The double-winged doors led from the terrace into a living room. Brown leather chairs and a sofa, a low table, colourful carpets, a grand piano. The lights were on, the air-conditioning hummed, but the room was deserted and the house altogether silent.

I was glad that there was nobody around. I wanted to be alone with him. No word had been spoken since, but it was a comfortable silence. I was still holding his hand, feeling his soft, warm palm as he held on securely, slowly rubbing his thump against mine, and that seemed to say it all. I enjoyed his presence, his closeness, and I didn't want to pay attention to anyone else.

There was no-one in the kitchen, either, and all reminders of the dinner had been cleared away.

"I could just wash the glasses," I said politely looking around the area that was so clean, as if nothing had ever been cooked in it.

He let go of my hand to take my glass from me. "No," he said simply and, together with his, put it down in the sink.

"Why not? It wouldn't be a big deal." Truth was, I wasn't keen on washing up; it was merely a matter of politeness.

Michael leaned his back against the sink and reached for me. I felt his fingers at my waist where the dress was tight against my skin.

In the less romantic light of the kitchen area, it was visible that his white shirt had suffered. The sleeves were creased from the weight of my body resting on his arms, and the shirt front had lost its overall crisp appearance. Gently, he pulled me towards him.

He had been as close as one human being could be to another at what seemed like only a moment ago. One of my feet between his, I felt the cloth of his pants against the bare skin of my shin and knee and sensed his legs under it. The memory of the cloth rubbing against the inside of my thighs was vivid. I put my hands on his body not to crash into him completely. I enjoyed touching him, the solidity of the body in the shirt and the way he was breathing under my hands.

I sensed his warm face close to mine, but his lips didn't touch my skin. "Because I pay somebody to wash my dishes." With every explosive consonant his breath brushed against my ear.

His jaw moved as he spoke. The edge of it was sharp, and the sight of it made my breath come slow. The long sideburns, that seemed to give a hint of his natural curls, were smoothed down with wax.

There was cologne on his skin. And there was another fragrance underneath it, a musk sent, warmer and darker. I bent my head closer to his mouth and both heard and felt his smile as my cheek touched his.

Then I lightly kissed the back of his jaw, feeling hard bone under soft skin. Although it was night, his face was still clean-shaven; he had shaved in the afternoon. I thought of the razor blade gliding across his face where my mouth was touching him now, along the jawline to his chin.

The outer layer of silk chiffon under his hand moved against the slip dress underneath.

He was looking at my mouth, his eyelids low, his lashes casting feathery shadows in the sharp ceiling lights.

His breath was on my face.

The smooth warmth of his mouth enveloped my lips, as he pressed his against mine in a sweet and tender touch — a caress, that was giving rather than demanding. It made my legs turn to jelly, and I had to hold on to him to keep from falling.

His body straightened as he came away from the sink edging me closer so I could feel the warmth of all of him. My heart rate change, missing a beat, becoming slow and heavy. I wondered how he could stand for the two of us, when I couldn't stand for myself. Unseeing fingers touched my face. My head was in the palm of his hand, holding my mouth to his. I inhaled, drawing air from his lungs. And then I felt him giving it to me, exhaling, gently filling first my mouth, then my chest with the hot breath he had just breathed himself.

It was like rising up from the depth of a lake, from some dark, secret world that wraps itself around you drowning out everything else. His fingers combed through my hair.

"I wanted to show you so much more of the ranch," he said in a low voice, still holding my hips to his, his forehead touching mine. "The zoo. Where the animals are..."

"Some more horses?" My fingers traced the folds and creases in the sleeve of his shirt.

He watched my hand slowly travelling down his arm, then met my gaze with a shy laugh and a minor shake of the head. "I really don't know what to say to that! I would blush, if I could! — Well," he continued in a tone, that suddenly had a different feel to it, "I am blushing. But you can't see it..."

I looked at him. The makeup on his lips and around his mouth was starting to show signs of wear. But given the eating and drinking, the heat of the afternoon and the different kind of heat, that the night had brought on, it was still remarkably unaffected.

Then I moved away from him. His hand glided around my waist and along my arm until he only held my fingers in his outstretched hand.

"Show me the bathroom," I said softly.

Michael turned the switch and the lights came on. It was a big room with a big tub, a shower, two sinks and a long mirror above a counter with an assortment of utensils lying on it, combs and brushes, but also what looked like cream pots.

"Is this your bathroom?"

"Yes."

"I mean, is it the bathroom you normally use?"

"Yes," he said again, this time accompanied by a minor shrug, and looked around himself as if he wanted to make sure.

I watched his reflection in the mirror where he stood a little way behind me. I had seen him, photos and videos of him, many times, now I realized it was the first time I saw him next to me. He always seemed so thin, but compared to my figure, his features were masculine. He had wide shoulders, a strong waist and narrow hips, and when he moved, the defined muscles of his thighs were visible through the cloth of his slacks. There was a springy, wiry quality to his slender body that in real life didn't give the impression that he could be taken off his feet easily against his will.

Then he realized I was looking at him in the mirror. With another one of his shy laughs he turned away, running his hands over his hair like he had done earlier that afternoon, when I had just arrived at Neverland.

I slipped out of my shoes. The tiles were smooth underfoot. He watched my feet as I came closer, but didn't look up again until I was right in front of him.

"Maybe you could help me with the dress?"

He took a breath. "Actually... I'm not good at that kind of thing..."

