Michael's Point Of View ~

Michael & Ariana's Home | Los Angeles, California

Upon the open front door - everything hits me all at once. The feeling that I always feel in my heart from excitement knowing that Ariana will be before my eyes . . and within my reach each time I walk through this doorway that right in this moment, feels like the gateway to heaven. The sound of silence, with only a sprinkle of crickets that appear to be the only things awake at a time like this as they are heard seemingly all around the house. The smell, the smell of . . home. It's all coming back to me now. I hated being away and for so long. I hated every moment of it. For the only highlight was when I was to perform and to be on stage for up to hours on end when night would fall.

My footsteps are taken as silently as possible. Because somewhere in our home, Ariana lay asleep. I have no jealousy as she holds such power to do so. It's rest that she has earned after a tiresome day that never seems to end when work is involved. And how much dedication is put into everything she does. How I wish my body could do the same . . but I'm starved of something so simple, so normal, and something taken for granted by so many. But I hold no resentment of any kind as I have my own way of ensuring I get the sleep I desperately need.

It's silent, and so it should be as the hour has hit well after midnight.

I stand still for a few seconds before I exhale . . and heavily. A large smile spreads rapidly across my face as it has all just hit me.

I'm home.

Arthur comes up from behind me. I turn my head to look over my shoulder and back at him. I feel as though he already knows. "After you Mr Jackson . . ". Arthur says to me with a smile. The clicking of my loafers echos through our home as I feel myself lunging for the staircase that will lead me to our bedroom that I haven't seen in weeks, and to a women that I have missed more than words can say. My hand on the rail, gliding up smoothly as my loafers tap on every second step. The bedroom dark, and the door wide open.

That's unlike her.

I turn the light on. Illuminating the room instantly but Ariana is not in bed, in fact, she is nowhere to be seen at all in the room. I don't panic . . not just yet. Instead keeping calm before making my way back downstairs. I see Arthur speaking to Jesse, their conversation unknown as I make my way towards them.

"Mr Jackson. Welcome home . . "

"Thank you Jesse. Is Ariana home? . . "

My tone concerned. And my eyes looking not at Jesse, but all around in hopes of spotting her.

"She is. She fell asleep in the lounge room sir, waiting for your return, Mr Jackson . . "

Jesse informs me. I quickly make my way towards the lounge room upon that new piece of information. She was waiting for me? Oh my poor girl. I should never have stopped at my hotel suite on my way through, instead coming straight home. But then again, I made that stop purely because I needed to grab those sleeping tablets that I foolishly shoved into the dresser drawer as I had to dash off to attend my show. My breath gets caught in my throat as I think of them . . my hand sitting upon the fabric of my pants as they still are located comfortably there. I took a few more than I would usually . . and I was knocked out.

Damn it, Jackson!

Why am I thinking about that? I shouldn't be. My mind was going too deep in thought just then. The bottom line is that they did the job. I got some needed rest on the flight home . . and Ariana doesn't know. She doesn't know about any of it, and that's what is most important.

The click of my loafers is pretty much now non-existent as the lounge room is in my eager eye sight. I stop. I don't go in, not just yet . . instead standing by the entrance to only look in. I have to admit, I almost loose my balance as I finally lock eyes onto her. She looks so beautiful. As the glow from the television makes her look like the angel that I already know she really is. She lays on her back with her head turned to face the screen, her eyes closed and her hands sit sweetly across her stomach. The blanket that covers her small frame, I see, was roughly tossed upon her as she is not totally covered up. The blanket even coming up to her face, sitting freely over her mouth but under her nose.

I stand beside her.

A soft chuckle is formed in my throat as I just look at her. I can't help but to lean down and kiss her forehead softly. The remote in my hand to turn the television off. It's dark but I can still see the silhouette of her sleeping frame. I don't want to wake her, but I suppose it must be done if I want to get her upstairs and in our bed where she will be much more comfortable.

