“There's a lot more variation,” Laurie said. “It's more of a conversation than the ballroom tango. Lots of push and pull.” He smiled ruefully. “The follower's part is a little more involved than the leader's, but the leader is very important. The leader keeps the balance and the structure of the embrace. And, of course, he instigates the steps.”
“Okay.” Ed flexed his hand against Laurie's. “So what do I do?”
Laurie walked him through the adjustment of the steps between ballroom and Argentine tango, which initially wasn't much, mostly getting him to go toe-heel instead of heel-toe. That took the better portion of a song, which didn't bother Laurie except that he was impatient. His real goal was to teach Ed ochos. And boleos. He was aching to do an arrastre, but he knew that was likely a dream, at least for tonight.
But it's been so long.
The desire—not panic, just bald, aching desire—that had been creeping up on him grabbed him briefly by the throat, and he paused.
Ed stumbled as he ran into Laurie, because Laurie had paused in body as well as in thought. “Did I do something wrong?”
Laurie shook his head, chasing the ghosts away. “No. You're just fine.” He cleared his throat and wrenched his focus back on the lesson. “I want to teach you the boleo. Again, it's a step mostly I'll be doing, but I can't do it without you. Your job is to bear the balance, not just of our bodies but of the dance itself. The tango can be aggressive or gentle, and it's best when it's a bit of both. Some of the best steps are a sort of fight between the leader and the follower; you can trap my feet, or you can step in front of my leg and stop me midstep, forcing me to change direction. You can ‘drag’ my feet, and I can do the same to you. You can sort of push my foot along, almost stepping on it. And this doesn't even count turns or pitter-patter.”
“Wow.” Ed gave a lopsided, almost shy smile. “Yeah, they didn't cover any of that in my classes.”
“I could teach you,” Laurie said. He didn't mean it to come out sounding quite the come-on that it did.
“I'd love to learn,” Ed replied. But his tone was still hesitant. Last week he'd been all sass, but there wasn't any of that Ed left. Laurie wondered where that Ed had gone and what his absence meant.
He pushed the thought aside and led Ed into the steps of the back ocho instead.
“Your job is to lead us into a pivot,” he told Ed. “Follow your hips. Move naturally, leading with your shoulders. You'll need to use some muscle, but don't push. Let it flow with the music and the pulse of the dance.”
Ed nodded and did a very passable pivot. Laurie, impatient, stepped back, behind, and went through into the gather. Ed hesitated and stumbled after.
Laurie caught him and righted them both. “Again. Another pivot. That was an ocho—they should come in at least sets of two.”
Ed looked lost, but to his credit, he just led them into another pivot, and Laurie followed.
“Your hips,” he reminded Ed as he moved awkwardly into a third pivot. “Smooth, Ed. Let your body follow the music. Don't be shy.”
Ed nodded, then jerked and almost stepped on Laurie's foot. “Sorry,” he said and tried to recover. “I'm all off my game tonight.”
“Do you want to stop?”
“No, no.” Ed jerked his head up and looked Laurie in the eye. “No. I want to keep dancing, if you don't mind being patient with me.”
“I don't mind,” Laurie replied quickly.
Ed smiled.
Shy
. He was so shy, and it was so, so strange to see. And alluring.
Adjusting his hold, Ed counted himself into the music and led them back into the dance once more. Within twenty minutes Ed had ochos down fairly well, and Laurie decided to push his luck and add boleos too.
“This is a sort of kick,” he explained, “and it's best done out of an ocho. Once again, the showiest part goes to the follower, but without the leader, it's not possible to do. My axis here is crucial—if you don't maintain our balance, I'll stumble and likely take you down with me.”
“So how do I do it?” Ed asked, looking wary but eager all the same.
“We'll start at the barre,” Laurie explained and led him over to the mirror to walk him through the steps.
Ed was such an eager student, and he was a good one too. He paid close attention to instruction, asked questions when he didn't understand, and once he fully understood the movement, he quickly put the mechanics into place. His greatest flaw was that he didn't fall naturally into a graceful motion; his rhythm was fine, but his movements tended to be a little too aggressive.
“This isn't a football field,” Laurie scolded him. “It may be a bold dance, but the goal is to move together, not to tackle me.”
