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Michael’s Train of Love- Part I

Michael’s Train of Love-Part I
Editing and Writing Assitance on this Chapter by Sabine of CobraCrackCentral

The Journey Begins
June 17, 1988

Michael locked the last of his bags and stood by as the bellhop loaded them onto the cart. The bell hop waited patiently for his tip and Michael looked around for Frank, who always took care of that kind of thing for him. “I was just hoping to get an autograph.” The Bellhop smiled expectantly. Michael just grinned and signed an autograph. It was a good thing, too, since he had no cash.

Just then the phone rang beside the bed and the booming voice of Frank Dileo greeted Michael’s jangled nerves with the words he’d longed to hear all morning. “Don’t worry Michael, the arrangements have been made, I found a train to Berlin. We can manage all of the musical crew. I also want to confirm to you that the stage crew has arrived safely and have already begun working on the stage, sound and lighting setup. We will not have to postpone Berlin.” Michael drew a deep sigh of relief. Ever since he’d seen the weather report he’d been desperate. He’d rather do anything than get on that 747! But disappointing his fans, that was not an option. Now, knowing he didn’t have to climb onto the plane and subject not only himself, but his hardworking employees to the horrible summer thunderstorms that were threatening the area was a huge load off of his mind.

Frank interrupted his thoughts, “Michael, are you there”


“I said we will be departing Basel at 3:00 local time and the car will be picking you up at 2:00”. Michael checked his watch. He had thirty minutes to spare. After thanking Frank for all his help in securing the train to Berlin, he hung up the phone. The rain beat against the windows and the howling of the wind was almost deafening. God, that was some storm, He couldn’t even hear his fans! When he cracked open the curtains expecting to see hundreds of fans below, it took him a minute to register the empty pavement that looked back up at him. The wind had whipped up, and the rain fell in sheets. For the first time in many years no fans waited for Michael Jackson. “It must be a hell of a storm” he thought to himself.

Secretly, Michael was dreading this trip. Flying, train rides, it didn’t matter. He hated to tour! He loved the fans, and performing in front of millions of people – that energy was magical. But touring, God, it took so much out of him. He didn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep; he spent all his waking hours thinking about how to make the show better. For the months that he toured, nothing was left to chance. It was all about the show. But at this moment, imagining the smooth lull of a train ride and the private cars, he thought at least he’d be safe and warm for a little while. And maybe even alone! A small smile of anticipation lurked at the corner of his mouth. He could even settle into one of his books he had been putting off reading. Maybe some Emerson, he was missing the great inspiration of poetry lately. You know what; a nice quiet train ride was actually just what he needed.

The ride to the rail station was exciting! The driver had to dodge fallen tree limbs and driving rain, and looking at the way the rain and wind was ravaging the streets made Michael marvel at how beautiful nature was. Eventually, they made it to their destination. Michael and his entourage sailed past the regular passengers, and made their way to a special entrance. It was so nasty out; people barely looked to see who was so special. Finally inside out of the rain, Michael made his way down a long corridor. He passed the cars that had been assigned for his crew, their sleeping quarters and unofficial “party car” and finally ended up at his private quarters. It was just then that he realized how badly he just wanted to lie down and be alone.
“Gosh, Frank,” Michael said over his shoulder. “You got all of this overnight.”
“I had to pull a few strings.” Frank yelled over the heads of the other crew members who were scrambling to put their things away. Michael was impressed. Normally, the engine would only pull a couple of passenger cars.

Michael’s impromptu need of a train had caused the railway to have to rebook the original customers into a single passenger car. It could have been two, but with all of the extra cars for Michael’s crew, and yes, the “party car”, they had also needed to add an extra engine for power. The passengers were mad as hell, but the railway was looking forward to all the extra publicity they would get from moving Michael Jackson and his crew to his destination and hoped that it would be in all the tabloids soon. They’d even leaked the fact that Michael would be riding in their cars to the press, but the weather had made short work of their plans for quick fame. No one had bothered to come out in the middle of a severe thunderstorm.

Michael took a moment to look out his window while getting settled. Standing in the train station the regular passengers were obviously restless! They had watched in disgust as a line of vehicles pulled up to the platform and various other, more important people boarded the train. Then they had to watch as a limousine pulled up and with some important, lucky bastard, surrounded by huge men who carried umbrellas for him, he immediately boarded one of the train’s cars and disappeared. Doubting that even a drop of rain had touched his all important spoiled head! And even after all of that, they were STILL waiting. “I wonder who it is,” a man in the crowd murmured. “I don’t give a damn. Whoever it is, he’s the one that has us waiting to board.” As she said this, a young lady with a mass of honey blonde hair reached for her guitar case and stepped into the rain.

