Page 7 of Take the Lead

I wake up with a gasp, followed by a sigh of relief when I realise the giant camera relentlessly chasing me up a steep hill is just a bad dream – a classic anxiety-fuelled nightmare.

If this is what the thought of filming in our little studio does to me, what on earth am I going to be like when the live shows start?

While I’m doing my make-up, Lucy raves about her date with Aiden. He took her for a fancy meal and they’re going to meet up again on Friday for a movie night. Seeing her so happy gives me hope for my own romantic future.

‘And how was it with Merle yesterday?’ she asks.

‘Incredible,’ I grin, shivering at the memory.

‘Ooh, does that mean things have progressed?’

She claps her hands with increasing enthusiasm as I give her a rundown, then she peppers me with questions about the size of his penis, whether he shaves his balls and what his come face looks like. Typical Lucy.

But I’m happy to replay all the details. I can’t stop going on about him and how he makes me feel like a goddess. He’s unveiled a side of me I didn’t even know existed.

‘I’m glad I’ve got Aiden or I’d be dying of jealousy,’ Lucy says, taking over the styling of my hair when she sees me struggling with the back. She twists it into long, loose waves so it bounces round my shoulders.

‘Is it too much?’ I ask when we look at the finished result. I’m worried I look like I’m going clubbing rather than to a daytime dance rehearsal.

‘Not at all. Why shouldn’t you look fantastic? It’s your TV debut.’

‘This bit is just us in training, though.’

I don’t want to look stupid or over the top.

‘Merle will love it,’ she assures me. ‘Do you really want to tone it down?’

And the truth is, I don’t. I want Merle not to be able to take his eyes off me. I know we won’t be able to rip each other’s clothes off while the cameras are there, but I still want him to be thinking about it. And when they’re gone …

Merle, however, barely glances up when I arrive at the studio, because he’s busy telling the three people who I assume are the camera crew where he wants them to put their equipment so it’s not in our way.

I try not to let this upset me – I can see he’s in work mode – but I can’t help feeling a bit put out after the effort I’ve made.

When he does come over and greet me, it’s a courteous peck on each cheek that feels awkward and formal. I want the other Merle back. There’s a very different atmosphere in the studio with the other three present – it definitely feels overcrowded.

‘This is really weird,’ I whisper to him.

‘Don’t worry.’ He pats my arm in the way a colleague might, not a lover. ‘We just do our thing and they do theirs.’

‘All of our thing?’ I ask, with what I hope is a seductive smile, wanting some reassurance that things haven’t changed between us since yesterday.

‘No!’ he says sharply, making me flinch. But then his expression softens. ‘We’ll save the best bits for after they’ve gone.’

And my alarm dissipates. He hasn’t had a change of heart after all. He’s just being professional while the camera team is here, that’s all.

‘Come and meet the others,’ he says. ‘This is the shoot director Sarah. Steve and Andy here are on lights and mics. Everyone, this is Kate.’

We shake hands and say hello.

‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Sarah says, making me think I must still look a bit shellshocked from my exchange with Merle.

‘We’ll just film a bit of you dancing, a bit of you talking about how things are going so far, then we’ll chuck in something funny at the end to give the audience a laugh.

We’ll probably need an hour or two of your time at the most. Sound okay? ’

I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. ‘Sounds perfect.’

I want to get this over with as quickly as possible.

‘Okay, let’s start by filming you arriving,’ Sarah suggests. ‘We’re going to pretend it’s still Monday and that this is the first time the two of you have met, so try to look excited when you come through the door.’

I leave the room and try to convince myself this is perfectly normal. I’m just walking into the studio. How hard can it be?

But it doesn’t feel natural, and apparently it doesn’t look it either, so we end up having to film it again.

And then a few more times, while my cheeks flush redder and redder with embarrassment.

In between each take, Merle wants to watch a playback on Sarah’s laptop, which takes ages because she has to remove the memory card from the camera, transfer it to her MacBook then wait for the file to download.

