Chances. Chances are gifts and blessings. Gifts because it allows correction. Blessings because it allows resolution. Chances are also debatable. There's always a hesitation. Should I? What if I? Maybe I? Chances are also something you can't take back, but can distribute for infinity. A gamut of chances can wreak havoc or gift peace.

I've been given a chance that I'm willing to take.

"So when are you going to start packing?" His voice sighs into the telephone line.

I sigh as well, glancing at my pile of folded laundry. The way the carefully folded clothes nestle perfectly on my bed, adjacent to my suitcase. I swear those clothes and that suitcase has been mocking me all day.

It's been two weeks since Michael's and I agreement to rebuild our relationship, and two God-awful weeks since our emotional "date". Although it didn't end terribly, I know it was nothing that Michael nor I expected.

I was being my usual, emotional wreck, and he was being his usual charming, sexually frustrated self. We weren't seeing eye to eye and there was a gamut of reasons. One reason, in particular, being his recent engagement.

Although Michael has assured me of his cutoff with that. I'm well aware that from time to time he does still call her. I'm not worried nor am I jealous, I just want her out of the picture. It's a terrible reminder. It eats me up inside to even think she had a taste of what was mine. I cringe and boil at the thought of him and her doing the unspeakable.

I'm just a mess. I've been avoiding it, but I need Michael to clean it up.

"Soon..." I exhale, plopping onto the bed.

Another sigh of frustration seals his obvious agitation of the situation before mumbles soon follow, bringing his voice along.

"I've been patient. Two weeks. Real patient, girl. I can't keep being patient.
I can't. It's worn thin. Very thin, Jess..." He stresses, his voice distant and husky even.

I open my mouth to rebuttal his claim but am quickly forced to silence by the slamming of what I think is the front door. On impulse, I quickly stand from the bed and glance around the bedroom for a weapon. Coming up empty, I sigh aloud and dare myself to will with stupidity.

I have no other choice but to check out the scene.

Leaving the telephone sprawled on the comforter of the bed, I tip-toe out of the bedroom. With a rapidly beating heart and a mind running with a gamut of thoughts, I travel down the hallway and continue down the stairs. As soon as my foot taps the bottom step, a figure whips around and I nearly have a heartache.

"Oh, I'm sorry... You okay?" He asks, reaching for me as I curl over to lessen my heavy breaths.

After a few moments of stumbling over little words between breaths, I finally stand upright and glare at him.

"Michael what the hell! You don't come to someone's house, slamming doors!" I snapped, shoving him away.

"I'm sorry! I'm a little pissed off at my... Girl right now. She's giving me the run around again!" He snaps in return, reaching for my forearm.

I roll my eyes and keep my glare on his.

I'm giving him the run around? I can't just jump back into his arms and run off back to Neverland with him whenever he wants me to. It's not that easy. The press has been speculating about his and Lisa Marie's sudden split. I read an article just the other day about that "love triangle" they so unfairly accused me of being the leader of, has been broken because of me.

In a way that is true, but then again it isn't true. Michael made a choice. He wanted this, and I just so happened to want it too. Lisa was just the benefactor, finally feeling free with a genuine relationship for once. She thanked Michael for being open and honest and told him it's okay. She wanted this.

The press just wouldn't understand.

Therefore I've been trying to stay off the radar, going to rehearsals when need be and taking care of Noah. Michael has been on my case about that. He claims that I'm not being fair, continuing to stay with Debbie. I think I am. He's being labeled as a cheater right now, and Lisa has not made an effort to clear that up. So what else am I supposed to do? Add more arson to the fire?

"Michael I'm not! This is protecting your image and career as well as mine! Do you not understand that? Can you not get it through your thick head-"

"Girl, I already told you. I don't give a damn! They will always have something to say. What matters is what you want. If things were in my hand, I'd have you in a bubble bath, relaxing while I take care of Noah for the day. If things were in my hand, you'd have a Misses ring on your finger. If things were in my hand, you would be laying in our bed every night, not Debbie's. Stop making things difficult and come back home." He pleads, gently pulling me closer.

I'm thankful that Gabriel came back into town and has offered to take care of Noah for the weekend, to gift me a break, and have him get to know his God sister; Jasmine. I thought it would be nice and a great chance to get Noah's verbal skills rolling and force him to communicate to others besides Debbie, Michael, and me. Of course, I was hesitant with that matter, but Gabriel convinced me to rust him and I do.

This also gives me the chance to apparently argue with Michael as I please. I hate arguing with him. I see his point, I just wish he would see mine.

