JUST FRIENDS

o3

Those innocent eyes

Miguel's raw vocals and dreamy quartet rang out in the club, signaling Maze's performance. Like clockwork, the spotlight shined a white light on her silhouette.

Breathtaking. Every time. A ghetto ballerina twirling and twirling and twirling. He could sketch her upside down with her legs spread like butterfly wings so she'd stay like that forever.

The other girls couldn't do this- they couldn't make it art the way Maze did. They could dance and do impressive tricks, sure, but they weren't captivating. They weren't spellbinding.

That smile on your face makes it easy to trust you

It was clear Maze was used to performance, but little knew that she danced professionally up until the age of fifteen. When her body started developing, those little leotards began to draw unneeded attention to parts that she found kind of embarrassing at the time.

Her peers, who were flat-chested and no taller than five-two, would flash envious eyes at her full breasts, coke-bottle figure, and long legs that seemed to go on forever. But it didn't matter that the girls wanted what she had, Maze was a realist- no ballerina she'd seen had a body like hers. The thought alone would bring her to tears.

Blu couldn't understand what was so terrible about looking the way she did. In his eyes, she was something to behold. But instead of telling her that, he used to give her positive reinforcement anytime her emotions took a dive for the worst. He'd even rub her feet once the combination of ballet and tap dance became too intensive.

As far as familial support went, her mom was no help; Miss Valorie would push Maze to her limits, tell her beauty is pain, track her weight and diet all to ensure her daughter was the Prima Ballerina.

"First place is the only place that matters," she'd say.

Mr. Grant loved her deeply but was absent often, away from his daughter and wife because duty called. Working corporate gave him the expense to put food on the table but never the access to sit at it.

By eighteen, Maze had had enough, it was clear to her that she had to leave. If nothing else, than for her own good. But she also had to go out with a bang, and that was when The Red Room entered the picture.

Stripping was Maze's way of seeking revenge, although she never expected to fall so deeply in love with it. She dropped her stage name after a week. Not too long after word got out that she traded her ballet slippers for stilettos, the relationship with her mother, which wasn't much to begin with, had iced over.

If they only knew

Blu watched her in amazement, that people pleasing little girl long gone. They weren't kids anymore, as crazy as that revelation seemed. Far from it. Despite the fact, he sometimes felt like a prepubescent boy around her since he had years of built up sexual tension quite literally below the belt. Maze just liked to toy with him. She enjoyed sparking his frustration as easily as she spun around the pole.

The girl with the tattoo

More like the girl who was ready to break him. Blu had to keep his feelings bottled up and protected, he had to have his heart tucked away because her fingers were as oily as the rest of her body. She'd shatter him.

Speaking of oil...His mind went back to the dressing room where his knuckles brushed between her legs ever so slightly. He clenched his jaw as the feeling of warmth ghosted over him. Rubbing her down was dangerous every time, Blu was a sculptor after all so it was easy to memorize the feel of her supple skin on his hands. He couldn't forget how yielding her body always was to his touch. She lost herself in it. Her voice begging him please was still making ripples in his mind.