“Strip.”
Haylee looked up from studying the studio’s polished hardwood floor to the wall of mirrors in front of her. Two hard masculine faces reflected over her slumped shoulders. Frustration carved deep lines around their eyes. She avoided looking at her own reflection, knowing she’d find the same lines on her own visage. The lines had been there for two weeks, ever since she began working with Carmine Romero, Broadway’s premier choreographer – now her dance instructor. Why had she ever thought she could do this? She could act. She could sing, but dance? No. That had never been one of her talents.
“What?”
“Take your clothes off.” Chase Nolton, her leading man, and Carmine’s partner in these torture sessions grinned. “That’s what the word usually means.”
“I know what it means. I just don’t understand why, or how it applies in this instance.”
Carmine came to stand between her and the mirror. He was older than Haylee by a few years, not enough to matter, but his expertise as a choreographer was renowned. He rarely took on individual students, especially ones with zero dance experience. She was lucky to be working with him, and she knew it. “Look, Haylee. We’ve been at this for two weeks. You still move like a Barbie doll.”
Haylee bristled at the insult. “I’m not a dancer.”
“I get that, but Madeline is, and that’s who you have to be on stage. The opening number takes place in the strip club where she’s working to pay the bills. She’s broke and desperate, and she thinks she has nothing left to offer but her body.”
“But she never takes all her clothes off,” Haylee pointed out.
“No, she doesn’t, but she’s stripped bare, none-the-less. So that’s where we’re going to begin, by stripping you bare. From now on, you’ll dance nude.” Haylee shook her head. “Think about it. Madeline has nothing left but her body. No money. No career. No pride. She’s willing to do anything for that one last chance to be a star, including give her body to a man she hardly knows if he’ll give her a part. She’s a dancer. She understands her body, how it moves, how it feels, how to make it do what she wants. You have to be Madeline. You have to learn these things about your body in order to portray her. I think this is the only way we’re going to get to that point, by removing everything you’re hiding behind.”
Haylee stood statue still, cataloguing Carmine’s face. He was right about Madeline. Even though she was never totally nude on stage, she was exposed. Her every insecurity was on display. In that way, she was truly naked.
“I don’t see how taking my clothes off will make me a better dancer.”
“It will allow you to learn how to use your body, how to make it move the way Madeline would make hers move. Without clothing to hide behind, you’ll be more aware of your body, like a dancer is all the time. Chase and I will show you how to use your body to seduce the audience into believing you’re a dancer, believing you are Madeline.”
Haylee looked around the basement room. Two small windows at street level had been painted over to prevent prying eyes. Other than that, there was only the one door. If they locked it so no one could come in, could she do it?
“Take your shirt off, Haylee,” Carmine coaxed. “You have a bra on, correct?”
“Yes.” She bit her lower lip. Her bra covered more than her swimsuit top. What harm would there be in taking her shirt off? “Just my shirt?”
“For now,” Carmine said with a shrug. “Then we shall see.”
She tugged the oversized T-shirt over her head and tossed it into the corner where her tote bag and water bottle sat. The room was cold; a necessity when they were moving around the room learning dance steps, but just standing there, the cool air raised goose flesh across her exposed skin.
Carmine moved to stand behind her. He put his hands around her ribcage, something he’d done dozens of times in the last two weeks, but there had always been fabric between them. This was different. Heat seared her where he touched. “Lovely, but I think the shorts need to go too.” Haylee hesitated. “Take them off, Madeline.”
Calling her by her characters’ name did something to her. Suddenly, she wasn’t Haylee anymore. She was Madeline, a stripper. “Madeline uses her body. She knows she looks good. She knows men want her.” Carmine’s breath brushed against her ear as he spoke. His hands skimmed her exposed flesh, warming her, heating her blood. “Take them off, Madeline.”
Haylee slid her thumbs beneath the stretchy waistband and pushed. Carmine’s hand was there to take the garment as she stepped out of them, leaving her in her bra and panties. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She’d worn less on camera. The bikinis she wore for the pool scenes on her Hollywood Sit-com were smaller than what she had on now, but somehow she felt more exposed than she had then.
Behind her, Chase Nolton stood, looking her over with appreciative eyes. Carmine’s voice snapped her back to the task at hand. “Much better.” His hands covered her hips. Big, heated hands molded her curves. “Move, Madeline.” He guided her movements with gentle pressure from his hands. “More. Close your eyes and see Madeline on stage. She wants to impress the man who can give her another chance at a career in the theatre. If he wants her body, he’ll give her that chance.”
Haylee stumbled as Carmine pulled her hard against him.
