Theresa Gonsalves came out with an explosive story in 2009- claiming her and Michael had sex back in the seventies and during the BAD era! Although before Michael's death she denied such thing had happened.
So what gives? I found an old interview she did back in 2010 explaining why she lied. She was interviewed by the "All For Love" blog and they wrote up a very long blog post about it....
I’m sure most of you are, at least, somewhat familiar with the story of Theresa Gonsalves, “the real Billie Jean” as the MJ Fanvention program billed her. She is the author of three books-Obsessions, The Man In The Woods, and Remember The Time,which recounts her decades-long friendship with Michael as a series of letters written to him; just the way their actual relationship developed and evolved, through the many letters she wrote him for over three decades. She also has a fourth book upcoming, Lucifer’s Ministry.
Saturday morning began bright and early with my interview with Theresa, although as happened all too frequently with these interviews, it ended up being a somewhat rushed affair since we were squeezing it into the few minutes we had before Scott Thompson’s Q&A. But before I get to that, I want to back up just a little, to Friday morning, and recount a funny story about how I first met Theresa at the Fanvention.We were seated waiting for the Q&A with Michael’s hometown family and friends to start, when one of the ladies sitting next to me nudged me and pointed to Theresa’s photo and biographical blurb in the program. Of course, that particular photo is a very glamorous photo of a younger Theresa, made up like a diva. And there were the words: “Find out for yourself if she is the REAL Billie Jean!”The two ladies were debating quite frankly whether they believed the story. The one sitting closest to me asked, “What do you make of it?”
The answer I gave was an honest one, because it was the same thing I had said here, just a few days before I left. I said that I was going to be interviewing her, and would keep an open mind.
They went on to say they wondered if she was even there yet. They hadn’t seen her.
Just then, the attractive but very plainly, casually dressed black woman in a baseball cap who had been sitting right in front of us the whole time, turned and said, “I’m Theresa.”
This Was The Publicity Photo Of Theresa Featured In The MJ Fanvention Program.
I have to say, my admiration for this woman and everything she’s been through really started right then and there. I admired how gracefully she handled the situation.
Even though she had obviously overheard the whole conversation, she did not respond with anger or defensiveness, as some might have. She simply let us know she was there, and had ears. (It reminded me of a scene she describes in Remember The Time, which I later read in a single setting, Sunday night in my hotel room.
Sitting behind some of Liz Taylor’s peeps at her birthday bash-I assume the same one where he sang “Elizabeth, I Love You” she had heard some of them dogging Michael and his “white baby.” She didn’t say anything back to them, but did kick the back of their chairs, which shut them up).
With that being said, I’m sure Theresa must have gone into our interview with a sense of being put on the witness stand, but as she acknowledged, she was prepared for that. She was aware that even when she would give her Q&A later that morning, she was going to be cross examined and torn down. In other words, she’s well aware of the criticisms of her that are out there, among Michael’s fans-and why those criticisms exist.I was willing to go into the interview with an open mind. But I can say this much, after having not only talked to her during the interview process, but spending a lot more time with her throughout the weekend, including the three hours we sat next to each other, roasting in the Gary heat at the Railcats baseball game and chit chatting about so many other various aspects of life-not just Michael-I came away with the impression of a very warm, sincere woman who has survived a lot. I got a much better perspective of what this relationship with Michael really was-and what it was not.
And I can honestly say that in my opinion, I don’t think there is an insincere bone in Theresa’s body. I do believe she had a relationship with Michael, one that even now, though she is in her 50's, she is still in many ways trying to make sense of what it has meant for her. What was it? Not exactly love (I think she always understood he would never be her husband, though she makes no secret that she would have liked for things to have turned out that way); not exactly lust (even though it happened twice, she said, but both times, it was more a case of being caught in the moment).
What their relationship did evolve into was a decades-long communication through the written word. Through her letters, which began religiously after the Boston Gardens Jackson 5 show when Michael told her to “sit down” so he could finish the show,Michael became not only her teenage obsession, but in a sense, her “therapist” as well. I say “therapist” because I think, for Theresa, the letters did become a kind of therapy-a series of journals in which a lonely, teenage girl who never felt her mother’s love, poured out her heart and all the details of her life to her idol.
