams, sobs, and promises at all, Lise. I don’t remember flying into heaven.

“Like hell you don’t.  Remember when you gave it to me?  When you asked me to wear it for you with only my heels on?  When you asked me to bend over.  When you fucked me, touching it…”

Memories assaulted him once again.  Without thinking, he picked her up in one swift movement and placed her on the top of the dresser.

He spread her legs, causing the dress to retreat all the way up her hip, granting him a wonderful view of her very sexy, very red, very wet thong.  He ran his hands from her calves to her knees, then over the sensitive inside of her thighs, enjoying the goosebumps chasing his touch. She shivered and her head fell back against the wall when he ever so slowly started to trace the outline of the soaked crotch of the lacy lingerie. 

“God, Lise, you’re so wet…so ready…”

Lisa’s arms were braced behind her, and she scooted up a bit, granting him an even better view as he could see the perfect outline of her swollen sex.

“You missed me, Mike.  Just say it. I know you did.”

“No Lisa, it’s not about missing you. But I’m not an idiot, either, and I always appreciated what was offered.”

Had he gotten to her?  Was that a hint of vulnerability?  It was gone before he could be certain. She set her chin.

“Fuck you! You’re such a bastard!”

His fingers pushed the lacy material aside with one swift move and he entered her dripping pussy.  She cried out softly, her hip almost coming off the dresser.

“Well, from the feel of things, you really, really wish I would fuck you right now, don’t you?”

Her eyes closed but she did not move.

“I want you to...”

His finger moved inside her, and he about came in his pants from feeling the soft, tight walls against him. 

Say, it Lisa… Ask for it.  So I can leave you ass hanging like you deserve.

“Yeah, baby come on.  All you have to do is ask.  You might get it or not.  But at least I got you ready for Michael number two.”

The blue ice found him as she looked at him from half hooded eyes.

Was that a tear?  Oh no, she was not about to get out of this by making her feel bad for her.  Those old tricks did not work anymore. 

“I need you to stop playing games with me.”

Like hell!

“Lise, your pussy tells me that you like my games very much.  At least your body is honest.”

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Why did he see pain on her face?  She should be so proud- she got to observe her handiwork. 

The sarcastic laughter was no born of good humor. What happened to him?  Years of being played and being lied to happened to him.  She happened to him.

This was not going well at all.  She was pushing all the wrong buttons.  Leaning in, he kissed her roughly one more time, then forced his fingers to leave her heat, feeling her muscles clamp down against the loss.  Swiftly, he grabbed her under her arms and picked her up.

With every good intention in the world, he tried to end things right there.  Her body had given him his answer.  Even if she just wanted to be fucked, at least there was some emotion left; she was not indifferent.  He had been right, and she was a lying little slut.  She could go now and leave with the knowledge that he still affected her.  She could go home and fuck her Michael, wishing for what she would never have again. 

Lisa’s eyes narrowed and just when he thought she would be grateful for things to end, she did the unthinkable.  Instead of lowering her legs to the ground, instead of taking advantage of him offering her an out and getting the hell out of here, she pulled her legs up and closed them around his waist, grinding her pelvis into him. This of course, brought her in direct contact with his overly sensitized penis, jutting upwards toward her heat, her dress still up by her waist. No, this was not happening. Why would she...

All thought stopped.  Not one neuron was wasted on contemplating or planning what naturally happened next.  With one move and without hesitation, he brought her up against the wall, pushed her panties to the side, and guided himself into her with one forceful upward thrust of his pelvis.  His lungs constricted as if he had been jumping into a pool of ice cold water.  When his throbbing member was fully encased in her intense, wet, heat, a pained sob was forced from his throat.  The sound was met by her deep cry. He froze and stared at her, assuring himself he had heard a scream of pleasure, not protest.  Lisa stared at him with wide eyes, then grabbed his head, forcing the next hot kiss as she continued to feed him her sobs and moans.

His brain had gone numb, his body was on fire, an unworldly torrent raging through him, needing to find expression in the movement of his hips, as he fucked her harder than he ever remembered. 

“Oh, fuck.  Girl…no…I can’t…” He had no idea where he had found the strength for the words.  They made no sense, but for some reason he knew she understood.

They only existed in that moment, the kiss, their shared breath.  He pushed the dress off her shoulders, needing more skin, his hand seeking her breast.  Finding it, he held on, kneading the soft skin, pinching her nipple as she started to suck and bite on his neck.  There was no tenderness, only passion and need.  Lisa met his every gyrating thrust with equal fervor. One leg came from around his hip as she needed the leverage against him.  He reached around her and supported her other leg up by her thigh, grateful for her insanely high heels that kept her hips accessible to him.

He heard her whimpering increase, heard her call out his name incoherently against his neck.  Instinctively he wanted to wait for her release, hating himself for caring.  The tell-tale tightening of her walls indicated she was close.