And every time, Merle shakes his head and points out something he’s not happy with.

‘Again please,’ he says for what feels like the hundredth time, and I realise it was wildly optimistic that the filming would only take a couple of hours. I’m not sure it’s ever going to end.

‘You’re doing great,’ Sarah tells me. ‘Just try to relax a bit more, and don’t look directly at the camera. I know it’s hard but try to pretend it’s not there. And remember to smile. Right, one more time …’

When Merle is finally satisfied, we move on to filming part of our dance routine.

Even though Sarah is the expert, Merle has his own ideas about where the camera should be to capture our best angles, which results in a few animated exchanges.

Standing awkwardly while they bicker, I tell myself it’s a good thing that he wants us to look our best.

Merle continues to watch each take on the laptop and find fault with all of them.

A lot of it’s because I’m so tense that he can’t lead me through the moves properly.

I find myself wishing he wasn’t such a perfectionist and I suspect Sarah feels much the same way.

I think we both breathe a sigh of relief when Merle finally gives one of the clips a nod of approval.

Thankfully, the part where she films us chatting is easier, because Merle jumps straight in and does most of the talking, so I don’t feel like I’m messing things up.

There’s no more breaking into a sweat every time he wants to start over; I just keep a smile plastered on my face and nod enthusiastically while he talks about the amazing progress we’re making with our kizomba, even if I think he’s exaggerating.

Sarah wants to finish up by having us do something that shows how much fun we’re having. There isn’t much in the way of props in the studio, but she brings a chair into the middle of the room, finds some music on her phone and proposes a game of musical chairs for two.

She has us dancing round in a circle till she stops the music, then racing to be first onto the seat. On the first attempt, Merle crashes into me and makes me tumble to the floor.

‘Cut!’ he demands stroppily as he hauls me up.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, brushing dust from my leggings. It’s the first intimate gesture of the day. I nod. I’m mildly mortified, but I’m not hurt.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ he asks Sarah.

‘Can we just try it one more time?’ she says.

It takes nine more attempts before Merle is happy with the scene Sarah has captured – of him and me both ending up on the chair, back to back, nodding at the camera with our arms folded across our chests.

If I’m honest, it seems a bit cheesy to me, and I feel a flicker of unease about the show on Saturday night, but Merle doesn’t appear to share my concerns, and neither does Sarah, so I must just not be seeing whatever it is they’re seeing.

‘I think that’s it then,’ Sarah says. ‘We’ve got everything we need.’

I want to hug her. I’ve been dying to hear those words for hours. I watch impatiently as she starts packing up her gear with Steve and Andy.

‘Thanks for your perseverance, everyone,’ she says when they’re done. ‘I know it’s been a bit of a slog, but I think you’ll agree it was worth it.’

It’s all I can do not to cheer as Merle pushes the door closed behind them.

I can’t believe how long it’s taken and how little of the day we have left – although I’m not sure how much fun the remaining time will be if Merle doesn’t drop his professionalism.

I breathe a sigh of relief when he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and kisses me the minute we’re alone again.

‘Today has given me an idea,’ he says, taking my hand and leading me to the middle of the dance floor. ‘There’s something I want to try to help you feel the steps and not just step them.’

‘Sounds intriguing.’ I smile. I think I know what’s coming next, and I’m so ready for it.

He pushes my arms into the air and slides my top up over my head, making my smile double in size.

‘Close your eyes,’ he instructs, and I shiver with anticipation as I do as he says.

I hear him crossing the room and rummaging around in his bag. Then he walks back to me and slides something silky over my eyes. It’s a scarf, which he ties in a loose knot behind my head, blindfolding me.

I hold my breath, not sure I like being so vulnerable, but as he trails his fingers over my skin, I realise I want him to do whatever it is he has in mind. I don’t doubt he’ll make sure I enjoy it.

He releases the catch on my bra and lets it fall to the floor. I wait for the feel of his hands on my breasts, but it doesn’t come. I force myself to be patient.