“Theresa Gonsalves loves Michael Jackson,” she used to write on the school chalkboard, every day after school. To which someone would always add, by the time she returned the next morning, “But he doesn’t love her.”
It did seem to be a one-sided thing, as would be understandable with an obsessed teenage fan writing her idol every day. She didn’t hear back from Michael, other than the occasional form letter. But unbeknown to Theresa, he was receiving-and reading-the letters. At least, he had begun to receive and read them after a lady at the post office had informed Theresa of a little something called The Freedom of Information Act. Up until then, she had been sending the letters to a PO box.
This went on for awhile, until the woman at the post office said, “I’m tired of seeing you sending all these letters to this little ol’ boy, knowing he’s not even getting them” and she told her about the Freedom of Information Act. If she requested Michael’s actual physical, home address, they would be required to give it. (However, I’ll just add here for the record that the laws regarding the Freedom of Information Act have changed in recent years,in the wake of celebrity killings such as the Rebecca Schaffer case. The early 70's, when Theresa began writing Michael, was of course a more innocent time, before the murders of John Lennon, Schaffer and others permanently changed the ability for the public to acquire such personal information about celebrities via the Freedom Of Information Act).
Anyway, long story short- she was able to get his Hayvenhurst address, and began sending the letters there.
From that point on, Michael was definitely receiving and reading the letters. And even though he still didn’t write back, he grew to enjoy and look forward to receiving them. LaToya would tell Theresa later that what Michael enjoyed about the letters was the connection it gave him, to a real person in the real world. Through the letters, which were written more like journal entries to “Dear Michael” he learned all the details of her life-the good, bad and sometimes ugly.
The story of how Theresa, at fifteen, finally ended up flying to Las Vegas to meet 15-year-old Michael has been well documented elsewhere, so I won’t waste too much time on the details of that first meeting here, except to say that their first phone conversation-once she had finally been put through to him-was hilarious.
“Michael, this is Theresa.”
Dead silence on the other end.
“Theresa Gonsalves.”
“Oh, THAT THERESA…yeah, I know all about you. You’re going to (blah blah blah) school; you got (named her exact grades) on your last report card,” and on the conversation went as Michael spat back all the details of her life he had recalled from her letters. ”
Although Theresa must have written literally hundreds of letters to Michael through the years, and he maybe wrote all of four back, she said, he still, nevertheless, seemed genuinely hurt and disappointed when her letters eventually trickled off after 1986. By then, as she said, Michael “belonged to the world” and it was time to move on with her own life; time to get over this obsession that obviously wasn’t going to go anywhere. By then, she was a mother with real responsibilities in the real world. When their paths did cross again (as inevitably, they would several more times through the years)
Michael said something to the effect of, “You don’t write me much anymore” and seemed genuinely disappointed. Perhaps in some small way, even though he had never been one for writing back, he had grown to look forward to the “connection” Theresa’s letters gave him. On the one hand, it would be easy to brush his attitude off as typical celebrity ego-disappointed when the letters stopped coming, despite having given so little in return himself. But I think most people who knew Michael understood. He gave in return as much as he possibly knew to give, and as much as he was capable of, given the circumstances of his own extraordinary life and celebrity.
Theresa understood this, which I think is partly why she never placed any demands or strings on him. And I think Michael, in return, appreciated this, which is why he continued to welcome her into his life every time their paths crossed. Don’t forget, this was the man who confessed to walking the streets at night, just to find a friend; someone to talk to as a real person. Theresa may have shared his bed, briefly, but what I took away from her story was something much more than that. It was a friendship and a spiritual connection that endured for over three decades.
Nevertheless, the sex did happen, according to her account. So as we settled into our chairs and I dug out my pen and paper, I did give fair warning that I would be asking some questions about that. After all, asking someone to talk about something as personal as a sexual act with someone is never the most comfortable thing to discuss-for either party. I wasn’t interested in every explicit detail, of course, which would have been neither my business nor anyone else’s. What happened between Michael and Theresa in bed is their experience, and as Michael said, “Ain’t nobody’s business but me and my baby.”
(That being said, her book is pretty juicy if you happen to get the first edition, which is the one I have; she told us that the new, revised edition has been considerably toned down as per Mama Katherine’s request. Katherine said she wanted Michael’s children to be able to read the book without being embarrassed by the sex stuff).
