by Luxie Ryder
Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2010 Luxie Ryder
ISBN: 978-0-9867225-7-8
Cover Artist: Dara England
Editor: BL Brown
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To the "Sherrie's" among us.
Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.
-Eleanor Roosevelt
Dance Like Nobody's Watching
Luxie Ryder
Copyright © 2010
Chapter One
Sherrie Alveston held her breath as the seam on the trousers she’d spent the morning sewing and adjusting threatened to give way. It was hardly her fault. The athletic body of the male dancer wearing them was subjecting her needlework to undue strain.
Tyrone Webster’s impressive thighs parted as he straddled the actress paired with him during a spirited Samba. Sherrie winced again, her stomach tying in knots. A patch of white appeared suddenly in the crotch of the black sequin pants and her worst fears were realized—the damn thing split.
The production band fell silent and embarrassed giggles echoed around the interior of the studio. Shocked gazes from the audience focused on the front of Ty’s gaping trousers. Sherrie wanted to run and hide but she couldn’t, and not just because of her disability.
As the new wardrobe assistant for the top rated show, Strictly Dancing, all last minute alterations and repairs to the costumes were Sherrie’s sole responsibility. She’d jumped on the prospect of working with celebrities, who raised money for their charities by dancing with famed ballroom stars. Despite the inflated egos, chaos and stress of working on a busy production set, she loved her job. When Sherrie resigned from her position as an office clerk two years earlier, to enroll on a fashion design course with the compensation from her accident, she knew life would be much more exciting. But sometimes she questioned the sanity of her decision to join Chelwood Studios.
“Sherrie!” The director’s booming voice cut short her escape. She turned back slowly, unwilling to lift her gaze from the floor. “I thought you fixed Ty’s pants?” he barked, pinning her to the spot with his demanding tone.
“Um, I did. At least, I thought I did,” Sherrie spluttered, desperate to not be the center of attention. Dancers, musicians, tech staff and the entire audience all stared at her, awaiting her response. She’d only had the job with the production company for a month and she couldn’t believe she’d made a mistake so soon. “You want me to do it again, Baz?”
“Yes, of course I want you to do it again, but properly this time,” the director answered, his gaze frenzied.
“Arrogant jerk,” Sherrie mumbled. When he turned as if he’d heard her, she dropped her gaze and hid behind the blanket of her long curly black hair. His tone made her feel like a teenager with a new and exciting job, rather than a woman in her mid thirties with vital skills. If her frazzled libido hadn’t been the reason for the stupid stitching mistake, she’d have given him attitude as good as she got.
“I’ve got a short fuse and a very long memory,” he warned, loud enough for the entire studio to hear. “It might do you good to remember that.” Sherrie’s toes curled in embarrassment and her cheeks stung with a blush. She cursed the ground below her feet for not swallowing her up during moments like this. Thank God the studio taped the show rather than transmitting it live.
“Hey, Baz, give her a break.”
Sherrie looked behind Baz and smiled when her gaze landed on Ty. He winked and the gesture calmed her frazzled nerves a small degree, until Baz turned to stare at her, as if daring her to enjoy the moment. Ty didn’t seem to care how angry Baz acted. “It’s not her fault. I told the designer this fabric wouldn’t take the punishment.”
A snort escaped before she could stop it. Punishment? That was a funny way to describe the strain Ty put on the crotch of his pants. He laughed and her gaze wandered over him again, feeling the blush crawl up her cheeks as she realized he must’ve known what she’d been laughing at.
Sherrie’s heart pounded as the warmth from his eyes seeped into her. She had a major crush on him even before she’d ever joined the show. Discovering he was a nice guy in person only intensified the attraction. More importantly, he never patronized her or pretended not to notice she wore a leg brace, and it made her admire him all the more.
Unlike most people she met, he came right out and asked her about it during their one and only conversation so far. She’d been grateful for the rare opportunity to set the tone for the discussion for once, rather than trying to make others feel comfortable talking about it. Sherrie told him how she’d been out on the Harley, on her way to visit her best friend and simply ‘ran out of road’ in TopangaCanyon. She spared him the details of her injuries and just how serious the accident had been. The pillion crushed the lower half of her leg and she’d almost died from blood loss by the time she was found. Ty seemed to sense what she wasn’t saying but he didn’t push her on it. He just smiled and said she was lucky to be alive and then teased her by asking what the Harley had ever done to deserve her.
Ty’s intervention seemed to mellow Baz a little. “Yeah, well, just sort it out,” the director said, far less willing to curse out one of the stars of the show than a lowly assistant.
