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My Wildest Fantasy

*NOTE: This story is one of several I wrote as a teenager. All are fictional stories. This was my first story. It is somewhat sexual in nature. Reader discretion is advised.

I had won the chance to spend a whole day with Michael Jackson at Neverland. I was so excited! To me, an occasion like this required a perfect outfit. After a time, I decided on: a pair of tight-fitting white capris, a baggy purple t-shirt, and electric-blue flip-flops. I brushed my long auburn hair and tied it back with a neon pink ribbon, then topped it off with a necklace I had made myself, a pair of blue star earrings, and a bangle bracelet on each wrist. I gave myself a onceover in the mirror and said, "Perfect." I grabbed a pair of sunglasses and went outside, where a sleek black limousine was waiting.

The driver opened the door and said, "Are you ready to meet Mr. Jackson?"

I said, "Are you kidding? I've been waiting for this moment since the summer of 2004." I climbed in, and the driver shut the door, got behind the wheel, and off we went. As we drove down the country roads, I could only think about one thing. I had gotten hooked on Michael Jackson in the summer of 2004. Now, 3 years later, in the spring of 2007, here I was on my way to spend a whole day with him. It couldn't possibly get any better than this.

An hour and a half later, the driver smiled and said, "Miss, look out your window. We have arrived." I looked out the window as the looming gates of Neverland came into view.

I said, "I'm dreaming." As we drove through and the driver let me out, I happened to llok up at the mansion. That's when I saw HIM.

He began to walk towards us, and I said, "I must be dreaming. This is too amazing to be real." He got closer, and it was all I couold do to just stand there and take him in. The signature fedora perched on top of flowing black locks, the deep brown eyes, the killer smile. I looked lower and couldn't help but give a slight smile. He was dressed in a bright red shirt, black slacks, sequined socks, and shiny black loafers.

He tipped the driver and sent him on his way, then held out his hand and said, "Hi. Welcome to Neverland."

I shook his hand and said, "It's an honor to be here, Mr. Jackson."

Michael and said, "Oh, please. Call me Michael. What's your name?" Suddenly feeling shy, I looked down at my feet and told him my name.

Michael said, "It'll be my pleasure showing you my home, Amy." He grabbed my hand and lightly kissed my knuckles, then began to walk with me down the path.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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