However, I told her that I do have a lot of female readers, and these are the things the fans want to know. My first question had to do with why she has kept this relationship so lowkey and under the radar. Yes, there was the Star story in 1984 (when they first revealed her story as “the real Billie Jean) and more recently, her book. But for all practical purposes, she has kept a very low profile, as has many of the women in Michael’s life (barring the “celebrity” girlfriends such as Tatum, Brooke, Lisa Marie, etc).
“Most girls that slept with Michael would have been selling their story to every tabloid out there, or at the very least, trying to impress their girlfriends and all the fans. But you have kept this relationship very lowkey, and even when you do speak of it, the emphasis is always more on the friendship than the sex. Is that because, for you, it really was more of a freindship? It seemed to me to be a very “no strings attached” kind of relationship.”
“I wanted to keep it respectable,” Theresa said. “Tabloids would have trashed it up. “Star” did the story in 1984, and they twisted it into something it wasn’t. They said I was Michael’s girlfriend. VH1 twisted the story. {J. Randy] Taraborelli twisted the story.” The Star Article From 1984. "Michael Said, 'Make Sure They Pay You"-Theresa Gonsalves
She said that basically, everyone she had ever talked to about the relationship had twisted the details of her story to suit their own agenda. Michael had warned her years ago how the media operates, and from what I gathered, the way in which Michael advised her to deal with it was most likely the same advice he gave to all his female friends.
The media is vicious, and Michael understood that any woman who told her story would be set up for public ridicule, scorn, and scrutiny. “It will destroy your life,” he would say, and in a lot of ways, his advise made sense. Michael was a celebrity, one who was used to being lied about and gossipped about. Any tabloid story that broke would be, for him, just one more story among a thousand. But for them, it could be a devastating experience that could potentially wreck their lives. Michael was looking out for them. He also seemd to be saying that if they did go to the tabloids, it would be “their” story and thus, their responsibilty for whatever fallout in their lives that might occur as a result.
“Make sure they pay you,” he said, when she asked him if she should go forward with the offer from “Star” to tell the “real story” of how the song Billie Jean came about.
But “Star” twisted the actual facts of the story-that she had become pregant sometime after her affair with Michael, by another man (who denied the kid was his). She wrote Michael a letter about it. Sometime later, after her son Todd was born, she ran into Michael, who told her he hoped she wouldn’t “be mad” that he had written a song for her. “Now don’t get me wrong,” she said,”Billie Jean is one of the greatest songs of all time. I’ve come to terms with it. But if Michael was going to write a song about me, I certainly wouldn’t have chosen THAT one. I would have wanted it to be something like The Lady Of My Life,” she laughed.
“Basically,” I said, “he took your story and re-wrote it from the guy’s point of view.”“Exactly,” she said.
But the “Star” magazine story, not surprisingly, played up the sensational angle that Theresa actually had Michael’s secret love child, which was not true. Todd is definitely his father’s child, even if he did try to deny it. And Todd’s daddy isn’t Michael.Although she should probably be thankful that youtful encounter with Michael didn’t end up with a love child. They didn’t use protection, and overall, the entire intimate encounter was a somewhat rushed and awkward experience for both of them-at least, the first time.
Since that excerpt from the book, in which she describes their first encounter at the little apartment he was sharing with LaToya during his New York stay, filming The Wiz, has been widely circulated, I won’t go into much about it here, except for some follow-up questions I had about the “quality” of the performance, which I had to ask even though it’s “nobody’s business but me and my baby,” I was still being nosy and wanted to know: Was it true there was no foreplay?
The much more likely truth (which Theresa’s story confirms for those who believe her) is that he most likely did have sex, but perhaps, being young and naive-not to mention conflicted by his upbringing-hadn’t learned all of the ropes yet.
It makes sense when you think about it. Being a Jehovah’s Witness (and very dedictaed to the faith, at that) he had been taught that lust in both thought and deed is wrong, and that the sex act is only for marriage. However, as we all know from his own accounts, he spent a good deal of his childhood witnessing his brothers engaging in casual, sexual encounters with groupies in hotel rooms. I can only imagine that those early experiences had in no way taught him anything about how beautiful sex between two consenting adults can be, much less the intricacies of foreplay. His early experiences had been shaped by seing his brothers get the girl into the room, bang her as quickly as possible, and get her out. That was all he knew.
