Monica Witt couldn't believe that she was about to come—and that her dreams were about to come true.
It had been nearly 30 years since she had first fallen in love. She was just nine years old when her parents took her to see Michael Jackson in concert during the "Bad" tour in Brisbane. She thought Michael was the most gorgeous man who had ever lived, and thought about what it would be like to meet a man who moved like him, who sounded like him, who danced like him.
Michael inspired Monica to pursue a career in the entertainment industry; she couldn't sing, but she could act, and after graduating from the National Institute for Dramatic Art, she became an acclaimed television, film and theatre actress in Australia. She never had a chance to meet Michael in person before he died, and when the news broke that he had passed away, she was emotionally shattered, refusing to believe that his light had left the world.
Three years after Michael died, Monica moved to New York and landed several cable-TV guest roles, as well as a few supporting roles in independent films. One day, she was offered a major comedy role: as a talent judge in the film "The Voiceless," a parody of the "American Idol"/"America's Got Talent" reality-TV shows. Comedy wasn't really her thing—Monica imagined herself as the next Cate Blanchett, not the next Rebel Wilson—but the script was quite funny, and she knew she could play Alice Savage, the bitter, acerbic judge always ready to dismiss aspirants with the meanest of remarks.
One character in the script called for a Michael Jackson lookalike, and the producers found their man in Alex Hamilton, a young Julliard-trained actor from Brooklyn who had appeared in several musicals. When Monica and Alex first met, she could barely take her eyes off him. He looked so much like Michael—his voice was just as soft, his dance moves were just as fluid—that it almost seemed as though Michael had been reincarnated.
For all her professionalism, Monica had to force herself to deliver her cutting remarks to Alex, fearing that a screenwriter's words coming from her mouth could hurt Alex in real life. Monica always prided herself on staying in character during filming, but this time she could not; after every take, she would always walk over to Alex to see how he was doing, to apologize for being so cruel as part of her character, to always touch his hand or arm.
Monica didn't think much of on-set romances; she believed film sets were places to work, not dating services. Her devotion to her work didn't leave much time for romance. Yet she couldn't stop thinking about Alex, couldn't stop imagining what he looked like naked, couldn't stop dreaming about this young black man who looked so much like her childhood crush.
The day after filming ended, Monica invited Alex to her apartment for dinner. She didn't think of herself as the world's greatest cook, but she was more interested in the potential dessert menu...
Monica was pushing forty, but she knew she looked a lot better than some of her twenty-something and thirty-something female colleagues who constantly smoked, drank, tanned and otherwise failed to take care of themselves. She wore a tight black dress and tied her long, reddish-blonde hair into a ponytail. She looked at her very pale, lightly freckled skin in the mirror and imagined Alex's darker hands kissing and caressing her skin.
Alex rang her doorbell at around 6:30pm. When she opened the door, she almost fell over at how good he looked; he wore a crisp black suit, shining black shoes, a white shirt and a dark blue tie. Impulsively, she kissed him full on the lips, and smiled nervously. Oh shit, she thought to herself, I hope I didn't botch this.
"Oh, uh, hi," Alex responded. "Is that an Australian thing?"
"Uh, yeah, kinda," she replied.
As Monica turned around, Alex's eyes bulged at the sight of her gorgeous ass. He, too, couldn't help thinking of dessert...
