Push Play – Take 6 | Subtext

Chapter 6 | Subtext

Subtext

the deeper and usually unexpressed “real” meanings of a character’s spoken lines or actions – if the viewer can ‘read between the lines’.

Subtext or undertone is any content of a creative work which is not announced explicitly by the characters or author, but is implicit or becomes something understood by the observer of the work as the production unfolds. Subtext can also refer to the thoughts and motives of the characters which are only covered in an aside. Subtext can also be used to imply controversial subjects without specifically alienating people from the fiction, often through use of metaphor. Especially in light of their inherently ambiguous and self-referential character, many authors have explicitly used subtexts (or subtexts about subtexts) in humor.

Subtext is content underneath the dialogue. Under dialogue, there can be conflict, anger, competition, pride, showing off, or other implicit ideas and emotions. Subtext is the unspoken thoughts and motives of characters — what they really think and believe.

In the living room, Michael sat on the couch in front of the huge plasma TV and Lisa made herself comfortable on the carpet, her back leaning against the sofa. She wanted to have him close, but not too close. More than anything else, she was not sure his face being in the periphery of her view all the time would help, once their private movies started rolling. So… yeah. She kept her distance in the only way she could.

“Ready?” Michael grabbed the remote control in a very relaxed fashion.

“Sure… bring it on…” Or don’t. But yeah… whatever.

“Are you? Sure, that is…” He searched her eyes and she turned to face him. “You don’t look like it at all…”

“Michael, seriously. Would you have ever imagined one day you’d be sitting here with me, your ex, analyzing our sex tapes because at least one of them leaked on the internet?”

He made a face. “Well, no… but come on, Lise… It’s just… sex.” Her eyebrows sprung up in surprise, and he winced. “OK, that came out wrong. I mean, it’s stuff we know… we shouldn’t be embarrassed or… anything.”

She kept staring at him. He chewed on his lip.

“Lisa… It’s us making love. I don’t care how other people see it, OK? We’re just here to see what some frigging thieves might have gotten their hands on.”

“Yeah, OK. You’re right…” She straightened her back and turned to the TV, her expression colorless.

“Alright then…” Sighing, Michael pushed play and leaned back into the couch, gulping down his wine. Glad they had taken the whole bottle with them.

The footage appearing on the TV screen had been recorded on the night of December 31, 1994. Well… technically speaking, what they were looking at was actually the early morning of January 1st, 1995 – since it was apparent that the shots had been taken after the party. When Lisa and Michael had locked themselves into his private quarters at Neverland, after putting Riley and Ben to sleep and saying goodbye to the Cascios, making sure they were in their bungalow.

Lisa didn’t remember having seen that video in a very long time but, as soon as the images appeared on the screen, everything came back to her. She and Michael were a bit tipsy, and she could tell from her sparkling eyes and flustered face that he had made her laugh a lot before turning the camera on. Because Michael was that kind of guy. Seductive and hilarious… Especially when relaxed.

Now she was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, wearing only her underwear. She saw Michael’s reflection in the mirror above the sink, camera in hand. He was still half-dressed, but his shirt was unbuttoned on his naked chest and his belt was unclasped.

“Mike! Turn that shit off! I’m brushing my teeth!” Younger Lisa rinsed her mouth.

“No way! You’re adorable when you brush your teeth.” His slightly slurred speech told her that he would probably find everything adorable at that very moment. The younger Lisa on the TV screen turned to face her husband and chucked the toothpaste in his direction with the precision of a missile. Younger Michael was quick, dodged the unusual bullet with the agility of a cat and then started to giggle. The giggle turned into a full on laugh and younger Lisa started to cackle as well.

Yes. Definitely tipsy. And definitely in love and so very, very happy.

Watching the scene, the current, more disillusioned and certainly nervous Lisa found herself grinning at the TV like a fool. The grin stayed at its place even when it became obvious that, onscreen, Michael’s fit of laughter had caused him to put the camera on the small stool near the bathroom door. Now she could only see his legs, clad in black pants, as he walked over to her and took her into his arms. From the way those two people on the TV screen moved, Lisa knew she had turned around and was now pressing her own body against him. From the sounds she heard, she could tell they were kissing and still laughing a bit. Then the laughing subsided, and sighs and barely audible moans took its place. His hand reached down and dipped into her panties without any hesitation, and she immediately arched against his touch. Her panties slid down her legs and she stepped over them.