"Ariana. Baby, put your arms around me . . "

I whisper. A sleepy 'mmm' hums from her before she questions if it's really me or perhaps only just a dream.

"Michael? Is that really you? . . ".

She asks, whispering back to me. I'm left giggling at her unconscious state. I find it cute and so, so funny.

"It's me. It's really me. I'm home . . "

"Now wrap your arms around my neck. I'm going to take you to bed . . "

She does. And I lift her body up with such ease. Cradling her close to me. With Ariana in my arms, I leave the lounge room. Arthur and Jesse still standing guard by the front door. They both go to move towards me but immediately insisting that I will need no assistance. They return to their previous still stance as each one stands on either side of the front door frame. I bid them goodnight and they bid me an always professional "Good evening, Mr Jackson . . " as I walk up the stairs and into our bedroom to place Ariana on the bed with as much softness as I can. The bedside lamp switched on once she leaves my arms.

I see as Ariana's eyes have fluttered open, yet still having that hint of sleepiness to them. She's looking right at me and displaying a smile that is just insanely divine. "Hey you . . ". I say, smiling back as I look down at her. Her hand reaches out to take hold of mine, pulling me closer and closer until I'm on the bed with her . . on top of her. Her hands rest of either side of my face but then, I feel her fingers suddenly upon the first button of my simple shirt. Then the second, and third . . until my chest is finally exposed. Her voice isn't necessary, for her doe eyes are screaming out to me exactly what she has in mind.

But I feel such insecurity.

And she knows it. Her hands resting on my chest and stomach - right over my vitiligo. "Show yourself, remember? Don't listen to what your saying about yourself in your head because you are my Michael . . "

". . and your so beautiful. . "

I don't know how she does it for she just has this amazing ability to make me feel as if everything will be okay. Her thumb touches my lips, gracefully gliding it down from my top lip to my bottom. No words . . no more words. It's only eye contact. I lean in and kiss her for Ariana to kiss me back. These hands of mine sit on either side of her head, however, not sitting still for long as I bring one down towards her upper thigh where the silk fabric from her nightgown lays. With a simple swift of my fingers, my hand moves slowly up her smooth thigh. Her velvet like skin makes me wonder how I have gone so long without touching her. As going weeks without her was my war . . but now, being with her, I'm left with great appreciation and such peace.

Her underwear taken down and off in a matter of seconds, as well as everything else. I hear a slight thud caused from my pants when they hit the floor as the sleeping tablets still sit in it's pocket and I pray to myself that only I heard it. Our naked bodies before one another.

God, she's beautiful.

I open the top dresser to grab a sealed condom. Time isn't wasted - putting it on myself. Then once again, I lean down to hover my lips over hers after our meaningless clothes in this moment have been tossed aside and therefore dealt with. I can feel her lips tremble, not from fear . . but from such desire. My nose gently brushes against hers as our eye contact only intensifies as neither of us dare to look away from each other.

I enter her. Going in, and going deep.

Ariana throws her head back before she softly moans out as she lay underneath me. I can't seem to be able to explain, I just can't describe. I feel the warmth that the night holds on my back. My mind thinking of many things now, a bundle of things that I have missed while I was away. But missing nothing nor no-one more than Ariana. Not being able to return to her after a show or a tiring rehearsal as I instead would step foot into a hotel suite that may be quite luxurious to most, but to me, was lonely, for Ariana was never on the other side of the door each time I opened it. Ariana's hands rest on my now sweat coated chest. It's two fingers of hers that I feel circle over the landscape of my chest, feeling particular areas.

I know what she's doing.

I know what she's telling me.

The sweat has caused my body make-up to drip off, exposing my vitiligo. A quick re-apply in the car before arriving home. But she doesn't care about it. She always says to me it's beautiful . . that I'm beautiful. I can't help it, I kiss her. All while continuing to go in and out of her slowly, yet still diving deep in the wetness of her ocean. 

to be continued.