Ed rubbed his cheek. “Sorry.”
“It's all right.” Laurie smiled and made Ed show him again.
But just when he was about to suggest they try to put the step to a practical test, he glanced at the clock on the wall in shock. “It's after eleven!”
Ed glanced at the clock as well, looking equally surprised. And disappointed. “Shit. I should probably head out. I got a good forty-five minute drive ahead of me, and I have to get up at five tomorrow.”
Laurie stepped firmly on his dismay. “Of course. I'm sorry—I should have kept better track of time.”
“No, no.” Ed ran a hand through his hair and gave him a sheepish grin. “It was fun. Dancing with you. I mean—you're really good.”
“Thank you,” Laurie replied. “You aren't bad yourself, once you relax.”
For a moment it looked like Ed was going to say something else. But then he shook his head and stepped back a little quickly. “Yeah. I should...go.”
“Are you—” Laurie felt flustered now too. “I mean, you don't have to come next week for the class, but—”
“I'd like to,” Ed said, cutting him off. “If you still want me there.”
“Oh, yes—I mean—yes.” Breathless. Laurie felt flustered and breathless, and he had no idea why.
Ed nodded. “See you then?”
“Sure.” And before he could stop himself, he added, “If you have time, maybe we could work a little more on the tango, after.”
A smile broke out across Ed's face. It was the sort of smile that used to annoy Laurie, a cheeky, brash sort of smile, but tonight it didn't annoy him at all. If anything, it made his heart beat a little faster.
“I'd like that,” Ed said, still smiling. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded. “See you then.”
Laurie watched him walk across the room and grab his coat as he passed it. Ed went out the door, and it closed behind him, and Laurie listened as he made his way down the hall and back to the front door.
It wasn't until he heard the engine of Ed's car start that he let his shoulders fall forward. Heart beating faster than it had a right to, he leaned over the stool, bracing himself as the tango music played on in the background.
Chapter Five
corte: cutting the music either by syncopating or holding form after a step for several beats.
Dancing the part of Prince Koklyush for Oliver's
Nutcracker
was, technically, something Laurie could have walked onto a stage cold and performed on the spot. He had literally lost count of the number of times he'd performed it. He'd done his first stint, in fact, for this production when he was eighteen, the youngest dancer in Twin Cities history to ever do so. The dance need not always be the same, of course, but after so many times, it simply sort of made itself. And in fact, the idea was to be pleasing but not outlandish. The prince was mostly there to prop up the ballerina and then to do a bit of skip and jump to make the boys shuffling through their bit parts want to try a little harder. Oliver hadn't been kidding when he'd said Laurie could do it in his sleep.
And yet as the weeks of the performance drew closer, Laurie's unease grew and grew, until by the first week in November it had begun to approach out-and-out panic. He honestly feared what it would be like by the time he got to December.
“It's nothing but a mountain in your mind,” Oliver told Laurie backstage after a rehearsal. “The best way to dispel it is to plow through and realize there's nothing in your way but yourself.” With a grace and ease of movement that belied his white hair, Oliver sat down on the floor opposite Laurie's seat on a prop box. “You're doing fine in the rehearsals themselves. And you dance as beautifully as ever, Laurie. Where is all this coming from? Surely all this isn't for that idiot Paul.”
Laurie rubbed at his arms, staring down at the floor. “I just don't want to perform anymore.” He gave a cutting glance to Oliver. “This is the part where you tell me what a waste of talent my retirement is, or how I'm being silly, or that I'm letting one bad moment ruin the rest of my life.”
Oliver's eyebrows lifted briefly. His head tilted slightly to the side as he studied Laurie. “Did you ever enjoy it, Laurie?”
Laurie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. Did you ever enjoy it? Performing? I know you don't want to perform now. But did you ever want to?”
Laurie had no idea how to respond to this. “You think I went through all that for years because I
didn't
like it?”
“Honestly? Sometimes I wondered. Sometimes I worried you'd gotten caught up in your mother's ambition and your burning need to turn your father's head. I worried the limelights had gotten too bright for your eyes, and I waited for you to burn up. And then I would see you perform again, and I'd think, no. No, dancing is what this man's soul wants to do.” Oliver leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “What happened to that fire, Laurie? Was I only imagining it? Or did it truly go out?”
