Dance of Desire

Advance notice. There may be some corniness and slushiness ahead. (I mean, look at the title -- right!) But who doesn't enjoy a good love story?

So this story had an unusual start. I had an anonymous email from someone who had enjoyed Broadway Break and noticed a hidden little dig, realized what it was about (me being annoyed by some stupid reactions to a recently finished UK TV programme), and asked for some fan-fiction.

Sorry, just no. Weird!

To clarify, these characters are not (as none of my characters are) based on real people. They are more inspired by the potential of a performance that never happened. I don't know how else to explain it.

Somehow, and it's strange how these things happen, the email triggered my imagination and in came charging these two characters, bouncing around in my head demanding I wrote their story. This what happened with my manor series. I had to start writing it because they were bugging me so much, and I learned my lesson. This time I've just gone with it, as I know I won't be able to concentrate until they are done.

I hope you enjoy meeting Frankie and Cam. I think they are pretty amazing. It is a one off story, so longer than some. The story is set in the fictional world of competitive ballroom dancing, which I would assume bears no resemblance whatsoever to reality.

Warning: If you are of a sensitive disposition, then please be aware of the following potential triggers. Suicide attempt, homophobia, emotional abuse, physical violence, racism.

Yes, it's pretty slushy, but there is also a storyline.

I'll also take this opportunity to wish everyone only the very best for 2024. Happy New Year Ya'll x

Tess O'Meter -- Green/Amber.

-X

The room whirled around them. Cam concentrated hard not to stumble as they spun around and around.

Beth's dark gold gown flowed around both their legs as he held her. She felt like air in his arms. She moved with him, every step, every breath totally in sync.

Only three couples remained on the dance floor.

As he changed their direction, his eyes caught those of his main rival. Francis Vega-Caro. With his dark brown eyes always seeming amused, and his smile always superior.

Cam had to force himself not to tense. He gritted his teeth behind his lips. Keeping his face impassive as he allowed his gaze to drift naturally past his nemesis. As if he wasn't even there.

Then Beth did tense and he instinctively moved her to block her, but it was too late. The judges had seen.

"Mr Camillo Russo and Ms Beth Kato."

They were done.

Cam moved them in a final spin to the edge of the room, and then supported Beth as she leaned and drew in deep breaths.

"Okay?"

"Oh, Cam. I'm so sorry."

"What happened?"

"I just felt so sick all of a sudden."

"Let's go, get some air."

They shouldn't have left, but he explained quietly to the official on the door and he let them pass to the large patio and bar area.

Even as he took some iced ginger ale from the barman with thanks, he heard the final couple be eliminated and the announced winners.

"Mr Francis Vega-Caro and Ms Mia-Rosa Sanna." He wrinkled his nose as he sat and handed the drink to Beth.

"I'm sorry, Cam."

"It's fine, Beth. It's not your fault. Why did it have to be him though?"

Beth sipped and sighed. "Mia's one of my closest friends. And Frankie's adorable." She tutted when Cam snorted. "He is. Why do you hate him so much?"

"I don't HATE him. I don't even care that much. I just hate the way he looks down his nose at me."

"He doesn't, Cam. He wouldn't."

"He's practically royalty you know."

"Cam. He was raised in England because his mother's family didn't approve of her choice of partner. A musician from Cuba, so shocking! She's very loosely related to someone who is about fifty-eighth in line to the Spanish throne. That's nothing to do with Frankie."

"He went to Eton."

"For five minutes. Mainly because he could walk there from home."

Cam merely raised his glass as if she had proven his point and Beth growled, then laughed. "You. What you do to my blood pressure."

"Don't say that." Cam leaned forward, concerned. "You are feeling better?"

"I'm fine, Cam. But I can't believe it's over. For a whole year. You really should find another partner. I would understand."

"I don't want another partner. The circuit can wait until your selfish husband lets you come back and dance with me again." He grinned when she laughed. "I'll be busy with the Paris competition."

"It's a risk, Cam. Isn't the circuit safer?" Beth knew that Cam was trying to save to send his younger brother to veterinary school. But he was running out of time, so he was using all his money to enter the prestigious Paris competition, run once every five years, where your partner was a name pulled out of a hat, so to speak. The prize money would change your life, but it was pure luck.

"You don't have faith in me?"

"I believe in you completely. But what if your partner is no good?"

Cam started to answer, but then rose when Mia rushed over. "Mia. Congratulations."

