Page 95 of Wicked Dance
“After tonight, only two girls will remain to claim Blitz’s heart,” he says. “Earlier in this broadcast, you got to see a behind-the-scenes look at the rather spicy love affair our wayward dance bachelor has conducted with Giselle.”
He pauses to let that sink in, or maybe there’s a clip running.
“Tonight, in our Sex Blitz episode, you’ll see that our sweet girl-next-door Livia has a naughty side as well.”
Oh God. They didn’t run the footage for the interview because they are going to run it here.
But it’s not. Instead, I hear the dance coach talking. “Blitz, slide her into the perfect splits.”
I can picture this. It was a rehearsal two days ago, the sexy dance. Blitz and I were pretty feverish. And I remember this moment, because as soon as Blitz got me in the splits, he jokingly pressed his face between my thighs.
I know when that part airs, because the audience cheers and whistles.
I back away from the stage and breathe in and out, concentrating on the sound and expansion of my chest. Barry talks more, but I don’t hear him. We knew cameras were there. When I signed up for this show, I told myself I had to stop being afraid, and just do what needed to be done.
But my parents. My church. What if the little dancers from Dreamcatcher saw it? Would Gwen’s mother allow Gabriella to watch us? Had she seen and been shocked? Would she never want to do private lessons again?
My father’s words come back to me. “You are easily swayed, Livia. You can’t be exposed to things that lead you to wicked ways.”
This is wicked. This is exactly what he meant. I’m not just being swayed. I’m the one doing the swaying.
A crew member touches my arm. “We’re in commercial. Time to go out.”
I can’t move. I’m paralyzed by my fear, by the repercussions of what I’m doing here.
“It’s time,” the crew member says again. He looks around, as if he needs help.
Blitz arrives. “You okay, Livia?” he asks.
For a moment I don’t answer. I can’t speak, that same cold dread coming over me as when we were at the premiere.
He pulls me close. “You’re all right. Remember, it’s just you and me.”
He leads me out, and this time I’m able to move. “You will be spectacular,” he says. “Because that’s who you always have been.”
I want to believe him. I want to feel all right. I have walked away from my past. And my father was wrong. I am not weak, not easily led astray.
I am strong. And he will not shame me.
I stand in our marked spot, waiting for Blitz to grab my waist.
He doesn’t talk anymore, just wraps his sure arm around me. He’s shirtless in this scene, and with as little as I’m wearing, my skin connects with his. This grounds me. His body. Mine.
Blitz belongs to me, and I to him. His body is mine. His ardor. His love. His sex. This is healthy and part of who we are.
I’m not my father’s daughter.
I’m my lover’s love.
~*´`*~
When we hit our last pose, the audience is on their feet. They were given paper fans to cool themselves off, a little joke to draw attention to the heat level of the show, and everyone is fanning each other. I can see the white movements even with the glaring lights.
When we go to commercial, Blitz has to help me out of the pretzel-like position. I feel wrung out, like I’ve run a marathon.
Kendra runs out to check my hair, spraying it away from my face and patting it down. Then she dashes off again. We head over to Barry’s stools.
Barry has snatched one of the fans and is waving it at his face when the lights come up. “Whew!” he says. “Is it hot in here?”