Michael was wiping off with a towel when he spied her. It was interesting. The whole crowd was packed together underneath their umbrellas, trying to stay dry and warm but here she was stepping out boldly into the storm. He was mesmerized, so much so that he stopped and just held the towel to his face, his wet curls just hanging in his eyes. Boy, she was hot. Her honey blonde hair curled in the rain, the wind whipped around her hair around her face and body like tribal priests praying at a fire. It was like she was one with nature. She didn’t cower from the rain; she didn’t shun the weather, she embraced it like a Goddess. Michael could even swear he could see the color of her skin through the foggy, wet glass of his car window. She was tanned with full lips. Kissable…pink, wet lips. Those words made the blood rush to Michael’s groin. It had been too long; he didn’t even want to think about how long.

But this woman wasn’t helping him get the thought of how long out of his mind. She was wearing Levi 501 jeans and a plain, white T-shirt with cut off sleeves. Of course as soon as she stepped into the rain, the T-Shirt became soaking wet. In her worn hiking boots and her hard nipples pressing up against her shirt, Michael thought she looked better than most of the women he’d seen all dressed up and walking the red carpet.

Michael watched as she gave the conductor her ticket and as she gathered her belongings. Amazingly, she slowly gazed up at the window of the private car as if some unknown force beckoned her eyes to move in that direction. At that moment, Michael saw the greenest, most knowing eyes he ever gazed at. Like emeralds from the richest mines of Africa, her eyes told him stories of long ago legends and futures not yet written. For one captivating moment their eyes met, and Michael held his breath. But it was all over in an instant as she stepped on to the train and was gone.

She grabbed the seat nearest the adjoining car and stowed her backpack and kept her guitar case close to her. She was still stunned at what she had just seen in the window of the private car, Michael Jackson, THE Michael Jackson on her train. So THAT was the reason they’d been standing around waiting like cattle! This would certainly warrant a post card home to Jessica. Good ole Jessica! “I don’t want to go backpacking across Europe for a whole year” I bet she’d be singing a different tune now! Spoiled brat, keeping her parents happy was in the forefront of her mind since she only had six more months before she could lay her hands on “all that money”. Jessica was a “trust fund baby”, something she couldn’t even relate to. She’d never had any use for her parent’s money. She wanted to help people and improve the things around her not and not live for the latest designer whatever.

What she’d had learned in just the last a half a year of backpacking through Europe was amazing. Most people wanted the same thing, and it wasn’t money. Peace, a family, food on the table, health. Just the simple things in life. The things she didn’t have at home, even though they had all the money in the world. She shivered more from the thoughts in her head then her wet clothing. The fights she’d had with her father had been brutal. Who would think, in this day and age, she’d have to rage at her father that she was NOT going to marry to increase the earning potential of his client base. I mean what kind of archaic, backwards, Neanderthal tried to marry his daughter off for money in 1988! Oh, he’d tried everything. The last straw was threatening to disown her. She knew how to call a person’s bluff. He threatened to disown her and she grabbed her back pack, her ATM card, a couple of thousand dollars she had in the bank and left. No one can take something away from you when you don’t want it. She didn’t care about the money anymore. She didn’t know if she cared about him. All she knew is she wouldn’t have to get hit by him in a drunken rampage again. Being in Europe, far away from her fathers condemning eyes and her mother’s pleas to come home was good, very good.

Finally the train pulled away from the Basel station. She looked around and was amazed at how packed the passenger car had become with people. She asked the conductor why so many people were crowded into one car and he replied evasively, but with a little excitement in his voice that they had a very special VIP entourage and they had leased out all of the extra cars. With an apology, he gave her the company line about following all the safety guidelines and wished her a safe and comfortable journey in her assigned car. Unbelievable! Michael Jackson could just lease a whole train that was already booked and force everyone else to travel like sardines! What nerve! It was stuffy and hot, babies were crying, the smell of damp, drying clothing was over powering, not to mention the stench of people who didn’t bother with deodorant. I bet he was laying somewhere reallll cozy though, the spoiled Hollywood brat.

Michael finished drying off and picked out a non-tour ensemble to wear for his long train ride. God, some down time to eat a real meal and read a good book and turn in early, it was like heaven on Earth. Picking out a pair of jeans, he sighed as he slipped on a long, black silk shirt. Just a couple buckles and belts! They really could get to be a bit much after a while.