Theresa admitted he was young and inexperienced their first time-they both were. “We were both nineteen,” she said. “How much do you really know when you’re nineteen?”
From what I gathered, it was very sweet, very romantic. But not exactly fireworks galore-certainly no hint of the sort of kinkiness that Lisa Marie would hint about later. (Though the second time Michael and Theresa made love, I gathered, was quite a different story and much more fulfilling for them both, but by then they were both thirty and had been around the block a few times, so it made sense they would have both learned a lot more about how to please one another by then. And as adults, they had also managed to finally break free from the shackles of guilt and fear of what “others” would say or think).
“Well,” I said, “he must have learned a lot by the time he married Lisa Marie, since she was quoted as saying he was a “freak” in bed.”Theresa just laughed at that story. “I try not to judge the other girls in his life,” she said. “The way I look at it, their experiences were their experiences.”However, she also confirmed, at least for me, something I had suspected all along. For Michael, at least throughout his youth, his normal desires and urges were always compounded by his religious beliefs, and the guilt associated with having committed a “sin.”
And unfortunately, in many ways, this led to the oft-purported myth that he must be either gay or asexual. In the world of Hollywood and celebrity, where generally as a rule “anything goes” and casual sex is the norm, Michael and his religious beliefs in purity, along with his actual, real fears of the devil and what could happen to your soul for giving in to temptation, were very real. But also very odd and misunderstood in the environment in which he found himself. It was a world where groupies automatically yelled “Fag!” if you didn’t want to kiss or grope them (as Michael himself recounted in his 1979 Jet interview); a world where any attitudes that deviated from the norm-and for a young man, the expected norm was to get all the p_______ out there whenever and wherever you can get it- automatically meant you were gay or “something was wrong” with you.
Yet, if we are to believe stories like Theresa’s (and I did believe her) it means, to some extent, reevaluating and reassessing what some if us have always thought or believed regarding Michael’s sexuality. It means that we can safely kill the assumption of the 35-year-old virgin who had “saved himself” for marriage, for starters. But, though he was, as Theresa said, a normal young man with normal desires, he could never simply “let go” with the freedom of a truly liberated experience. Always, there was the guilt. (Keep in mind, this was the same man who, even in his 30's, still cried over receiving Christmas presents because he had been taught it was “wrong” to celebrate).
The first time Theresa met Michael, he was in the hotel room reading the Bible. “Do you believe in the Devil?” he asked her. At the time, she didn’t realize that he was actively Witnessing. Later, she would take up the Jehovah’s Witness faith herself, though at the time she admits it was mostly just another attempt to get closer to Michael. Quite simply, she was obsessed, and looking for any avenue that might be a path to his heart. If the boy wanted to talk Jehovah, well by golly…she would prove she could talk Jehovah, too! (By the way, she did mention that neither she nor Michael were baptized as of 1977, so this may clear up some of the questions as to whether Michael was ever baptized, or at least when).
But actually joining the faith came at a price. It meant being willing to walk the talk. And here they were, suddenly, all alone together in The Big City-two teens on their own for the first time; no parents, and LaToya (who had been pushing Michael to date Stephanie Mills, and did not approve of the growing attraction between her little brother and this girl who was a nobody) out of the way. Here they were, both scared to death, yet caught up in the moment. LaToya might come in any moment…God was watching…but hormones were stronger than fear.
Now picture these two kids in the aftermath. They’ve done the deed. Now what? They’re both scared; knowing they’ve sinned. They want to feel good about it, but can’t. They hold each other, reassuring each other it’ll be okay. They are afraid of Hell (at least, the JW version of it, which is eternal separation from God) and even more afraid of LaToya. Eventually, Michael goes back to the couch and they try to pretend nothing ever happened.
But they, Jehovah and LaToya all knew better. Eventually, the rift between LaToya and Theresa over the affair would erupt into nasty words. “I still have the letter LaToya sent me, chewing me out,” she said bitterly during her Q&A, waving a faded, pink envelope addressed from LaToya. “LaToya wanted Stephanie Mills to be his girlfriend.”
