by SM Olivier
“Good, good,” she praised. “Now, into an aerial.”
I finished my turns and took a few quick steps to gain the momentum I would need to complete the move. After I did my aerial, I then scrambled up the scaffolding they had brought in.
“Now, follow me.” Naila did a series of steps, and I attempted to mirror her movements. “Again.” Naila did the steps once more.
I nodded and did it again on the four-foot by eight-foot planks of wood. I barely even noticed my small “stage.” It was almost surreal having such a creative choreographer teaching me choreography for a music video. I still felt like I was going to wake up from a dream; the whole thing was so amazing and unreal.
And Naila? She and I just clicked. Her way of being firm, task-driven, yet encouraging was the type of choreographer I worked best with. She seemed to understand the best way to teach me almost immediately. Zane seemed to have taken to her just as well as I had.
Zane didn’t have as many parts as I did but continued to silently encourage me and root for me on the sidelines when he wasn’t needed.
She continued to teach us, and I soaked it all in. When she started playing Bloodfeathers by Uncaged from the top, I was totally immersed in the lyrics and movements. I felt the song not just with my body but with my soul. I felt the angst, the desire. The fear and hope.
I wanted to know who had written it. It resonated deep within me. Essentially, the song is about a man who finds an injured girl and falls deeply in love with her. The writer creatively decided to liken the man and woman to a bird collector and his bird. I was to play the part of the bird, and Zane would be my “savior/handler.”
In the dance, Zane, enamored by me, was to place me in a cage with the other birds he’d collected over time. When I’d begin to heal from my original injuries, he wouldn’t want to let me go, so he would clip my wings, which results in accidentally trimming my blood feathers, injuring me once again.
Feeling remorse, he would decide to separate himself from me, doting on the other birds in his care, as I watched on. My anger and hurt would then cause me to want to escape and fly free. But realizing I couldn’t fly, I would fall into a depression. My wings would grow back, and later he’d finally set me free.
Once I gained my freedom, I’d realize I didn’t want it after all. I wanted to be with my collector. I’d return to his side, but this time he wouldn’t try to clip my wings. Instead, he’d allow me to come and go as I pleased, where I’d be content to stay with him forever.
Right now, I felt like I was playing Zane’s role. I felt like my injured bird was Crew. Maybe the more I had clung to him, the more he had desired his freedom. Only he had escaped, and I could only hope he would return to me one day.
“There, there!” Naila cried out. I stumbled to a stop. “Where did you go, Peyton?”
I looked at her in confusion as the last notes of the song faded out. I was out of breath, and a subtle sheen of sweat was rolling down my back and face.
“What do you mean?” I inquired as I fixed my messy bun.
“It was like you were in your own world but so connected to ours,” Naila stated.
I cleared my throat somewhat uncomfortably. I didn’t know if she was displeased with me or wanted me to continue what I was doing.
“When I dance, I try to get lost in the lyrics,” I explained. “I attempted to portray the injured bird and how she falls in love with the bird collector.”
Naila's face glows with a smile. “That was perfect. You need to continue that way of thinking when you’re in practice, especially when the cameras are rolling. And Zane,” she calls, looking at him, “I love the chemistry you have together. I have no doubt you are totally enamored with her on and off the stage. I just need to feel more anguish and pain from you when you release Peyton. Got it?”
“I can do that.” Zane nodded as he took a long draw from his water bottle. I squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile.
“The others should be here in an hour, plus our lunch is here,” Naila continued. “Let’s recharge and hit it hard again after lunch. I have a feeling we can be out of here by six, seven at the latest if all goes well.” Naila then turned and exited the room.
Zane and I looked at each other, our wide grins matching. He picked me up and twirled me around.
“This is exciting, yeah?” he trilled.
“To put it lightly,” I leaned in and brushed my lips against his. “I’m so happy you’re here with me.”
“Me, too.” Zane brushed his lips against mine but took it a step further by running his tongue across my lips.