The party was already going strong next door! Michael could hear the thumping of the bass through the walls. He might as well just pop in. Michael had made sure Frank got everyone their favorites, so there was plenty of shrimp, lobster, caviar, German sausage, hummus and of course, Kentucky Fried Chicken for him. When Michael appeared, everyone cheered and Frank Dileo surprised him by pulling out a huge framed double platinum album for “Bad”. It had been certified just the day before and the record label, as a thank you for Michael’s hard work on the tour, had rushed it over. How in the world had Frank kept this all a secret? Michael blushed and thanked the crew. He told them, which was true, that he couldn’t do any of it without them.

There was lots of clapping and cheering but finally groups started to form and people started having their own private conversations. Michael didn’t know how it happened but he found himself speaking to Sheryl. Oh God! Sheryl, was very eager to please and a real hard worker, he was sure she was going to make it in the business, but she was going on and on about Eric and about this song she had written with some friends, about a bar and giant car wash and Santa Monica Blvd. God, you didn’t even have to say anything! She just went on and on and on.

Michael smiled and said, Uh, huh, right, but it was getting to be too much, so he excused himself to go get a drink. It was then he heard a guitar and singing. As he followed the sound he came to the doorway of the next car. He realized that it was the regular passenger car and stopped himself from opening it, but he pushed himself up against the wall, and pulled the curtain over the window to the side, so he could find out where the music was coming from. It was her, the girl from the platform! Their eyes met again. She sat with her feet up under her, her hair cascading over the guitar she strummed in her lap. She was singing and her voice was lovely. She actually almost sounded like Sheryl.

It took him a moment to realize what she was singing, and to realize that she was looking right at him. Her eyes were mocking and small smile was on her face,”You’re so vain. You probably think this song is about you, You’re So Vain! I bet you think this song is about you, Don’t you? Don’t you? Don’t you’. She strummed the last chords and let her hands fall to her lap. Her eyes were cold and Michael stepped away from the window with disgust. Oh, she was a little witch! Sheryl called to him, as he marched passed her, “Hey Michael, where’s that drink”? Frank noticed he looked unusually angry and pulled him aside to ask what was wrong. Michael could only think about those cold, beautiful eyes and those juicy lips singing that hateful song to him! Like he had done something to her! She was a nasty, cruel, beautiful, desirable witch!

Lost in his head, Michael let Frank convince him into talking business! God, he didn’t want to deal with this now but Frank had already returned in a just few minutes with a stack of files. They sat in the back row to keep their discussions private. Frank wanted to talk about the tour, money matters and personal appearances that Michael was scheduled to make. Michael sighed. “He should have stayed in his car”.

The steady rhythm of the train and the constant beat of the rain on the windows, after having all of that good food and drink, worked it’s magic and soon the crew began to filter out slowly, exclaiming about how tired they were. Frank finally finished up with Michael and said he was going to retire too.

Michael stretched and made a move to get up and head back to his private car, but he caught a glimpse of something just over the top of the seat. Unbelievable! No, he had to be seeing things! Leaning down and over to look down the aisle, sure enough, there she was in HIS train car. Bill Bray, who hadn’t gone to bed yet, spotted her at the same time that Michael did. Their eyes met, and almost immediately Bill was up and moving but Michael shook his head and signaled with his hand. Bill stopped and looked at Michael curiously and Michael gave him the look. The look meant, get the hell out of here. It took Bill two seconds to recognize it and another to comply. Michael sank low in his seat and continued to watch her.

She had sat in her car and listened to the sound of the rumbling in her stomach. She was so unbelievably hungry. She hadn’t seen an ATM in days, and foolishly didn’t think to look for one until she bought her last cup of coffee. The smell of the food from the “special” car was torture. She listened as the party began to calm down, and even heard a couple of “I am gonna go get some rest” from the crew members. The pain in her stomach had her thinking some crazy thoughts. She could just see the platters of untouched food left out for the crew to gather and throw in the garbage.

Thoughts of just sneaking in and grabbing a couple of rolls of something took seed. She’d be in and out. Who would know? Michael Jackson? He didn’t look like he ate much anyway. She giggled at that thought but her hunger kicked in with a vengeance. What was just a passing thought soon became a plan.

She waited until she heard complete silence from the other side. Relieved that everyone was finally gone, she crept up out of her seat and to the door that separated her car from theirs. “Please God, let it be open, let it be open”, she found herself muttering. With a click the door slid open. Yes!!!! Her first look revealed the huge buffet still laid out, seemingly untouched. she almost fainted. The first thing she grabbed was the chicken. Was this? Nah, it wasn’t possible! She hadn’t seen a Kentucky Fried Chicken in three months. Not even bothering to grab a plate, she took a huge bite and while holding the chicken in her mouth, grabbed some biscuits, some cheese and even managed to snag a bottle of Tatttingers Champagne. “Mmmm, Fit for a King”. She laughed to herself at her lame joke. She was a sight to see, trying to hold onto all that food AND open the door back to the compartment. Somehow she managed and sank in relief into her own seat with the mountain of food around her.