He lifts my feet one by one, to remove my shoes, and places my bare feet back on the cool wood.

Trailing his hands up my leggings, he pauses on the waistband, then he rolls them down over my hips, lifting my feet again to free me from the material.

As he repeats the process with my underwear, I’m so conscious of my nakedness that my heart starts pounding.

But his hands still don’t explore my body.

Just as I’m about to beg him to do something, anything, he takes my arms and moves them up to his shoulders, nudging his leg between mine – the starting position of our dance.

My nipples brush against the smooth material of his T-shirt, sending currents through my body as he starts walking us through the steps, slowly at first, then a little faster until we’re eventually at the full speed.

The sensation of his clothes brushing against my bare skin is so arousing. As he uses his body to guide mine, I feel like I’ve become an extension of him, moving wherever he wants me to go.

He breaks away twice, once to put our music on, so we can dance to our song, and the second time I don’t know what for, until he slides my blindfold off and I realise he was filming us.

‘Merle! What the hell?’

‘Don’t be angry, please,’ he soothes. ‘I just want you to see how you look when you’re truly feeling the dance.’

‘But you should have asked; it’s not—’

‘Trust me,’ he says, pressing the phone into my hands and moving round behind me so he can watch over my shoulder.

‘Just watch it once,’ he whispers when I hesitate to press play. ‘Then we’ll delete it, I promise.’

‘From the Cloud, too?’ I can hear the anxiety in my voice.

He puffs his breath out. ‘I never store anything. Why open yourself up to the risk of hacking?’

And I waver. Instinct tells me to delete it immediately – he can’t film me naked without my permission and just assume it’s okay. But curiosity gets the better of me. What do I look like when I’m nude, exposed, but engrossed in our dance and so ridiculously turned on? I kind of want to know.

So I take a deep breath and start the video, telling myself it’s happened now, so I might as well see it.

And what I don’t predict is how indescribably erotic it is watching myself pressed up against him while we move across the dance floor.

We look completely immersed in each other and our routine looks all the better for it. I had no idea I could look like that.

As the recording plays out, Merle reaches for my breasts and I moan softly as my nipples harden under his touch.

‘Play it again,’ he whispers huskily as he moves his hands downwards and starts working his magic down below. It’s suddenly harder to concentrate on the screen.

As the routine comes to an end for the second time, he takes the phone from me and drops it into his bag, finally pulling me into a full embrace. We kiss for a long time until he steps back to strip his own clothes away.

‘I came prepared this time,’ he says, pulling a yoga mat out of his bag and unfurling it on the floor. We lower ourselves onto it and he smothers me with kisses before rolling on top of me.

I move my legs up onto his shoulders before he enters me, so he can push in deep, and in an instant all the earlier frustrations of the day evaporate from my mind.

All I can think about now is that one part of my body where everything is happening – the glorious, all-encompassing sensations that are already taking over me.

I can’t take my eyes off Merle as his forehead creases in concentration and his biceps bulge from the effort of supporting himself.

I move my hands to my breasts, thinking back to how sexy I felt before when he watched me touch myself, which makes him lose his rhythm and slam against me, sending waves of pleasure rocketing through me.

Sensing I’m about to come, he pulls away and drops my legs back to the floor, burying his face between them till I lose control under the expert flicks of his tongue. But he keeps going, stretching my orgasm out for longer than I ever knew was possible.

Pulling away again, he deftly flips me over and draws me up onto my knees so he can enter me from behind.

My head spins lightly and my arms feel weak as he slams against me, but I don’t want him to stop.

I don’t want this feeling to ever stop. My nipples are tingling and I can feel my wetness everywhere – on my thighs, between my buttocks.

He grabs my hips and crashes against me one final time as he lets out his now-familiar roar.

‘I knew my idea would work,’ he says when we’re lying side by side afterwards, catching our breath. ‘I think you feel it now. I think you’re ready.’

And for the first time, I let myself believe he might be right.