by Lacey Black
“Very slowly slide down the pole as you twirl, keeping your arms extended and your legs straight.”
After we practice our three basic moves, Eleanor teaches us some seductive dancing moves. I should probably die of embarrassment at this point, but to be honest, it’s actually kind of fun. I’m probably going to be feeling it tomorrow in my arms and legs, but to be able to let loose and dance somewhat provocatively is freeing. It makes me feel like a woman. Sexy. Alluring.
“Excellent work. We’re going to take a quick water break and then start to piece it all together into the small routine,” Eleanor says as we all venture over to our water bottles.
“Well?” Corie asks as she takes a big pull from her pink bottle.
“It’s actually kinda fun,” I confess before taking another drink of my own water.
“You have moves, girl,” she says with a big smile and a wink.
“Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s fun to try.” I take the hand towel and wipe off as much sweat as I can from my face and arms. This is definitely a workout.
“Okay, let’s get back to our poles. The last half of class is going to be putting the routine together and executing. I’m going to teach you the dance piece by piece. If you have any questions at any point, just holler,” Eleanor instructs as we all take our places at our poles.
After another thirty minutes of learning the routine, we’re finally running through it with music. “Lady Marmalade” by Christina Aguilera, P!nk, Lil’ Kim, and Mya pipes through the speakers, loud and proud. It’s the perfect song for seduction. It’s tantalizing and provocative, and makes me want to put a little extra shake in my hips.
“We’ve only got five minutes left, ladies. Let’s take it from the top one last time. Give it your all. Put your hips and your ass into the dance. Feel the music and let it move you,” Eleanor tutors from the front of the room.
We all take our places around the outside of the room as the music starts one final time. The walk towards the pole is key to setting the tempo and the mood for the dance. I crisscross my legs over each other as I walk, putting as much hip action into the act until I reach my pole. I touch it, caressing it, as I take my position for our first spin. I close my eyes and let the music wash over me, absently singing along. I move my hips, running my hand seductively down my side, and roll my neck backwards as I dance the moves I now know by heart. Another twirl and hip thrust later and I’m almost to my favorite part of the routine. The V Spin.
I gather myself and get ready for the spin. I open my eyes, placing my hands in the proper position on the pole when my eyes collide with a set of dark ones full of smoldering embers…and anger. I stumble momentarily at the realization that Beau is standing in the open doorway right behind me. He’s watching me through the mirror, shock written all over his gorgeous features.
I keep my eyes locked on his through the mirror as I start the V Spin. I take my eyes off of him just long enough to spin completely around the pole, dropping down to a squatting position before I roll my body back up from my knees all the way up to my chest, rolling against the cold hard metal. When I hit the final pose, I’m panting from exertion and probably a little from the sparks of desire my own body is suddenly producing.
“Oh my God, that’s Beau,” Corie gasps next to me.
No shit. And he looks pissed.
“I didn’t realize we had a guest,” Eleanor says from the front of the room, drawing the attention from everyone in the room. Loud giggles and gasps of shock bounce off the mirror-covered walls as Beau Tanner’s dark eyes remain locked on mine.
“Ladies, y’all did great. I was hopin’ I could speak to Layne for a moment. In private,” he says through gritted teeth, the intensity in his eyes never wavering from mine.
“Oh, Beau Tanner. You can borrow her for as long as you’d like,” Eleanor purrs like a cat as she fans her suddenly flush face.
“Layne,” Beau says as more of a statement than a question.
My legs are Jell-O as I follow him through the doorway and into the narrow hall; though I’m not one hundred percent sure my shaky legs are from the workout. He walks with purpose straight across the hall and opens a closet marked “Janitor.” Without even looking at me, he holds the door open and waits.
Once inside, Beau doesn’t flip on the light as the heavy door shuts with finality, encompassing us in nothing. It takes my eyes several seconds to adjust to the darkness. The only light is what little bit is filtering through the cracks in the mini blinds on the windows. The only sound is the deep pants coming from Beau. Or coming from me. Take your pick.