Michael sat there in complete shock! He was dumbfounded that someone could just waltz right into his private domain, after singing an insulting song right in his face and take his food!!!! What in the world? Who was this girl and where’d she come from and who did she think she was?

Creeping over to the door that separated his car from hers, he peered through the curtains and watched as she put the bottle of champagne to her mouth. Instantly, he felt a quickening in his groin. “God that is one lucky bottle” he thought to himself. He watched as she licked her perfect lips and he imagined tasting the champagne that was left there. He probably would be madder if she wasn’t so damn beautiful. She ate like she was one of the starving children he saw in the hospitals and he felt a little sorry for her. I mean she wasn’t a starving orphan, not with those full breasts and that perfect ass threatening to burst out of those tight jeans; He looked down at himself and realized he had a problem. The thought of having Bill get rid of her was replaced by a thought of him running his hands down the back of her open waist of her jeans.

She finished eating, and he thought of going into her compartment and speaking to her, but the truth was that he is afraid. Afraid that he would be rejected or pushed away, no one would believe he felt like that. Everyone thought a thousand fans throwing themselves at you made you a Don Juan or something. But what good had it done him? Diana had rejected him like he was nothing. She’d used and abused him, and even after all of that, he still loved her to this very day. He loved her AND he hated her, too. Hated her because while making love to him, while telling him he was the one and they were going to be together, she met and married another man! The relationship he had with her had crushed him; he still was struggling to recover from it, from that bitch Diana, she mocked him endlessly…Just like this girl who brazenly walked into his car and took his food.

He’d had it up to here with women who thought they could do whatever they wanted and they didn’t have to think about other people’s feelings. He watched her take another drink of HIS champagne. Her eyes were heavy now. She looked like she was getting a bit drunk, served her right! Grabbing her backpack and tucking it under her head, she brushed her hair out of her face and she closed her eyes.

Michael caught his breath. Damn, she WAS beautiful. A vision of her straddling his lap and her hair surrounding them like a curtain hit him and he felt his erection return with a vengeance. “I just want to feel it all over me” he heard himself whisper. Like she heard him, she opened her eyes and reached into her pocket and pulled out some lip gloss. Watching as it effortlessly glided over her lips, Michael felt himself twitch. He imagined her perfect lips wrapped around him, sliding up over the tip . . . . Michael stopped himself before he finished the thought.

The train lurched as it entered a tunnel and the interior of the car became pitch black, so black he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. The cars were quiet. Nothing could be heard but the rumbling of the engine and the collective breathing of the sleeping passengers. Like in a trance, Michael slid the car door open. He didn’t even think about doing it, it just happened. He slid into the seat next to her, but she immediately opened her eyes. Being terrorized by your own father develops a sixth sense that you just don’t shake in few months. Someone was with her. She could hear their breathing. It was dark as hell. She couldn’t see a thing. Her heart started beating a staccato rhythm in her chest. She willed herself to relax so that she could listen to her surroundings, but her breathing was heavy and her blood started to roar in her ears.

A flash of light flooded the car as the train exited one tunnel, but before she could adjust her sight, the train zoomed into another one. She waited for the train to emerge, but this seemed to last forever. There was no doubt about it, someone was near. Someone was sitting very close to her. Her heart was beating so fast she felt light headed. She mentally looked through her backpack. She wanted to kick herself for not bringing that stupid flashlight but instead leaving it with the children she’d visited at the orphanage.

Michael, whose eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, sat watching her. She looked like she was panicked and it felt good to be in control. He could tell she sensed someone, but she didn’t know who. Her breathing was heavy, and she looked around blindly, searching for a way to escape.

She couldn’t see a thing, but she could smell the heady scent of cologne in her nostrils. The energy around her had become charged, the presence of someone next to her was beyond powerful. With a shock she felt a heavy breath against her ear and heard a soft, snarling voice, “how dare you take my things, and sing such things about me, and then look so beautiful…and I don’t even know your name”. At that moment they come in to the light, out of the tunnel and she found that she once again was looking into the eyes of Michael Jackson.

It was only a second before his mouth descended; she felt his lips sliding over hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth, pushing her head back against the bulkhead of the train’s compartment. She was half drunk with the alcohol, but even more drunk with the feel of his body on hers. All the breath in her body was being sucked into his as he stroked the inside of her mouth with his tongue.