She hugged him exuberantly, whispering a quick stream of rapid Italian in his ear. When he answered she finished with "Hai bisogno di un taglio di capelli," pushed his dark blonde hair back out of his eyes, and rushed around to the chair next to Beth. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Cam merely nodded and re-seated himself as Frankie wandered over. Irritated by everything from his superiorly shiny shoes to his tight cornrows pulled back to a small bun.

Frankie flashed him a blinding smile, but then crouched down by Beth with what Cam couldn't deny, was genuine concern.

He took Beth's hand, his skin shades lighter than her glowing ebony. "Are you alright? What happened? They said you were unwell."

"I just got really sick."

"Ah." Frankie turned to Cam now and pouted at him. "You terrible man. You made the baby seasick."

"Stop it. He's already nervous about the baby."

"Maybe we should have stopped competing sooner," Cam mused.

"See!" Beth slapped Frankie's arm. "Go sit down and stop causing trouble."

Still smirking at Cam, Frankie wound his way around the table and slid into the chair next to him. Arranging himself with, what Cam considered to be, unnecessary elegance.

"Are you wearing mascara?" Cam asked him artlessly.

"Yes. We don't all have natural lashes as long as my forearm," Frankie returned. Peering closely at Cam with undisguised admiration.

Cam folded his arms across his chest and sank into his seat. He knew better than to tangle with Frankie. He would leave the conversation to the girls.

And sulk.

-X

Two weeks later, Cam was waiting with a small group as the names were pulled for the Paris competition.

He had congratulated Mia, who had been matched with Robert Armstrong, known as Robbie. He was close with Frankie, so she already knew him well. Robbie's usual dance partner, Collette, had been matched with an American lady who was new to the circuit but very talented, he thought they would do well.

When Frankie had come over to speak with Mia and Robbie, Cam had excused himself as politely as he could.

The man simply irritated him. His enthusiast overconfidence just rubbed Cam the wrong way. It was easy to be confident when you had never had to work a day in your life. When rose petals just fell beneath your feet as you walked.

Cam had tried to be polite when Frankie had arrived. Mia hugging her usual dance partner happily and rubbing her hand with familiarity over his head, "Your cornrows have gone. Oh, I like this."

Frankie had laughed and rubbed his own hand over his closely cropped hair, "Thanks. Time for a change."

Mia had then turned to answer the question that Cam had just asked. Informing him that Frankie had funded her entry fee for the competition, as well as his own, because he thought it would be fun.

Fun?

Cam wasn't entirely sure how he was going to make rent and eat over the summer, and Frankie could just do this for fun.

He had needed to excuse himself. He hadn't wanted to lose his temper in front of Mia. But fun? Fucking hell.

He had attached himself to a group on the other side of the room, where he could maintain a vague conversation and try to calm down. When he heard, "Mr Camillo Russo." His eyes locked on to the podium. His name out of the hat. Who would he be matched with?

"I hope it's me," Susan, a friend of his from the UK, linked her arm with his. He smiled and squeezed her hand. But his entire body went numb at the next words from the podium.

"Matched with, Mr Francis Vega-Caro."

The small group all turned and looked at him. In fact, Cam suspected the entire room was staring at him. It was no secret that he and Frankie couldn't abide each other.

"Excuse me," Cam managed, and turned on his heel, heading out of the closest door.

He made it to some picnic tables and shakily sat down, his head sinking onto his arms. What the hell had he done? He had gambled everything, his brother's future on this competition, and now it was over before it had even begun. He wanted to weep. It would take years. Years, to re-earn what he had lost.

He sat, panicking and regretful for some time. Jumping slightly when a hand brushed his shoulder.

"Here, drink this."

Cam's head shot up as Frankie sat opposite him. He looked at the tall, sweating glass, "I. I don't really drink."

Frankie smirked, "It's water."

"Oh. Thank you." Cam took the glass and drank thirstily. He put the glass down and looked everywhere but at Frankie.

"Is it really so terrible?" Frankie asked.

"What?" Now Cam did look at him. Frankie regarded him with sad dark eyes. Cam thought whimsically of baby seals.

"Is it really so bad to be matched with me? We can win. We're both very talented." Frankie smiled a little now, "Me more so, of course."

Cam was too confused to bite. "You would dance with me?"

"Why not?"

"I just thought," He broke off and frowned. Feeling unsure.

Frankie rapped the table with his knuckles to regain Cam's attention. "What's wrong with you? Don't you want to win?"