Sherrie rushed to her little booth, hands shaking nervously as she got ready to make the repairs. If only it had been anyone but Ty, she wouldn’t have been so careless in the first place. The attraction she felt for him never failed to disrupt her concentration. Now, she was faced with the task of being near to his well-stuffed package again. Having trouble remembering how to function while doing the repair earlier had been the cause of this dilemma.
The dancers usually kept their costumes on as the seamstresses worked; saving both time and embarrassment by not exposing what was usually very minimal underwear. A man in skin-tight Lycra couldn’t wear much more than an athletic support underneath without it showing through.
“Are you ready for me?” Ty asked, making her jump as he appeared in the doorway.
You have no idea how ready! “Yes, come on in,” she replied as calmly as her voice allowed.
Sherrie took a shaky breath and sank to her knees in front of him, ready to do the fast repair needed to get him back on set before the director blew a gasket. Her gaze travelled upwards even as she willed it not to, and her mouth went dry as she met the bulge at his groin. She coughed to cover her almost audible groan before daring to look up into his face. If he noticed her perusal, he didn’t let on.
Ty Webster was six feet of lithe sinewy muscle, with thighs that could crack walnuts, made hard from years of training. The outfit he wore exposed his broad, hairless chest, typical of what male dancers often wore for the Latin routines—a skin tight shirt, revealing strong, bulging biceps, and slashed right down to the waist. The trousers were even tighter than the damn shirt. At thirty five years old, he had the body of a man half his age thanks to years of competing at the top of his field. He’d been with Strictly Dancing since the show first aired and watching him every Sunday night had been one of Sherrie’s guilty pleasures.
Ty’s moss green eyes, dark blonde hair and killer smile knocked her off her feet even through the TV screen, but in the flesh, he was the epit
ome of lethal sensuality. Since then, she’d watched him from the shadows, her lust for him growing with each routine. She would’ve rather died in the motorbike accident that mangled her leg than ever let her injuries hold her back, for she had no qualms about pursuing men she wanted. But for some strange reason Ty was different. It was like he was on a pedestal she couldn’t reach.
His eyes narrowed to barely more than slits when he finally looked down at her face, mere inches from his groin. An erotic image flashed into her mind briefly and she wondered how he would react if she allowed her mouth to follow her thoughts. Without thought of the consequences, her teeth gently skimmed over the bulge stretching the fabric of his trousers, then she quickly corrected herself, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“Are you ok?” Ty asked. “Your hands are shaking.”
“I’m scared I might prick you with the needle.” She laughed when she realized what she’d said. Good choice of word, idiot…especially when so near to his…
Ty clearly didn’t miss the humor.
“Would it be easier if I took them off?” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband, sliding the trousers to his knees before she thought to avert her eyes.
The white elastic pouch of his jock strap filled her vision. For a moment she was rendered speechless. Once her mind refocused, Sherrie ducked her head and helped him step out of the pants before scurrying over to her chair to work on them. Ty kept his back to the wall, folding his hands loosely over his groin out of politeness rather than embarrassment she guessed. But he’d forgotten about the mirror behind him. Sherrie bit into her bottom lip when her gaze landed on the reflection of his tautly muscled ass.
“So, do you like it?”
Sherrie’s gaze flew up to his. Had he noticed where her eyes had been? “Excuse me?”
“Strictly Dancing—how do you like working on the show?”
She chuckled, relieved. “Oh, the show…it’s great.”
A twinkle appeared in his eyes. “And my ass? Do you like that too?”
A full bodied, uninhibited laugh tore from her throat. Ty joined in, unfolding his hands and placing them on the counter behind him, seeming to enjoy her response.
“Thank God for that,” he said. Sherrie frowned, unsure what he meant. “This is the first time I’ve seen you truly relax since you got here,” he added.
She smiled. “It’s all a bit new to me, but all of the larger-than-life characters and fake glamour actually appeal to my perverse sense of humor.” Oh shit. She hoped he didn’t think she was talking about him.
Ty appeared not to have heard her anyway. “Well, you should laugh more often. It’s very sexy.”
Forcing herself to remain calm and stick to the matter at hand, Sherrie was also well-aware that his eyes were still on her and it made her nervous all over again. Suddenly, she wished she’d made more of an effort on her appearance, as tight jeans and a scruffy t-shirt were what she usually wore.
“There, all done,” she announced, handing the garment to him and turning her back as he put it on.
“Okay, I’m decent,” he said, then chuckled when she turned to face him. “Thanks.”
Obviously, giving him privacy to dress wasn’t necessary, considering her teeth had already been against his cup. She blushed from the vivid recollection. “No problem.”
