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“I’ll be careful.” I made my way out, stopping in the doorway. “Say, Steve, one last thing.”

He paused before putting his ear defenders back on. “What’s that?”

I pointed to the building opposite, its open doors revealing nothing but empty space and a load of hay bales. “I’ll need your barn.”

***

Chapter Five

Gemma

I’ll often do a lunchtime stint on the lines to boost my numbers, but afternoons can really drag. Instead, I opted to have some me time. Jason had me well and truly churned up; my lapse of privacy slopping like watery stew in my stomach. I looked up Dirty Angels online, keen for a distraction. There were no classes on a Wednesday afternoon, but the site offered dance space for hire by the hour. I booked and paid for my slot, then headed across city to let off some steam.

I arrived early enough to snoop around the corridors and peer in some windows. Cara was coaching a skinny little teenager in a tutu, and I watched them as they twirled in sync, admiring the perfect grace of Cara’s posture. The website hadn’t lied, Cara was clearly classically trained. Her legs were beautifully taut, her movements fluid and graceful, like a swan dancing on ice. If I were a jealous person I’d certainly be jealous of a creature like Cara, she was divine. Luckily, I’m not. Jealous people end up like hard-boiled sugar-sours, with too many frown lines. Unless they can afford Botox, that is.

I moved on to find a smiley blonde setting up a mat for me in the pole room.

“You must be Gemma?”

I shook her hand. “That’s me.”

“Welcome to Angel’s. Stereo’s over there if you want music, there isn’t anything on in here until six, so take your time. You can dock an mp3 player if you have one, or we have some CDs in the rack. You know the health and safety drill?”

“I was here last weekend for pole fitness, Cara talked me through it.”

“Great! I’ll leave you to enjoy yourself.”

I thanked her and she made her exit, leaving me dithering around with my iPod. I plugged it in, choosing my favourite high intensity playlist, sultry dark tracks with a pounding electro bassline. I ditched my coat in the corner, freed my hair from its pony, then did my stretches in front of the mirrored wall. I’d opted for a simple outfit, hugging black leggings and a loose black cami. My skin was already flushed as I took to the pole, finding the beat and closing my eyes to sink into the moment. My feet moved, whirling me around and around until I was up, spinning the fireman, twisting and turning and letting my hair fly wild.

In my mind I was on stage, a whirling woman in red, my hair like fire under the spotlights. The crowd was in darkness, a jostling crowd of onlookers, all eyes on me, and I danced for them, rolling my hips and grinding the pole. I practised my spins, leaning out from my leading hand as Cara taught me, and in my fantasy Jason was in the shadows, watching, waiting. I danced forhim, shimmying and shaking and folding at the waist to showcase the swell of my cleavage. How good his filthy gaze would feel on my skin, so fucking good. Unless I was too fat for him. Fuck being too fat. Jason would just have to like it or lump it. I kept on twirling, round and around and around again until the bass let up and the track faded to nothing.

Soft applause stole me from my fantasy. Cara stood in the doorway, a bottle of water pinched under her elbow as she let out a wolf whistle.

“Wow, Firecracker Gemma, you’ve got some moves, girl!”

I went for the stereo, pausing the next track. “Sorry, I was a million miles away.”

“Please, don’t stop! You looked amazing.”

“I was just messing around.”

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” She took a swig of water on her approach, then cast the bottle aside, grabbing the pole next to mine. “Glad you came back, you’re a natural.”

“Thanks, but you’re too kind.”

“I’m not.” She lifted herself from the floor, defying gravity without effort. “I can teach technique but I can’t teach rhythm. Youfeelthe music. You looked so alive just then.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Who were you thinking about?”

“Sorry?” My big rosy embarrassment reflected clearly in the mirror wall.

“You were dancing for someone, I could tell,” she said. “I dance for people too, in my mind.” She raised a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone, though.”

“You do?”

She nodded, dropping her tiny feet to the ground. “I imagine being on stage, performing for a massive crowd. You could call me an exhibitionist,” she said. “I like being watched.”

Something in her tone sent tingles up my spine. “Have you ever done that? Onstage, I mean?”

“Sometimes...” Her smile was so bright, so genuine. “So, who were you dancing for?”

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