Dancing Ch. 01

For once, his expression wasn't hard and aloof, he was just lost in the music. He still seemed unaware of everything around him, but it wasn't as though he was deliberately ignoring it for once, he was just in his own world, and from the reactions I could see, there were a hell of a lot of men there who wanted to be there with him. Men danced towards him, but he didn't interact, he just smoothly kept moving, turning to cut them out without making it seem like too much of a slight. When one dared to touch him though, his eyes bored into them. He didn't miss a beat, but the guy backed off fast, and that seemed to deter anyone else from trying.

I was having glorious fantasies now, ones where he danced me a striptease like that, and I was hard. If I got any harder the table might start lifting up and making it obvious. But I doubted I was the only one in that condition just from watching him, and I hated it. I felt jealousy curling in my stomach, and yet he wasn't mine in any way. He had barely spoken to me all night, but he was still there with me, and they couldn't have him. Every pair of eyes on him made me more irritated. They had no right to look at him with lust when I had seen him first.

I sipped at my drink now, trying to distract myself from thoughts of dragging him out of there and up the nearest alley so I could satisfy my own desires. Song after song came on and he didn't stop, his body seeming to have a mind of it's own and changing it's movement to suit each new beat. Other men danced, some very well, but no-one else did it like he did. I wanted him, I needed him, and yet I still hated him for everything he had done and the fact that despite all of that I couldn't take my eyes off him or calm my raging erection.

Eventually, he stopped. His face showed a moment of distaste, so I guessed he didn't like the track that had come on. A couple of guys dared to speak to him as he started to move off the floor, but he just brushed them off with the barest of waves of his hand. He was back to his usual self and it was enough that I was able to remind myself of his abrasive personality and dim my lust. Guys were still watching him, and I tried hard not to look smug that he was walking my way.

He didn't speak, and I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to compliment his dancing, he was enough of a dickhead already without his ego swelling further. I just went back to my drink and avoided looking at him as he started sipping his, but I was still watching out of the corner of my eye. He checked the empty glasses on the table, and seemed satisfied. I had a horrible feeling I knew what was coming next, but the rest of that song passed without comment.

As soon as the next track came on he stood again, and my heart started pounding. I didn't want to go out there, especially not with that to compete with. I was going to look like a complete idiot. I didn't have a choice, of course, he just grabbed my hand and dragged me after him. I was on the dancefloor, legs shaking, a moment later. He'd opted not to go under the spotlight this time and I was glad of that one small mercy. I didn't need my dreadful dancing highlighted to the entire club.

Somehow, I started to move when he did. He didn't dance with me to start with, and he was obviously seeing how I was doing. Remarkably not as badly as I usually did, or at least I was drunk enough not to notice or care. His closeness, although he wasn't touching me at all, had some strange effect on me and I tried to move as he did, even closing my eyes so I could feel the music, although it helped not looking at him either, dancing with a hardon was not that easy. I managed to lose myself so much that when he moved closer and spoke to me I jumped. Not only was I not expecting him to be there, I was really not prepared for what he said.

"You're doing really well."

I know my mouth fell open in shock. He complimented me? Was I drunker than I thought and hallucinating? I must have been, because when I looked at him, my mouth still hanging open, he was actually smiling. I didn't even know he could. Then he was no longer dancing near me, he was dancing with me. Not the same as he did on his own, totally in his own world, but almost as sexily, moving towards and around me although we never quite touched. I had died and gone to heaven with my very own horny angel and I couldn't stop smiling.

I must have made it through a further two tracks before I turned around, wanting to follow his movements as he went behind me again. I'd had my back to most of the room, but now I could see people, and they were looking at me. My doubt in my dancing ability raised its ugly head for a moment, but then I saw how they were looking at me. No-one was laughing, they were jealous. I was dancing with the sexy guy they had all had their eyes on, and now they were looking at me because they wanted to be me. I almost started laughing.