I opened my mouth, loving the feel of his tongue sliding against mine. He weaved his hand in my hair to tilt my head back while his other hand gripped my hips. I moaned against his lips as I felt my body melt against him. I didn’t even care that we were both sweaty and gross. It was slightly erotic in a way, and suddenly I wanted to see how quickly we could find a release. Right now, a quickie sounded wonderful.
“Food!” Naila yelled at us from down the hall. “You need the energy, both of you.”
We looked at each other and laughed once more as we went in the direction of her yell.
“Maybe we can quickly eat and find a quiet place before the others get here,” I told him wickedly.
He looked at me in surprise before he started laughing. “I like your way of thinking. Where there’s a will, there’s definitely a way. And I feel a lot of will.”
I giggled and interlaced his fingers with mine. “Think Naila will notice us missing for ten, maybe fifteen minutes?”
“I can have us both there in ten,” Zane said with confidence.
“Prove it,” I saucily challenged as I winked at him.
26
●
Karma
“Okay, let’s take a break,” Naila smiled. “I’m going to see if our lunch was delivered. Hydrate,” she reminded us before going out of the room.
I didn’t hesitate to make a beeline for my bag. As each day passed, I realized my throat seemed to be healing. My voice wasn’t as raspy. I realized the more water I drank and hot tea with lemon and honey, the better. Both helped significantly.
I took a long drink from my water bottle. I was a “good” kind of tired. I looked over at Zane and saw the same contentment in his smile. I was on such a high.
I leaned down to check my phone and saw a lot of text messages. Most of them were from the guys congratulating me on getting the spot. I scoffed when I saw Madison’s good luck text. I knew she was trying to still work her way into my good graces.
I was about to put my phone away when I noticed I had missed a message. I stilled when I saw Crew’s name.
Crew: You can’t believe everything that people tell you, Angel. Please trust me.
I frowned recalling the conversation we’d had. He seemed just as evasive now as he had been that night. I didn’t understand why he wanted me to trust him. What was he up to? Was he in trouble?
“What does this even mean?” I groused as I showed Zane.
Zane read the text over my shoulder. “He texted me essentially the same thing.” Zane sighed. “He said he’s not back with Jana and said they were just at the same party. I know in the past, when he was going through stuff, he’d withdraw from us.” He gave me a tender look, reassuring me. “He’ll come back when he’s sorted out everything in his head, Peyton.”
I felt tense and wondered what Crew was up to. I hated not seeing him or talking to him. It was like a vital piece of my heart was missing. But I also didn’t want to force myself on him if he needed the space to clear his head.
I texted him back.
Peyton: Please tell me you’re okay. Why aren’t you talking to any of us?
I didn’t have to wait long before he responded.
Crew: I am. I just need some time. Please, just trust me.
I let out a sound between a growl and a snort. His lack of words and details aggravated me. I wanted to unleash all the frustration
I felt. I wanted to let him know his absence was hurting me. Even though a small piece of me was comforted by him finally responding to me, I felt like I deserved more of an explanation.
“Lunch, is here,” Naila came back into the room. “Let’s refuel our bodies and rest before the others get here.”
“Thanks, we’ll be right there,” Zane smiled at Naila.
She turned and left. Zane embraced me from behind me and kissed my shoulder. “We’re just going to have to continue praying he’s okay and hope he’ll work this out soon.”
Zane seemed so calm, and I tried to soak in his energy. He had known Crew forever, knew his behaviors and patterns. So, I decided to take a cue from him. If Zane wasn’t worried, then maybe I shouldn’t be either.
I nodded, took a deep breath in, and forced myself to let go. I couldn’t work myself up into an anxious state. I had to trust Crew like he asked me to.
●
He pinned my hands against the stall door and kissed the sides of my neck from behind. “You’re sure you want it quick?” he husked in my ear.
“Yes,” I mewled when his large hands lightly skimmed my stomach.
