7. Dancing Queen

Dancing Queen

Nicole

“ R emember how I told you that disco is something you have to pace yourself with?” Dex asks as Felix sits cross-legged on the floor nearby.

I stand at the side of the dance floor and lean against the railing in the pink leotard I borrowed from Tima’s donation clothing box. It shows a little more skin than I’m used to, but I’m afraid to do something wrong or not dress cool enough for the guys. I’m always unsure how much I can touch Dex or even look at him. Felix watches us an awful lot, and I wish I could pry his brain open to know what he’s thinking.

“I think so,” I say.

Felix bites his lip and studies the floor like he can’t stand to look at me. Even if he’s being an ass, I don’t want to let him down. He’s put in the work with Dex and is nothing but professional to his students. He deserves his own dance studio, especially if it will make Dex happy to give it to him.

“Forget that for the contest. This is different. Your movements will need to be crisp and clean since you’ll have five minutes to wow the judges. Same moves, good flow without being too stiff. Bigger. Tighter. But not too tight to appear stuffy. Show the fuck off with me. Have a little attitude. Can you do that?”

“I’ve never had an attitude in my life.”

“We’re going to fix that because everyone likes to watch someone with a little edge to them. Some excitement. You’ll do well with it because you have an innocence about you. If you can add a bit of sass to it, just to throw off and fascinate the judges, it’ll boost our chances. It’s a great combination.”

Huh. I wonder if that’s true for more than dance contests. Thinking about it, I get a kick out of watching Tima’s train-wreck dating life, and I can’t take my eyes off Dex and his forbidden relationship with Felix.

I take a deep breath. Edgy. Exciting. I can be those things. I should trust Dex will teach me.

He holds out his hand for me to join him in the center of the dance floor. “Felix, can you hit the music?”

Felix smiles at Dex but glares at me as soon as he’s at the record player and Dex is facing away from him. My heart sinks because I know Felix desperately wishes he could enter the contest with Dex. Am I the second fiddle? It sure feels like Felix is doing everything he can to show me he outranks me here .

I take Dex’s offered hand. The smell of him up close makes my knees tremble, but I have nothing to hang on to but him. Would leaning on him be weird in front of Felix?

Dex smiles at me and moves his hands up my shoulders, massaging them. There are already wet spots on his armpits because he and Felix worked on some class sequences before my training. A white sweatband is wrapped around Dex’s head, and the hair around it is dark and wet.

His hands are warm as they trail down my arms until he lets go at the tips of my fingers. “You look at me,” he says. “Smile for me. Do not worry about the judges. This isn’t gymnastics, and you’re not that Nadia gal. You don’t smile for them or show them emotion. You show all attention to your partner. Meet my eyes unless I’m turning you. Then, look straight at your eye level with a smile on your face like you’re above all of it. Don’t look down or up. Got it?”

“I think so.” I glance at Felix again, who sets his jaw. His eyes are dark, but I don’t know if they’re dark with desire for Dex or anger at me.

Dex waves his hand, and Felix sets the needle down on the record. The first notes of the routine music fill the silence.

“We’re going to start pressed together and shimmying in place with my arms around you. Eyes on me like we’re in love.” His voice is soft when he says it, and he presses his forehead against mine while simultaneously tilting my chin up to his lips like we’re lovers .

Felix inhales behind Dex and says something I don’t catch under his breath. I don’t dare take my eyes off Dex, though.

Dex’s hands come to my hips, and we grind against each other. His eyes momentarily flutter like he doesn't want to let go of me, but he soon moves to the first move of our dance – a simple sidestep. It takes a few moments, but I eventually find my rhythm with it and even add in the jaunty bounce and a bit of boob shake I’ve seen other women do before stepping to the other side.

Dex waves his hand, and Felix stops the record. “Did I do something wrong?” I ask. “Too much boobie shake?”

“Nope,” Dex says, pushing a loose tendril back as I tighten my low bun and take a deep breath. “We’re just going to get one section right before we move on. We’ll hold ourselves steady, forehead-to-forehead, for an eight count before we move to the side. Left first. Let me lead. Always.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, giving a small salute and silently wondering who leads when Dex and Felix dance together. Something tells me it’s Dex.

Before I know what’s happening, Dex’s forehead is back on mine, but this time he kisses the tip of my nose. “Is that part of the dance?” I ask.

“No. That’s just thanking you for trying this, Nicole. It means a lot to me. It also means a lot to Felix.”

I look over Dex’s shoulder and find Felix gripping the record player needle so hard I worry it’ll snap. “Yeah, he looks super happy I’m doing this. Thankful, even.”

“Give him a chance. He’ll come around. He’s had me to himself for years,” Dex whispers. Have he and Felix discussed me? Dex said he and Felix wanted someone in their relationship. Have they discussed me as a possibility?

Why does that idea scare the shit out of me and excite me at the same time?

Dex waves his hand, and the music starts again. If Felix is so mad, why does he cater to Dex’s every whim like they’re an old married couple? Is that love? Tolerating your partner’s bullshit because it makes them happy?

Whatever it is, I grow more fascinated with their relationship each day. I see them pass by each other and drag their hands over whatever they can reach on the other’s body – hands, shoulders, and even ass when no students are around. I watch Dex smile at Felix as Felix coaches a class of fourth graders through warmups. I follow Felix’s eyes as Dex teaches Foxtrot footwork to a retirement center group.

The music starts again, and I hold the eight count, forehead-to-forehead with Dex. His arms are around me, and he slouches a little while still holding a respectable dance posture that will be enough for the judges, but it allows us to be face-to-face. He’s inches from me, and I yearn to lean up and kiss him.

It suddenly hits me that I haven’t. Even when they went down on me the other night, I didn’t kiss either one of them. Is that normal? Should we have started with kisses and discussed favorite foods and colors before I let them lick me senseless ?

Dex and I start our steps left and right, and I keep up with him this time, surprising myself. We try it a third time, and I have it down pat so well that Dex teaches me the next sequence where we pull away from each other and do matching arm movements.

We work on just those moves for hours as I get them down perfectly. Once I have the movements, Dex fusses with my posture while I do the choreography without him. By the end of two hours, I’m crisp, confident, and feel like a pro when Dex and I try it one last time.

“I knew you could do it,” he whispers. “We’ll work on the behind-the-neck arm work as we spin tomorrow.”

He pulls me in for a hug and lifts me a little. As he turns me around, I catch a glimpse of Felix by the record player, a frown lining his face.

As soon as Dex sets me down, I wave and smile at Felix. I should be kind to him. This is probably hard, and I can’t deny that he’s attractive.

But there’s something dangerous about him. Scary. He doesn’t like me, and I spend a good chunk of my days thinking of ways to change his mind. I keep the storage room clean, answer all calls professionally, and bring him paper cups of coffee when I make a fresh pot. I’ve tried dressing more modern, taking to raiding Tima’s discarded outfits meant for the charity shops, in the hopes that Felix will like me if I dress more like the girls at the club and do my hair like them. I want him to compliment me just once .

Dex is the bright spot of my day, though, and I wake up excited in the morning, wondering what he’ll bring me when he comes to work. A flower? Today it was a cookie he bought me as he passed by a bakery. He’s a wonderful boss, too. He’s professional, especially in front of students, but there’s a look in his eyes as we pass each other or speak – like he knows what I taste like and wouldn’t mind tasting me again.

It’s the first time I’ve been desired, and I’m scared Felix will put a stop to all of it. Why can’t he like me? Get to know me?

I very much want to be his friend.