Ariana's Point Of View ~

Michael & Ariana's Home | Los Angeles, California

My eyes flutter open. It's still dark. I sit up in bed. Because my eyes can't see, it's my hand that does the looking. Once again, I'm left totally unfazed at all when I don't feel Michael laying beside me. I feel confident that I won't need my white robe to accompany me on my quest to find Michael as it's quite warm tonight.

I feel as though I know exactly where he is.

I pick up my phone that I know is always laying on my bedside table because well, you don't change tradition. I press the torch button, turning it on to guide me.

As I quietly walk towards our home studio, as I get closer and closer each time, I hear a voice that gets a little more louder and louder with each step I take. It's a voice that holds such magnificence, such beauty and such power without even trying hard at all. I open the studio door, not quickly as I don't want to startle Michael in any way. I open it wide enough until I can see him clearly as the lights that shine throughout the room help me do so.

I don't speak . . I say absolutely nothing.

As I don't wish to make my presence known just yet. I only stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame as my curiosity is getting the best of me for I so wish to just observe him in the flesh . . when he thinks no one is watching.

I see him. But he can't see me.

He's in the booth, with his back to me.

The discipline he has is incredible. But Michael has always been this way - always working and sometimes, working too hard. Because after all, the time is 3 in the morning with Michael here instead of sleeping . . which is a task that he definitely needs. I really do worry about him. But I just do my best to be there for him as I know he wants to sleep . . he just can't. It's hard for him.

"Looking out, across the nighttime . . "

"The city winks a sleepless eye . . " He sings softly. 

I see Michael pick up a pencil, making some adjustments to the piece of paper that sits in front of him. I have never heard of this song before . . a brand new song, it seems. Despite the fact that I have only heard these two lines, I can already tell it's going to be such a beautiful song. I hear the clicks of his fingers, which means his soul, and his heart in its entirety is in this song.

It's Michael, after all.

My eyes wonder off him, towards the small coffee table that sits on my side of the glass, outside of the booth. Upon it, is the sight of yet more pieces of paper. My curiosity again, takes over, tip-toeing towards the seemingly countless masses of paper that sit excluded for now. With Michael having his back to me, he remains oblivious. I should've known . . there is no such thing as only one new song.

As I see numerous new songs right here.

Song titles like 'Billie Jean', 'Beat It' and 'Thriller' and more. Wow. Just wow. How long has Michael been working on all of this? I can't say. This has to be for a brand new album . . it has to be. Why so many songs if not for a brand new album coming in the near future? As the years have passed by since his 'Off The Wall' album, but, I can only assume. Michael continues to sing, continues to adjust, change or completely disregard anything he isn't happy with.

"Get me out, into the nighttime . . "

"Four walls won't hold me tonight . . "

The end of the pencil tapping against the stand that holds the piece of paper that's before him. He's thinking . . and thinking. A hum here and there and a bob of the head as he does so. I do love to see him at work though, I must admit. To just be a witness to the genius that he possess. The passion that goes into each and every single song that has his name attached to it.

"Hmmm. If- if . . if this town . . townnn . . "

" . . is only- no. Is . . is just an apple . . "

"Then let me take a bite . . "

" . . mmm yeaahhh . . "

Michael sings. With perhaps some light ad lib right at the end. But then, he stops. A scratch of his head is seen like he's taking a step back to just look at what he has just written down. Shit. I'm so nervous that Michael will turn around and then see me. I creep back towards the door, closing it a bit more to have it only ajar. My eyes still see him though. He takes his headphones off, gently pushing the stand away from him as he leaves the studio. Now, he's on my side of the glass but the door keeps me concealed. He walks over to the coffee table, looking at those pieces of paper.

"Okay, now to practise Billie Jean . . "

I hear Michael softly say to himself. He grabs a tape recorder, placing it on the coffee table, then pressing play. An instrumental plays and again, one I haven't heard before until just now. Michael begins to move furniture to this side and that side of the room, making certain he has more than enough space for him to dance, I am guessing. And before I know it . . he dances. Listening to the music that is playing, he moves his body. To me, it looks as if he's gliding all around the room. He's effortless, flawless. Completely and utterly.

https://youtu.be/bK1jKn2j6xA

Told you. Always working, Michael is.

I continue to watch him. Smiling as I'm always left speechless by my man even though we have been dating for a while now, knowing how he moves. But there is just so much magic in him and even more of it just simply about him. The music runs throughout his entire being, you can see. As it's in fact, not hard at all to spot. The way it makes him just feel . . and nothing else. After a few minutes of just plain observation, I see as Michael switches off the tape recorder.

Sitting down on a single chair.

Getting his breath back. A rehearsal yes, but one that is deserving of an award. His thin white shirt leaves his skin but returns within a matter of seconds as he fans himself with it.

He looks gorgeous. So sexy.

Okay. I'm unable to remain here any longer. I desperately wish to speak to him, to touch him. I knock on the door, stepping a foot in and pretending I only just arrived.

"Hey Michael . . " I say softly. 