Before I can even question what I’m doing in the janitor’s closet, I hear the heavy steps of Beau’s cowboy boots as he takes three large steps towards me. He spins me around and slams his mouth down onto mine so fast and with so much dominance that all thought evaporates from my mind. Poof. Gone into thin air.
Beau sweeps his tongue along the seam of my lips causing my mouth to open instantaneously as I moan my approval. The feel of his hot, wet tongue against mine sends shockwaves of lust spiraling out of control throughout my body. He wraps his strong, muscular arms around my sweaty body, plastering me against unforgiving muscles and hot flesh. I can feel his body heat burning me through his tight black t-shirt, but I don’t mind. Hell no, I don’t mind at all. Beau nips at my lips, sucking my lower lip ever so gently into his mouth. I practically melt into a pile of hormonal mush right then and there.
“God, you drive me crazy,” Beau mumbles through gritted teeth. “Watchin’ you work that pole may have been the sexiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever witnessed. I will forever picture your body wrapped around that damn piece of metal. The way your hips swayed in rhythm to the music. The way your body moved. It reminded me of sex, Layne. Pure, unadulterated, rough sex that I want to have with you so fuckin’ bad my entire body is throbbin’.” And to prove his point, Beau presses his rock hard groin against the slickness of my spandex shorts. The friction alone practically causes me to orgasm.
“Where were ya tonight?” he whispers harshly as he pulls away from me, causing me to stumble from the sudden vacancy. Tension fills the space where his body once was.
“What?” I ask, trying to shake lose any ounce of dignity and common sense I can muster.
“Tonight. Ya skipped rehearsal to pole dance? Do you even understand what you’ve done and what message you’ve sent to the network by skippin’ our final rehearsal before Wednesday mornin’s run-through? I can’t believe -” he says as I cut him off.
“Wait. What? I didn’t skip rehearsal, you cancelled.”
“I did not. Why would you even think that?” he asks as those gray eyes blaze a trail straight to my soul. Even through the darkness, I can see those hungry eyes.
“I got a note,” I whisper. “There was a note left for me at the front counter. It said you were cancelling team practice tonight.”
“Darlin’, I didn’t send any note. Everyone else was there. Everyone but you.”
“But…that doesn’t make any sense,” I whisper, dumbfounded. Why did I get that note?
“Shawna stopped by the rehearsal on her way out and mentioned that she saw you goin’ into that dance studio.”
Of course. Shawna.
Well played, Conniving Bitch Barbie. Well played.
“Shawna,” I mumble, dropping my head and giving it a little shake. I can’t control the bubble of laughter that erupts from my mouth. Lord knows this situation isn’t funny. Not once tiny bit. “I can’t believe she did this. No wait. I can believe it.”
“You’re sayin’ Shawna did this?” Beau asks, his anger subsiding dramatically as he takes two steps forward and right back into my personal space.
“Who else? You said it yourself that I was the only one who wasn’t at practice. Then she ‘conveniently’ stopped by and ratted me out on where I was? She totally set me up,” I defend, making air quotes when I say conveniently to better accentuate my point.
“You di
dn’t intentionally skip practice to prepare yourself for your new career as a pole dancer?” he asks, wrapping those large, defined arms around me once more.
“Is that what she said?” I laugh.
“She said you couldn’t handle the pressure of performin’. She said she heard you were quittin’.”
“I’m not quitting, not even a little. I will fight until I’m voted off, Beau. I want to be here,” I tell him a little breathlessly since his arms are wrapped around me again.
“What about here?” he asks as he pulls me taut against his body. “Do ya want to be right here?”
“Yes,” I whisper, knowing that it’s probably the wrong answer. I try to latch onto the tiny voice in my head screaming that this is a mistake. I grab onto that little sliver speaking on behalf of my conscious with so much force, that I practically stumble backwards. Fortunately, if I’m thinking with my heart, Beau is still holding onto me and keeps me from faltering. Or unfortunately if I let my head do the talking. “We can’t do this,” I finally get out between my desert-dry lips.