He pushed against her and the backpack underneath her head fell to the floor as she collapsed onto the seat. Michael fell on top of her and using his palm to brush her hair off of her face, he pulled it into a pony tail and pulled her face closer to his.

“Look at me” he urged in a growling whisper, “Look at me”. The last request was said with even more force. She tried to focus on his beautiful face, but she was still lost in the haze of champagne, fear and lust. Finally focusing on Michael’s deep, dark, penetrating eyes, she gasped at the fiery pools of lust and anger they had become. She shivered in fear and anticipation. But Michael recognized only the fear in her eyes, and dropped his hands from her hair as if she was suddenly on fire.

Shaking his head, he sat up and said “I am so sorry — I didn’t mean to frighten you.” They were both sexually turned on and his words hung in the air like the unfulfilled desire between them. When she said nothing, Michael tried to explain again, “I guess I got carried away” absently, his hands stroked her hair back into place. “You are just so beautiful…”

The girl didn’t trust herself to speak. A little of the champagne was starting to wear off and she was feeling mortified at what she’d just allowed to happen. Where in the hell was that bottle!

She needed another drink to help make sense of this. Michael was feeling really guilty, too. He knelt down in front of her and tried to explain. The deep growl of desire was gone. His voice was soft and sincere, “Listen, I don’t usually act like this and I know you don’t know me…but I ….Oh God, I promise, I didn’t mean to scare you. I really didn’t”.

Michael tried to take her hand in his but she jerked it back and kept her gaze focused on the carpet. She could still feel his lips on hers. She could still feel his body on top of her, his hard erection pressed against her. Yeah, she’d felt that, too. Even in her champagne induced euphoria, she remembered all of that. Was she really what her father said she was? Just a cheap whore looking for a good time with any man who’d give to her? Thinking of his harsh words, a a single tear drop fall from her beautiful green eyes. She was transported to the past. “You’re nothing but a stupid whore! Just like your whore of a mother. Look at this.” Bills flew past her face landing in a heap on the floor. “What do you guys think that I’m made of money! I have to take care of all of this, you know.” His arms would be splayed out to indicate their sprawling mansion, the mansion that HE wanted; the furniture that HE’D chosen, to impress his buddies and business associates. When he was drunk, somehow all of this was their fault. Even the bills that he’d incurred became their bills. And if she pointed this out to him, he silenced her with the back of his hand and sometimes even a fist. She didn’t realize that tears were streaming down her face. The tone in Michael’s voice had triggered those awful memories.

If there was a hole nearby, Michael wanted to jump into it. He already felt like a monster but now she was crying. Oh, God, is this what he was? Was he Joseph, ready to jump the bones of any pretty girl that crossed his path? Reaching up to brush the tears away from her face, he snapped the girl out of her reflection.

“Don’t, don’t you dare touch me”! She whispered furiously. Michaels long beautiful fingers jerked back and his eyes flashed with pain. “Don’t you hit me, Joseph! If you hit me again, I’m not doing the show!” Her words echoed back at him and he saw his face, young and ravaged as a child, hurting and longing.

He was wrong for what he’d done to her. She grabbed her backpack off the floor and tried to get away from him but Michael pulled her back. “You’re going to wake everyone in the car” he whispered. “You don’t want to make a scene.”

“Let go of me.” she insisted. She had to get out of there and be alone, away from him. Turning to the door separating his car from hers, she wrenched it open and slammed it back in his face. She ran forward and slipped into a door marked “Private car”. But he was right behind her and suddenly she realized her mistake. Private car! This had to be his private car. Dejected she turned to face him and set her backpack on the floor. Michael held his palm up in front of him and said, “Look, I’m not going to do anything. I won’t even touch you. I promise.”

“I didn’t ask you to touch me in the first place.”
“Well, I didn’t ask you to come into my car and take my food.”
“I would just like to go back to the passenger compartment”.
“I’m not the one that told you to come in here.”
Michael walked up as close as he could get to her without touching and said “Look, I just want to apologize to you. You’re beautiful, but that’s no excuse for what I did. I’m sorry.”

When she didn’t say anything, he started to feel hopeful that she wasn’t too mad at him. “If you’re still hungry, there’s lots of food and you can stay and we’ll just talk, I promise.”

She lifted her head up and saw the sincerity in Michael’s eyes. His anger was gone and in its place was a longing. She realized he was lonely. She realized she was lonely. She wanted to stay. Nodding her head silently, she sat down and hugged her backpack to her chest. “What could it hurt” she thought to herself, “It’s a long night and he IS Michael Jackson.”