The nerves in my skin jumped acutely to each gentle brush. I pushed my rear back into Zane’s hips. I could feel how hard he was and knew he was just as excited. I purposely gyrated my hips on him, teasing him further.
“Hurry,” I let out a sound similar to a moan and command.
He grabbed the waist of my shorts and shoved them down my hips. They pooled into a heap at my feet, and I stepped only one foot out of them just in case we had to make a hasty cover-up. I hadn’t really thought Zane would take me up on a quickie, but the moment Naila had to leave the room to take a phone call, we hastily took a few more bites of our quinoa power bowls—a delicious concoction of quinoa, bacon, spinach, cherry tomatoes, avocado, and hard boil eggs. However, I felt an unbearable yearning to feel and have Zane inside me.
Maybe it was because when we danced today, it had felt a lot like foreplay. Or perhaps it felt like I needed an additional release from all the tension my mind produced when I allowed my thoughts to wander. There were very few things I thought I could control in my life, and maybe this was one.
“Let me make sure you’re ready.” He chuckled against my cheek.
He trailed his lips, tongue, and teeth against the sensitive skin of my nape. My fingers balled into a fist as he traced a path to my inner thighs. I was already so turned on, and all we did was exchange a few kisses and dirty words.
“Shit, you’re more than ready,” he moaned as he swiped a finger over my slit.
“I could have told you that,” I groaned playfully. “Now, get it in there so they don’t notice we’re missing.”
In truth, it was just Naila that I was concerned about. Martin, Jack, Oscar, and Grady had left. Martin had left his assistant, Camille, behind, but she was in her office getting other necessary things completed for the music video. Naila, Zane, and I had been left alone for the most part since we convinced Sal to take a break.
Sal seemed reluctant to leave the studio at first, but after reassuring him, we convinced him to go sightseeing. Apparently, a few of Uncage’s security were already stationed on the floor, and his presence wasn’t necessary. I didn’t want him to go crazy watching us practice. Plus, we promised I wouldn’t leave the floor for any reason.
My thoughts were quickly brought back to the present when Zane entered me in one smooth, hard thrust. I lowered my face, tucking it into my shoulder, simultaneously whimpering and moaning. He splayed one of his large hands over my stomach and pulled my mouth to him with the other.
It was hot but awkward and messy as our tongues dueled with one another. We swallowed each other's moans and gasps. Zane’s movements were frantic and rough, and I loved every blissful second of it.
“I’m gonna come,” he warned me before slipping his hand to the juncture between my thighs.
His long, deft fingers found me with ease. He rubbed my clit with feverish intent. He applied the perfect amount of pressure, and I felt precariously close to losing it, too. I think I had part exhibitionist in me—the danger of possibly getting caught ramped up my libido to intense heights.
“Like that,” I encouraged him in a breathy moan as he circled my clit.
“I’m coming,” he moaned before lowering his head to my neck.
He ground hard and deep inside me, and I felt the warmth of his seed as he spilled into me. His fingers and the new angle he pounded into me brought me to my own orgasm. One moment I was chasing it, and the next I felt like a bunch of mini-explosions had gone off. I tried to stifle my cries of euphoria as bright spots exploded behind my closed eyes.
“Fuck,” Zane muttered. “That was hot.”
I felt the loss of his presence the instant he slipped out of me and away. I made a sound of displeasure, wishing I could cherish the moment for a few more seconds. He chuckled at me before I felt toilet paper between my shaking thighs.
“We need to do that again,” I agreed on a blissful sigh.
“Anytime, beautiful.” He kissed the side of my neck.
Zane finished cleaning the inside of my thighs. I almost felt drunk as I smiled at his thoughtfulness. The endorphins and oxytocin were wreaking havoc on my body as I reached down and pulled back on my panties and boy-shorts. I rated hot, illicit sex in a public restroom a nine-point five. It would have been a perfect ten if I could’ve savored the sex-high longer. Instead, we had to get back out there and behave as if we hadn’t snuck away for a quickie.