“Here. Feel it, Madeline. Feel my body move, move with it.” Haylee concentrated on the movements of Carmine’s body, mimicked the roll and sway of his hips. “There. That’s it,” he crooned over her shoulder. “You see him, sitting there, watching you, wanting you? You need him. Not his body – his influence. He can do things for you, and all it will cost you is your body. Nothing more. You can give him that, let him lie with you, let him fuck you, without giving him anything else.”
Haylee moved her hips in concert with Carmine’s. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was dancing, even though her feet hadn’t moved and inch. Maybe she could do this after all.
“Give him what he wants, Madeline. Make promises with your body. Promise him he can taste your breasts.”
Her eyes flew open as fingers flicked the front clasp of her bra, setting her breasts free. Chase Nolton stood before her, bare-chested, wearing a knowing grin. She lost Carmine’s rhythm as she stared into Chase’s eyes. Desire, barely banked, lurked behind those indigo irises.
Her heart skipped a beat. Is this what Madeline felt when men watched her dance? Powerful? Desired? Is this how she stripped for a living?
“Madeline,” Carmine whispered near her ear. His hands tightened on her hips, forcing her back into the rhythm of the dance. “This is what you want, isn’t it? You want this man, this influential man to want you. You’ll do anything – let him do anything if he’ll put you back on stage. If he’ll give you a chance to dance. So close your eyes and dance, Madeline.”
Her lids fluttered closed and her body moved in tandem with Carmine’s. She gasped as another hard body pressed to her front, joining in the sensual rhythm, grinding his hips against hers. Chase. No. This was Henry, Chase’s character. This is what Henry wanted. If Madeline gave it to him, he’d do what he promised – he’d make her a star on Broadway.
Callused hands cupped her breasts. Kneaded. Teased. Her nipples tightened under the attention.
Haylee sighed as his hands left her breasts to skim over her midriff, to her waist, and back again. Henry pressed her arms up and over her head. His hands slid along the length of her arms until his hands met hers. Fingers twined together. He brought their hands down and still clasped together, Henry pressed his body fully to hers. Crisp chest hairs abraded her aroused nipples.
Sandwiched between the two men, Madeline danced without moving a single step. Her body moved in sensuous rhythm with theirs. It was decadent. It was sinfully erotic. Yes, Madeline would do this. Madeline could do this.
Madeline. Haylee jerked as she came to her senses.
“Feel the dance, Haylee.” Carmine’s voice was low and seductive. “You are Madeline. You’re dancing.”
She was. She was dancing. Her lips curved into a tentative smile. Yes! But could she do it on her own? As if he read her mind, Carmine spoke.
“You are learning, Haylee. Soon, you’ll be moving on your own, but until then, Chase and I will guide you.”
So, she wasn’t a dancer yet. But she would be one – soon, she vowed to herself.
“Listen with your body, not your brain. Let your body lead you.”
They moved together for a few more minutes before Carmine dropped his hands and stepped away. Haylee lost the rhythm, even though she was still pressed up against Chase’s body. He came to a halt and let her go.
“Enough for now. We’ll take a break, and then come back to it.” Carmine crossed to the small refrigerator in the corner and pulled out a water bottle. He tossed it to Chase who caught it one-handed. Carmine returned to the refrigerator for another bottle, offered it to Haylee. When she declined and moved to pick up the bottle she’d brought with her, he twisted the cap loose and drank half the bottle in one long pull.
“No,” he barked the order. Haylee dropped the T-shirt she was about to pull over her head. “No clothes. You’ll dance nude from now on.” He waved his water bottle at her. “Take the panties off too.”
“But…”
“No arguments. If you’re going to be Madeline, you’ll have to learn to be comfortable in her body. Think of it as method acting.”
Haylee had had just as many acting lessons as she’d had dance lessons – exactly zero. She’d gotten by on her looks, her bubbly personality, and an ability to memorize lines. That’s about all that was needed on a television sit-com. This was different, and not for the first time, she wondered if she hadn’t gotten in over her head. Way over her head. She was pretty sure most Broadway actresses didn’t spend their rehearsal time nude.
But it had helped.
As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t. Shedding her clothes had been like shedding Haylee’s skin and stepping into Madeline’s. She’d danced!
Well, she hadn’t moved her feet, but she’d moved. And wasn’t that what dancing was? Moving to the rhythm of the music? Only there hadn’t been any music, just Carmine’s body, and then Chase’s. It was still to be seen if she could find the rhythm all by herself. She’d have to if she was going to be Madeline. And she wanted to be Madeline. She wanted to prove herself on Broadway, just like her character did.