Michael sat on the floor at her feet and said, “Tell me about you?”
“What do you wanna know?” she squarely asked.
“I did say something about not knowing your name a minute ago” he laughed,” and she laughed with him. He felt a sensation in the pit of his stomach, like an electrical charge had lit up his body. The same charge seemed to be lighting up her face.
“My name is Hunter, Hunter Leigh Davis” she answered slightly embarrassed.
Michael smiled, his big Michael Jackson smile, “Hunter Leigh Davis…Hunter Leigh Davis” he let his tongue caress the syllables of her name. “Gosh, it’s beautiful” Hunter looked at him and started chuckling to herself.
Michael couldn’t figure out what on earth was so funny.
“What?” he said with a confused smile. “What are you laughing at, girl”?
When Michael continued to look at her with a puzzled look, she grinned, “I like the way you talk.”
“The way I talk?”
“Yeah, I mean, you really do talk like that. I thought it was an act.”
Hunter laughed uncontrollably and Michael blushed and giggled, “Of course I talk like that! An act, that’s silly, that’s how I talk”.
The tension was gone and both of them felt relaxed. Time passed effortlessly as they talked about music, dancing, Hunter deciding to backpack across Europe and his tour. She told him so much and he talked just as openly. Hunter felt bad for misjudging him earlier when she sang that song to him, and even when he kissed her. She realized now he wouldn’t have hurt her then. Thinking about it, she even wished he would kiss her again, just like that. The thoughts had her looking at his lips, remembering how soft. She could feel herself getting wet and she pressed her thighs together. Damn her body for betraying her!

Michael was having such a hard time concentrating on all the small talk. He felt like he was seventeen again with Tate. Like being fumbling and awkward and trying to make conversation and not to be dumb or silly or foolish. All of a sudden it had gotten awkwardly quiet, so Michael jumped up and stuck in a cassette tape in the player.

“You wanna dance?” he quietly asked looking up under his long eyelashes, with a shy uncertain voice.

Hunter looked up into his earnest face. Her heart skipped a beat. “Can a man ask you a question and just have you fall head over heels in love with him? She wondered to herself.


“Um, Mr. Jackson, I don’t think I can keep up with you on the dance floor”.

“Don’t worry”. Michael told her pulling her up into his arms, “Just follow my lead.”

He took her by the hand and switched on the tape. When he did so he pulled her close as the strains of Luther Vandross’s “Wait for Love” filled the air.

Knowing love the way I do
I can say for certain that it’s true
There’s a chance for me and you
I surely feel like the time is near
The picture in my mind is very clear
I think love has brought us here

Michael hadn’t felt this close to a woman in such a long time, she smelled clean and fresh and she felt like heaven in his arms. He pulled back a little and their eyes met. He wanted to kiss her again. What was she thinking?

I remember not too long ago
I was just a lonely person with a lonely heart
And I was hopin’ there could one day be
Be a chance for me to…Get the love that I’d been missin’
Sometimes love takes a long time
But, wait for love and you’re gonna get the
Chance to love – wait for love, wait for love
Ooh my

Hunter felt her soul becoming lost in Michaels gaze. His eyes were like deep pools of obsidian fire glowing only for her. She wanted him to kiss her like he did before, if only he would….

When you take the chance on love you see
It’s not a waste of time if you truly believe
The impossible can be
So hold on tight if you think you’re right
‘Cause nothing hurts as bad as when you see
You gave up too easily

Now I remember spending all my time
On a dream that kept me wishing that you could be mine
And I was hopin’ there could one day be
Be a chance for me to…

Michael touched her cheek with his hand. Her lips were so close he had to taste them. He was terrified of being rejected but powerless at the same time. He bent his head and lowered his lips to hers. Softly this time, this time he’d kiss her softly ….

Get the love that I’d been missin’
Sometimes love takes a long time
But, wait for love and you’re gonna get the
Chance to love – wait for love, wait for love
Ooh my

Luther’s voice faded away with the clacking of the train’s wheels on the tracks both in perfect rhythm and time.

Hunter’s lips met Michael’s, She put her arms around his neck and entwined her fingers in his hair. His tongue parted her lips gently and she gasped as his tongue danced and played with her own. She pressed against him, and he slipped one of his thighs between her legs. Michael pulled her even closer. His erection was hard against her stomach. Michael stroked her hair; it was soft and full. He thought of her lying on top of him with her hair spread out like a golden blanket on his chest and stomach.

He had to have her. “Hunter, you are so beautiful”. He whispered. She felt her insides tighten when he spoke her name. Michael pushed his thigh in harder between her legs and she pressed down on it. He let his hands fall to her backside and pushed her up against his leg. Hunter felt her nipples harden. She wanted more than this.