LaToya Was Pushing Stephanie Mills, The One She Wanted To Be Michael's Girlfriend
During the interview, I mentioned that I was aware that she had said that it was a certain family member who broke them up. Although LaToya’s name certainly came up a lot, she wouldn’t elabortate much more than that, except to say, “There was an incident with Joe.”
Apparently, it’s a rift that still hasn’t healed. She had crossed paths with Joe several times last weekend, even as recently as that morning right before the interview, when they were both having breakfast in the Star Cafe’. “Joe knows I’m here. But he still won’t speak to me.”However, Theresa does maintain a close relationship with another Jackson family member-Michael’s mother Katherine. Remember The Time” is dedictaed to both Michael and Katherine, and as she said, Katherine’s only request regarding the book was to “tone down” the two sex scenes. Later, as I was reading the book alone in my hotel room, I couldn’t help giggling out loud as I envisioned how Mama Katherine’s eyes must have bugged out reading passages like:
“..We weren’t so childlike this time as our kissing turned to uncontrolled lust. I boldly undid your pants leaving you to remove them as I pulled off my panties. Then I climbed over and straddled you…”
Yep. I can see why the request for a toned-down edition was made. Of course, the immediate question everyone had at the Q&A was, “Can we still buy the original edition?”
The answer was yes-for the time being. But the new, softened version will soon replace it, so if you want the juicy one, better snap it up fast!I asked if it ever irked her to read all these so-called “experts” claiming Michael was everything from asexual to a pedophile to gay to…well, you get the idea. “Don’t you ever just want to shout it from the rooftops, Hey, I was with him! I know the truth!”
“Of course I want to shout it,” she said. “And I want the world to know he was a vibrant, young man.” This point was later brought up in the Q&A session as well. “He was a vibrant, young man with normal desires and urges.” But the reasons why it is not so easy to simply “shout it from the rooftops” goes all the way back to the first question. The media can’t be trusted. And there is another factor, as well, which we did discuss because I knew it was a topic that would eventually have to be addressed, anyway.
“You know that there are some fans who don’t believe your story,” I said. “But this is something that every woman who ever claimed to have had a relationship with Michael has to be aware of. There will be fans who simply won’t believe your story. Some of it is jealousy (because it wasn’t them); I don’t have to tell you, there’s a certain “catty factor” out there when it comes to Michael’s female fans. I know you heard the conversation behind you yesterday morning. Some of it is jealousy, of course. But a lot of it also comes from the resentmnent that there is always someone willing to sell out their stories about Michael or to make a quick buck by making up stories about him.”
“I’m aware that I’m on the witness stand,” she said. “They’re ready to tear me down.” But after spending time with her throughout the weekend, I came to understand (or felt that I understood) why she felt the need to tell her story. Theresa is suffering from a terminal liver disease, Primary Schlerosing Clolangitis. In her book, she says it is the same disease that killed Walter Payton. She has already beaten the odds she was given in 2003, when doctors told her she had three years to live. But every day, it is still touch and go. And like most of us, she was devastated by the events of June 25th, 2009. Like so many of us, she was struggling to come to terms with what it had all meant.
For Theresa, of course, the loss was more personal than most of us. It wasn’t the loss of the boy and man whom she had had two very brief, intimate encounters with. It was, rather, the loss of the spiritual soul mate whose friendship and support through the years had gotten her through so many dark times. He may not have always answered every letter. But he read them all. He was always “there,” a willing and able sounding board for her troubles when she needed a sympathetic ear. They may have sometimes gone years without seeing each other. But again, it was simply the knowing that he was “there”…and that there would always be a next time when their paths would cross again. Now, the only next time, as she says, will be “in the Glory.”
Over the years, as their lives took separate paths and Michael became more and more the global icon fighting his own troubles and life changes-struggles with vitiligo, divorce, fatherhood, the allegations-and as Theresa likewise went through divorce, illness and motherhood for the second time, their lust may have cooled. But the care and friendship-the sense of connection-was always there. She had stopped writing, but occasionally their paths would cross at awards shows or other entertainment functions. They intoduced their children to each other. By then, they were both parents, and the children would often be puzzled. In her book, she says her son Mychael (named for Michael) asked, “Mommy, why is he staring at you like that?”
They shared the same physician for a brief time in the early 2000's. Michael would call occasionally, inquiring about her health, especially after he learned of her terminal illness. She said it seems ironic now to remember how concerned he was for her health, when he would end up being the one to leave first. But in 2003, they could not have foreseen how things would end.