"It's not that easy..." I sigh.

"It really is, babygirl. Just say you'll come back home. I want to work things out..." He whispers, pecking my forehead.

I close my eyes for a second and reopen them to find his fixed gaze. When he talks like this, I'm forced to believe and cling to every word. I see his vision between those words.

I want that vision to be a reality.

"You look tired baby girl, let me take care of you for the evening. Can I at least do that?" He whispers again, after my long silence.

Still maintaining our gaze, I silently nod and allow him to lead me back up the stairs. With every step we take as we ascend the polish wood, my heart flutters more and more. I love Michael's therapy. I love his determination. I love him.

Which is why I beat myself up.

I don't know why I acknowledge so many positives to this situation, only to have one negative detour my judgment. It's crazy how insecure I can be when I think about his relationship with Lisa, that I advocate for. It's insane how I tell this man I love him, but steadily break his heart when I crush his dreams of us being a family again.

I must be demented.

"Bath or shower?" He asks as we enter the guest room.

I watch him attentively as he closes and locks the door. My heart just sped up its steady pace. I'm trying to force my brain to accumulate an answer, but I can't even choose. Bath or shower? Such a simple question.

Why can't I choose?

"Your legs are probably hurting still, so I'll say bath. Is that okay?" He smiles, pecking my forehead as he ventures towards the connected bathroom.

I nod foolishly once he turns around, smiling idiotically once he flashes me his infamous, charming smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

Glancing around the bedroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the dresser's mirror. My reflection displays the half-smile that has involuntarily crossed my lips. The reflection also displays the fear I'm withholding. All in all, my reflection states the obvious. I'm a whim of eclectic emotions, but at this moment, none of that matters.

Turning my gaze on the crack of the bathroom door, I catch a glimpse of Michael. He's solely focused on the running bath water, measuring my shower gel as he pours it in. I can't help but cheese at the scene. He really is trying. I give him credit for his relentless behavior.

When Michael puts his heart to something, he definitely goes all out. For him to travel all the way over here, just to drill a bit of sense into my stubborn head, shows his passion. I guess I keep testing that passion. I don't mean to. I'm just overly analytical about everything.

Too analytical to see that I want to be home again.

"Okay... Your bath is ready. Go ahead and test it." He smiles, stepping out of the bathroom.

Caught red-handed, staring at him foolishly, I chuckle awkwardly and whisper a thank you before forcing my legs to move. Walking past him, I pause for a glance. He's been patient, a little impatient at times, but for the most part patient. He strives to make me feel good, especially after our little picnic. But here I am, still making it difficult. His patience needs rewarding.

Patience should pay off, right?

"Are you bathing with me?" I finally speak, smiling timidly.

For a silent minute, he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. He's just as taken aback as I am by my careless question.

"I don't want you to think that I have a hidden agenda other than to show you that I really care. I just want you home, that's all." He stresses, not breaking our gaze.

I nod and close the door.

I have an agenda of my own.

"Just bathe with me, please," I whisper, walking away from the door.

I feel his eyes still very well fixed on me once I'm near the bathtub. I swear I heard the hitching of his breath once I slipped my "Think Of Dance" tee above my head. I try not to giggle at his hesitance as I approach him. Standing in front of him, I reach upwards to assist him with his olive flannel.

"Don't be afraid Michael. I want this too. I want you..." I whisper, sliding the flannel from his shoulders.

He licks his lips and places two eager palms on my hips and gently pulls me closer. I smile and lean up to press my lips on his.

"I'm not scared baby girl. You're fragile, I have to be careful..." He whispers against my ear, nibbling at my lobe.

I sigh in satisfaction, enjoying the warmth of his lips against my ear. We may have had those desire-filled, heated encounters, but there was never enough time to just enjoy the moment. To enjoy those touches. To completely fuel that lingering hunger.

Now we can.

"I want to kiss every bit of doubt away. Your lips. Your eyes. Those pretty little hands of yours. Kiss it all away. Will you let me?" He continues, turning me around so that my back is to him.

I take a moment to allow his kisses to trail from the nape of my neck down to my shoulders. God the way those light kisses leave a trail of fire. The way this man can make me crumble is amazing. He can truly touch me with no hands and hold me with his eyes. I'm enamored, captured, and enticed.

All because of him.

One hand snakes around my waist, gliding three slender fingers around the band of my tights before his voice traces my ear again.

"Can I, girl?" He nearly groans, pecking my shoulder repeatedly.