Michael drew away from her. Hunter was afraid that he was going to stop “No, don’t”.
“Shh, don’t say anything. Just come with me.” Michael brought her to his bed. She fell onto it as he lowered himself above her.

His lips were urgent now. He worked his way over to her neck he whispered “You trust me right?” Hunter looked at him with her huge green eyes but didn’t answer,
“I’m not going to hurt you. I need to know this before we go any further. Please, girl, tell me yes, I want you so bad. I know you can feel it”. Michael let his body fall onto hers and moved his hips against her pelvis. She felt his erection straining through his pants. Her breath came out in gasps. She couldn’t speak, that’s why she hadn’t answered him, but Michael wasn’t going to do anything until she told him what he wanted to hear. Moving restlessly underneath him, Hunter uttered the words he longed to hear, “Michael, please, I want you so much. I trust you, I want you too. Please just …”

Once she told him what he wanted to hear, Michael unleashed the burning passion that he’d been holding back since he kissed her earlier. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and started kissing her again, but the softness was gone; she had ignited a passion and it burned hot and raw. He claimed her lips now. Like a prize. His tongue searched for a treasure and she met him battle for battle. She smelled of wildflowers and sunshine and he was heady with its delights. His hands began to roam her athletic body and he pulled her T Shirt from her jeans. Her waist was small and hips shapely, her ass was firm and her back was smooth to his touch. He could wrap both of hands around her middle and his mind was racing with thoughts of what was happening.

He broke away from her lips to begin searching his way across to her ear. “Hunter, you are turning me on so much. Put your hands on me. God, girl, you can have me, all of me”. Michael practically begged. He took her shaky hand from his chest and placed it on his crotch, “See what you have done” Michael groaned in her ear.

His eyes were half closed in ecstasy at the feeling of her hand on him so intimately, Hunter sucked in her breath at the sight of his face, so sexy and so full of lust. She placed her hand in the waistband of his jeans. Michael’s eyes rolled back and he bit his bottom lip. “Damn girl”, he growled, “you are killing me”. He moved his hand up and cupped her breast. He tweaked her nipple and it strained against her T-shirt at his touch. He pushed it up and closed his mouth over one breast. Hunter gasped. He rolled to his side and made short work of her shirt and bra. Michael licked and sucked each nipple, his lips taking time to savor what he was doing. He took Hunters hand from his body and they stroked her breasts together. Michael watched her to touch herself and whispered, “Hunter, you are the sexiest woman I have ever seen”.

Michael watched her touch herself while he kissed her stomach, working his way down to her jeans; he opened the buttons on the Levi 501’s and loved it, because every button was like a present. Pop, and he kissed and a licked the area exposed. Pop, and he followed with another kiss…another lick, Pop, now he could smell her. Hmmmm, God she smelled so good. Only two more buttons to go. He puts his hands in and cupped her. She was soaking wet. He couldn’t wait to taste her. “Damn baby you are so fine. You smell so good. I want you so much”. Those and many more thoughts filled his mind.

Hunter allowed him to take her jeans off but teased him. “Michael, you have too many clothes on”. “Pardon”? He asked. He was staring at her nude body and he couldn’t think straight.

“You, Michael Jackson, have too many clothes on”. Hunter said again. Michael took his shirt off, “There, are you happy?.”

“Um, I don’t think so. What about the rest.” Not waiting for an answer, Hunter reached over and tugged open his pants. His erection was sticking out of the top of his underwear, hard and thick.

The only sound was the steady noise of the wheels of the train, the sound of Michaels breathing and her gasp. He was huge!

Hunter Leigh Davis was laying naked in front of Michael Jackson on a train in Germany; “I want you so much.” Michael said as he scanned her naked form. “I want you too, Michael.” Hunter told him, her voice heavy with lust. Michael leaned over and kissed her stomach; she felt his hot breath, like steam on the window. He stepped off the bed and turned her around so that he could kneel in front of her. Her sex open to him and she looked down like a regal cat at her prey…He used the tip of his tongue to lightly separate her lips, and she shuddered while he held her legs down with his arms. He began to roam her sweetness with his lips and tongue and she started bucking her hips without thought. Michael moaned from somewhere deep inside his throat while Hunter watched him, and grabbed his head with her hands. “Oh Michael, oh right ,uh ,there”. He slowly sinks a finger into her and moves it together with his tongue, soon adding another finger to increase her pleasure. Hunter starts to grind him hard, she is out of her mind now with passion. He glances up and sees her face, sees her eyes glazed over in ecstasy at what he is doing to her. He moans out too, knowing he is taking her places she has never been before. “Oh yes, you’re going to make me come Michael…Michael, ahh, I am gonna come”. Hunter grabs him by the hair and forces his face into her crotch. She grinds him over and over, but he never stops licking, or sucking or fingering her till she falls back onto the bed beads of sweat covering her body. Her breathing is labored when Michael stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand…his turn.
“Put your lips around me, baby”! Michael said. She was still in a daze, “What”? She asked But it was clear what he wanted. Michael was already looming over her” His erection is huge.

