by M R Field
“Alright, arseface,” Trice reaches over and taps my hand. “Besides, once you get your act together and sort yourself out with a certain redhead, you can gross us out too.”
Flicking the paper out to straighten the page, I place it flat on the table and ignore her statement. I don’t need meddlers. It’s bad enough Alex told my sister about Hazel.
“Hey,” Trice squeezes my hand. “Don’t be mad. I was just joking.”
I grunt and flick to the sports section.
“Can we just drop it?” I grumble. “I have enough on my plate.”
“Yes, of course.” She muses. “We’re getting our costumes made at the moment. Can’t wait for you to see them.”
“I’m sure you’ll look great,” I concede, not wanting to stay grumpy for too long.
“Oh, Robbie. You have no idea. Remember that time you lost your mind watching her perform in Rent back at home?”
How could I ever forget? Out of all the things to have my mind thinking about, it had to be that.
“I wasn’t that bad,” I lie.
“You were rabid and it was very entertaining.”
“What did I miss?” Alex interjects, munching on his cereal.
“Just Hazel’s lead role in the local production. Poor Robbie almost had a heart attack watching our shy gal turn up the heat.”
“Oh nice.” Alex laughs. “So the stud was silenced?”
My annoyance begins to climb again. “Laugh all you like, idiot. You couldn’t handle Trice in her dance costumes.”
“Poor baby.” Trice rubs Alex’s arm, pouting her lips and giving him air kisses. “It’s a good thing you won’t see these costumes until opening night then.”
I smile as Alex’s face pales. He was never really good at sharing as a kid and now having his girlfriend up on stage in a routine is going to make him crazy. As for me? I just have to play it cool. If I can. I thought I had before.
What in the actual fuck is this?
I’ve seen the film and I don’t remember half of this shit.
Keep your motherfucking hands to yourself, bud.
Touch her one more time. I dare you, fucker. Do it.
Who’s in charge of her wardrobe?
Sitting in the dark, watching the play led me slowly into a false sense of security. The comfortable, carefully climate-controlled theatre had me believe I was in a chilled place, just cruising along. A safe, not-giving-two-shits, happy place. I listened to the couple of decent-sounding songs, watched the actors do their thing, and thought that this wasn’t too bad … until she came on stage. All bets were off for feeling comfortable.
Her character, Mimi, entered the stage, dressed in a short lacy white dress with a grey cardigan over the top. She had black flat laced-up boots that went half way up her calves, showing her long legs and curvy hips. While the top half of her hair was tied up, her face looked grubby from the grey makeup, and she had deep purple lips. The costume looked more like what one of her skanky sisters would dress in when they went out clubbing. Her outfit was simple, but it was short … so short, so when she sung to the fucker who carved her up with his eyes, he got to see her behind as she bent down in front of him. Shit, even outer space could see her white lacy underwear. Her breasts weren’t hidden either. That outfit left little to my imagination, and I’d like to think I’m pretty creative. I pulled the collar of my shirt from my neck and felt a few beads of sweat at the side of my neck. What? Great, now I’m a creeper.
A soft giggle sounded to my left and Trice cupped her mouth, grinning behind it. I narrowed my eyes and elbowed her.
“Yes, she’s a good actress,” I whispered.
“Uh-huh,” she whisper-giggled back. I growled and focused back on the stage. I could control myself. I could.
The play continued and I had to admit, I got immersed in the story. For our local drama group, they were pretty good. The props were minimal, but it was really effective. That guy who played the lead though, he got on my nerves. Anytime Hazel was near him, he lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. I started to want to punch his lights out. I snuck a piece of gum into my mouth, and as I tucked the wrapper back into my pocket, the lights changed and illuminated the stage centre.
Strong, electrified rifts of an electric guitar sounded alongside a heavy drumbeat. By its own accord, my foot started to tap as my head bobbed. Down the bottom of the stage sat that annoying co-star loudly strumming on his guitar with his head down. I loved a good hard rock sound. My own movements were short-lived as Hazel briskly walked high along the back scaffolding dressed in a silk red and orange kimono, with a mischievous grin on her face. Her hair was in a messy topknot that sat high on her head. Her eyes were coated in dark liner, while her lips were a ruby red. Like any other hot-blooded male, I wanted to know what she had on under that robe.