Of course, there were a lot of funny stories, too. “You didn’t want to ride with Michael,” she said, recounting that he was a scary, daredevil driver who once, coming around a curve on Mulholland Drive, took his hands completely off the wheel and said, “I’m Peter Pan. I can fly!” Of course, he thought it was funny. Theresa said riding with him was only funny now-twenty years safely after the fact. “Michael hit the curbs pulling into Encino. He almost hit a car in front of us.” This confirmed, of course, something I think most of us already knew-the boy simply couldn’t drive.
There were other funny litle stories as well, some of them revealing a side of Michael that I think may have surprised some fans. For example, once when they were alone together at a hotel in New York (which happened often, because being underage, Michael often was “locked in” while on tour and not allowed to go out) Michael invited up two fans. These were two girls who had been stalking and harassing him for weeks. He was very annoyed with them. Theresa said she naively suggested that he simply invite them up to the room.
“They just want their encounter with you. If you invite them up and talk to them, they’ll be satisfied and that will probably be the end of it.”
Michael took her advice, and invited the girls up. So here they were, sitting at a table, she said, with her and Michael facing each other, and the two girls sitting opposite. Michael was in a “smart @ss” mood and kept making faces as the girls told their life story. One of them was talking about her childhood abuse. Michael-evidently-wasn’t buying it. He kept making faces that only Theresa could see, and they kept giggling, cracking each other up. The girls eventually caught on, got pissed, and left-convinced, I’m sure, that Michael was an asshole, But at least it did put an end to their stalking and harassing.
At one point during her Q&A, an older gentleman raised his hand and said, “I think you would have made him a good wife.” Without a minutes’ hesitation, she laughed and said, “I agree.”
But before that, during the interview, she had also said that it was more than just certain members of the Jackson family who had come between them. “Michael was in love with his career. He was more in love with his music and career than anybody.”
Yet, whatever she felt for him all those years ago is still obvious. Even now, 40 years after Michael first told her to “sit down” so that he could get on with the show, and 21 years after the last time they made love, her face still lights up whenever she mentions his name. He was the rock of her life for many years. She still misses him.
However, I’m just going to say this much off the record, and hopefully Theresa won’t mind if I repeat this story. It has nothing to do with our interview or the official Q&A session, but nevertheless, it was perhaps my favorite quote from her of the entire weekend, and one that I think sums it all up as perfectly as it gets.
On the bus to the baseball game on Sunday, several women started discussing the various ladies of Michael’s life. Who did they think would have made the best match for him? The conversation went on, and Princess Diana’s name was mentioned. “She had a lot in common with Michael,” someone said. “Concern for children, and the poor and the suffering.” This went on for some time, as they extolled the virtues of Princess Diana and what a good match she would have been for Michael.
Finally, someone turned to Theresa, who was busy texting, seemingly oblivious to the conversation. “What do you think, Theresa? You knew him better than any of us. Who do you think he should have been with?”
“He should have been with me,” she said, putting an effective and definitive end to the discussion.
The SEX excerpts from her book Remember The Time
(Pages 40-42) Dear Michael,
Do you remember how tiered you were when you came home that evening from the set of the Wiz? I was anxious just for you to get back. We talked a lot about your day because you were so excited about the day’s event, that it was hard for me not to get caught up in your excitement.
We didn’t even eat. We just talked. We joked about my favorite song at the time which was Find Me a Girl. We laughed as you told me how you didn’t even know what you were going to say when your brother’s chimed “What you gonna do?” and ended up with “I’m gonna be good to her.” We were laughing at the way you said ‘I’m gonna be.’. I still chuckle when I hear that.
You decided I would sleep in your bed that night and you would sleep on the couch although I had a small hotel room down the street. You hadn’t wanted me to be there alone when I had come to see you and you had been gone all day. We talked more until we decided we better go to bed. You needed to be rested for the next day’s shoot.
Howeve, we both couldn’t sleep. I could hear you moving about and then you got up to use the bathroom. The bathroom was just off your bedroom.
Your room was really small, not what most people would have imagined you having. You only had a twin size bed while Latoya’s room was very luxurious. She had a big bed with mirror above it.
