Page 33 of Wicked Dance
Chapter 10
When we get upstairs, Blitz changes for the workout room. I tell him I’m skipping for now and wait for him to leave before heading to my closet to find my gift for him.
Buried below my flannel pajamas, which never see any wear at all, is one long beautiful length of aerial silk for performing in the air.
I’ve watched all ofDance Blitz, plus most of Blitz’s early works, and he has never done aerial silk dancing. But I watched as his eyes lit on the girl who was practicing at Jenica’s Dancery the one time we went, and I knew I wanted to try it.
I learned all I could about the type of fabric that was used, how much to buy, and the width and length. I also began doing extra arm workouts, so when it was time to start learning, I would have the strength.
The strong red fabric came from a discount shop where I got it for a steal, less than Blitz would pay for lunch. I hemmed the ends and kept it hidden for today.
Watching YouTube videos had gotten me a few basics. I figured out that the very corner of the bed, where the top section meets the wall, is securely braced. It holds my weight, although probably not Blitz’s. I use it to practice.
I have just enough moves to start. Blitz keeps talking about finding something that is only ours, and I think this could be it.
But after the car, I feel the need to up my Valentine game even more. It isn’t enough to just dance with the silks. I want it tobeus, something unique, something that involves memories that will carry us through performances and give us that extra magic.
And today will be the first one.
I draw in a deep breath. I’m really not an exhibitionist. I only wear makeup when someone comes to fix me up for an event. And while I have some rather lovely undergarments that we got when Blitz initially set up my wardrobe, we are really more of a workout pants and T-shirt couple.
But not today. I have to be different. Bold.
I rummage through the drawers to see what I have that will go with the red fabric. There’s definitely a red bra and matching panties, but they are sort of ordinary. I keep digging and find a white thong. Okay, this might do.
My heart hammers as I search. There are sheer things, lacy things, dainty things. But nothing as sexy as what I want to go for.
I’m going to have to improvise.
I find a pretty white bra.
“Sorry,” I say to it as I walk through to the bathroom and find a pair of tiny sharp scissors. My face flames a little even though I’m alone as I alter the bra. With a couple easy snips, I’ve cut out the centers of the cups, heart-shaped bits of fabric fluttering to the floor.
Holy hell, am I really going to do this?
Then I pick up the thong and think — hmm. There isn’t much to it, but how much more fun if it matched?
A few snips later and three hearts are cut out. A tiny one near the top, a medium one, then a larger one that means the underwear doesn’t have to come off, even when it’s time.
I heat up a little just looking at it.Whoa. I scoop up the five white hearts and take them to the bedroom, scattering them on the bed.
Then I take the red fabric and toss it over the reinforced corner of the bed, double-checking one more time that the giant screws holding it to the wall are tight and unmoving.
Now to wait.
Blitz has a definite ritual when he comes back from workouts. He’ll go straight to the bar and drink more water. Then he’ll go from the living area to the bathroom by the outside door. If I close the door between the bedroom and the bathroom, he won’t look this way.
I check the clock. Still twenty minutes.
I slip out of my clothes and put on the white panties and underwear. My cheeks get hot as I see where all the open hearts land. Then I throw on a pair of loose sweats and move to the bathroom.
I braid my hair up and away. I pull out mascara and lipstick and eyeliner from the kit left by the wardrobe crew. I make myself up carefully but simply, layering on color and lines. When I’m done, I look different, older, more exotic. He will like it. He loves his innocent Livia, but he will totally lose it over my proof that I can be someone else, act a part.
I remember what that woman Taya said at the contract meeting, that I wasn’t up for doing a show with Blitz. We have no intention of meeting any of their demands, but I feel some satisfaction in knowing that I could. I can be someone else, grab the attention of not only the sweet blue-dressed Livias outside the DVD signing, but also others. Viewers who expect a little dazzle.
I am perfectly happy letting no one see it but Blitz.
I head back into the living room, carefully closing all the doors to the bedroom.
