Page 55 of Lust

“If you want to do ballet, then go ahead, but this isn’t my scene,” Remy wheezes. “You have fun teaching Angelis over there how to balance on his toes.”

I glace over to where Dade is sulking in a corner. He looks traumatized.

“You’re leaving?” I ask, suddenly nervous.

Remy takes my arm and pulls me away from Dade. When he speaks, his voice is low and quiet. “I admit when you told me you were going to be dancing with Dade I was jealous. I thought… I thought it would be…” he shakes his head and more sweat comes flying off. “Actually, I didn’t think I’d be able to cope with you two dancing together, but I can see that this really is just a lesson and not one I want to keep going with. Why don’t you find me when you’re done and we can grab dinner or something?”

“Okay.” I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral. The thought of staying alone in here with Dade is unbearable. Dancing with him is both torturous and blissful.

The room goes black suddenly, then the two doors at the entrance pour in light as Remy steps through them. When they close, we’re once again thrust into darkness. Then the dance studio reappears around us.

“I cannot do this either.” Dade begins to head toward where Remy left, but I reach out to grab his arm instinctively. He’s walking much quicker that I expected and I end up grabbing his hand. It’s meant to be an innocent gesture, but as our skin touches, a shock runs up my arm. I have no idea what it is with this guy. I can’t even try to stop him from leaving without my body making it out to be something it’s not. I pull back my hand quickly as he turns around. There’s no anger on his face at all. His eyebrow is raised slightly, as though he’s asking me a question. I just don’t know what the answer is. Hell, I don’t even know what the question is.

“You wanted to learn to dance.” I pant, wiping my own sweat from my brow. “I know doing this in front of Remy made you uncomfortable. He’s gone. It’s just you and me.” My words are not making this situation any better. I need him to go just so I can breathe, but I know that if he does go, I might never feel the way I do right now. The feeling is addictive and intoxicating and stressful and I’m not ready for it to end. Not even close to ready.

He takes a deliberate step toward me. My breath catches in my throat as he comes to a stop just inches from me. “My comfort isn’t relevant, Valentine. I’ll stay if you can tell me truthfully that being alone with me won’t makeyouuncomfortable.”

He’s staring right into my soul and I know that he’ll pick up on the slightest hint of a lie.

“Your daughter needs you,” I whisper. I turn away from him so he can’t see the flush rising to my cheeks. “Besides, there’s no point leaving just yet. We still have hours left in the Earthery.”

It was my chance to get out of this and I’ve blown it. I look up to find him staring at me in the mirror. Goddamn it. I’d forgotten that was there. It’s then that I realize that our clothes have changed yet again. He’s wearing a vest that clings to his body, showing off every chiseled angle of his chest. I’m wearing a dress that’s so short that the tassels on the hem barely cover my thighs. I think the Earthery has a fucked up sense of humor, but at least I’m wearing underwear. I turn around and plaster a smile on my face. “Let’s get this over with, eh?”

“Earthery,” I shout out into the ether. “We don’t need to learn ballet. Give us something we can dance to together.”

I was hoping for something formal, I could try to do an easy foxtrot to, but the music that follows is sultry and sexy, making it clear what the Earthery thinks to my demands.

“This is wrong,” I say quickly, ready to ask the Earthery to change it to something that won’t have our bodies slammed together and dripping in heat, but before I can speak, Dade catches my waist. I hitch in my breath as the sultry melody fills the room, its rhythm pulsating through me. The air thickens with anticipation, and a rush of nervous energy courses through my veins as Dade pulls me close. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down my spine, and time seems to slow as I press my body to his and place my arms around his neck.