Hazel began to sing “Out Tonight” in the ballsiest voice that I had ever heard. As she walked along the scaffolding, she clutched her robe and with her words, taunted the audience. A seductive smile spread across her lips as she looked around, and when she sang the first stanza, leading up to singing about her body, her hand let go of her robe and trailed between her breasts, and lingered between her legs. She then tore it away, bringing it back up to her chest next to her other hand and moved her eyes across the audience until she locked them with mine. She ripped it open her robe and …
Holy shit.
What the fuck?
I was heading to hell.
Hazel winked and smiled directly at me as she stood there in tight, shimmery electric blue pants, a black belt and a grey V-neck crop top with black patent leather sleeves. She gripped the bar in front of her and tossed her leg over it, showing off a huge arse heel on leopard skin-print boots. As the song continued, her body gyrated to the movements of the drums as she stared out into the audience. Flicking her leg back over, she kicked it straight up in the air, and I thought my nuts climbed up into my throat. She was a lusty, seductive, feisty kitten, and my body was awakening. It wanted to make her purr. Hell, here I come. But I wanted to have a lot of fun before I got there.
As she moved to the centre staircase, Hazel belted out the lyrics while keeping a firm eye in my direction. I felt each lyric stroke my skin, and roll alongside my tongue. She sung about wooing, and by fuck was she wooing. As she climbed down each step, her long legs glimmered under the stage lights.
Dirty thoughts. Dirty, dirty thoughts were firing into my mind. She reached the final step and kicked her right leg straight up in the air before reaching up into her hair and pulling the clip that fastened it. In one swift movement, she bent down and up, flicking her hair out and sending glitter everywhere. With a shake of her hips, timed with a firm shake of her hair, she had me hypnotised. She was meant to be seducing the character on stage, but every single movement felt aimed solely at me.
Hazel’s hands bent down onto the floor as she began to crawl along the stage, her movements like a wild lioness with each hip gently swaying up and down. The arch in her back made me groan softly. The audience had a direct line to her ample cleavage as she neared the edge of the stage. A few males cheered out to her, and I quickly tore my eyes around to check where the noises were coming from. Back off, fuckers.
I flicked my eyes to the stage, and Hazel swung her body around and sat on the edge, with her legs spread, her hands turned in on her kneecaps. She whispered, “Please take me,” and my nostrils flared as I threw my jacket onto my lap to stop my steel-rod cock from putting on its own display. She swung both her legs around and began to crawl seductively to her co-star.
Reaching his knees, she pulled herself up slowly, singing until the last beat of the song ran out, as she dragged his lips to hers … and I saw red. No fuckin’ way. The lights dimmed and my mind blanked, sending my body into a cold shock. I had forgotten she was acting. I had forgotten that this was a character. I had forgotten that she wasn’t mine. All my mind focused on was how soon until I could see her, rip those pants off her and taste her.
>
This was not good.
The rip of bass and deep Motown lyrics of “Superfreak” by Rick James blare from my phone, shaking me out of my daydream. Both Trice and Alex have left the table, and I glance down to the deafening phone and see Ty’s name light up on the screen. I swipe it quickly to answer.
“Hey.”
“Robbbbbie,” he yawns. A rustling crinkles in the background.
“What’s up?” I ask, spooning the rest of my cereal in my bowl. I hear a faint rustle again, but continue to eat. Since Trice had moved in and was dating Alex, our friendship group grew with her best friends and dance partners, while us guys stayed the same. Alex, Ty and I had moved to Melbourne to study together after we finished school and I’d like to say that we were all grown up by now, but Ty was still a larrikin.
“Just wanted to see what you were up to.”
We begin chatting about the club and how much I have to do. Ty is still the undecided graduate. His accounting degree was probably never going to be used. As our catch-up progresses, Ty decides to come along to the club. The rustling noise sounds again in the background, and my curiosity gets the better of me.
