Neal, the assistant, had me and Gary do some upper body strengthening, push-ups and planks to help with core training to protect our backs when we lifted the girls.
Classical ballroom doesn’t have lifts, but I’d always enjoyed the showdances where ‘illegal lifts’ were allowed. Even before my balls dropped, I’d wanted to be strong enough to do lifts. I was a big guy for a dancer, but even a girl who weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet could take a toll on your body if you didn’t stay strong and have great balance.
The showgirls here were all more than averagely tall—over 5’10” as a minimum. And although their costumes were almost non-existent, their headdresses could weigh up to 30 pounds. Either way, that was a lot to lift and I wasn’t used to it. The theater arts girls I’d worked with before were all under 5’2”. This was going to kill me.
I pushed hard, trying to make sense of the crazy world I’d been dropped into. This I understood—dancing, working to appear effortless on stage.
“Ash, take five,” said Neal, throwing me a towel.
Surprised, I glanced past Neal and saw Trixie heading in my direction, her hard face unreadable.
“Boss wants to see you, Yveta and Galina this evening after rehearsals,” she said, pointing a sharp fingernail at the three of us.
I grit my teeth. “Oleg?”
Trixie gave a delicate shudder. “No, the big boss. Mr. Volkov wants you in his suite at ten. I’ll meet you in the lobby to take you up.”
As she strode away she called out, “Dress nice!”
Yveta threw me a look. “What do you think he wants?”
“To meet his new staff, I guess.”
“Maybe we’ll get our phones back,” she said hopefully.
The thought cheered me up, and I concentrated on finishing my workout, then followed Elaine’s instructions as we began preparations for the show.
As one of only two guys among 14 women in the troupe, my role was simple: present seven girls, which meant leading them onto the stage so they could do their showgirls routine, while Gary presented the other seven. Easy. Boring.
All that Elaine wanted was a samba promenade. I’d been doing that since I was six. But when Yveta reached for me and smiled, I couldn’t help throwing in a couple of sexy botafogos that made her giggle.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” Elaine yelled. “What are you doing?”
My grin dropped. Fuck! This was no time to mess around.
“Sorry, Madam Director,” I said formally.
“Hmm, no, I liked it,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s cheeky. Keep it in. Gary, show me your contra botafogo with . . . new girl . . . Galina!”
Gary looked taken aback, but then gripped Galina’s hand and led her into the dance, cocking an eyebrow at me. I knew what he was saying: Anything you can do . . .
“Yes, I think we’ve got something here,” Elaine said to herself. “Ash, solo spot volta with a reverse turn, whisk, and side samba walk. Yveta—keep up.”
And she did.
By the end of the rehearsal, the four of us had developed a kind of dance-off, with each of us competing against the other couple to pull off increasingly intricate and difficult steps. Elaine was delighted and things were looking up. Not as boring as I thought it was going to be.
“The audience will eat this up. Good work people.”
My gray t-shirt was dark with sweat and Yveta’s make-up was smudged, but we grinned at each other. Even Gary didn’t seem unhappy, although he found something to bitch about.
“Four years,” he griped. “Four years, and I’ve never even had a sniff of a duet or solo spot until you come along, showboating your tight ass.”
I winked at him, and Gary had to look away to stop the smile that was threatening to break out.
Honey strolled over, patting at her damp chest with a towel.
“Grace and I are going for drinks at the Venetian. It’s happy hour—draft beer for three bucks, margaritas for five. Wanna come?”
“Are you asking all of us or just Mr. Hot-pants?” sniped Gary.
Honey sighed then gave a wide smile. “All of you, of course.”
I was surprised, but pleased. “I’m in.”
After showering and taking my workout clothes to the staff laundry, I went with Gary to meet the girls for drinks. It looked as though they were several margaritas in already.
Yveta poured herself onto my lap as soon as I sat down, while Honey and Grace exchanged amused glances. Gary sighed loudly and rolled his eyes.
I had to hold Yveta’s hips firmly to stop her grinding on me. The attention was fun and she was hot, so I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. Affairs between dance partners were common, but I also knew how they could negatively affect the dynamics of a performance if the relationship went bad, and Elaine had hinted at a larger role for us in the future. I couldn’t fuck this up just because I had a chance of getting laid.
Yveta sighed into my neck, her warm breath bathing my skin. I shook my head, reminding myself that life was complicated enough right now.