“We have to sway to the rhythm,” I whisper. It’s too close, too sensual and too terrifying. I close my eyes and try to picture Remy in Dade’s place, but it’s impossible. Dade has five inches on Remy and he’s thicker round the chest, too. The feathers on his wings flutter lightly against my arms as we move. Dade is still stiff, but he’s beginning to loosen up, which is making it worse. Our bodies are practically fused together and I can feel his bulge up against me. I need to let this go, to try to remain composed, but the fact we are practically vertically fucking with barely two scraps of thin fabric between us is making it hard to let anything go. Our bodies finally begin to sway in synchronicity, mirroring each other's movements. Electricity courses through me with every movement and though I want to deny it, I’m completely turned on. Dancing like this is something I’ve wanted to do since I was eleven years old and watched Dirty Dancing for the first time, except back then I imagined my partner to be Patrick Swayze and not an almost demon with an eight-foot wing span and a cock that is pressing against me. An almost demon who I’ve barely said two words to in weeks and that, until now, has gone out of his way to avoid me. I catch my breath as his hand glides along the curve of my waist, pulling me closer. No longer am I leading him. He’s completely in control now. His domineering energy is molding me to him like putty. It’s overwhelming. I know I should stop it. This has gone way past a dance lesson, but I can’t stop. I don’t want this to stop. Arousal is blazing through my veins and the fact that this is illicit and dangerous only makes me more turned on. An electric current runs through our entangled bodies and my panties are drenched through. Time loses meaning as we lose ourselves. The world around us fades away, leaving only a pulsating energy between us. This isn’t a dance anymore. Not in the sense I know dancing. Our bodies have taken over our senses so much that I’m not even thinking, but feeling. It’s impossible to ignore the hardness of Dade’s cock between us. He’s as turned on as I am, but he’s not putting a stop to this madness any more than I am. The sexual energy between us is overwhelming and intoxicating.

Finally the music begins to reach a climax and as the final notes fade into the ether, we come to a rest, breathless and exhilarated, our bodies still entwined. In the unnerving silence, his breathing is almost as loud as the pounding of my heart in my ribcage. He’s close enough to kiss. His lips are slightly parted. I just need to reach up on my tip toes and… The lights suddenly go up and with them, the absurdity of what we just let ourselves do becomes terrifyingly apparent. We’re both breathless and drenched with sweat.

Dade’s face hardens as he steps away from me. A mask shutters down over his features as he tries to hide the desire I saw in them moments before. “I think I’ve got it. Thanks.”

He turns to walk away and this time I don’t stop him with reminders of how much time we have left in the Earthery. The dance studio disappears until I’m alone in a massive white room, the only way out, a door that is still swinging with Dade’s abrupt exit.

30

THE LETTER

ROWENA

Being surrounded by swathes of rich fabrics makes me more happy than I can say. Creativity runs through my veins as much as my blood does. I’m going to make Juliette, Quinn and me into the most gorgeous, most spectacular people at the ball. I know people think I have no fashion sense, but what they don’t know is that I dress exactly how I want to. I don’t need to wear designer clothes to feel amazing. I love my floaty flowered dresses made from cut off bits of material more than any dress I could buy. They remind me of my mother and my grandmother before her. Neither had much money and neither would win any style competitions, but both exuded happiness. They wore that happiness like rays of sunshine. The flowery dresses were always part of that. Part of a life before it became difficult. My mother’s dresses were the first feminine clothes I ever wore. When I was a child, she’d let me rummage around in her closet and try on her shoes that were sizes too big for me. Right from the very start, she was the only person that never questioned it and when I came out, she told me she was waiting for a long time to finally meet her daughter formally. My father took a bit of warming up to the idea of losing his only son, but he loved me fiercely, and it didn’t take long before he showed me off with pride. My life could have been so much easier than it was, but both my parents died before I became an adult. At fifteen, I was orphaned and the family farm was sold. I was a child. I could have kept it going, but people weren’t as accepting as my parents and no one wanted to gamble working with a child, let alone a child that looked like a girl but had the name Robert on all the invoices

There have been so many changes to myself and my body in my life. The first time when I started wearing girls' clothes, the second time when I started taking hormones and later when I had surgery and then the last time when I died and transitioned into what I am now. The woman I was always supposed to be. Now it’s time for me to transition again, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous. I’m not becoming what I am inside. This time, I’m transforming into something else entirely. I’m no longer going to be the girl in the flowing frocks. I’m going to be a sexy ass bitch and I’m going to bring my two best friends along for the ride. No one at that ball is going to look hotter than us.

I set out separating the fabrics into three piles. The pink fabric is Juliette’s. Quinn went with green and I’m going to be blue. Excitement fills me as I start making preliminary sketches.

Once I’m ready to start, I pull off my clothes and grab some blue lace, draping it over myself. I look into the full-length mirror and try to be objective. I can see my body clearly through the holes in the fabric. I look like a woman. If I do this right, I’ll look like a beautiful woman.

Felix will be forced to see me as I am when he sees me in this.

I shake my head.Eff Felix Barclay.

I don’t even know why the thought popped into my head. Felix sees me through bigoted eyes. He’ll only ever see what he wants to see when he looks at me.

“Damn it!” I hate that he’s even a thought. I’m going to look amazing because I want to, not to please anyone else. There’s no one here in the whole of Hell that I’m interested in and if I was, it would be literally anyone other than Felix Barclay.

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