Haylee swallowed a giant gulp from her eco-friendly water bottle. Madeline was willing to sell her body for a chance at Broadway stardom. But was she? Was taking dance lessons nude the same thing? No. She already had the job. She didn’t need to sell her body to get it, but she did need to learn to dance in order to keep the job. If she couldn’t play the part, they’d find someone else who could, or the show would close – perhaps before it even opened.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Haylee,” Chase said. When had he moved so close? He stood over her as she crouched in the corner with her bag. “You just need to listen to your body. We tried to teach you with your clothes on, but you wear them like a suit of armor. Without them to shield you, you can focus on the natural rhythms of your body.”
He crouched beside her and with one finger on her chin, turned her face to his. “Women have such beautiful natural rhythms. I’m surprised you don’t know that by now. Hasn’t anyone taught you the beauty of being a woman?”
“I…I’ve had sex.” Wasn’t that what he was talking about?
He raised one eyebrow. “You really don’t know, do you? You don’t know how a woman’s body can drive a man crazy. You think Madeline is the powerless one in this story, don’t you?”
“She is. She – ”
“She only thinks she’s powerless. She’s frustrated that her career is going nowhere, but she has all the power in her relationship with Henry. You don’t know how far Henry will go to possess Madeline, do you? Take your clothes off, Haylee, and let us show you how Madeline seduces Henry.”
Haylee bit her lower lip, a habit she thought she’d broken until she came to New York and her safe little world in Los Angeles had vanished. This was the real world. In Hollywood, there was always another take, another chance to get it right. But here, you had to get it right the first time or there wouldn’t be a second time. She didn’t want to be Madeline in real life. She wanted to prove to everyone that she could do this, that she could be a successful Broadway actress. The tabloids were full of nay-sayer stories about her stage debut. Not a single critic thought she could do it. More than anything, she wanted to prove them wrong. She had two of the most respected men in the New York theatre world willing to help her.
“The power is all yours, Haylee.” Chase stood. Haylee glanced at Carmine, then to Chase. Neither offered even a glimmer of compassion.
“You really think this is the only way I’m going to learn to dance?” she asked Carmine.
“I know it is.”
Haylee nodded, sucked in a deep breath and shimmied out of her panties.
Haylee looked up from studying the studio’s polished hardwood floor to the wall of mirrors in front of her. Two hard masculine faces reflected over her slumped shoulders. Frustration carved deep lines around their eyes. She avoided looking at her own reflection, knowing she’d find the same lines on her own visage. The lines had been there for two weeks, ever since she began working with Carmine Romero, Broadway’s premier choreographer – now her dance instructor. Why had she ever thought she could do this? She could act. She could sing, but dance? No. That had never been one of her talents.
“What?”
“Take your clothes off.” Chase Nolton, her leading man, and Carmine’s partner in these torture sessions grinned. “That’s what the word usually means.”
“I know what it means. I just don’t understand why, or how it applies in this instance.”
Carmine came to stand between her and the mirror. He was older than Haylee by a few years, not enough to matter, but his expertise as a choreographer was renowned. He rarely took on individual students, especially ones with zero dance experience. She was lucky to be working with him, and she knew it. “Look, Haylee. We’ve been at this for two weeks. You still move like a Barbie doll.”
Haylee bristled at the insult. “I’m not a dancer.”
“I get that, but Madeline is, and that’s who you have to be on stage. The opening number takes place in the strip club where she’s working to pay the bills. She’s broke and desperate, and she thinks she has nothing left to offer but her body.”
“But she never takes all her clothes off,” Haylee pointed out.
“No, she doesn’t, but she’s stripped bare, none-the-less. So that’s where we’re going to begin, by stripping you bare. From now on, you’ll dance nude.” Haylee shook her head. “Think about it. Madeline has nothing left but her body. No money. No career. No pride. She’s willing to do anything for that one last chance to be a star, including give her body to a man she hardly knows if he’ll give her a part. She’s a dancer. She understands her body, how it moves, how it feels, how to make it do what she wants. You have to be Madeline. You have to learn these things about your body in order to portray her. I think this is the only way we’re going to get to that point, by removing everything you’re hiding behind.”
Haylee stood statue still, cataloguing Carmine’s face. He was right about Madeline. Even though she was never totally nude on stage, she was exposed. Her every insecurity was on display. In that way, she was truly naked.
“I don’t see how taking my clothes off will make me a better dancer.”