He paused by the door, as if he wanted to say something. Sherrie waited for him to speak but Ty simply continued to stare at her with an unreadable expression on his face. She held her breath as his gaze suddenly glanced down to the rest of her body, pausing for a split second on the way back up. She almost felt his gaze when it lingered on her nipples, and she didn’t need to look to know they were hard and probably visible through her thin t-shirt.
Unable to simply stand still as his eyes took a bold assessment of her body, Sherrie looked down towards the trousers she’d just repaired, checking that her stitches would hold. They were more than okay. The seam at Ty’s groin was now managing to successfully restrain the beginnings of a hard-on. She pursed her lips as the cup protecting his package visibly pushed further out, and she wondered if it was painful for a man to sport an erection in a handful of plastic.
He cleared his throat. “I didn’t get your name.”
Her gaze flew back up to his and she realized he’d caught her staring. “Sherilyn…Sherrie,” she corrected.
“Well, Sherrie,” he said, putting a sexy emphasis on the word, “I’m not gonna be able to go back out there like this am I?” He gestured down towards his swollen groin but she didn’t flinch, staring resolutely into his eyes despite the urge to allow herself just one more look. “So if you don’t mind, I’m gonna need to be alone for a minute.”
“What are you going to do?”
Ty’s raucous laugh made her blush again. What a moronic thing to ask a man with an erection.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna do that. I just need a moment to compose myself and it won’t happen with you standing there with that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“Like you either want to rip my clothes off or have me do it to you.” His eyelids dropped, shading his beautiful green eyes as he stared at her nipples once more. Sherrie’s body reacted to the uncensored heat in his gaze, her groin pulsing with a need that almost made her moan aloud.
Sherrie raised a brow. “Are you always this blunt?”
“No. Not usually, but then I’m not usually this turned-on without the time to do something about it either.”
“Ty!” Someone called from the hall beyond her door.
“I’ll tell them you’ll be ready in a minute,” she said, finally spurred into action. She’d stood frozen like a rabbit in the headlights until the interruption, unsure of what her next move should be. The desire to see just how far things would go almost won out over her intention to keep her cool…and her job.
He didn’t move out of her way at first, forcing her to slide past him in the narrow doorway. For a brief moment, Ty’s bulge grazed her hip and the warmth of his breath fanned her cheek. She almost paused, unwilling to end the contact…until she saw Baz bearing down on them with a furious look on his face.
“What the hell is going on?”
Sherrie ignored Baz’s withering look as she pushed Ty further back into the room and out of the director’s line of sight. She shut the door.
“How long does it take to sew up a pair of pants?” Baz demanded.
“They…they were more damaged than they seemed at first,” she said quickly. “He’s just putting them back on.”
Baz looked as if he didn’t believe her but she knew that he didn’t have time to stand and argue. “Well, there’s no reason for you both to be here. Gloria needs one of her straps sewn back on.” He turned on his heel to walk away, then paused with an irritated glare when he realized she wasn’t behind him. With a frustrated crook of his finger, the director gestured for her to follow.
Sherrie’s body moved to the command but her mind stayed in the room with the delicious dancer. Just how far would he have gone? How far would she have let him go?
* * * *
Images of Ty branded her mind as she tried in vain to get to sleep later that night. The depressingly small room in the tiny apartment she’d rented—until she could afford something better—seemed to crowd in on her.
She tossed and turned, unable to force herself to sleep.
Sherrie blew out a frustrated sigh. She would have to relieve the tension aching between her legs since she’d had her hands on Ty’s beautiful thighs earlier. Reaching into the bedside drawer, she retrieved her little battery-powered friend. It was no substitute for the real thing—especially not Ty’s impressive package—but it was all she had and it would have to do. Relaxing into the pulsating sensation emanating through her clit when she pressed the vibrator against her heated flesh, images began to flash through her mind. Even though she wasn’t a character in the fantasy, Sherrie watched as Ty an
d someone who looked like her made out on a pile of sequined, vibrantly colored clothing, laying on the floor of a cramped dressing room. The woman in her vision waited with baited breath for the first touch of his mouth when Ty’s head dipped between her legs.
Moving her hand down to her inner thighs, Sherrie fondled herself the way she wanted him to. God!
In her mind, she imagined how he would look when he came. How his gorgeous face would contort as he jerked into her roughly, embedding himself even more deeply inside her. She envisioned his perfect teeth biting into his full lower lip…the sweat beading on his brow as the muscles of his taut abdomen quivered. The first stirrings of an orgasm hit her then, fading away briefly before coming on stronger than before, her body responding to the image of him bucking and groaning beneath her.