I laid in your bed listening to you pee. When you came out the bathroom, I saw you glance in at me and you saw that I was awake too, “You can’t sleep either huh?” I asked you as I put my head up.
You smiled at me and came in the room, closing the door behind you. You sat in the chair at your desk which was next to your bed. You again expressed how really excited you were about the set that they had built for you as the scarecrow on the set of the Wiz. I sat up because you wanted to proudly show it to me again. You had shown me earlier.
I got out the bed and stood next to you putting my arm around your waist as you pointed out the features of the replicated set. I was simply taking in your joy. When I let you go, I leaned in to look closer at what you were showing me, we ended up face to face. The pull of the chemistry…it was like it was supposed to happen, that we kissed. Had we not found ourselves in this position earlier and Latoya had walked in? This time there was no distraction. It was a soft surprise kiss to us both as we explored each others mouths gently with our tongues.
We both felt shy, but it didn’t stop what we knew was going to happen and what we both wanted to happen. You took my hand and we got in your bed together both with our heads down. We were mutually quite shy.
I wondered how many other girls you had been with, if any. What about your religion? Weren’t you the one who sent me to seek god?
Other than what you read in my letters, sex was never even something we discussed. If you were still reading my letters, you knew I had been with one other guy. Even then, I felt as if I had betrayed you. But my letters never stopped and you knew my heart was still where you were. Were you shaking more than I was?
We laid there silently embracing, neither of us being the aggressor, as I just let you hold me in your arms. I can still remember feeling the warmth of being there. It was so quiet in your room that all we could hear was our hearts beating. We knew Latoya was in her room not too far away so we were being careful not to make a lot of noise. As far as I knew, the door to the bedroom was unlocked.
You were so nervous. Well I was too, but you seemed more so than I. Funny thing is we were both sure we wanted it to happen, but so unsure of ourselves. Our kissing was slow. We were learning. You said I had soft lips. I was rubbing your arm thinking, for as skinny as you were, you sure had some muscles.
Our body language was awkward as we responded to one another and we became aroused. You unbuttoned my pajamas and yes it was a flannel pajama set I had on that I was embarrassed about when I went to pull down the pants. You hands on my breasts were hot, but soft. I was afraid to touch your penis. But you took my hand, directing me there as I wrapped my fingers around it and gently rubbed.
When it seemed we were ready, I guided you inside of me as I stared right into your eyes. I remember I wasn’t so nervous anymore. We didn’t use any protection. We didn’t exactly plan this. It was gentle, it was loving, but most of all it was with you…the young man of all my life, my letters, my dream.
I didn’t get to sleep in your arms all night. I regret that. We whispered quietly afterwards. You asked if I was okay with what happened and I asked if you were. We both smiled as we responded positively to each other. A night we will never forget. I couldn’t have loved you more than I already loved you at that moment.
(Pages 60-62)
Dear Michael, Do you realize how much we rode in that darn car? (I am laughing here because I truly hated riding while you drove).
I was vulnerable, but you were still there and you were still driving around Encino at night. I had just gotten a brand new car and was driving around too. I was feeling lonely. Where did we meet up at this time? Oh yes, Genesta Park.
Fate, once again, intervened with us. It was really late and when I pulled up to the park - there you sat, I wasn’t really looking for you. Or perhaps, subconsciously, I was. We hadn’t met at the park in a long, long time. I just wanted to go there and think.
You were just as surprised to see me there. We chatted for a few minutes and then we simply picked up where we left off as you asked if I wanted to go for a ride. This was our usual, even though it had been a really long time.
“Sure.” Really now, what else did I have to do Michael?
You took the back roads once again, but this time up to Mulholland. Yup! You were still driving sporadically, like a crazy person. After this, I vowed to never ride in a car with you again, especially after you took your hands off the damn steering wheel and said, “Sometimes, I wish I was Peter Pan and could fly…” …uhhh, Michael, you did this on Mulholland Drive…winding roads, major drops…yuh.
“Uh, Not with me in the car you don’t. Put your hands back on the wheel!” I yelled just as you did. Were you trying to terrorize me Michael?
“I was just playing. You were never in any danger…” you calmed me laughingly.
I had been on a motorcycle before with someone driving like a maniac through those roads. I was fearful of Mulholland Drive.
