Page 10 of Take the Lead
Afterwards, we swap places and Layla applies more make-up to my face than I would usually get through in a month, but I have to admit the end result is impressive.
Dramatic flashes of green glitter frame my eyes, and the false eyelashes and lashings of eyeliner make them look huge.
I’m not used to thinking of myself as alluring, but it’s what I would say about someone else who looked like this.
Back in the reception room, there’s just enough time for Tammy to tell me I look gorgeous before she’s called away by Olivia for her own makeover.
I sit drinking coffee with Liam and Beth while we wait for our next appointments.
So far Beth has had her costume fitting and she’s now dressed in a floaty ice-blue dress, and Liam has done his dress rehearsal with Valentina and tells us the set is spectacular, designed to look like the colourful streets of Havana. I can’t wait to see it.
For the rest of the day, the other pro dancers come in and out of the reception room. Beth and Tammy spend some time chatting to their partners Gabriel and Elijah, and Liam even invites Valentina to join us for lunch. Not that any of us – except Liam – eat much. I’m far too nervous.
Merle doesn’t even show up to grab a coffee. But the mystery of his whereabouts is solved when Beth comes back from hair and make-up midway through the afternoon.
‘Apparently your one is a bit of a diva,’ she says. ‘Layla told me he’s the only one of the dancers who’s got his own dressing room.’
I try not to let on how hurt I am by this revelation, and the fact that he’s chosen to hide away in there all day rather than spending any time with me. Surely he must realise I could do with a bit of reassurance to calm my nerves. I’d thought I could rely on him to keep me level-headed.
It’s not till an hour before the live show that I finally get to see him. Olivia drops me off at the studio for our dress rehearsal and there he is, making himself at home in one of the judges’ chairs – working out the best angle for us to start with, he later tells me.
‘Thirty minutes max, okay?’ Olivia says. ‘We’re behind schedule and the audience starts arriving at six-thirty sharp.’
‘ Pas de problème ,’ Merle replies, hauling himself up and holding his hand out towards me.
I ignore it at first, furious with him for abandoning me all day. But at the same time I’m so relieved to see him at last that all I really want to do is fling myself into his arms. Instead, I look around and drink in the huge space around us. It doesn’t make me feel any better.
Behind the judges’ chairs there are rows and rows of seats for the audience – which look daunting enough when they’re empty, never mind when they’re full of people.
I try to convince myself it’s nothing to worry about, but I couldn’t be more intimidated.
It’s so different to our Kensington studio – it feels so exposed.
Kelly from costumes has put me in an emerald-green sequinned catsuit and I can feel my skin prickling with sweat beneath it.
I’m glad I didn’t eat any lunch – it’s too tight to hide any lumps or bumps – but that does mean all the caffeine I’ve drunk on an empty stomach is making me even more jittery.
Merle’s biceps are bulging under a skin-tight black top with a flash of green sequins across one shoulder.
His black trousers hug his bum and thighs, and another green flash shines across one hip.
He looks hotter than ever, but as much as that makes me want to kiss him, what I really need is a comforting hug.
He leads me out onto the dance floor and calls out ‘music please’ to a man I hadn’t spotted at the side of the stage. As our track starts streaming through the giant speakers, he reminds me to keep my eyes on him while we’re dancing, which isn’t hard. But the rehearsal is a total disaster.
All the things I feared might go wrong do. I mix up the order of the steps and crack my knee against Merle’s, making both of us wince and me lose the timing.
‘Don’t stop,’ he says as I start to apologise, but I’m two beats behind him and I bump into him a second time, forcing him to strengthen his lead and practically drag me through the rest of the routine.
It’s the worst two minutes of my life and by the end of it, I’m fighting back tears of frustration.
‘I’m sorry,’ I sob. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘Yes, you can. We’ll go again.’
But when he sees the distraught look on my face, he takes me firmly by the hand and pulls me away from the imposing rows of seats.
‘Don’t smudge your make-up,’ he says. ‘Layla won’t like it if she has to start all over again. Come with me. I know how to fix this.’
I follow him down the corridor and into a dressing room tucked away at the end.
‘Is this your …?’
‘Shh,’ he hushes me, pulling off his top as he walks me back towards the dressing table.
He lifts me onto it and pushes my knees apart, watching me intently as he finds my clit with his thumb. Even through the sequins he makes me tingle.
He steps in towards me and kisses me hungrily while he locates the zip at the back of my catsuit, which he pulls down, then pushes the material aside to expose my bare breasts.
He presses his groin against mine as he reaches for them, so I can feel him getting aroused, and I sigh into his mouth as my nipples harden from his touch.
This is exactly what I need to stop me panicking about our dance.
All I can think about now is how much I want to feel him inside me.
In a flash he sweeps me off the table and spins me round to face the mirror, pulling the catsuit all the way down and moving one of his hands back between my legs.
He tugs his trousers off with the other and our eyes meet in the mirror as he guides himself into me.
I briefly wonder if we’ve got time for this, but I’m not about to stop it.
I press my hands against the table and grind my body back against his as he starts pumping behind me. His reaches for my breasts and I watch his eyes flick from my reflection to the real me and back again. I just can’t get enough of how transfixed he always seems to be with me.
He clings to my hips as his thrusts take on an extra urgency, and his orgasm arrives quickly and with its usual roar.
As his judders slow to pulses, he reaches for my clit again, to make me come too.
It doesn’t take long as I watch him stroking me in the mirror and he groans as I climax with him still inside me.
We stay like that for a minute, catching our breath, until we hear voices approaching in the corridor. Glancing back I realise Merle did not fully shut the door.
‘ Merde ,’ he mutters, withdrawing and hastily crossing the room to push it closed.
‘Merle?’ Olivia calls from outside. ‘It’s time.’
‘Just coming,’ he calls back, and the double entendre isn’t lost on me as we scramble for our clothes.
He smooths down his hair and I check my make-up is still in place. When I’m ready, he reaches for my wrist and I realise he’s taking my pulse.
‘Much calmer,’ he says. ‘Follow me out in a few minutes.’
And with that, he’s gone.