It took biting his tongue to keep from asking what Oliver meant by “
burning need to turn his father's head
,” so Laurie said nothing.
Oliver sighed. “It's not my desire to force you into anything. If you need to back out—”
“No.” Laurie straightened. “Good God, Oliver. Do I look that ridiculous?” But the look on Oliver's face was answer enough. Laurie pursed his lips and looked away. “I'll be fine. It won't be the performance it should be, but it's fifteen minutes of dancing, and despite what you and my mother say, they truly aren't going to come see me. Just a few vultures, and they'll be motivation enough to keep myself together.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Now, if you ask me to dance ballroom, it might be a different story. But as far as I know, they haven't squeezed a cha-cha in somewhere.”
“I heard a rumor you've been dancing ballroom after hours,” Oliver said drily. “With a man.”
Laurie kept his gaze carefully averted. “And where did you hear this?”
“Maggie told me in hopes I could possibly get you to stop.” When Laurie looked up sharply, Oliver chuckled. “Why do you look so surprised?”
“Because it's none of her business!” Laurie's cheeks burned, partly in anger, partly in embarrassment. “I don't know what's worse, that she told you or that she thought you could stop me! Why would she even want to?”
“She thinks you're her pet. Of course she's upset. Apparently this man is handsome too. She fears he'll whisk you away.”
The amusement in Oliver's tone didn't help Laurie's temper. “It's just dancing, for heaven's sake.” He smoothed imaginary lint from his trousers. “For whatever reason, dancing with Ed centers me instead of upsetting me. It's not going to lead to anything. It's just dancing.”
“Is he handsome?” Oliver pressed.
“That's completely beside the point,” Laurie snapped.
“That's a yes. And does he bat for Dorothy?” When Laurie gave him a withering look, Oliver laughed. “And another yes. Well, well, Laurence.” He rose. “Bring him to the performance. Perhaps he'll center you there as well.”
“He isn't my boyfriend, Oliver, and he's certainly not my savior. My God, he'd laugh me out of the room if I asked to come hold my hand at
Nutcracker
.” Though as soon as he said that, he felt guilty. Ed hadn't laughed at him, not in a long time.
“I think it's good that you're seeing someone,” Oliver said. “You've been too reclusive. If you aren't sleeping with him, perhaps you should. I'd say you should date him openly, but I suppose we should encourage you to walk before you run. But sex is a must for you, I think. How long has it been?”
“For heaven's sake, Oliver,” Laurie hissed, glancing around nervously.
Oliver dismissed Laurie's discomfort with a wave of his hand. “It's all teenagers at this rehearsal, and I promise you, if they aren't having sex, they're thinking about it. Answer my question. How long has it been?”
“It's none of your business,” Laurie snapped.
“Always a discouraging reply. Please tell me at least there has been someone since Paul.”
Laurie knew he was now beet red. “Of course.”
But he averted his eyes as he spoke, and Oliver sighed. “Let me guess. A few awkward dates, some passable but mostly mediocre sex, and mostly long, depressing dry patches where you tell yourself you don't need such bestial pleasures in your life?”
It was so spot-on that Laurie had to bite his tongue to keep from asking how Oliver could possibly know. “Why are we even having this conversation?” he asked instead.
“Because bestial pleasures are the stuff of life, Laurence.” Oliver moved to stand in front of Laurie and stared him down. “Because sex makes you feel alive. Because you're a sexual being, because you're young and attractive, and because with the right partner you would probably be the most responsive, beautiful bedmate a man could dream of.”
The frank discussion of sex was upsetting Laurie, but Oliver's last declaration caught him off guard, and despite himself, he looked up at his godfather in surprise. “Why do you say that?”
“That you would be a beautiful bedmate? Because you would. You're gracious and giving and though selective—too much so—you have so much beauty stored up to give. But if you don't stir that beauty up every now and again, Laurie, it will wither and die. Try giving it to your dancing partner and see where it gets you.”
An image flashed in Laurie's brain of Ed, smiling Ed pressing him down onto his bed. It was an alarming and highly pleasurable image. He shook it off. “Ed would never be interested in me. He's a football player, Oliver. He's big and handsome and flirty.”