"Yes..." I breathe, rolling my head back against his shoulder once his teeth tug at my earlobe.

Suddenly, his presence is no more. I'm left standing on my lonesome, hot and heavy. On impulse, I panic inwardly. Soon my eyes open and they spot him stripped naked and climbing into the bathtub. I bite my lip and waste no tin stripping the remainder of my rehearsal gear off before joining him.

Climbing in between his legs, I allow the perfect temperature of the water to engulf me, heightening my pleasure of the moment. My pleasure continues to rise when his lips press against my back, and his hands grace my thighs.

God this man.

"You're so damn beautiful girl... Why do you do this to me? Huh?" He groans, slowly licking my spine after gently pushing me forwards.

I stifle a giggle. I don't know where he gets this "licking spines" thing from, but it tickles and I like it.

"You took away my chocolate... Girl, you know how much I love this chocolate..." He continues, gently guiding me upright by my ponytail.

Another sigh of pleasure. Damn this man.

"I couldn't get this body off my mind. The way you feel. The way you taste..." He confesses, sliding his other hand between my thighs.

"Oh my..." I gasp, allowing him to open my legs before venturing his slender fingers between.

"I missed that... Don't hold back Mama..." He growls, flowing through my crown mercilessly.

High. On cloud nine. Doped up. Out of it. None of that can construe this. None of that can compare to this. This place I'm in. These emotions I feel. Cannot be construed. There's no word. No phrase. Nothing.

Maybe tantalizing?

Oh yes.Tantalizing. That's it. This is tantalizing. The surge. The desire. The heat. The feel. My God the feel. I've deprived myself. Shame on me. This dose I can't believe I shied away from. This dose I rejected. I'm selfish. So damn selfish.

Oh, God.

"See what you missed, girl?" His voice claims attention.

I nod and shutter, feeling my walls already tightening when he inserts those two lovely fingers of his. Then he hits a spot. Hooking his fingers to curve against that spot. Yes, that spot that drives me insane. No moans can be safely hidden. No wail for mercy will be exiled to silence when he hooks that spot.

I'm done for.

"Louder, babygirl. Listen to yourself..." He demands, biting down on my shoulder once I toss my head against his.

"Michael, baby please..." I whimper, trying to force my legs closed.

He groans along with my moan before forcing them open with his free hand. Why is he doing this to me? I know I deserve it, but I didn't think he would torture me like this.

But dammit, I love this torture.

"Give it me Mama. I want it..." He growls, pumping frantically.

That I did. Inhumane wail and all. I gave it to him. Left breathless and helpless, I gave it to him. Yet even still, I take this moment to calm down and enjoy his kisses. Those sweet kisses revive me for another moment of breathlessness.

"I love you, girl." He whispers, raising my arm to his lips.

"Your smile..." He continues, pecking each one of my fingers.

"Your wild little laugh...."

My palm

"Your eyes..."

My forearm.

"Your little feisty attitude..."

The crook of my elbow.

"I love you..." He concludes, pecking my shoulder once more.

"I love you too..." I whisper, opening my eyes again.

"Let me finish showing you, come on..." He growls, shifting behind me.

I turn around and watch eagerly as he steps out of the bathtub. He offers a loving hand that I gladly take as he leads us towards the towel shelf. Silently grabbing a towel, he wraps it around me before grabbing one for himself. All the while I discreetly rush to dry myself while inwardly squirming in anticipation.

Minutes later, we're on the bed and he's gifting another shower of kisses. My jaw. My neck. My shoulders. My chest, and lower. All victims. My nipples, solid mounds at his slender fingers touch. My lips agape for those whispered moans of satisfaction. His tongue, oh so gracious with its travel down to my navel. Then he's there, at it again. Sending me to the unknown.

My bud appreciates him, giving him what he wants the most. Taking in every skill of his tongue as it guides through my folds. I will not squirm. I will not silence my wails for mercy. I will take it. Take it all in. When he positions me to his liking, I will remain there.

Whatever he wants, I am his.

Sweet and suddenly, I flow for him. Quaking violently afterward. I only whimper aloud once he laps up his work.

I'm in heaven.

"Damn, girl..." He licks his lips in pause. "You taste so damn good..." He continues, rising to give me a sample.

Pressing his lips against mine, I catch the favorable sweet and salty flavor against mine. Indeed I do taste fairly well.

"Mm..." I moan in agreement, closing and opening my eyes momentarily.

Once I open my eyes, they fall on his. I can't explain the way he's looking at me. His eyes, warm and lustfully dilated.