“I know,” Beau answers as his lips hover momentarily above mine. “But I don’t know how much longer I can fight this.”
His confession is like a punch to the esophagus. Swallowing becomes harder and breathing non-existent. The air between us sizzles and crackles as he moves a fraction of an inch forward and places his warm, wet lips against mine. I respond instantly…again. But this time, the kiss doesn’t deepen. It doesn’t last longer than a few seconds, yet it’s long enough to scramble any remaining brain cells.
Beau is panting and his eyes remain closed as he leans forward, placing his forehead against mine. “I’m goin’ to do everything in my power to not do that again, but I need ya to understand somethin’. I need ya to know that, while I’m not physically kissin’ ya, I’m imaginin’ that I am. While I’m not touching your soft skin, my fingers are twitching to caress you. And while my arms aren’t wrapped around ya, my body aches to have you against me. Being in your presence isn’t near enough. I need to touch you, and now that I’ve had a little taste, this is goin’ to be the greatest struggle of my life.”
God, those words. Like words to a song, they’re deep and meaningful and have me so completely spellbound with him that I don’t know which way is up. And I’m starting to think that’s okay.
“Practice tomorrow mornin’ at nine. We’ll run through your parts of the group song first and then do your individual practice afterwards. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Beau finally opens those dark, soulful eyes, stealing my breath once more.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good. I’ll be lookin’ forward to it,” he says as he places one more kiss on my swollen lips. “And I’ll be thinkin’ of you tonight.” His confession is like a lightning strike straight to my tingling lady parts.
I can’t even respond. The words I try to say come out a mumbled grunt. I feel cool air against my body as Beau steps away, putting great distance between us. We both take several minutes to get our breathing under control before Beau grabs the doorknob.
“Ready?” he asks and I can feel his eyes on me even through the darkness.
“Yes.”
Suddenly we’re bathed in florescent lighting from the hallway. I blink rapidly as my eyes adjust to the sudden onslaught of brightness, and as soon as my eyes adjust, I’m staring straight into the lens of a large black camera.
Beau stands between me and the device recording my every move as Corie approaches from my left. “Oh my God, girl!” she whispers harshly into my ear. “I thought you were supposed to wait until after that final show before you maul the man in the closet.” Her eyes twinkle and her smile is mischievous.
“It’s not like that,” I defend even though my face colors the same shade as a fuchsia crayon. It’s a good thing a liar’s pants don’t actually catch on fire.
“It’s never like that,” she replies with a wink before throwing my workout bag into my chest and dragging me down the hallway, leaving Beau and the nosey camera in our wake. I don’t turn around, fearful of what the camera would see on my face. Fearful of what I’ll see on Beau’s face.
We head straight towards a waiting van, ready to take the last few contestants back to the hotel. The hotel. Where I’m expected to not let the images of Beau and the memories of that kiss consume my thoughts. Where I’m not supposed to lie in bed and imagine that I’m not alone. Where I’m supposed to find sleep and rest for tomorrow’s practice.
I have a feeling sleep won’t be my friend at all tonight.
Note to self: Grab some sleeping pills. Maybe some Jack Daniels. Yeah, go with the Jack.
*****
“Layne and Chelsea are going to be right here,” Mallory says at the base of the riser. Mallory is the resident choreographer who dictates our placement during the routines. Usually when we work with her on our individual performances, it’s not nearly as time consuming and detailed. But, this is a group performance and there’s a lot to take in.
“Ben, you’re going to be over here,” she says as she leads Ben to the opposite side of the stage. “And finally, Maxwell, over here,” she says situating him to center stage.
Beau is sitting at the top of back risers, a hard metal staircase leading up from the stage. Halfway through the song, Chelsea and I will split up and work the crowd as we try to get them into the song–as if someone needs help getting into “Love Shack.” However, while Chelsea goes out and into the audience, I will go up the stairs and towards our team leader.