"Ariana. I hope I didn't disturb you. I was just- umm oh well I couldn't really sleep . . "

I feel like he is admitting some kind of defeat. I'm not angry, I just wish that he would sleep. It's hard for him, like I said. And I do understand that. He tries to sleep but there are times, like tonight, where he just can't. Insomnia caused because of his mind, his constant ideas that he just needs to let out. I walk over to him slowly . . for the sexiness of his temporary perch, for the softness of his voice can't keep me at bay any longer. Kneeling in front of him. I speak quietly to him.

"What are you working on, Michael? . . "

His eyes come off me for a second to gaze upon the many papers that I secretly saw myself moments before.

". . an album. Actually . . " He replies. 

I was right.

"An album? Michael you just released 'We Are The World' around a day ago . . "

A chuckle in my voice. He smiles, looking back at me. I see excitement, ambition. And so much of it. The sparkle in those chocolate eyes seems to have grown from what he's thinking, what I feel he will say in response to what I just said.

"I want this one to be my best album, Ari. I'm putting even more work and effort into this one . . "

My hands are placed on his lap. "It will be. Every album . . everything you do is amazing. You should be proud of that . . "

I tell him. The mirrors in the studio surround Michael and I, resulting in numerous angels. I see the back of his head from where I kneel. The scruff of his hair, the smallest amount of sweat is seen on him. I hope he isn't over working himself. My fingers stretch up to graze Michael's small curls. My eyes just look into his . . my heart is overwhelmed.

By the sight of Michael alone.

His chocolate skin, his lips . . irresistible. I stand up but only slightly to attach his lips with mine. I can't help it. I just had to feel the softness of his mouth as I still had yet to since coming back from tour.

The kiss broken.

Our stare is intense, like a shot of passion has just been injected into our bodies. Michael's large hands on the back of my thighs, bringing me closer to him until I'm straggling his lap. My lips can't help but return to his as his eyes alone draw me in. My arms raised as Michael lifts up my silk nightgown, throwing it anywhere, then ripping off my black cotton underwear. Coaxing me to do the very same . . ripping off Michael's thin white shirt, craving to see his chest.

How I have missed that cocoa shade he possesses.

I peck his chest, then wrap my arms around his neck. Straddling him, naked now. He looks me down . . and then up to my eyes. 

Whoa. Lustful and so fucking dark.

His arm outstretched, the sound of fussing is heard causing me to dart my eyes away from his for only a second. His fingers grasp something . . a condom. Yet another thing ripped apart while in Michael's company. I place my hands onto his shoulders, lifting myself up, for Michael to pull his pants down and place the condom on.

Then, I slide down on his penis.

"Mmm . . " I moan out softly.

My arms back around his neck as I move up and down on him slowly . . for now. Our breathing doesn't take long to get heavy. My hair in my face but I still see Michael, he brushes it away so he can see me much more clearly.

"God. I have missed you, baby . . "

He whispers, breathlessly.

I lean down to kiss him. "Me too . . " I respond in the same manner. Again, knowing that I haven't touched Michael like this since I got back. I love this. Oh I love this. There is no one else here, no one else around, no one else in the world, it feels like.

It's just us.

I move more faster on him. My lips hover over his. I feel sexy as I'm just mindlessly spread open for him. I moan out softly with Michael's sexy voice heard here and there.

"Close, baby? . . " He asks me, such husk.

I nod, continuing to move up and down - faster and faster.

"Oh. Oh mmm . . " I moan softly.

"That's it, baby . . "

Michael says, as I move on him. Shit. It's like the room is heating up, with all but one mirror fogging up. It's that mirror that I look at to see the reflection of us. Of course, I look at Michael first to see his gorgeous chocolate complexion. Sweat that makes his skin moist, making him even more gorgeous. Then a glimpse at me, saying to myself how much I love this man. I'm so close . . almost there, fuck! Through the blur that is my vision, I feel Michael go limp slightly. His movements slowing down. He finishes, filling up the condom. But somehow he finds some strength, bringing his hand up to brush it roughly through his black, short curls. I finish too. Slowing down until I stop completely. I brush my hair behind my ear, another peck placed on his chest. As I look at him, however, I don't get the same back.

Michael's eyes are closed.

Our breathing is still loud, heavy as we just remain here afterwards. I begin to softly kiss Michael, all over. His face, his neck, his chest . . oh my lord his chest. Then up to his lips where Michael kisses me back. A complete shower of kisses that I just need to give him. The exhaustion of being still being awake at an hour like this mixed with what just happened, Michael looks so tired. God. On sight of this, I want to do it all over again as a sleepy Michael is one of the cutest and sexiest things in this world. My lips on his cheek again . . a pepper of kisses. 

"Bed time? . . "

I ask him in a whisper, a giggle in my voice as I know Michael needs just that. He opens his eyes. God, if looks could kill. He doesn't speak, just a nod as he closes his eyes once again.

"Yes. Bed time . . " Michael whispers. 

I giggle to myself. 

Well, that sure made Michael tired. Surely, he'll sleep now. 

to be continued.