It was as though having an audience flipped some sort of switch inside me and I was determined to give them a performance. I grabbed his hand, and although he looked surprised for a moment he quickly moved with me, letting me twirl him around. I was soon bumping and grinding to the track and he joined in, rubbing his body against mine lightly, but enough to turn me on so I cared even less what anyone else thought of my dancing. I took the opportunity to have my hands on him, nowhere intimate, but I stroked where I could, using the performance to feel some of those muscles, grabbing him to bring him closer when the song seemed to demand it, or perhaps when my subconscious did.

He didn't resist anything I did, and before long his hands were on me too, little bolts of electricity going through me with every touch. I kept his body away from my crotch, knowing full well what he would find there and not wanting to ruin this moment. He didn't like me, but for this moment he was prepared to play pretend and I wasn't going to do anything that might stop him when I was loving it so much.

All too soon, it was over. The music changed again to something he didn't like and he turned and walked away, back to the table we had been sitting at. It took me a moment to follow him, feeling utterly bereft at my hands being empty when for nearly an hour they had been able to explore his body. When I joined him his expression was closed again, and I knew that was it. I was already beginning to wonder whether I had dreamed the whole thing and he hadn't smiled or touched me, but my dick was still hard enough that I was fairly sure it had really happened.

He decided that was it for the night, and again I found myself following him with barely a word being said between us. I noticed the men around were still looking at him with lust and me with envy, little did they know I was going home alone. At least I had a very pleasant memory to work with now, even if he never spoke to me kindly again. I seriously needed to leave this one alone, but there was something about him that had me in a spell. One thing I was absolutely certain about was I was not going to be one of the people swallowing all their pride and offering themselves to him for whatever he wanted. There was no way I would stoop that low.

As expected, I ended up in my bed alone, marvelling at the fact he had bothered to say goodbye when I got out the cab. For him that was pretty good conversation. Frustrated, I grabbed my cock and started jerking. It had been up and down all night, mostly up, and was more than ready for me to give it some action. I replayed in my mind the scene of us dancing, the feel of his hands on me and my hands on him, and I shot so much cum I didn't know where it had come from. A night of dancing with a man who had barely spoken to me, and I was still full of desire for him.

* * * * * *

The next day I had to myself, and I must have masturbated at least five times recalling the night before. He'd looked like some sort of angel, and then shown his humanity, and all of that just made me want him more. I knew I would have to concentrate the next day on remembering how much I disliked the way he treated me and spoke to me.

It didn't prove that difficult after all. He was possibly more of a dick at our first dance session of the week than he had been the week before. He almost seemed more despairing of me getting things wrong now, because even though I was a hell of a lot better, he'd seen me actually dancing and he reminded me that I could do it, but clearly only if they got me pissed before every show. I know I glared and growled at him in response, but nothing seemed to faze him, he barely even noticed me again. I remembered what his eyes looked like when he was smiling at me and wondered if I would ever see that sight again.

We'd agreed with the director that I would join in the full rehearsal the following week and do all the dancing, so I had another full week of this torture to come. I tried to persuade myself that the end was in sight, but I had the horrible feeling the director would feel I needed more time on this. Hopefully me doing vaguely the same moves as the others would be good enough because that might be all I could manage. It was meant to be a slightly comedic scene anyway, so no-one should really expect me to be able to do this.

On Wednesday we had another surprise when the director walked in to our session. I didn't notice him at first as I was busy doing the routine for the millionth time so that my dear tutor could criticise me afterwards. When I did look up, Matt was looking at script pages, his face expressionless as usual. The director, Chris, motioned me over.

"More changes from the writer. Nothing major though."

"Please tell me the dancing has been dropped!"

"No. But it has a happy ending!" he said, grinning.

Matt was still staring at the page in front of him, so I couldn't see what it said. His comment didn't bode well.

"Let's hope he's better at that than dancing, because I am not practising for hours unless I get a hell of a lot more money."