Sitting on the couch, the older, more disillusioned Michael cleared his throat lightly. Then he grabbed a notepad and a pencil from the coffee table and scribbled down something in a hurry.

“Well, I… think it’s all already kinda… visible. Minute 2:33… let me write it down… I mean- our faces, they are, you know… visible.”

Where had all his aplomb gone? Lisa almost had to snort at his sudden, evident discomfort. Meanwhile, on the TV screen, younger Michael’s voice has started to sound thicker, raspier and dangerously close to the melt zone. At that very moment, younger Michael had no idea what bashfulness was.

“Here, Lise… Sit here, girl… I don’t think I got time to take you to bed… I gotta have you here… Shit… I’m about to explode…”

In the framing, younger Lisa’s feet left the floor as he picked her up effortlessly and made her sit on the marble counter near the sink. Their positions were now very obvious. Younger Michael was standing in between her parted legs.

Lisa swallowed but did not say anything, and watched herself grab her husband’s ass with one hand, as the other one clearly fumbled with his zipper.

“Already? Gosh, babe… You are in a hurry… What about the camera?” Her voice onscreen sounded already breathless.

“Fuck the camera…”

“I think we can…” In the here and now, Michael grabbed the remote control from the coffee table, but it slipped from his fingers and he cursed under his breath. Meanwhile, on the TV screen, younger Michael lowered his pants and pulled his wife closer, all the while pushing his hips forward. They both moaned out loud and, once again, from the way they started to move together, there was not a doubt in the world about what they were doing. Lisa’s legs locked around his hips were another dead giveaway.

From the carpet, Lisa reached over, taking the remote control at Michael’s place, finally pushing pause. A deafening silence filled the living room. She stared into space for a moment, then mustered the courage to turn to him.

Michael’s face looked flustered, and his eyes sparkled. It was a weird concoction of uneasiness and arousal. A bizarre mixture she had never seen before, but whose single ingredients were very familiar. The result felt uncomfortable and tempting at the same time. She wanted to leave and kiss him with equal intensity.

“Well, that was… interesting.”

“…It sure was.” Lisa’s gaze dropped again.

“I thought it would be easier than this. I’m a dick. I am so sorry. I guess I made light of the whole thing because… I don’t know, Lisa. Because having you here made me feel confident enough to face it, no problem.” It was the truth. He only refrained from adding that, no matter the mess, he was glad those tapes had allowed them to reconnect, especially at a time where he would never be able to find the balls to go back to her.

The increasing silence seemed to broaden both their spatial distance and their desire. Or their longing for the desire they had once felt for one another. This was so not good.

“OK, look…” Taking a deep breath, Lisa marveled at her own calm demeanor. Given the earthquake shattering her insides, it was truly amazing that she managed to sound so collected. “Maybe this was not the best idea. Watching this stuff together, I mean.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Michael frowned. “The point is, I can’t bring myself to watch them tapes alone either.”

“Yeah, same here.”

“So, there are basically two ways: either we find a way to deal with this ourselves, or we’ll have to involve someone else.”

“What?” Lisa made a face. “I’m not gonna show my goodies to strangers. Forget about it.”

“Lise, I hate to remind you that your goodies are already all over the internet.”

“That doesn’t mean someone should take note of all the different occasions when you and I decided to make ourselves vulnerable like two idiots.”

Michael looked offended by her words.

“Hey – don’t you think we had the right to live our relationship the way we wanted to? Didn’t we have enough shit to pay attention to, already? What’s wrong about wanting some remembrance of our times together? What’s wrong about being carefree every now and then?”

“Nothing, Michael. Nothing is wrong with that. But we should have known that we were putting ourselves in the position of…” She closed her mouth abruptly and shook her head, as the implications of his words hit her with a force of a hammer. “No. You know what? You’re one-hundred percent right. We couldn’t have imagined anything like this.”

