Moved Read Free Page B

honesty. It
was thoughtful. He could have taken me for a ride, in between
Barbies, and abused his friendly position a little, but he didn't.
That's a big plus to his character.
    So, we've now put each
other firmly in the friend and flatmate category.
    We really are good
friends, despite our differences. And we need to get along, on a
nice even keel, because we spend so much time together. It would be
a painful and difficult existence otherwise.
    I've told Sandy, more
than once, in very simple terms, so there's no ambiguity in her
mind.
    'Don't even go there,
he's a nightmare...'
    Unfortunately, this
has only served to make him all the more appealing to her.
    The fact that he's a
bad boy, a dyed in the wool player, a Barbie junkie, and not
looking for love or even a sixth date, turns her on like nothing
else.
    She literally swoons
with lust and flushes all over at the mere mention of his name,
like a teenager with a mad crush on a high school jock.
    It's kinda sad really.
Because she'll never get anywhere with him. She'll never be 'the
one' to change him. From what I've seen, I don't think anyone
will.
     
    *
     
    There's twenty of us
in his crew. We're progressive, urban, modern, traditional, fringe,
and just about everything else.
    We're 'Censored.’
    It's an apt name for
our particular style and brand of dance. Because it's for adult
eyes only. It's tasteful but rather erotic. We tell a story, in
heated choreography. Love, passion, betrayal, hatred... and all the
other strong, essential emotions...and we set the scene in any era
in time, from early stone-age to futuristic.
    We're booked up for
the next three months at the Adelphi, currently allotted Tuesday,
Wednesday, and Thursday evenings. Not the best of days, but it's
regular pay.
    When we achieve the
dizzy heights of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday stardom, I'll crack
open the champagne and run around Trafalgar Square in a thong
bikini yelling... “Yee-ha...We've fucking made it...!”
    But until then, I'll
keep my inner joy, at our continuing steps up the success ladder,
all to myself. Just in case I tempt fate and it all goes pear
shaped.
    Mason and I are
partners, and the principal leads in the troupe. We know each
others strengths and weaknesses. Not that we have many of the
latter.
    Dancing with him is
the love of my life. And I'm pretty sure it's a two way street.
    Acting the part of
lovers on the dance floor suits us both down to the ground. I get
to roll all over a good looking man and he gets to roll all over
me. It's not sex, but it feels pretty good at times. And tit size
aside, he thinks I have the best body and the cutest ass he's ever
seen or grabbed. A true compliment, if I ever heard one.
    Off the dance floor
we're wicked buddies who straight talk to the point of rudeness
with each other. It's irrelevant that we have X and Y chromosomes
and different body parts.
    I know that men and
women don't generally have this kind of strong friendship
successfully, because sex gets in the way. But we seem to manage it
with no effort whatsoever. We're strictly compartmentalised and
controlled.
    I could sleep naked in
the same bed as him and not be tempted at all.
    Not that I plan on
testing that out, just in case I'm wrong.
     
     

Chapter Two
     
    I'm getting ready for
my big Friday night of fun. And my grand lip stud unveiling...
    Mason calls out,
“Don't wait up honey-bunch,” and leaves. I'm getting my dress on.
It's a sweet little number, in black, of course. Short, tight, and
sleeveless with a slash neck.
    It's a squeeze, but
I'm finally in there. And it's looking kinda slinky and cute,
hugging my ass tighter than Mason in a fast uplift.
    I put on my make-up
and straighten my long brown hair, then pin and arrange it in a
sleek side style, sweeping across one shoulder. I curl the ends for
a little more glamour.
    “Mmmmm, not too bad at
all,” I say out loud, looking at the finished result, and smiling
to myself.
    I can do glamour
pretty well, with a little