He’s perched up at the top of the center stage riser, casually sitting behind a drum set wearing his trademark tight jeans and a black t-shirt. His legs are extended and his arms are crossed over his chest. Each hand holds a drumstick and he looks as carefree as humanly possible. Until you get to his eyes. His eyes are always intense. Constantly.
In addition to our team performance, tonight is our first performance where the fan votes determine our future. For my individual number, Beau picked a song I haven’t heard in years. Years. When he said Nancy Sinatra, I just prayed that I could do his song choice justice because it’s a classic. The video is iconic. And tonight, I’ll be wearing a tasteful black leather bustier with red satin ribbons laced up the front, matching black leather shorty-shorts and boots. Thigh high black leather boots with red satin laced up the fronts. My hair will be teased high in a true Nancy do, and my makeup dark and dramatic.
“Let’s run through it again,” Mallory says as we get back in our starting places as instructed.
Our outfits for tonight are something straight out of the seventies, which works well for me with my big, teased Nancy hair. My dress is white with big pink and blue flowers. How they found matching heels, I’ll never know. And I probably don’t want to know. Chelsea’s dress is a pink number with silver and gold sequins in a psychedelic pattern. The guys sport some crazy, brightly colored shirts with tall collars and black dress pants.
We all spend the rest of the day doing run-throughs with Mallory, vocal run-throughs with network vocal assistants, and hair and makeup. On live show days, you don’t have time to pee, let alone think. These are the days that give me a sense of purpose. They remind me of why I’m here. They leave no room for wallowing in self-pity.
At 6:45, Gabby gathers us all up from the back green room, which couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve caught stares and glares from some of the other contestants tonight, especially Shawna. An uneasy feeling settles in, as I get ready to go on stage.
“Hey, is it just me or is everyone staring at me?” I whisper to Corie before she goes to stand with her teammates.
“Um, well…” she starts but stops.
“What, Corie?”
“So rumor has it that you’re sleeping with Beau, and that’s why you were chosen over Shawna and Troy,” she says quietly.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble, taking several calming breaths in and out. “Why would they think that?”
“Well
, everyone seems to be listening to whatever garbage Shawna is spewing. Throw in that video that went live last night with you and Beau coming out of that janitor’s closet, and she has just enough leverage to make it look like her lies are true.”
“I don’t believe this,” I mumble.
“Listen, honey. I know that you’re not sleeping with him and that you have what it takes to win this whole thing. Use that and show these skinny, catty bitches who’s the boss!”
I can’t help but laugh as I throw my arms around my friend. She hugs me back fiercely which is just what I need since I can’t hug my loved ones right now.
“Five minutes,” Gabby yells from the front of the backstage area.
“Tonight, you’re going to sing for votes so it doesn’t matter what everyone says. It’s not Beau’s choice whether you stay or go tonight. Got it?” I nod at my friend and get into position for the start of the live show.
“Welcome to Rising Star,” Becker says as he flashes that bright white smile to the camera. “Tonight, each of these sixteen contestants will perform for your votes. If you want a contestant to stay, then you need to vote because every vote counts.” I smile as the camera pans across the stage giving each contestant camera time.
“Let’s bring out the coaches, shall we?” When Beau, Felix, Sophia, and JoJo step onto the stage, Becker throws us the biggest shock of the evening. “Tonight, each contestant will perform. Tomorrow night, someone will go home. And not just one person. Tomorrow night, live, the contestant with the lowest votes from each team will go home! That’s right. Tomorrow night, we will go from sixteen contestants to twelve. Are you ready?”
And just like that, the competition is officially on.
When it’s finally time for me to perform, I give myself one last look in the tall mirror behind the stage. My hair is big and poofy and my lips are blood red. The bustier classily pushes a little cleavage heavenward, and I’m thankful for the extra time I’ve put in at the gym recently with Corie because these shorts leave nothing to the imagination. But my favorite part is these boots. I’ve been trying to figure out how to smuggle them out of here when I’m done.
