Chapter 10
When we get upstairs, Blitz changes for the workout room. I tell him I’m skipping for now and wait for him to leave before heading to my closet to find my gift for him.
Buried below my flannel pajamas, which never see any wear at all, is one long beautiful length of aerial silk for performing in the air.
I’ve watched all of Dance Blitz, plus most of Blitz’s early works, and he has never done aerial silk dancing. But I watched as his eyes lit on the girl who was practicing at Jenica’s Dancery the one time we went, and I knew I wanted to try it.
I learned all I could about the type of fabric that was used, how much to buy, and the width and length. I also began doing extra arm workouts, so when it was time to start learning, I would have the strength.
The strong red fabric came from a discount shop where I got it for a steal, less than Blitz would pay for lunch. I hemmed the ends and kept it hidden for today.
Watching YouTube videos had gotten me a few basics. I figured out that the very corner of the bed, where the top section meets the wall, is securely braced. It holds my weight, although probably not Blitz’s. I use it to practice.
I have just enough moves to start. Blitz keeps talking about finding something that is only ours, and I think this could be it.
But after the car, I feel the need to up my Valentine game even more. It isn’t enough to just dance with the silks. I want it to be us, something unique, something that involves memories that will carry us through performances and give us that extra magic.
And today will be the first one.
I draw in a deep breath. I’m really not an exhibitionist. I only wear makeup when someone comes to fix me up for an event. And while I have some rather lovely undergarments that we got when Blitz initially set up my wardrobe, we are really more of a workout pants and T-shirt couple.
But not today. I have to be different. Bold.
I rummage through the drawers to see what I have that will go with the red fabric. There’s definitely a red bra and matching panties, but they are sort of ordinary. I keep digging and find a white thong. Okay, this might do.
My heart hammers as I search. There are sheer things, lacy things, dainty things. But nothing as sexy as what I want to go for.
I’m going to have to improvise.
I find a pretty white bra.
“Sorry,” I say to it as I walk through to the bathroom and find a pair of tiny sharp scissors. My face flames a little even though I’m alone as I alter the bra. With a couple easy snips, I’ve cut out the centers of the cups, heart-shaped bits of fabric fluttering to the floor.
Holy hell, am I really going to do this?
Then I pick up the thong and think — hmm. There isn’t much to it, but how much more fun if it matched?
A few snips later and three hearts are cut out. A tiny one near the top, a medium one, then a larger one that means the underwear doesn’t have to come off, even when it’s time.
I heat up a little just looking at it. Whoa. I scoop up the five white hearts and take them to the bedroom, scattering them on the bed.
Then I take the red fabric and toss it over the reinforced corner of the bed, double-checking one more time that the giant screws holding it to the wall are tight and unmoving.
Now to wait.
Blitz has a definite ritual when he comes back from workouts. He’ll go straight to the bar and drink more water. Then he’ll go from the living area to the bathroom by the outside door. If I close the door between the bedroom and the bathroom, he won’t look this way.
I check the clock. Still twenty minutes.
I slip out of my clothes and put on the white panties and underwear. My cheeks get hot as I see where all the open hearts land. Then I throw on a pair of loose sweats and move to the bathroom.
I braid my hair up and away. I pull out mascara and lipstick and eyeliner from the kit left by the wardrobe crew. I make myself up carefully but simply, layering on color and lines. When I’m done, I look different, older, more exotic. He will like it. He loves his innocent Livia, but he will totally lose it over my proof that I can be someone else, act a part.
I remember what that woman Taya said at the contract meeting, that I wasn’t up for doing a show with Blitz. We have no intention of meeting any of their demands, but I feel some satisfaction in knowing that I could. I can be someone else, grab the attention of not only the sweet blue-dressed Livias outside the DVD signing, but also others. Viewers who expect a little dazzle.
I am perfectly happy letting no one see it but Blitz.
I head back into the living room, carefully closing all the doors to the bedroom.
Then I sit at the corner desk, my back to the door, and read through the Twitter feed until Blitz returns.
As always, he chugs a bottle of water from the bar fridge and heads to the bathroom. “Be out in a flash,” he calls over to me.
I give him a “mm-hmm” and don’t look his way.
He takes lightning-fast showers, so as soon as I hear the water hit the tile, I jump up, close the door from the bathroom to the living room to drive his path into the bedroom, and cross back into the room.
Then I close the blinds most of the way, until only fine lines of light stripe the bed. I take off the sweats and leave the white underwear, which glow a little in the half-dark.
I take a deep breath. Dang, I’m nervous for someone doing something with a man I’ve lived with for months. I carefully pop open the door to the bathroom, letting in another shaft of light.
Then I head to the bed.
I push the regular sheer fabric that surrounds it up and away. I move to my red silks and wrap the ends around my ankles, then twist my wrists through.
And I wait, listening.