"It's nothing big. It's just a little difficult for me to get at it. It's got a little hook and a zipper down the back." To emphasise I tugged lightly at the neck of the back of my dress.

"Oh, yes! Yes, of course!" he said quickly as if suddenly remembering his manners.

I smiled and turned, brushing and holding my hair over my shoulder.

His fingers touched me, light and warm, as he carefully laid another strand of hair aside, then I felt them slip between my skin and the fabric of the dress. His breath hit my neck as he leaned closer, focusing on hook and eye. It always took some force to make them let go.

"You know, men's clothes are easy," he said, his voice heavy with concentration. "They have buttons or zippers down the front. But women's clothes are mean! With them, you never know!"

The remark made me smile.

"Don't laugh!" he complained in a playful tone, "Don't laugh, I'm just trying to cover up while trying not to make a fool of myself, here!" Hook and eye came undone, and he exhaled. The zipper started to glide downwards and through the hollow of my back, and I thought of the hand that moved it carefully along my body. The air was cool where the cloth fell open and exposed my skin.

The zipper came to an end. He let go of the dress, and I felt the back of his fingers and the smooth, hard surface of his fingernails slowly brush down my spine from the nape of my neck over the band of my underwear to where the zipper had ended.

"So, what else would you have liked to show me?" I asked, turning slightly so I could look at him.

Raised eyebrows, he seemed surprised, then wrapped his arms around my waist, his firm chest and shoulder touching me where the dress had fallen open, nothing but the cloth of his shirts between his skin and mine. The fabric felt cool at first, then almost immediately body heat seeped through it. He rested his chin on my shoulder.

"Well, I really would have liked to show you the animals. They are my friends. They are the creatures I share my life with. Bubbles, of course. And Muscles, my snake. He's awesome!" He smiled to himself. "And there are many others. Llamas, deer, rabbits... And birds! I want to have more animals. They are wonderful to have around. We are working on creating the facilities they need.

And there are landmarks here that were around even before the ranch was built. There's a tree I like to go... Or maybe take a ride on the Neverland train. You haven't even seen the station!"

"I've seen it from the outside."

"Seeing only the outside is a pity!"

With the zipper undone, my dress was hanging loose. His hands and arms around me had sunk into it, and his fingers were playing with the folds.

"Does it go up or down?" he whispered close to my ear, as if there were someone else around, whom he didn't want to overhear.

"It goes whichever way you like," I whispered back.

He was smiling at me, then looked down at my shoulder, as he started to peel the dress off. It started to slip, first down one arm, then down the other, off my chest, collapsing into a pile of loose fabric. If it hadn't been for Michael's arm around my waist, it would have fallen. But he was holding it up for a moment longer, holding my bare back against his chest, and watching my disintegrated dress in is arms. Only then did he allow it to slowly slide off me, crouching low as it went, still not allowing it to fall to the floor completely. I held on to his shoulder for support, as I stepped out of it, and his smile widened at the touch. Then he laid the dress over his forearm, and as he got up I saw him gently smooth it out.

His fingers followed the strap of my lingerie over my shoulder blade and along the underband across my back. "Some more hooks," he said, and I wasn't sure, if it was a question or merely a statement.

The underband became tight as he slid his fingers under it, then the hooks came loose, and immediately the piece of underwear came loose with it. I took it off, and having nowhere to put it, I reached over my shoulder letting it dangle by its middle, and gave him a coquettish look. He giggled as he took it from me, his fingers touching mine.

He ran his fingertips along the lace of my panties' waist band. Apart from this last piece of underwear, the only clothes on my skin were what he was wearing: the sleeve of the arm around me as his hand travelled across my belly, the shirt front against my back and the pants against my bottom and the back of my legs, where he stood close behind me.

"You've been there before," I said softly looking at him from the side.

He laughed a little, for a moment pressing the bridge of his nose against my shoulder and avoiding my eyes, then looked at me with a shy smile. "Yes," he said, "somehow everything is upside down today."

As he slid my panties off me, I thought of the carousel and the moving horses — with the poles inside them.

My thin chiffon dress had slipped down his arm and was lying over his wrist, my underwear rested in his upturned palm. How little a woman wore! As I stood in front of him, he looked at my face, then my chest; lower; my stomach. All the teasing, boyish attitude he had displayed only moments ago was gone; he seemed suddenly sobered. He watched my hands as I gently took my clothes from his. And then he kept looking at the pattern of white blotches on his empty hand.

~~~~~

 Hey, guys! :D

I promised to write this part about a year ago. And I honestly didn't plan for it to take me so long. But somehow it did take much longer to write this, than it took me to write the entire rest of the story. How weird!   

I didn't write about this scene originally mainly because I didn't feel comfortable writing about her undressing. XD Odd, isn't it? But that's how it was. It's funny to say that I didn't know my own characters well enough by that time (summer 2013). And I really don't know how in all the world I would know them better now, but it seems that way.

I dedicated this chapter to @fanofmj, because although I knew very early on that I wanted to talk about her undressing, and that I wanted to make a kiss a topic, there always seemed to be something missing, and so this chapter didn't go anywhere for a long time. And then I happened to read an Imagine by @fanofmj about Michael in Neverland, in the end of which he's decribed as blushing. And that was when this chapter took off... :)

Hopefully, you did enjoy the chapter! :) If so, please do comment, please do consider to vote! I'd love so much to hear from you! :D

Thank you for reading and have a lovely day! <3

Much Love, Birdie <33