“Dude, what are you doing? What’s that noise?”
“I’m injured,” he whines down the phone.
“What are you talking about?” I reply. “Or am I going to regret asking?”
“I have a UDI, you fucker. Just drive over here and pick me up. “
“What the fuck is a UDI?”
“Unidentified Dick Injury. Fuck knows how I got it; it was meant to be just sex with this wild cat last night. She hooked her claws into me, and re-enacted a couple of yet-to-do positions from my Karma Sutra. I wasn’t suffering any Foster’s Flop, considering I drank more than a small village, so I was still raring to go. All I remember clearly is at one stage while she rode me last night, she thought my dick was a genie lamp. I’m surprised it’s still attached.”
Ouch. Yep. Definitely suffering the sympathy ball pain.
“Okay … so what’s actually wrong? Just squashed nuts?”
“I’ve pulled a muscle.”
He genuinely sounds pained as he winces. “I have a bag of peas on my nuts and can’t move without it hurting. I’m bored as fuck though.”
“Okay, keep the bag on and don’t move it. You need to ice the jewels. I’ll drive over to you, sex fiend. Then you can lie on the couch in my office if you want. Maybe it’s time, you give your cock a rest.”
“Oi! Don’t be a hater. Not my fault the ladies like me. See you soon.”
I hang up the phone and shake my head. Only Ty would be the one to get a sex injury. I load my dishes in the dishwasher and grab my keys from the bench. Those images of Hazel on stage had kept my hand busy for years. If anyone can keep me distracted from thoughts of Hazel, it’s him. Just as long as he keeps the ball chat to a minimum.
Yeah, fat chance.
“Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.”
Oscar Wilde
HAZEL
“Right, so if we do that and move our hands to the side like this,” Trice moves her hands in front of her while sitting back-facing on a wooden chair, while rolling her hip out.“When Hazel sings ‘diamond in’ and Jules does the beat, bring our other arm here and straighten our leg up.”
I watch and repeat her moves, silently singing the words to myself. “Got that, Jules? If you could please play that opening bar again, we can double check we match the rhythm.”
I look in the mirror as our recently hired percussionist, Jules, who was also Robbie’s finance manager, sat upon her Cajon drum. Robbie had put an ad in the paper for the other musos needed to help complete our act, and we were lucky to find a bassist and guitarist. All girls too, which was even better. We were going to make our first night go off with a bang.
“Got it.” She nods, adjusting her legs over her drum while she ran her palms across the front of the hard wood. Beside her sat our bassist, Roni, and guitarist, Maxi. It had been a week and we were in the back room of the club, working out our routine as a group. For the past few days, we’d been meeting up and working out our songs, when Jules wasn’t managing the finances for Robbie, and with the band’s input, we now were up to putting together some sassy moves. Amongst the construction, Robbie had renovated the back room, which was to become a dance studio for Trice while also working as a space for us to rehearse.
Trice had joined the land of the living after I reminded her that the club was opening in two weeks. Now a seasoned dancer, she seems more relaxed but not in a lazy way; she is just content. She’s even more thrilled now, knowing the dancers she worked with are coming to our opening night—a little bit of pressure on us, but only in the sense that she wants them to love her new choice of career. They will. It’s Trice. When has she ever been anything but perfect on stage?
So here we are, getting our routine sorted to Lorde’s “Royals”. I am going to sing and Trice will also sing back up while weaving through a few moves as we perform. We thought using wooden chairs as props would add some sass to our routine. While the Cajon drum gave us the sultry sound we wanted, the sharp movements of hitting the chairs against the cold wooden floor, added the deep soulful sound we needed for the routine.
“So …” I copy the hip move by Trice. “I think this will be pretty good.” Raising my arms to complete the next move, I hum the lyrics while lifting my leg in the air, watching our reflections. Sassy ladies.
“Definitely.” She grins, moving in sync with me. “Okay, from the top. I want you to sing properly so we can be sure.”