“It will allow you to learn how to use your body, how to make it move the way Madeline would make hers move. Without clothing to hide behind, you’ll be more aware of your body, like a dancer is all the time. Chase and I will show you how to use your body to seduce the audience into believing you’re a dancer, believing you are Madeline.”
Haylee looked around the basement room. Two small windows at street level had been painted over to prevent prying eyes. Other than that, there was only the one door. If they locked it so no one could come in, could she do it?
“Take your shirt off, Haylee,” Carmine coaxed. “You have a bra on, correct?”
“Yes.” She bit her lower lip. Her bra covered more than her swimsuit top. What harm would there be in taking her shirt off? “Just my shirt?”
“For now,” Carmine said with a shrug. “Then we shall see.”
She tugged the oversized T-shirt over her head and tossed it into the corner where her tote bag and water bottle sat. The room was cold; a necessity when they were moving around the room learning dance steps, but just standing there, the cool air raised goose flesh across her exposed skin.
Carmine moved to stand behind her. He put his hands around her ribcage, something he’d done dozens of times in the last two weeks, but there had always been fabric between them. This was different. Heat seared her where he touched. “Lovely, but I think the shorts need to go too.” Haylee hesitated. “Take them off, Madeline.”
Calling her by her characters’ name did something to her. Suddenly, she wasn’t Haylee anymore. She was Madeline, a stripper. “Madeline uses her body. She knows she looks good. She knows men want her.” Carmine’s breath brushed against her ear as he spoke. His hands skimmed her exposed flesh, warming her, heating her blood. “Take them off, Madeline.”
Haylee slid her thumbs beneath the stretchy waistband and pushed. Carmine’s hand was there to take the garment as she stepped out of them, leaving her in her bra and panties. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She’d worn less on camera. The bikinis she wore for the pool scenes on her Hollywood Sit-com were smaller than what she had on now, but somehow she felt more exposed than she had then.
Behind her, Chase Nolton stood, looking her over with appreciative eyes. Carmine’s voice snapped her back to the task at hand. “Much better.” His hands covered her hips. Big, heated hands molded her curves. “Move, Madeline.” He guided her movements with gentle pressure from his hands. “More. Close your eyes and see Madeline on stage. She wants to impress the man who can give her another chance at a career in the theatre. If he wants her body, he’ll give her that chance.”
Haylee stumbled as Carmine pulled her hard against him.
“Here. Feel it, Madeline. Feel my body move, move with it.” Haylee concentrated on the movements of Carmine’s body, mimicked the roll and sway of his hips. “There. That’s it,” he crooned over her shoulder. “You see him, sitting there, watching you, wanting you? You need him. Not his body – his influence. He can do things for you, and all it will cost you is your body. Nothing more. You can give him that, let him lie with you, let him fuck you, without giving him anything else.”
Haylee moved her hips in concert with Carmine’s. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was dancing, even though her feet hadn’t moved and inch. Maybe she could do this after all.
“Give him what he wants, Madeline. Make promises with your body. Promise him he can taste your breasts.”
Her eyes flew open as fingers flicked the front clasp of her bra, setting her breasts free. Chase Nolton stood before her, bare-chested, wearing a knowing grin. She lost Carmine’s rhythm as she stared into Chase’s eyes. Desire, barely banked, lurked behind those indigo irises.
Her heart skipped a beat. Is this what Madeline felt when men watched her dance? Powerful? Desired? Is this how she stripped for a living?
“Madeline,” Carmine whispered near her ear. His hands tightened on her hips, forcing her back into the rhythm of the dance. “This is what you want, isn’t it? You want this man, this influential man to want you. You’ll do anything – let him do anything if he’ll put you back on stage. If he’ll give you a chance to dance. So close your eyes and dance, Madeline.”
Her lids fluttered closed and her body moved in tandem with Carmine’s. She gasped as another hard body pressed to her front, joining in the sensual rhythm, grinding his hips against hers. Chase. No. This was Henry, Chase’s character. This is what Henry wanted. If Madeline gave it to him, he’d do what he promised – he’d make her a star on Broadway.
Callused hands cupped her breasts. Kneaded. Teased. Her nipples tightened under the attention.
Haylee sighed as his hands left her breasts to skim over her midriff, to her waist, and back again. Henry pressed her arms up and over her head. His hands slid along the length of her arms until his hands met hers. Fingers twined together. He brought their hands down and still clasped together, Henry pressed his body fully to hers. Crisp chest hairs abraded her aroused nipples.
Sandwiched between the two men, Madeline danced without moving a single step. Her body moved in sensuous rhythm with theirs. It was decadent. It was sinfully erotic. Yes, Madeline would do this. Madeline could do this.
