Marie hugged her coat as she ran from the bus, if she wasn’t there when Jean’s class let out, there’d be hell to pay.
“Slow down girl,” Bobby, the guard, said. “There still on that slow, leg thing.”
“Thank God for small mercies,” she replied as she walked into the lobby of Xavier’s School of Dance.
Weaving her way through a small crowd of parents and students getting ready for tap. She jumped back to avoid a foot swinging through the air when she connected with something warm and hard. “Sorry,” she said, expecting to see a kid; instead she was looking into the eyes of Logan, the tap instructor.
“No problem,” he said softly as Marie took a step towards the staff locker room. She jumped again when his voice filled the lobby with a growling, “Get a move on!”
Dropping her backpack on the bench, she thought of a nickname she had overheard last week. “I swear to god, the wolverine,” one bun-sporting kid said. “From back when he was competing. He would growl while he danced.”
A boy with a set of drumsticks gave a laugh, “I can see it.” Starting a beat with the sticks, he called out the steps. “Paradiddle, paradiddle, growl, growl. Paradiddle, paradiddle, growl, growl. Step, shuffle, ball, change, shuffle, ball, change, shuffle, ball, change, growl. Step, shuffle, ball, change, shuffle, ball, change, shuffle, ball, change, growl.”
Marie laughed softly at the thought as she came back into the lobby with her Walkman in her hand. A quick peek in the window of the large studio showed the man in question. 'I don’t think he would have trouble setting a rhythm, growling or not.'
Before she could continue down that path, the door to the small studio opened, letting out a group of teen girls clad in pink tights and black leotards. They all slowed as they pass the viewing window on their way to the locker room.
“Marie, I need to speak to you. Now.” Jean’s voice was sharp.
Marie looked through the window at the tall, red-haired dancer. Jean Summers was a beautiful woman; smart, classy, confident. She used to be Jean Gray, one of the best ballerinas the US had. That changed when she got pregnant. Now Jean’s a teacher at a satellite school and her husband, and former partner, Scott was on a North American tour.
“Marie, I was appalled at the state of the mirrors when I came in. Hand prints everywhere. If you want to continue on here as janitor, you need to learn to do your job properly.”
“Yes, Mrs. Summers,” Marie answered quietly.
“You need to clean them more then once a week,” Jean continued as if Marie had never spoken. “Why, when I was dancing for the company the mirrors were cleaned every night.”
“Yes Mrs. Summers.”
Jean sighed,“Well go on now. You’re not being paid to just stand there.”
Marie walked into the studio and started in on making it shine.
Forty-five minutes later Marie had finished the small studio. Floor swept, barrs polished with a no-slip wax, mirrors sparkling. She managed to get to the staff locker room just as the tap class let out. Grabbing a peace of fruit from her bag, she settled down for a short break. ‘Vacuum the lobby, then the large studio, then home and bed,’ she thought.
Logan opening the door was the signal her break was over. Pushing the vacuum, Marie headed out to the lobby.
Marie entered the large studio just as the tape in her Walkman ended. Flipping it over to hear the song “Bitch”, Marie almost attacked the mirror.
After she finished the mirror, Marie did something different. Taking off her headphones she walked over to the sound system and started looking over the CDs. The one labeled ‘Storm’s Jazz Mix’ caught her eye and she slipped it in. As a man’s voice growled out "when the going tough,” Marie started in on waxing the barrs.
Marie stretched from emptying the dustpan as “Turn the Beat Around” ended. She started to turn the CD off when a fast tango beat started. Sliding her shoes off she did a quick twizzle, then straightened with a ‘pop’, arms over her head. Starting with just some small footwork at first, she began to move more, giving her body over to the music. By the second chorus she was using all the moves picked up from years of tangoing with her cousins at family gatherings, from months of working in her uncle’s restaurant and watching the dance floor, from nights spent getting lost in a pulsing beat in a darkened warehouse. 'Who needs classical training,' she thought.
Turning her self over to the words of the song she could feel her body calling out in time with the singers. "My body’s longing to hold you. So bad it hurts inside." The blend of male and female voices was intoxicating. So much so that when the man’s voice softly sang, “I want to feel you near,” Marie could feel an arm going around her waist. "Just like the air you breathe." Marie shuddered as a hot puff of air came across her neck and found its way down the collar of her shirt. “I need you here in my life.” The solid heat at Marie’s back told her that this wasn’t a product of her imagination. “Don’t walk away, walk away.” Stiffening as she slowly turned, Marie shut her eyes when she saw Logan looking back at her.
Marie’s embarrassment melted as Logan’s hand slid up her back, supporting her as she was dipped till her hair brushed the floor. Coming back up, Marie let out the breath she had been holding. Looking into the eyes of the man holding her, she felt their legs starting to move in small steps. Front, together, right, together, left, together, back, together.
Marie could feel the muscles tighten in her partners arm. She was quickly spun out, then in so her back was pressed to Logan’s chest. Her right leg came to rest between his two and as she bent her knees slightly, she could feel his hands drawing up her waist to just under her breasts. Marie let her head fall back onto Logan’s shoulder as his left hand brushed her cheek and neck and his right came up to cup her breast.
“Logan.” It was the first thing that had been said in this wonderfully surreal moment.
“Never have I ever seen anyone dance like that,” Logan murmured against her neck. “Where did you learn that?”
“I’ve been doing it all my life,” Marie replied.
Whatever the next song was, Marie didn’t hear it. At that moment Logan’s lips found hers and her senses shifted to only him.
“Marie?”
“Uh-hu.”
“Marie!”
Marie stiffened at the sound of Logan’s gruff voice. “Yes.”
“Storm told me to be here by 7:00. I’ve been waiting for ten minutes, where are the knee-biters?”
Gathering her senses, Marie gave a quick glance at the studio where students of Xavier’s came for their dance class. It was empty. “They’re just changing, Logan. They’ll be out soon.”
Logan looked at her, his eyebrow slowly going up. “You seemed sorta out of it when I came in. You okay?”
“Yeah, Logan. Fine.”
Keeping his eyes on her Logan shoved his cigar back in his mouth. “Whatever you say kid. I’m waiting in the van.”
Marie watched as Logan looked at the window of the men’s ballet class. As he walked out the door she could hear him say, “Why couldn’t Scott pick up the dancers? He might even join in, the pansy.”
Marie let out a sigh as she sank into a chair. “I never should have agreed to watch the kid at dance class.”
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Story Notes:
Please don't hurt me for the ending. Thanks to the hot guy in my tap class. Sigh.