“Done.” I tighten my hair before hopping into position. I reach for Trice’s hand quickly and give it a squeeze and pull it back, while she winks at me in the mirror. We position ourselves and I quietly use my right hand to snap my fingers. “One. Two. Three. Four.”
The beat of the drum begins, relaxing my movements as each word moves through me. The performance unfurls and comes to life as every beat thrums in our movements. My eyes light up in excitement as our bodies fall in sync to the rhythm while I start to sing. We are sharp, and our movements flow. We bang the chairs down in time with the drum and curl our bodies down on the chairs before rising back up. As I move my hips and sing the lyrics, I visualise performing in front of a crowd, and then my thoughts wander to performing in front of a single person,Robbie. My voice deepens into a husk, and I feel in touch with the song. The beat of the drum continues and shifts to my chest, tapping against the beat of my heart. I visualise his face as he watches me and am reminded of that one time where I sang to him. My skin heats as I remember how it led to the most intense kiss of my life so far. I want him to rule over me, so badly. My mind then wanders to our most recent kiss, sending sparks across my skin like wild fire. I flick my hips out while walking around the chair, each step a calculated tease as I tap my toes to the beat. Heated thoughts continue to lace my mind, interloping together, his lips on mine, his hands on my hips, and I can’t help sing in a breathy, needy way. I chance a look at Trice who winks at me in approval, and I can’t help but smile in the mirror at her, continuing to woo my reflection and vivid thoughts to my performance. I just need the courage to do it in front of him.
Our other musicians are just about ready to join us, enhancing the rhythmic foreplay when a shrill whistle interrupts us, halting us all in our tracks.
“Holy shitballs, girls! That was hot!”
We all turn quickly, Trice and I straightening our stances when we find Ty leaning against the doorframe. Neither of us had even noticed that he was there.
“Um, thanks,” I mutter, quickly looking to the mirror; and seeing, a tell-tale blush appearing across my cheeks. “We didn’t see you there.”
“I’ve been hanging out here today and couldn’t help but have a peek.” He grins and starts walking to us. He spots our band and winks over to them, while a very aggravated Jules folds her arms across her chest. “The audience will love it. But …” he shakes his head. “Sadly not Alex and
Robbie. They might consider turning this into a pokies room, or putting in pool tables after those moves. You are going to give them a heart attack.” He throws back his head to the ceiling and clenches his fists in glee. “I can’t wait!”
“Not you too,” Trice whines. “We don’t care what they say; we are still doing this. It’s cabaret. It’s meant to entertain, and we want to be sexy.”
I walk towards the mirror where our bags are and grab my water bottle. Taking a swig, I take a moment to let the cool water soothe my hot skin. I am much too hot for just a practise. I can still remember the taste of Robbie’s lips on mine from the night of Trin’s party, which were even better than I remembered from years ago. I grab Trice’s bottle and turn to throw it at her, not realising that the culprit of my lust is standing right there.
“Hey,” I breathe. “Didn’t see you come in.”
He smiles as he watches me drink from my bottle. Suddenly, the water does nothing to cool my nerves.
“I came to look for this idiot here, who is meant to be helping shift some boxes. Knew he’d be in here.”
“Only ‘cause you told me not to come in,” Ty teases, crossing his arms over his chest.
“The girls don’t need you fawning over them. They’re rehearsing.”
Ty’s eyes widen as he stares back at Robbie. “You don’t watch them? You’re a disgrace to mankind!” He shakes his head in disgust. “No wonder you’re a moody fucker lately. You are missing out.”
My eyes snap to Robbie’s as he rubs the back of his neck, a flush creeping across his cheeks. Ty then wanders over to our band members and holds out his hand. “I’m Ty.”
“I’m not interested,” Roni replies, plucking a string on her bass, her eyes lower to her hands, dismissing him.
“That’s Roni, and I’m Maxi.” Maxi shakes his hand and quickly pulls it back. Ty’s eyes light up, but she shakes her head. “Not interested either.”
Ty holds up his hands in defence and takes a step back. “Hey Jules,” he coos.
“Piss off, Ty,” she jeers.