Sends tingles down my spine.

He's telling me all of the unspoken. Every verbal word he felt too pained to express, is right there in his alone orbs. I am grateful for his selfish laconic behavior. It gifts those words lost a chance to be found in his eyes. Everything makes sense when I look in those eyes.

"Tell me. Tell me you didn't love her like this..." I find myself whispering, cupping his jaw in my palms.

Something flickers in his eyes. Something beautiful.

"Never. She's not you. I told you. I'll never make love to a woman, the same way. You're the only one." He whispers, his eyes advocating his honesty.

"And she never made you feel like this?" I question further.

I need to know.

"Never, babygirl. You're the only one that can drive me this insane. I'm a fool for you, girl. A happy damn fool." He smiles.

"Good..." I approve, returning his smile.

"Good..." He whispers, lowering his head to mine.

Our lips touch. Our tongues meet. The pressure of our bodies rubbing against each other, growing heavier and heavier. His hands play along my lines. My legs tangle between his.

This is so right.

Whispers exchange between us, the room becoming denser and denser by the second. I want him. He wants me. I need him. He needs me.

How lovely.

"Please, baby..." I finally whimper, rolling my hips into his pelvis.

He groans, rising from the shoulder he was making a snack of. He catches my eyes and I know it's for confirmation. Therefore I bite down on my lip and press the pads of my fingertips into his shoulders.

"Please..." I whimper once more.

Without another word, he rolls his pelvis into my hips until he finds me. He finds the lost part of me that I abandoned for these past few weeks. The lost part of me that only invited him. The lost part of me that only wants him. The lost part of me, that is only found with him.

Only him.

A rhythm begins, whispery moans enter the room. Long and gentle, just enough to fluke my anticipation. A kiss here. A peck there.

Then suddenly, the atmosphere shifts.

My breath is taken. My body has no time to conform. My mouth is dry, but my cries are well ranged. My nails, drag, and claw desperately. What the hell is he doing to me? Groaning and grunting at the crumble of his pleasurable dismay. Yet even still in the shock, I manage to meet him thrust for thrust.

Each and every one, deeper than the last. Each and every one, more passionate than the last. Each and every one, belonging and meant for me.

Yes. Yes, I've found my peace. Yes, I want this as long as it lasts. No. No I don't give a damn about what others will say. No, I wouldn't trade this for the world. Maybe. Maybe I will beat myself up for missing out on so many opportunities for this, but never will I again.

Right there. His thrusts push right there. Mercilessly, he stays on that spot and makes it his own. His pace, deliberate and attentive to my wails. Only him. Only he can do this to me. No other man. I can proudly say that now. This man, Michael Joseph Jackson, drives me to the bricks of insanity. I don't even mind the ride.

"Now you tell me. Tell me I'm the only one..." He groans another deep push.

My toes curl along his calves, my back arching deeper.

"Baby you're the only one. The only one papa..." I whine, feeling myself tightening once more.

He groans aloud, managing to remove my palms from his back only to tangle them with his.

"The only one..." He repeats, elongating his final thrusts.

By now I've already convulsed. My body is frail, but somehow I'm still alive. I'm still able to take him in. Our bodies sticky and growing weak by the second, yet he's still going.

Thrust for thrust. Grunt for grunt. Groan for a moan. This man is on fire.

"God Jess..." He finally whimpers just a minute or two later, his pace still very strong.

I know he's close. A thrust or two, and he'll be gone.

I'll gladly take him.

Just as predicted, he soon convulses and presses his forehead into the crook of my neck. He swears the inaudible into my neck before he shutters from his quake and forces his head up.

I smile lazily, allowing him to press our forehands together.

"I love you, Michael... I'm sorry." I finally whisper in between his panting.

A smile rises from the corners of his lips as he acknowledges me.

"Don't babygirl...Don't apologize." He pants, nuzzling our noses.

I silently nod and inhale the moment.

Looking back at the past year and these handfuls of months, I can honestly say I wouldn't take anything back. There was pain. There was love. There was frustration. But it's a part of life.

I have to admit, it took some time to realize, but things won't always be peaches and cream and I have to learn to understand that. I'm not perfect and neither is Michael. That doesn't mean we don't belong together. For anything that means we are perfect for each other.

We are truly a perfect mess and that's okay.

Retrieving himself, he slips beside me and pulls me into his chest. Upon laying my head against his chest, I curl into him with a pleasant sigh. We fought for this. We won this.

I'm sure our battle isn't over, but I know we'll get through the many battles to come; together.

Finally.