Madeline. Haylee jerked as she came to her senses.
“Feel the dance, Haylee.” Carmine’s voice was low and seductive. “You are Madeline. You’re dancing.”
She was. She was dancing. Her lips curved into a tentative smile. Yes! But could she do it on her own? As if he read her mind, Carmine spoke.
“You are learning, Haylee. Soon, you’ll be moving on your own, but until then, Chase and I will guide you.”
So, she wasn’t a dancer yet. But she would be one – soon, she vowed to herself.
“Listen with your body, not your brain. Let your body lead you.”
They moved together for a few more minutes before Carmine dropped his hands and stepped away. Haylee lost the rhythm, even though she was still pressed up against Chase’s body. He came to a halt and let her go.
“Enough for now. We’ll take a break, and then come back to it.” Carmine crossed to the small refrigerator in the corner and pulled out a water bottle. He tossed it to Chase who caught it one-handed. Carmine returned to the refrigerator for another bottle, offered it to Haylee. When she declined and moved to pick up the bottle she’d brought with her, he twisted the cap loose and drank half the bottle in one long pull.
“No,” he barked the order. Haylee dropped the T-shirt she was about to pull over her head. “No clothes. You’ll dance nude from now on.” He waved his water bottle at her. “Take the panties off too.”
“But…”
“No arguments. If you’re going to be Madeline, you’ll have to learn to be comfortable in her body. Think of it as method acting.”
Haylee had had just as many acting lessons as she’d had dance lessons – exactly zero. She’d gotten by on her looks, her bubbly personality, and an ability to memorize lines. That’s about all that was needed on a television sit-com. This was different, and not for the first time, she wondered if she hadn’t gotten in over her head. Way over her head. She was pretty sure most Broadway actresses didn’t spend their rehearsal time nude.
But it had helped.
As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t. Shedding her clothes had been like shedding Haylee’s skin and stepping into Madeline’s. She’d danced!
Well, she hadn’t moved her feet, but she’d moved. And wasn’t that what dancing was? Moving to the rhythm of the music? Only there hadn’t been any music, just Carmine’s body, and then Chase’s. It was still to be seen if she could find the rhythm all by herself. She’d have to if she was going to be Madeline. And she wanted to be Madeline. She wanted to prove herself on Broadway, just like her character did.
Haylee swallowed a giant gulp from her eco-friendly water bottle. Madeline was willing to sell her body for a chance at Broadway stardom. But was she? Was taking dance lessons nude the same thing? No. She already had the job. She didn’t need to sell her body to get it, but she did need to learn to dance in order to keep the job. If she couldn’t play the part, they’d find someone else who could, or the show would close – perhaps before it even opened.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Haylee,” Chase said. When had he moved so close? He stood over her as she crouched in the corner with her bag. “You just need to listen to your body. We tried to teach you with your clothes on, but you wear them like a suit of armor. Without them to shield you, you can focus on the natural rhythms of your body.”
He crouched beside her and with one finger on her chin, turned her face to his. “Women have such beautiful natural rhythms. I’m surprised you don’t know that by now. Hasn’t anyone taught you the beauty of being a woman?”
“I…I’ve had sex.” Wasn’t that what he was talking about?
He raised one eyebrow. “You really don’t know, do you? You don’t know how a woman’s body can drive a man crazy. You think Madeline is the powerless one in this story, don’t you?”
“She is. She – ”
“She only thinks she’s powerless. She’s frustrated that her career is going nowhere, but she has all the power in her relationship with Henry. You don’t know how far Henry will go to possess Madeline, do you? Take your clothes off, Haylee, and let us show you how Madeline seduces Henry.”
Haylee bit her lower lip, a habit she thought she’d broken until she came to New York and her safe little world in Los Angeles had vanished. This was the real world. In Hollywood, there was always another take, another chance to get it right. But here, you had to get it right the first time or there wouldn’t be a second time. She didn’t want to be Madeline in real life. She wanted to prove to everyone that she could do this, that she could be a successful Broadway actress. The tabloids were full of nay-sayer stories about her stage debut. Not a single critic thought she could do it. More than anything, she wanted to prove them wrong. She had two of the most respected men in the New York theatre world willing to help her.
“The power is all yours, Haylee.” Chase stood. Haylee glanced at Carmine, then to Chase. Neither offered even a glimmer of compassion.
“You really think this is the only way I’m going to learn to dance?” she asked Carmine.
“I know it is.”
Haylee nodded, sucked in a deep breath and shimmied out of her panties.