Tomorrow Never Dies

Chapter 22 - "My guitar doesn't get turned on when I'm in a leotard"

It was my first session at the NSWBC. My stress levels were high: as well as the general anxiety, the police had become involved in what had happened at the party, and obviously I needed to create a good first impression. I had elected a black halter neck leaotard, with pink tights, my slightly tattered softies and my trusty Papillon pointe shoes. My hair was immaculate and my makeup fairly neutral, but still covering my imperfections. Michael dropped me off with a kiss and a promise to pick me up amd take me out after my rehearsal, and I entered the beautiful building hesitantly. I stopped at reception and waited to be seen.

"Hi, I'm Flora Lighthawk, I'm part of the associate's programme." The receptionist typed something, presumably my name, into her computer, and smiled.

"I'll just let your instructor know you're here, he'll come and pick you up." I nodded, taking a seat. A few moments later, a bearded man, possibly in his late twenties, appeared in the doorway.

"Flora?"

"That's me," I said, standing up. He shook my hand and led me through to a fairly spacious studio.

"There's just two of you in this lesson for now, I'm going to train you up then we'll work on a pas de deux," he told me. "Oh, by the way, I'm Martin."

"Lovely to meet you," I smiled, and a boy about my age burst through the door.

"Sampson, you can't be late to your first lesson with Miss Lighthawk," Martin chastised, and I smiled. The boy - Sampson - muttered an apology as he removed his hoodie and pulled on his ballet shoes. I had to admire his toned body; as he flexed his arms you could see his biceps contracting, and I could see the faint impression of a six pack through his leotard. "Right, guys, on the floor, twenty pressups, twenty situps, repeat until I tell you to stop." I got onto the floor and started doing the workout as instructed, and I could see the look of surprise on Sampson's face as I went through the exercises as quickly as him without putting my knees down. "Ten minutes of running on the treadmills." I sprang onto the machine located at the side of the studio and started running, ensuring I was going at the same speed as my partner.

"Competitive much?" he laughed about five minutes into our jog.

"Just showing you that I'm just as fit," I smiled, putting up the incline to prove my point. He levelled his machine with me and we carried on running without speaking.

"Alright guys, off you come, have a drink then we'll get started on our choreography. Flora, get your points shoes on," Martin instructed, and I pulled on the shoes as I took a gulp from my water bottle. I warmed up my feet at the bar, watching Sampson pirouetting in the centre, then went to stand next to him. My right foot naturally slipped into classical pose and I had to fold my arms to stop them from going into demi seconde.

***
An hour and a half later, and Sampson and I had almost completely choreographed a dance to Marvin Gaye by Charlie Puth. The song wasn't particularly classical, but the ballet we paired with it had a contemporary edge. There were a fair few lifts in it, so I had quickly come to trust Sampson, knowing that he wouldn't drop me or he'd risk his career in dance. We were running the dance again when there was a knock at the studio door and Michael appeared.

"Hey, baby," he said, as I went over to kiss him. "I arrived kind of early, is it alright if I watch for a bit?"

"Of course," I replied. "We were about to finish up anyway, we're just going through it one more time." Martin started the music and I hurried to my starting position. The idea behind the dance was similar to the theme of the song, so Sampson and I were pretty hands-on, but as dancers we dealt with it professionally. As Charlie sang 'it's Kama Sutra show and tell', I was lifted into the air, then I slipped down against Sampson's body. I went straight into a pirouette, but as my eyes flashed past Michael I noticed a hint of anger in his face. I frowned but didn't falter, thinking I would deal with it later, as I still had to make Martin feel like I was worth taking on in the ballet company. The song finished, and Sampson was holding me as I was posed in a dramatic back bend. I stood up.

"That was fab, guys," Martin said. "See you tomorrow, we'll clean that up and possibly tweak some bits, I'm not sure if they're too contemporary." I nodded then curtseyed.

"Thank you, see you tomorrow!" I smiled, then changed my shoes and walked out with Michael. He stayed silent until we reached the car.

"What was that?" His voice was laced with anger.

"I was dancing?" I wasn't sure where he was going.

"The only thing stopping you from fucking him was your clothes." His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckled turned white.

"We were doing a pas de deux, they're meant to be close!"

"And the sexual song doesn't help."

"Dance is my job, Michael. I don't get angry when you cuddle your guitar!"

"My guitar doesn't get turned on when I'm in a leotard."

"Sampson wasn't turned on!" I sighed, exasperated.

"Really? I saw something that begs to differ." We were back in uni, and arguing in the middle of the car park.

"Michael, Sampson is my dance partner. You're my boyfriend. There's a difference."

"Didn't fucking look like it."

"Oh, grow up," I said, storming off back to my dorm. I flung myself onto my bed and the tears started. Grace was immediately at my side, rubbing my arm and asking what was wrong.

I didn't know what to do. My career goal was to dance, and that was going to involve being close to other guys. What was I going to do if Michael couldn't accept that?

*****
hello

i have the flu in the middle of my gcses pray for me
#RIPLauren

song of the chapter: honey, i'm good by andy grammer (this song reminds me of my ex but its a tune so i love it)