The water slows, then stops. The glass door squeaks open. His footsteps pad on the floor. The suite is so quiet that I can hear his towel rubbing against his hair.
His clothes are all in here, so I know he’ll walk in naked. It will be easy to see his reaction to me.
I slowly exhale a nervous breath. I’m glad I’ve practiced this position, or my arms and legs would already be tired.
“So, Livia?” Blitz calls. “How dressy do you want to get for Milan’s?”
I don’t answer, so he comes into the bedroom.
He halts when he sees the lines of light, eyes looking for me. He’s about to hit the switch when his hand freezes.
He’s spotted me, all right.
There isn’t a lot of vertical space on a bed rail, even with a canopy like this one, to do a lot of fancy moves. But I have a few tricks. The first one is where I pull up on the silks and my legs spread into splits. Then, I take a quick dramatic flip down and back up.
“Holy shit,” he says. “When did you learn to do that?”
He starts to approach, then pauses, as I slowly shift into a different position, a front and back split with arms outstretched.
“That’s beautiful.” He steps closer. “You’re beautiful.”
I adjust my weight so that I face him again. I know the minute he sees the heart cutouts, because his body instantly reacts.
“Okay, that is just wow,” he says.
I pull myself high and untwist my legs from the silks. Once my feet are safely on the mattress, I free my hands. “So you liked it?” I ask.
He takes me into his arms, my belly at his face since he’s still standing on the floor while I’m up on the bed.
“Like it? This is like the hottest thing anyone has ever done.”
“I remembered the girl doing it at Jenica’s,” I say.
“You went back there? I thought it scared the crap out of you.”
“No, I learned from YouTube,” I say. “But if we maybe wanted to learn some moves together, I would go.”
He reaches around me to twist his hand through the fabric. “That could be fun. Can I get you to do it naked?”
My face heats up.
“I’ll take that as a silent yes,” he says. “But first, I must admire your outfit.”
He lets go of the silks and runs a finger along the underside of my bra strap. “These are some perfectly placed Valentines.” He makes it to the cup and his thumb grazes across the opening, making my nipple pucker.
I suck in a breath. “My hearts are all yours,” I say.
“And there are so many of them.” His hand slides down my ribs to the tiny ribbon that holds the thong in place. He bends down to plant a kiss on the tiny heart at the top.
“One,” he says, then goes lower to the next heart. “Two.”
And down.
“Mmm, three.” His hand parts my thighs and his mouth is against my skin through the opening of the heart. His tongue finds its way to the bud as his hand works its way back up to the bra.
I steady myself with my hands on his shoulders as he spreads me wider, then he pulls away. “Let’s see that again.” He grasps one of the silks and slides it around my ankle.
I know what he wants. I step back and wrap my other leg around the second length of the silk. Then I twist my arms through and lift back into the splits.
“Oh, yes,” he says. “That’s what I was going for.”
He doesn’t force me to hold the position on my own, but braces my thighs with his hands as he goes back to where he was, his mouth flirting with my body.
I’m open so wide, so much more with the pressure of the silks and the support of his hands. I feel both bold and vulnerable, and the sensations as he works are fierce, sending lightning strikes through me.
His tongue delves in and he sucks on the nub, and I’m lost, barely holding on to the silks. He rocks me gently, and the intensity of this motion makes goose bumps break out across my skin.
I lose my grip and slip a few inches, and he catches me, unwinding the fabric from my ankles.
I’m on a knife’s edge, barely holding back from crashing over and beyond. Blitz lets my legs down, but instead of freeing my arms, wraps the silks more tightly around them.
“Now you’re really at my mercy,” he says, his voice gravelly and low. He tugs at the thong, pulling it down.
My arms are high in the silks, captured, tied, my back against the pillowed leather that serves as the headboard to the bed.
Blitz kneels on the mattress and puts my knees over his shoulders. Then he’s back on me, his mouth and tongue working my body, his hands pressing me hard against him.
I’m already so close that I build into a frenzy almost instantly, my hands gripping the silks, my body rocking against him. I start to go, the climax just ready to ripple through me, when Blitz grabs my legs and flips me around.
Now I face the wall, my arms still high, and he’s inside me, pressing me against the cushioned leather. Everything lets go, and I can’t control the ferocity of the orgasm, my voice almost at a scream, my muscles tight and shaking.
Blitz pushes against me again and again, his own body hard and forceful. I pull myself up by the silks and slam back down, wanting him deeper, harder, as intense as I feel.
He groans against my hair and I feel it, the hot rush of him. His body shudders and his head falls against my shoulder.
We stay this way for a moment, unable to come down from the position or the explosive high. Then he reaches up and unwinds the fabric from my wrists. We tumble down to the bed together.
Blitz lies back, his breathing still ragged. “That was a totally wicked dance, and I will never look at a silk scarf the same way again.”
I roll over to curl against him and smile to myself. That was exactly what I was hoping for.