Page 11 of Forbidden Dance
I press play.
A black stage is suddenly illuminated with a single light on a red satin bed. A woman is sprawled on it in a black gown.
Blitz arrives and they begin a dramatic dance on and around the bed. They do a dang convincing job of simulating sex and in a flash, Blitz jerks the dress off her, revealing a black bra and a very tiny pair of underwear with no back.
They dance a little more, then the video abruptly ends.
What happened?
I go back to the Wikipedia article.
Apparently in a bid to avoid being eliminated, this dancer continued to strip all the way, but naturally that part hadn’t been aired. A few images were leaked, but the article doesn’t have any.
I want to see them, not because of her, but for him. I want to see his expression. How he felt about her.
If it was the same way he looked at me in the storage room.
I type in “censored Dance Blitz” and click on a few links. I don’t get anything useful right away, but finally buried in a thread I find some embedded images that haven’t been deleted.
These were taken by cell phones of audience members watching the show as it was recorded. Heat rushes to my face to see the naked woman, arms in the air, flaunting herself in front of Blitz.
He looks ready to eat her up. His expression is wolfish, his eyes devouring her. Parts of me burn that I haven’t paid any attention to in a long time. I wonder what happened after this moment and scroll through the comments. Someone came and wrapped her in a robe, apparently, but there are no images. The people posting are only interested in the naked woman.
And no, that isn’t anything like how he looked at me. He was mischievous, charming, cute. When I moved away, he was a downright gentleman. He never pushed.
I scroll back up and look at him, then her, then him.
I sit back, my breathing faster than I expected. My body is so hot. Images of Blitz collide with feelings I once knew, ways I once felt. I was so young then, though, barely figuring out what went where. But the urgency is the same. The need.
The beep beep beep of the door opening sends me into a panic. It’s only been fifteen minutes! My hands slam the laptop shut and slide it under the shelves.
Assuming Irma has forgotten something and might pop her head through the doorway, I snatch a box of newsletters and begin flipping through them.
After a moment, I realize it could be someone else coming in, so I stand up to investigate. I’m almost to the door when Mindy charges through, nearly running smack into me.
“Oh!” she says. “Livia!”
I press my hand against my chest and laugh. “What are you doing here on a Tuesday?”
“My mom told your mom that the secretary was going to be gone while you were here. Naturally, they sent me to make sure you didn’t do anything naughty!”
We both dissolve into laughter at the thought of Mindy making sure I stayed straight. She was the only reason I ever defied my parents’ orders.
Mindy looks around the storage room. She’s dressed a lot like me, loose jeans, plain sweater, no makeup, simple hair. Hers is light brown. She’s homeschooled too.
“At least Mom didn’t come up here herself,” I say. “You are not going to BELIEVE who showed up at the dance academy.”
“Blitz Craven!” she says.
“What?” My face floods with shock. “How?”
“It was all over the local news. He’s helping underprivileged dancers realize their dreams!”
“What did they show?”
“Just him talking at some press thing. He wasn’t at the academy yet.”
My elation collapses. “Did your mother tell mine about that?” My mind races. If my parents find out about Blitz, they might stop me from helping with the wheelchair ballerinas. Then I won’t get to see Gabriella!