“Oh, Michael.” Hunter couldn’t help saying as her hands close around him. “You’re amazing” that’s all she’s able to get out before Michael was fully in her mouth. He was hot and hard. Hunter skillfully sucked him in and then used her tongue to flick the tip.

Groaning, Michael looks down and watches her with his dark penetrating eyes.

“Oooooh, girl. Yes, right there. Mhmmm, damn. Don’t stop.” He urged her on rocking forward into her waiting mouth. Hunter tilts her head to the side and strokes his length up and down, side to side and underneath with her hot, wet tongue. She used her hands to stroke him, too. All of him, going down lower and lower, until she shocked him by gently pulling his flesh into her mouth and sucking lightly.

Michael’s hands grabbed her head to pull her away. It’s more than he could take. But Hunter refuses to stop, opening her mouth wide she felt him hit the back of her throat. His moaning and groaning was so sexy and she loved it.

Finally Michael’s hands clutch her hair and pulled her up and off of him before he came. “Oh God, Stop! Stop!” he pleaded.

Pushing his body down on top of hers, he whispers against her lips, “I have to be inside of you. I need you now, girl”. He was sucking on her breast just as he was pressing into her. Hunter inhaled sharply as the feeling of fullness overwhelmed her senses. She was wet, so wet, but he had to go in slowly. Michael knew he was big but damn, she was so tight! Her velvet walls finally closed around him. She shuddered under him as Michael raised her hands above her head and entwined his hands in hers. He started doing a slow roll over her body and finally thrust deep into her. She matched his movements, and soon they began to move together in time with the rhythm of the train.

He kissed her lips, searching her mouth with his tongue. As the train seemed to move faster, they increased their pace. Releasing her hands, Michael placed his on either side of her face and kissed her deeply. His body began thrusting, back and forth, keeping time with the beat of the locomotive. Michael increased his pace even faster. His curls brushed her face as she watched him above her, he desperately concentrated on his dance of lust. The train seemed to pick up speed, and Michael began to thrust harder. Their bodies slick with sweat as Hunter wrapped her legs around Michael’s waist, and she felt him go in even deeper. Another sweet contraction hit her hard and swift. Her walls clamp down against him and Michael felt himself tighten for a huge release. Hearing the roar of the train in his ears; he threw his head back and leaned into the beat. Pumping and pumping until finally they both released together in a blaze of crescendos of moans and passionate cries.

The train noise faded to a hum as their breathing returned to normal. “Please don’t leave Hunter, I want to stay just like this, with you. “ Michael stated matter of fact as the newly risen full moon peaked through the trees and into the private car.

“I will stay here as long as you want me Michael”. She said, as he gathered her in his arms and took her back to the rhythm of the train.

To be continued…..

Filed in: Hunter • Thursday, October 22nd, 2009


I see you’re an MJ fan fiction writer and I am too. I would like to invite you to my forum in the event you would like to share your stories. We have a few very good ones there also.

Please let me know if you or any of your other writers are interested in sharing their work.

Share the L.O.V.E.


Feel free to link and we will do the same. Went to your site and see that there is lots of privacy settings so we couldnt read, but we am more than happy to put a link up.

The more L.O.V.E out in the Universe the bettah, especially when it is about Mike.

good work , it took me three hours to read these paragraphs because of the power shots, they are unreal, thanks

great fan-fic I love how you have the song embedded the song ended just as I finished reading. perfectly timed.

Glad to see you here!!!! I LOVE me some Luthor and I thought it just fit perfect in that moment, glad you thought it was good too. 😉

I hope you stick around and read the rest of Hunters story. You can click on “Michael’s PYT’s” on the top of the page and the posts will come up in the order that they were written if you just go to the end of the blogroll. That is probably the easiest way to read. There is a flow to the stories/chapters but you can read them alone too.

ENJOY and welcome once again.

Thank you for the warm welcome, and for the navigation advice! I am really looking forward to reading =]


this is s good i loved the way you make a hunter a victim of abuse by her father as well. her and michael are more alike than just musicans.


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