“Go ahead and get out there. I’m going to wash up real quick.” I pulled Zane’s mouth down to mine.
He gave me a dopey smile before kissing me. He lightly smacked my butt before slipping out of the stall.
“Hey!” I mock-protested. His chuckle followed him out the door.
I quickly relieved myself. Then I made my way over to the sink that was in the handicap bathroom stall and inspected myself. My cheeks were flushed, and my green eyes overly bright. I couldn’t do anything about my eyes, but maybe if I splashed my face with cold water, it would help a little? I turned on the faucet and splashed my face, shivering slightly at the shock of it but inwardly smiling at the same time.
I dried my face with paper towels and headed to the stall door. The bolt clicked loudly at the same time I heard the bathroom door push open. I was getting ready to call out to Zane but, luckily, refrained at the last second. I definitely didn’t recognize the brown leather and suede men’s ankle boots. I hastily took a few steps back as they paused by my stall.
I quietly cursed. There was a reason we chose the men’s restroom. There were no other men in the building, and we didn’t want Naila or Camille walking in on us. It would be just my luck that I get caught in the men's bathroom the first time I decide to be adventurous. I was a horrible liar, so I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t noticed the sign or the urinals indicating that this was a men’s restroom.
The shoes moved forward, and I tried to cover my mouth and nose as if I were a heavy breather. I prayed they hadn’t noticed my moccasin-clad feet by the stall door. My feet were average by women’s standards but tiny compared to a man’s.
I heard the unmistakable sound of someone urinating, and the seconds felt like hours had passed. I listened to the urinal flush, then footsteps to the sink. The sink began to run, and I inwardly cursed whoever it was. I knew good-hygiene practice demanded you wash them for a minimum of twenty seconds. Hell, I remembered the teacher making me sing the A-B-C’s in pre-school, but this man was taking an excessive amount of time. I swear I could sing the A-B-C song five times before he stopped. I heard the whirl of the automatic hand towel dispenser and secretly cursed this guy again. What the hell was taking so long?!
Finally, the door opened. I took a deep gasping breath, not realizing I had been holding my it a little too well. Then I counted to ten before quickly sliding the bolt in the door and making my way out. I yanked the door open and rushed out the do
or, only to stumble into a broad chest.
“Shit, sorry,” I mumbled.
“What were you doing in there?” a harsh masculine voice demanded at the same time Zane came rushing forward.
“Peyton, I got a refill on your water bottle,” Zane looked at me with panic in his eyes.
I looked up into the man’s angry cobalt-blue eyes. I registered the ash-blond hair styled in the disconnected pompadour: sides shorn close to his head, the top half longer and swept to the side. He would be a hot-looking man if he didn’t look so pissed off. A second later, I recognized him as one of the identical twins of Uncaged.
To affirm my theory, his brother came strolling out of one of the offices. “What’s going on?” he asked as he threw a handful of M&M’s in his mouth.
I’d met identical twins before; typically, they always seemed to strive to embrace their own identities, and naturally, clothing was one of those ways. But these men were dressed identically, save their ribbed Henleys. One wore gray while the other wore white. Their jeans and shoes were exactly the same.
“That’s what I wanted to know,” Angry Twin sneered. “This girl was hiding in the men’s bathroom. Let me see it.” He held out his hand.
I changed my mind. Not all the men in Uncaged were as nice as Grady. This man was a Summer’s Eve bottle. The industrial sized one, at that.
“See what?” My embarrassment was quickly replaced with ire.
I didn’t know what he thought I had been doing, but his anger was unwarranted. So I had a quickie in the bathroom, but according to what I just read during lunch, Laken and Ayden−AKA Layden− of Uncaged were no angels. They had at least one sex-tape out there where they publicly had sex with a girl together. How dare he judge me!
“Your phone,” he snapped.
“It’s in my bag,” I snapped back.