"I need to win," Cam admitted slightly desperately.

The question came and went in Frankie's eyes but he didn't ask. Instead he said softly, "So let's win."

Feeling like it was some sort of reprieve, Cam held his hand out. "Yes. Okay, let's win."

"Oh good, you found him," Robbie appeared as they were shaking hands, and Cam pulled back quickly, weirdly embarrassed. "You alright, kid?" he asked, looking at Cam, who nodded.

"Good. So Mia and I will be using her space to rehearse. That leaves mine free for you two."

Frankie frowned, "What about Collette?"

"She's going to be staying in Paris. That's where, um, shit I've forgotten her name already."

"Carin," Frankie supplied. Of course he knew everyone.

"Right. Carin. She lives in Paris. Her boyfriend is French. They will stay here and save on travel." He looked seriously at Frankie and Cam. "Come on, guys. This won't be easy. My studio is close to both your apartments. You can do your thing and go separate ways at the end of the day. No one has a home ground advantage."

Cam caught Frankie's eye. "I think it's a good idea," he suggested hesitantly.

Frankie nodded, "It is." He gave Robbie a quick sideways hug. "Thanks, man."

Robbie grinned. "I'll get a spare set of keys to Frankie for you, Cam. I've got to run. Good luck. We're gonna kick your arses!"

He hurried off leaving Frankie grinning. "Give me your phone," he said to Cam. "I'll put my number in. The first dance will be sent by text on Friday night. Shall we plan to start Monday? I'll bring the spare keys with me then."

"Eight am? I'll bring breakfast."

"Perfect, I'll bring coffee," Frankie handed Cam's phone back and caught his look. "Would you prefer tea?"

"Tea. Yes please. That's very kind."

Frankie smiled and rose, lifting Cam's empty glass. "I'll pop this back to the bar. See you Monday morning."

Cam mumbled a goodbye and then sank, exhausted back on the chair, as the sun turned red in the sky. Maybe, just maybe everything wasn't over.

-X

Frankie wasn't surprised to find Cam waiting at five minutes to eight on Monday morning. He gave him a cheery hello, handed him the drinks, and unlocked the door before taking the drinks back.

"I love this space," he admitted as he sat at in the small kitchen area and pushed a cup towards Cam, taking a grateful sip of his own. "I love the way the patio doors there lead out to the little private garden. It's such a lovely space. Here's your keys." He handed the spare keys to Cam.

"Thanks. I have breakfast, if you want. I just need to reheat it."

"Please," Frankie watched the microwave with interest and made grabby hands as Cam brought the container back over. "What have we got?"

Cam smiled slightly as he passed the container over and a fork. Laughing when Frankie lifted the lid and 'Ohhhhhh'd' with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"Is spicy sweet potato and tomatoes, with ham and some other vegetables. It's something you make with the leftover food."

"You made this?"

"Si."

"Thank you, Cam."

"Ah, you are welcome." Cam tucked in. He had always avoided Frankie in the past, and it was a little disconcerting to be the main focus of his attention.

They ate in a surprisingly easy silence. Then when they were finished Frankie opened with, "So, Viennese Waltz!"

Cam made a 'me first' motion and brought out a coin, tapping it gently on the counter, trying not to seem too agitated. "I had an idea. It's good, I think."

"Okay. I'm listening."

"We will have four dances. I think we should take turns. One leads and choreographs the first dance, then we swap, then again and again. I think if we don't have a clear lead, we will argue."

Frankie made his face overly shocked, "Who us?"

Cam snorted a little, but then tapped the coin again. "I think we should throw, um, flip the coin to see who goes first. Who leads first. Is fair," he insisted when Frankie shook his head.

Frankie gently took the coin from Cam's grip and placed it on the counter, holding it with one finger. For some reason, Cam's face flushed when he realized Frankie's gold nail polish matched the coin perfectly.

"I think your idea of swapping is very good," Frankie told him. "But we don't need to toss a coin. Viennese Waltz is your dance, Cam. It's one you excel at. You should lead first." He smiled when Cam's mouth dropped open. "I see I've surprised you."

Cam could only stare. He was, if he was honest, totally shocked.

"We can both have input though," Frankie asked, pleased when Cam nodded. "But the final say is the lead. Yes, it's good." He leaned forward and placed a hand gently on Cam's arm. "Cam, will you do me a favour and try to remember that you don't know me very well?"