She watched the still frame on the TV screen. Michael was right. She knew very well what being married to the most famous man on the planet signified. How much his planetary fame had influenced their relationship right from the get-go. Or any other relationship he had, really. He lived a life full of contradictions. So loved and so persecuted. So powerful and so vulnerable. Michael didn’t know what it meant to truly experience the most basic forms of freedom. He never had that luxury. The privilege of taking a walk outside on his own, without any disguise, without being swarmed. The freedom of sorting out the shit within his marriage without anyone interfering. The liberty of wanting a memento of days and nights of passion and love and happiness that were precious to him, without risking to be exposed, made fun of, or blackmailed. He didn’t have that and he knew it. Throughout all their relationships, first as friends, then as lovers, then as husband and wife, then as lovers again, finally as exes, Lisa and Michael had been forced to pay attention to every word, every gesture, every detail. They had to be careful wherever they went. How they behaved. Whatever they said or didn’t say. Most of the times, their only genuinely spontaneous moments had occurred when they were securely locked behind closed doors.

And so she was not going to rub it in. If anything, she wanted Michael to know that they were allies in this. That he was right, and they had all the right to do whatever they wanted, anything any other couple would do. Lisa was not going to pour salt into one of his most evident and ancient wounds.

She looked back at him and noticed that he was staring down at his own hands. He had leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers interlaced. This handsome, wiser man – so polite, so flawless – was such a perfect contrast with the passion-driven guy on the TV.

“Hey, you know what?” She covered his hands with her own and his dark eyes flew up to her. They looked strangely, weirdly sorrowful. Regretful. “Fuck this shit. We’re gonna watch those tapes. This one’s done. I’m sure there’s nothing that can be used against us in that footage. I mean, we were married, what they’re gonna say… that a married couple screwed on a sink, on New Year’s Eve? Big fucking whoop. So, let’s move on to the next one. We’re gonna take notes like good students and be very much aware of what might happen if anything else leaks. And you know why? Because nobody knows the dynamics of our relationship better than we do. We just need to change our perspective about the whole thing.”

He raised his eyebrow and gave her a lopsided, hesitant smirk.

“How?”

Lisa started to stand up as she kept holding onto his hands and he, like the gentleman that he was, helped her get up.

“First of all, I’m gonna go make us some popcorn. I think we’ll also need more wine to do this.”

Leaning back in the couch, Michael’s eyes kept watching her intently. He now seemed mildly amused and… kind of intrigued.

“Check the fridge, then.”

“Popcorn doesn’t go in the fridge, Mike.”

He giggled. “I know. Just check it, OK? Sniff ‘round, Princess. You’ll find what you don’t know you’re looking for.”

“Alright. Gosh…”

Rolling her eyes, Lisa did her best not to show him how curious she was to find out what he had in store for her. Or them. Although she might have an inkling. She also pretended not to have been affected by him calling her with that old nickname. She loved how he just stayed there, pouring himself another glass of red wine, letting her take the initiative in his own house, like he used to do when they were still a couple. When he would allow her to take care of him in so many different ways. All beautiful, all fulfilling, all giving her a purpose.

And so off to the kitchen she went. Michael just waited for her in the other room, his eyes absently fixed on the screen, staring at that long-forgotten version of themselves that looked as dusty as his CDs. He seemed lost in thought. When Lisa’s face appeared in the door frame, his eyes moved and intercepted her. And she was smiling.

“You presumptuous son of…” She showed him the pomegranate cheesecake he had ordered before she arrived. “You trying to snow me with sugar?”

He laughed. “Who, me? Not at all. I just know you love that stuff.”

Eying him suspiciously, Lisa chuckled and shook her head, then disappeared into the kitchen again. Whatever it was that he was trying to do, it was working just fine. She just had to remember to keep everything in a strictly friendly territory.

About a couples of hours later, Michael was lying down on the couch, munching popcorn as they watched the fifth tape in a row. After the second bottle of wine, it had all become way more manageable and he and Lisa had even found some funny shit to laugh about. They had recalled moments and situations that had disappeared entirely from their sets of memories. They had pointed out places and times that would make certain specifics very much recognizable. They had dutifully taken note of the most sensitive parts of the footage – the ones that could help the press guess a tad bit much about their long history. Because in bed, Lisa and Michael had always talked so much. And from time to time, they had forgotten to turn off the camera once they were done fucking. As if the fucking was not enough for the bloodthirsty paparazzi. Nah. Michael and Lisa were potentially serving their whole lives on a silver platter.

