The stage lights up and the dance teachers emerge from the corridor to the left. There are obviously professional dressing rooms and smaller studios to practice in. Rumour is, we will actually get to use them once the Saturday night lives start. Until then, the producers seem to want to throw us into a small bucket, like rats, sitting back to watch who will devour who.
Aarons beckons us over. Teddy claps his hands like an excited school girl. Still slightly dazed, my feet don’t immediately move. A warm palm presses against my lower back, gently encouraging me forwards.
‘Shall we?’ Ben gazes down at me.
He’s taller than Marcus, but not as broad. His hair falls in soft waves across his forehead, framing huge blue eyes.
I nod, swallowing the mountain of saliva foaming in my throat and walk quickly enough that his hand falls from my back. I know we are going to have to touch each other when dancing, but perhaps we should start with some boundaries.
Slick Rick runs through the steps from yesterday. Concentrating on my feet and maintaining a steady balance is enough to occupy my mind from almost everything else. Laughter drifts through the air, and a couple of one-liners, but I tune my new dancing family out, enjoying the Latin American beat pulsing through the room. Its vibrations pull my body to a rhythm I didn’t know it loved.
Coordination is not a problem that I struggle with. Several sneaky sideways glances at Ben assure me he has no problem with coordination either. He’s actually pretty amazing. I’d nearly swear he’d done this before. A small smile plays on my lips. He might just be the perfect partner after all. The music comes to an end and Slick Rick calls for housekeeping to bring in water.
‘Listen up, everyone. Now you have been assigned your partners, Sylvia here is going to announce which dance each of you will learn for the first show. Don’t panic. We’ll keep the steps as simple as possible at first. We want you to put on a good show. Neither us, or the public, are expecting anything intricate or elaborate. We’re aiming for entertainment. So lay it on thick.’
A murmur ripples round the room as the other couples congregate, awaiting their fate. Ben and I are stuck, prisoners of the make-up palette. Sylvia begins handing out cards, presumably with the fate of the first show in them. I close my eyes and pray we get something simple to start, and preferably not too sexy.
It’s too much to hope for. The other contestants whoop and moan in unison. I hear Gemma exclaim, ‘the jive!’ Before I can overthink it, Sylvia strides towards us, her poise elegant and graceful as a ballerina. I’d put money on her coming from a ballet background. She hands the envelop to Ben who tears it open impatiently.
‘The Argentinian tango? Is it complicated?’ Ben fakes concern, his palms pressing against his cheeks in mock horror as he shoots a salacious wink.
‘It can be, but more importantly, it’s sexy.’ She approaches Ben, eyeing his torso like she might eat it. His tan has set into his pecs, making them seem even more prominent than before. Where Marcus’s pecs are covered with a light dusting of hair, Ben’s are smooth enough to glide across.
Oh my god, where did that thought come from? I can only put it down to the fact that Marcus and I haven’t been intimate in over a week. It’s not like us.
Sylvia takes Ben’s hands, presses her chest to his chest and her mouth into his neck. ‘The Argentinian tango is sharper than the foxtrot. It’s sexier. Skin to skin, cheek to cheek, chest to chest. Every step must ooze intimacy. It must demonstrate a longing so strong, if you two have any chance of surviving the first week’s elimination. I’ll be working closely with you this afternoon. This dance is my favourite. It will be yours too, by the time I’ve finished with you.’ Stepping back, her fingers skim Ben’s right pec lingeringly.
If Marcus was pissed off before, this will only add fuel to fire. I can’t even blame him, but I’m in too far to back out now.