"Okay," Cam managed.

"Thank you." Frankie stood, holding his arms out. "Now we start. I'm all yours."

-X

Several days passed in harmony and some excitement as they shared ideas and learned each other's abilities.

They couldn't, of course, spin for seven or eight hours a day, so practiced other dances, did yoga and shared meals as they planned and learned.

However, the closer the first dance came, the more tempers started to fray and tensions rose. After nearly two weeks, rehearsals were stretching later in to the day and night as they strove for perfection.

The Friday before the competition, which was on Monday, Cam stumbled and broke off from a spin, pressing his fists to his eyes and letting out a cry of frustration.

Frankie just stood, sweat soaked, his hands on his hips, and waited. He had given up trying to soothe Cam. He just got his head bitten off. Nothing had gone right today. They were both tired, bitchy and pissed off.

Obviously Cam was bitchier, Frankie thought to himself, as he stood and panted.

Cam cursed and paced, then strode back to Frankie, his blue eyes cold, dark, and hard.

"You wanna take a break?" Frankie offered.

"No."

"Okaayyyy." Frankie rolled his eyes as he was yanked impolitely back into hold. Trying and mostly failing to relax his shoulders. He was going to have to call someone, anyone, and beg for a massage tonight.

Possibly his regular Uber Eats guy, given it was already well past 10pm. Have hands, will massage. Be better than nothing, right?

Before they even started moving again, Cam threw Frankie's arms away in disgust and demanded, "What is this? What are these ape arms?"

He staggered back in shock, nearly falling on his ass, when Frankie's palms slammed into his chest. "What the fuck did you just say to me?"

Nothing but a grunt came out when Frankie slammed him again and he crashed back against the mirror. Cam automatically lifted a hand to protect his chest. He wasn't sure his heart could take another blow like that, it was thundering so hard.

"What did you say to me?" Frankie's eyes were molten fury. Cam realized with shock he couldn't find his English through a sense of panic. "I!"

"Do you speak to Beth like that?" Frankie practically growled as he saw the answer in Cam's expression. "She should kick you in the balls," he hissed, and turned away. But not before Cam saw the anger flicker into hurt and disappointment.

"Frankie, wait," Cam rubbed his chest, getting no more than a dismissive gesture from Frankie as he walked straight out the door. "Fuck!"

He stood for a moment, breathing hard. Still rubbing his chest and shaking. He didn't fully understand why Frankie had been so mad, but was starting to get an idea from his asking about Beth.

He rubbed the back of his neck and his gaze landed on Frankie's jacket. "Oh, shit." Picking it up, he found as he expected Frankie's phone and keys. He had walked out wearing nothing but sweat soaked leggings and tank, and wouldn't even be able to get into his flat.

Sighing, Cam pulled on his sweatshirt and shoved Frankie's light jacket into his backpack. He quickly found a notepad in the kitchen and scribbled. 'Heading to your place with your keys.' Tucking the note into the door handle once he had locked up. Then he headed out, following the fastest route to Frankie's apartment.

His mind whirled as he half jogged along. It wasn't cold, but he was worried Frankie would catch a chill, or turn back and they would miss each other.

He hurried by an alleyway. A shortcut he knew, but it was pitch dark and probably full of broken glass and supermarket trolleys. He paused at a familiar noise. Laughing and scuffles, followed by the unmistakable sound of a fist slamming into a gut and the grunt/groan that followed.

Cam moved into the shadows and headed into the alleyway. Silently shrugging off his backpack and tucking it behind a bin as his eyes adjusted.

He could hear the laughing clearer now, and under it the gasp sobbing of someone in pain. At least four people, and someone was getting the shit kicked out of them.

He crept closer and could make out shapes. Four guys and someone on the ground.

'Fuck you,' he thought to himself. He knew how to fight. Two years running wild around the docks in Naples, before the nuns had plucked him out of there, had honed his survival skills. Time to even the fucking odds.

With his natural grace he ran silently into the fight. Nearly losing the advantage when he recognized, with a flash of shock, the pink and orange pattern of Frankie's vest top curled on the ground.

He slammed into the group and sent two men flying. Letting pure fury rule, he delivered a vicious kick to the first guy's crotch and another kick to the second man's mouth. Satisfied at seeing blood spurt. A yell and running feet behind him, he turned and blocked the fist that was heading for his face, sending the man to his knees with a blow to his stomach.

The first two were already scrambling away. Fucking cowards.