In those private moments, they not only had freely expressed their love to one another, but had also talked about things that had happened or that were going on in their lives at that moment. Michael’s second marriage was only one of the many subjects. Details about their divorce and clandestine relationship, or his plans to divorce Debbie had been a couple of others.

Right now, the footage they were looking at was pretty tame compared to the fuckfest they had witnessed so far. Never ending minutes of naked skin and dirty words mixed with declarations of eternal love, intercourses on every surface imaginable not only in their homes, but also in hotels and residences all around the world. Right now, on the TV screen, Lisa was straddling Michael as he lay down on his stomach, and she was gently massaging his sore back. They were both naked, but at least he had the luxury of having a sheet covering his butt. Every now and then, she would bend over and kiss his shoulders, the nape of his neck, his cheek, whispering something unintelligible in his ear as he smiled, his eyes closed. Her touch was cautious, loving, and he was completely relaxed, comfortable. He looked happy.

That tape had been the last one recorded before their final breakup, about one year earlier and after his terrifying accident in Munich, and Lisa was seeing it for the first time. Glancing at her, Michael could tell that everything looked so new to her. Even the cheesecake seemed forgotten. She still had the plate in her lap and was holding the fork mid-air, but looked mesmerized by the TV screen.

“Is that the tape you were talking about earlier? The one you wanted me to have?”

“Yeah…” He stared at her. It was way easier when she wasn’t staring back at him, and he was glad he could barely see her face from where he was. Almost out of the blue, he suddenly remembered the utter perfection of her profile.

“Wow…”

“What you think of it?” His voice was very low and very quiet.

“It’s a… mindfuck. I mean… You look happy…”

“I was…”

“You look… in love…”

His gaze lowered for a moment. He knew he did.

“I was. I always was in love with you…”

Lisa didn’t turn, her eyes stubbornly fixed on the TV.

“All I recalled about those last days was nothing but bitterness and pain. I remember us fighting a lot. I remember how emotionally distant you were…”

“I’m sorry about that, Lise…” He blurted out the words without even thinking. He saw her blink, but then she kept pretending she hadn’t heard him at all.

“…I remember how hurt we both were. Drained… and defeated. How much we would-”

“Lisa…” His hand came to rest on her shoulder and she finally turned to look at him. Her eyes were huge, bright, and so blue. She just stared at him, wordlessly. As if she was scared. “You gotta listen to me. You have to know that I am so sorry about… some of the things I said to you back then. I didn’t mean it. And I know I was unfair. I don’t know why I hurt you the way I did.”

She just nodded, swallowing. “Anyway… The point is, that stuff is a mindfuck because it made me remember how good we could be together.”

“And you wish you hadn’t? Remembered, that is…” His hand stayed in place. The warmth emanating from her body reassuring, so comforting.

“Sometimes I do…”

What was he supposed to say? She was right. She had a point. He too, sometimes, wished he had never fallen in love with her. In a way, his life had been much more uncomplicated before she barged into it like the violent windstorm that she was. Nothing had ever been the same since. Nothing would ever be the same again.

The atmosphere in the room had taken a melancholic quality that he didn’t like. She looked sad – and it occurred to him that the memories that hung heaviest were the hardest to shake off. Michael leaned up on his elbow and glanced at the half-eaten slice of cheesecake in her plate.

“Hey… You don’t want that anymore?”

Lisa’s eyes closed for a moment and she grinned, recognizing his gentle effort to distract her from the pain she so clearly still felt.

“No, I do. What the hell, Mike. Why? You want a bite now?”

“Yeah…”

“Of course you do. You’re so spoiled… You never want it, unless it’s mine.” Lisa carefully cut a small piece of cake, then held out the fork to him, feeding him with a tenderness that betrayed her foul mouth and feigned pissy attitude. Just like it had happened a few days earlier, in the theater.

“It’s good.”

“I know. We gotta go through this stupid routine every time?”

“I don’t know. Possibly.”

“…Oh my gosh. You’re insufferable. Want some more?”

Chewing, he nodded.

Chuckling, Lisa fed him another forkful of cheesecake and their eyes locked again. She did her absolute best to avoid being pulled into his universe. Knowing well her defenses were crumbling. Maybe drinking so much hadn’t been a good idea after all.