I don’t know what happened to 198VZG (That’s what we called your silver Shadow, maroon and black, Rolls Royce by its license plate), but you were driving a Black Landrover or something like that on this night. At least I can look back at that time and laugh now…I wasn’t laughing the mister.
You pulled over into an open, desolate area. Mulholland is known for such spots. At least it used to be. I Haven’t been there in years.
“I still like to drive up here sometimes and just think…” you told me as you laid your seat back and I followed suit. We sat in silence for quite a few minutes. I had closed my eyes, but I could feel you watching me.
I know at this time I had developed a sexiness about me. I was too thin in my own eyes, because I could see bones in my chest…perfect to the world, but I didn’t like it. I had been trying to impress that guy I mentioned early and was working to get him back.
“Where is your son at?” you inquired.
“He’s with his dad” I informed you, “he ain’t singing that song any more…the kid is his damn son!” I remarked sarcastically.
You laughed. We talked about things that were happening in our lives. Rather, you were more interested in knowing what was going on in mine. I told you about Vincent, my obsession. You told me I shouldn’t be with him and not to let him hurt me anymore and to quit doing crazy stuff I was doing. You did, however, find the story about me and Vincent quite amusing.
Do you remember that I was barely dressed? Cute little baby doll sun dress, braless, fake hair, but it looked real enough. Oh so different than when we first met…You looked handsome, still skinny. You had started to change and it was obvious you had some work done but I liked it at that point. Your skin wasn’t changed so much, just a little lighter. I remember at one point we were almost the same shade of brown. Your hair was pushed into a ponytail. I didn’t even think about the burn. You had on red pants, white t-shirt.
“You have been in my life a long time…” you stated.
“Since we met in Las Vegas in 1974 when we were sixteen.” I replied.
“Yeah, but you stopped writing letters. After you first moved here you use to still write and just drive up to the mailbox and put the letters in. I use to see you do that.”
“Yeah, well you weren’t responding and it was getting harder to see you.”
“Well, I didn’t respond a lot before and you never gave up. It was just always understood between us. I always allowed you in and that wasn’t going to change.” Your voice was soft, almost accusatory, as if I truly had abandoned you.
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t. Hell, what, we were thirty years old now? You were more the Michael Jackson to me now than you ever were. You were untouchable to most but here we were in a comfort zone with each other as if time stood still.
Life was moving us on but I still cared about you. I wanted to tell you I kept you in my heart in spite of it all. But I didn’t.
I felt the need to reach over to hug you, not sure what you were thinking and as I did, I laid my head on your chest for a few minutes. When I went to move away, you held me tightly and kissed me, completely catching me off guard. After all the time we had spent together, not since the first time had there had been any real intimacy between us other than stolen kisses here and there. Yet, I was quick to respond.
This time our kisses came with an urgency, as if we were trying to recapture innocent moments of what used to be. Both of us seemed to have a strong desire to simply be touched. We weren’t so child like this time as our kissing turned into uncontrolled lust. I boldly undid your pants leaving you to remove them as I pulled off my panties. Then I climbed over and straddled you. You didn’t seem so innocent anymore either and I definatly learned to be that bad girl I tried so hard to become. I’d call this moment of reckless abandonment as we fumbled around inside the truck, caught up once again. Here we were making love like we were in high school. Imagine the media cirus had a police car pulled over!
I rested on top of you afterwards. You ran your hand down my hair. We laid there comfortably until my legs began to get stiff and I moved off you so we could pull ourselves together and straighten out our clothes.
You wanted to stay there for a while longer so we did. I wasn’t in any hurry. I you didn’t know, I was just happy sitting there with you. I know it was one of a few moments you could just simply be ’Michael’.
When you dropped me off at my car, we both just smiled. I leaned over and kissed you goodbye As the gentleman you were, you waited until I got in my car and watched me take off first. There were no promises that I would see you again. We never did that. I knew that we would always find each other along the way, even if to just give a smile.
I never meant to let you down Michael. David Gest said in an interview for his documentary "Life of an Icon" (2011) That Michael lost his virginity at the age of 19. "No. He was a real man, and I think people see [in the film] he was married twice, he loved women, he lost his virginity at 19." In Theresa Gonsalves book "Remember The Time"(2009)Michael was at the age of 19 when they became intimate for the first time.