I managed to get the pages out of his hands then, and I just stared too. One word jumped off the page. KISS. Shit, the bloody writer had decided the dance routine from hell should end with my character snogging Matt's. It made sense, my character was supposed to be secretly in love with his, and in the dream sequence if not in real life anything could happen. Ironically, not that much different to what I was doing in my own life, pretending Matt was different, naked, and mine. I couldn't look at him. It was clear he didn't want to do it, and I didn't want to either but for completely different reasons. How could I get a taste of him every night and keep myself under control?

After that I think both of us were in even worse moods, if such a thing was possible. My mind was racing with ideas of breaking something so I could get out of the whole thing. I should have been happy, I mean how many people would get the chance to kiss the man they wanted badly? But how many of them would willingly do it in front of a theatre full of people praying desperately they didn't get an obvious reaction?

I was going to have to tie myself down somehow, that was the only way forward, and hope that I didn't go with any fantasies of jumping him. The nerves about this new torment made me lose my balance and fall over, fully expecting him to bite my head off for it. He just turned and walked out the room. Lesson over, I guessed.

* * * * * *

Next day I was doubly dreading the dance session, and to no great surprise on my part, Matt was again pissed with me for every little thing I did wrong. I actually thanked whatever higher power made my phone ring right then, and took delight in taking the call despite the dirty looks I was getting. Of course, that power just wanted to screw with my life even more. At the end of the line was probably the only person in the world I wanted to talk to even less than Matt. My ex.

"Hi. I was wondering if we could talk. I want to apologise."

"You're about two years too late," I growled.

He actually did sound contrite, and I felt a little piece of me wanting to talk too. There were things I wanted to understand. There was no way I was ever going back to him, but closure seemed like a very good idea. Maybe with that out of the way I could focus on men who were not complete shits who happened to be very good looking, and find someone with a personality who actually cared for me.

"I know. I've been working things through, getting some therapy, and I need to say sorry to you properly for treating you the way I did. I was hoping you would join me for dinner. Please say yes."

I left a good pause, not wanting to seem too keen. "Okay. When, and where?"

"Tonight, at my place. I've ordered catering, so don't panic that I'm going to try and feed you my cooking."

I actually grinned. He'd burned everything the twice he had tried to cook, and we'd given up on that idea.

"Fine. I'll see you about 7."

"Sure. Thank you so much."

I hung up and stared at the phone for a moment, hoping I had not just made the biggest mistake of my life. When I turned around I decided the biggest mistake was probably still going to be agreeing to do this damn play. Matt looked even more sour faced than normal.

"Hot date?" he practically sneered.

"None of your business."

The man who didn't speak to me had no right to know anything about my life, and I was pleased that he had seemed to want to know - despite the tone of his voice there was some other interest there. Tough, let him see what it was like to spend hours with someone who didn't communicate. He made me suffer for it though, stopping the cd again and again to go over minor tiny points with my dancing until he was satisfied that it was as good as I could do, which he made clear was still not all that good.

It was only later, once I had finished work and gone home to get ready that I realised how stupid I had been agreeing to this. Being pissed off with Matt was by no means a good reason for going to see the man who had made me live nearly two years of my life in the shadows. He loved me, he said, but he was too concerned about his reputation as he built a career to come out and admit his sexuality. I lived back in the closet, never going out with him in public so he wouldn't be seen with a gay man, watching him attend premiers and awards shows with another pretty woman on his arm as he lied to the world and treated me like crap.

Now, he had the fame he'd always wanted. He was in the gossip mags, on the TV regularly, happy with fame and fortune, but still hiding himself. It had taken a lot for me to leave him, despite all that, and there was no way I should put myself back in a situation where he had any control. Still, at least now I had enough self-respect not to let him suck me back in. It had been almost impossible to walk away from him and now I felt like I was wandering back into the spiders web. Let's just hope I had enough sense to deal with this and not get caught.