“I gotta admit… our footage is quite artsy compared to some other celebrity sex tapes out there.”

“I agree… We always were very classy…” Without breaking eye-contact, Michael took the fork from her hand and fed her the last bit of cake left.

“And you always had such a… director’s mind…”

“You think…”

“Yeah… Like… A vision…”

“Thanks…” He leaned over further, the hand resting on her shoulder now moving to touch her hair, brushing it back. His fingertips caressing her temple, then her cheek. His heart going a mile a minute. “By the way… I never said, sorry I had you come back from Vegas earlier than planned…”

Automatically, Lisa leaned into his touch. “Are you, really?”

“Not one bit…”

“Michael… You aren’t planning to kiss me, are you?” Her gaze was glazed over and his eyes fell on her lips. So perfect… so beautiful.

“Not at all… Don’t worry… We’re friends, right?” His thumb gently traced her lower lip and Lisa swallowed.

“Right… And friends don’t…”

They both moved at the same exact time, and the kiss was not at all the way they expected it to be. It was not the thunderous passion unable to be restrained, the impact almost painful. It was different – and it was more at the same time. Soft and gentle, but not tentative. Quite the opposite, in fact. Their lips already parted, their bodies recognizing one another as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Lisa’s hands came up, framing his face as she pulled back for a moment. Studying his eyes, then staring at his lips. Her breathing already affected, a bit irregular.

And then they were kissing again and Michael’s hand was behind her neck, holding her close, his lips latched onto hers. She moved, rising onto her knees to have more access to him as he leaned back into the couch fully, searching more contact, more intimacy, more heat. Every other thought or concern simply seemed to disappear and they did what was, ultimately, unavoidable.

They both knew that being alone again would be risky. Neither one of them cared.

Within seconds, the quality of their kisses changed, becoming hotter, more passionate, driven and purposeful. The thunder struck and opened the night they both had been buried in. The first contact with her tongue made Michael feel higher and more inebriated than any wine, and he made love to her with his mouth like he didn’t remember having done in a very long time. Storms of feelings and sensations resurfaced inside of him – emotions he didn’t even remember having, emotions he had suppressed and stopped calling out to for so long. Lisa touched his chest, her hand resting palm flat right over his heart. She broke the kiss.

“Your heart is racing…” Her voice was barely there.

He struggled to give her the impression he was still calm and entirely in control. He was not. Covering her hand with his own, pressing it against his chest, he sought her mouth again and closed his eyes, losing himself in the moment, feeling swept away by a sweet ferocity that almost petrified him. He stopped thinking. He began feeling. Nothing and nobody else mattered, nothing but this moment and this woman.

Still kissing her, he pulled her up and on the couch with him, her lithe body resting on top of his and Lisa melted against him, her mouth moving to his neck, her tongue tracing his frantic pulse as her hand fisted the cotton of his shirt. He didn’t recall having felt like this since the last time they had made love.

Inhaling the scent of her hair, he somehow managed to pull down the zipper of her hoodie and she took it off smoothly. Her t-shirt was next and she tossed it on the carpet, somewhere. All the while, she started unbuttoning his shirt slowly, as she found his mouth again and he immediately nipped at her bottom lip, then gently stroked her tongue with his.

“I need to feel your skin…” She panted against his lips. Yeah, he could relate. On their own volition, Michael’s hands traced her spine and unclasped her bra. He was very much aware of the hard ridge pressing against her belly and he hoped it conveyed his seriousness, desire, longing without the need of any more words. However, he was not sure he would soon not be confessing long-repressed feelings… Lisa was his personal hypnotic, his own truth serum.

Well… it didn’t matter. Not now. Right now, the only thing that mattered was to have her close, to hold her, to feel the intense passion he had not been sure she still felt for him. Tomorrow did not exist. Right now, she was all he saw and he was everything she craved.

She opened his shirt and her naked torso got in direct contact with his chest. The touch felt electric, scalding. Her nipples against his skin, her fingers tangled in his hair, her hips pushing down and against his rock-hard erection. He needed more. So much more. He needed it all.