“Let go, baby.   You know you’ve been wanting it.  Let go…let yourself sail the rainbow…”

He felt her stiffen, then scream against his neck, and he forced her mouth to him, making sure he absorbed the auditory evidence of her surrender.  Her pussy was like a heavenly vice, spasming against him, while bathing him in a sea of burning oil.  One more jab, one last movements and he followed her into the sun, releasing his essence, feeling his wings catch fire, watching his soul fly into the depth of hell once more.  Small specs of burning ash danced behind his tightly closed lids.  He thought he heard his name whispered against his sweaty skin.

Was this just another nightmare? Would he wake up any minute, alone in his bed, finding the evidence of his lust for Lisa on his sheets?  No, her breathing against him assured him of her actual presence.  Damn!

Understanding filtered through the fog of passion.  What the hell had he done?  He let himself leave her sheath, feeling his hot seed seep from her.  Fuck! He had not even used a condom.  What the in the world was wrong with him?  He pulled her thong back in place and adjusted her dress.  Lisa leaned against him, limb and quiet.  Her breathing was still racing, he felt her heart beating against him like a little imprisoned bird.

He had to get away from her! Picking her up, he lowered her onto the bed before backing up, shaking his head, raking his hands through his hair, retreating to the bathroom. 

“Michael?  Are you ok?” Her voice was deep and raspy. 

What the hell did she care?  Why did she ask now if he was ok? Splattering water on his face, he stared at the stranger in the mirror.  His eyes looked like he was on drugs, he had red splotches on his face and something that looked like a blooming hickey on his neck.  Great.  She had marked him, and he was pretty sure he had left some spots on her.  Emotions collided and merged into an unnamed mess.  Picking up the one most familiar, he hated himself as much as he hated her.  Finding a washcloth, he wet it.  Lisa came up behind him and hugged his waist. Her head rested on his back.  No, he could not handle her tenderness.  Anything but that.

‘Michael…I…”

Shrugging her off, he handed her the washcloth.  She stared at him in confusion and he saw her eyes darkening as understanding tinted her soul.  Finally, she turned and wordlessly cleaned herself off. He followed her every movement in the mirror, trying to judge what would come next.  Lisa kept her expression controlled, her eyes lowered.  She turned, ready to walk into the room. 

Don’t let her go.  Not like this. 

“You might wanna fix your hair.” Even his voice sounded unfamiliar. It was not what his heart had wanted to say.  But it got her attention.

“Is that all you’re gonna say?  I should fix my hair?” She turned back toward him.

Good, she had stopped.  It did not matter how that feat was accomplished.  Or did it?

“Do you have a comb I can borrow in that purse?”

“Have you lost your mind?” Her eyes burned into him.  He evaded her question as well as her searching gaze.

“Lisa, we are both here with other people.  You want us to look like we just made…that we fucked?”

“Is that what we did, Michael?  We fucked?”

No, Lisa, we re-entered one of the circles of hell.  But I will not discuss the trip with you now.  Or ever.

“Well…what would you call it?”

Making the sweetest love possible to the only woman who could ever take me this far.

He met her eyes in the mirror.  She stared at him and he thought she looked scared for one small second before an angry guise slid over her features. 

“Nothing.”

Lowering her head, her hand wiped something away.  Was that a tear?  No, she looked too angry to cry.

“Look, it was nice.  Thank you.  Let me know if you want more.  At least you won’t scream the wrong name when you sleep with him next time.”

At that moment her cellphone spared him another slap.

“Fuck.”

She ran into the room and answered it.

“Yeah… No, I’m sorry.  I just had to sit down for a minute, I got dizzy.  I’m coming. Yes, right now.” She snapped her phone shut and picked up her wrap.

“Well, technically, you just did.”

“Shut the fuck up, Michael. Before I do something I regret.”

“Well, join the club.  What would you regret?”

“How about marching out there and asking Miss Julia why she keeps you lusting after the only real woman you have ever had? Let’s see if you can get it up for her tonight, Michael. Or ever again”

With that, she pushed by him, and left the room.

“Lisa!”

“Fuck off.”

“Call me if you need more.”

He could not believe the words spewing out of his mouth.  Yet, he was deathly afraid that he might say what he really wanted to call out to her:

Stay.

She flipped him the bird and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door. Michael took about fifteen additional minutes before his outer appearance projected all the cool collectedness he wished he could conjure on the inside. 

He wondered what she was feeling now.  Then he wondered why he cared. Did she hate him now?  Well, good, if she did, at least that was progress.

(to be continued)

The Difference is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

©2010 Erika B Michaels. All Rights Reserved. This story is a work of fiction. Any names, places, and other identifying features are used in a fictional manner, for entertainment purposes only, and are in no way representative of actual events. This work may not be reproduced, copied, transmitted, or stored without expressed written permission by Erika B Michaels. All photos and images, mentioned songs or song titles are copyright their creators.