I was almost shaking as I got to his house, still wondering why the hell I had agreed to any of this. And it annoyed me more that I knew the answer was because of Matt. He affected me in far too many ways, good and bad. When I rang the bell, Ben was there immediately and pleased to see me. It made me even more nervous than I had been already, not knowing what this was all about but sure it would be bad.

I was a bundle of nerves by the time he'd finished serving us dinner and we had eaten. He'd been friendly, kind, explained all about what changes he had made in his life and how awful he felt about what he had done, and I did start to believe all of that. It was just that I sensed he was building up for more and I kept waiting for the bomb to drop. It came after dinner, as we settled down on his sofa with some drinks, me making sure I left enough room that he couldn't lean over and try and kiss me, because that was one of the options I had in my head for how he was going to ruin my evening.

"So, I wanted to ask you something," he started to say. I know I tensed immediately. "It's good news, honestly. I'm going to tell everyone that I'm gay. I've got a newspaper lined up for the exclusive. I'm finally facing up to who I am."

"That's good news, but I don't see what I have to do with this."

He looked kind of awkward. "I know what I put you through and I regret all of it now I can see clearly. I was talking to our agent and he thought that if we did this together it would be good for both of us."

"What?!" I reacted, totally shocked. "You want to do this, it's your call, but leave me out of it. You managed to leave me out of nearly two years of your life outside this house, you owe me that now."

"It's not like that. I was hoping we could try again. I still love you, and I would like you to be at my side through this."

I leapt off the sofa away from him. "You have to be fucking kidding. We didn't break up because of all the sneaking around I had to do, remember? How can you possibly think I would want to get back with you after what you did?"

"I told you I was sorry. I was insecure and I hated myself at the time, and I took it out on you. I shouldn't have, and I regret it every day."

"Good. Being sorry now means fuck all to me. I don't want to be by your side for anything. You ruined what we had, and you ruined me. It's far too late for you to put that back together with your apologies. You just want to be able to play happy families for the interviewer. Pay someone to do it, who'll be prepared to play pretend. I'm out of here."

I ran for the door, needing to get out of this situation before it got even more surreal than the man who had beaten me asking that we get back together. I was at the top of the steps when he called me back.

"Aaron."

I turned, not even part way, and he grabbed my arm and span me back into his body. I had just enough of a moment to realise he was holding me tight in his arms, panic rising in me, before he kissed me. It was rough and demanding but I didn't respond, just trying as hard as I could to get away. A flash distracted him long enough for me to break out of his embrace, running past the photographer who had conveniently appeared out of nowhere, and letting one erect finger do my talking as I got away as fast as I could.

I didn't relax until I got back home. My mind was racing with all the unexpected developments of this evening. I had the horrible feeling that I was going to find our 'clinch', despite it being totally one-sided, in the papers before too long. It would probably prove a nice accompaniment to his exclusive. It was sod's law that for the time we had been together I would have loved us to be seen out together, but now that we were over and he had destroyed any of the love I had once had for him, it would finally happen. He'd set me up and I was angry about it, but there was little I could do. I just hoped that not agreeing to his scheme would at least mean he showed me enough respect to keep me out of it.

* * * * * *

Next morning I carefully checked the news stands as I went to work, and breathed a sigh of relief. There was no picture, and no story about him. Perhaps having to do it alone was too hard and he had changed his mind. I didn't care, just so long as I wasn't involved. I would definitely not be so stupid as to speak to him again, and I kind of hoped that my responses had hurt him even a little like he had hurt me. I'd have had to go a long way to do anything that bad, but he deserved what I could give.

Somehow I managed to keep my mind off all of this throughout the day, and not only the rehearsal but even my dance lesson went pretty well. It could have been my imagination but I got the impression that Matt wanted to ask me about my date. Check that, it must have been my imagination, because he didn't speak beyond the absolute essentials, and I doubted we would ever have a conversation.