Caressing her back he moved down and touched her amazing, perfect, round bottom. Instinctively, he groaned into her mouth and her grip in his hair tightened the moment he pulled her closer, his pelvis rising, meeting her halfway. Kissing her neck, he gave her the freedom to move as she pleased and Lisa’s kisses descended on his chest. Her lips on his pectorals, his abdominals and sides, her tongue tracing his muscles, then moving up again, finding his neck, his earlobe, finally his lips again. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, one hand in her hair, the other grabbing her ass, and she rested both hands on his chest, using his body as leverage and arching her back, offering herself to him. His eyes opened, and he found himself face to face with the perfection of her naked breasts. His mouth did the rest and for a second he thought he would simply be unable to control himself. Moaning, Lisa held his head against her chest as he kissed, licked, sucked, recognizing her texture and taste. His head started to spin.

It had nothing to do with the alcohol they had consumed.

Sitting up, he brought her in his lap as he kept kissing her breasts. When he felt her arms around his shoulders, her fingers tangled in his hair, and her lips resting against the top of his head, kissing him sweetly, he realized that the emotions he felt were strong enough to make his eyes burn behind his closed eyelids. It was alarming, to say the least. Lisa terrified and seduced him like nobody else in this world. She was his free fall, his abyss and his resurrection.

His arms closed around her waist.

“Lisa…”

Her eyes found his.

“Don’t let me go…”

Did she mean metaphorically? Or literally? Well… she didn’t need to worry.

“I ain’t letting you go…” One more scorching kiss. “I got you…”

He just needed more leverage. In so many ways. Holding her against his body, he went down on his knees on the huge, plush carpet. He laid her down on her back, once again his strong hands holding her waist – a willing captive of his passion. His mouth moved down, from her breasts to her stomach, then her belly. His lips traced the waistband of her jeans and he felt her tremble. And yet she was the one who started unbuttoning and unzipping her pants. Michael removed her hands gently, wanting to be the one disrobing her completely. Wanting to be the only one in so many ways. What and who happened before – or after – was of zero importance.

He had imagined their possible sexual reconnection would be frantic, wild and desperate. This was so different. This was intimate and charged with so many unspoken words. It stunned him and made him feel elated. Zoe, Roman… they became ghosts. Uninfluential.

Carefully, he pulled her jeans and underwear down and took them off, rediscovering her nudity – both physical and otherwise. Glancing up and into her eyes, he could tell that not only she felt exposed, but also that she was accepting to be vulnerable in front of him. That she trusted him with this. Once again, pain and exultation mixed. How could she do that? How could she giver herself to him like that, after he had treated her like a cheap whore?

His eyes searched her again and she seemed to sense his hesitation.

Lisa sat up and framed his face, staring at him for a moment, not uttering a word. Then she kissed him, breathing everything she felt – or everything she had once felt – for him into that kiss. Caressing down his torso, she reciprocated his gestures and took care of his pants slowly and meticulously. The button… the zipper… Her fingertips gently tracing his erection through his briefs. Michael swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

Man… this was…

Magical. And beautiful. So wrong… and so utterly right.

“Mike… take off your pants?” It was weird how it almost sounded like a question. As if she was unsure he really wanted this. Uninhibited and gun-shy, all at once. A dangerous, seductive mixture. An irresistible one.

“Yeah… Oh, God, yeah…” Peeling his eyes off her was almost physically painful, but he had to take care of his clothes first. He got rid of his jeans and briefs as quickly as he could and when he glanced at her again, Lisa was smiling softly.

She bit her lip, and he was onto her again, caressing her face, tracing her features, raking his fingers through her long hair as if he was touching her for the very first time. Like a blind man reading Braille, everything he discovered amazed him. And then he took her hand and brought it down, over his own body, needing her touch. Wanting her to feel how much he needed her. How much he wanted this.

The moment she touched him, her small, warm fingers barely closing around him, he thought he would come instantly. Then he took a deep breath and kept staring at her.

Lisa blinked, and he saw the little crinkle on her forehead. The one appearing every time she would try so hard to control her emotions.

“I…” She closed her mouth and shook her head, defeated.

Holding her hand against his hardness, his other one came up and gently brushed the side of her face. The perfect contrast between passion and tenderness.

“I missed you… So much…”

This time she nodded. Then let out a quiet sob.

“Yeah…”

“Yeah?” He felt like laughing and crying at the same time.

“Yeah…”