Dance, Lust And Them

Chapter 4

 When Janelle pulled into her driveway, she realized Curtis had beaten her there. They exited their cars and smiled at each other.

 “How was your first day?” Curtis asked. “Did you wind up getting the job?”

 “Yep. It was amazing Curtis, I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to even get this opportunity! The dancers are all really supportive and Vance is a really great guy.”

 “Oh he is, is he?” Curtis teased, poking her in the stomach.

 “Ow, what was that for?” she asked, shoving him. “You’re ridiculous.”

 “Not as ridiculous as you are. At least I’m not a bad liar.”

 “Curtis,” she sighed, unlocking the front door. They were instantly assaulted by scents of cinnamon and clove. Janelle’s father had purchased her several small hearts that were filled with scents that made the whole house smell like a bakery.

 On her ceiling, Janelle had hung a large group of fake flowers. There were enormous sunflowers encircling the kitchen, and the living room was filled with pine. Curtis hadn’t seen the place since she’d redecorated. It had been a while since they’d hooked up, almost two weeks, which was strange for them. Janelle had been staying away mostly because she needed to focus on finding a new job. Curtis promised he would help, and decided to give her some space during that time frame.

 Now that they were hanging out again, everything felt fresh and new. Curtis was excited to be with her, as he’d spent the past two weeks alone. No woman on earth could make him feel the way Janelle did. Her smile lit up the whole room with its glow, and he loved looking into her eyes, for they were round as globes.

Once a few months ago, during the Fourth of July, Curtis had taken Janelle to see the fireworks show. They’d gone just as friends, but the evening had turned into more of a date by the time the night was over.

 The fireworks took place at an enormous beach called Green’s Cove. It was home to a myriad of small green fish, each a different shade of emerald or velvet. When Janelle was younger, she and her father used to go to the beach at night to throw stones and shells back into the water. It was after her mother had died, and they spent almost every night down at the beach. Janelle hadn’t cried when she’d heard the news. She was too young to comprehend death; the only thing she knew was that her mother wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t all bad; Janelle’s father stepped in, taking on the role of mother figure and best friend. Her grandmother took on the role of her wicked stepmother, constantly berating Janelle for all sorts of things.

 As the years went on, and things became easier, Janelle fell in and out of love with California. She’d wanted to leave for New York City, hoping that she might be able to join a strong ballet family. Of course, those dreams had been shattered long ago.

When Curtis came into her life, Janelle was frustrated and angry at her dispositions. He made her feel special again, though if he were honest, he always knew she was strong. That day on the beach, on the fourth of July, Curtis had felt truly close to Janelle.

 The fireworks looked like electric jellyfish as they exploded across the sky. Curtis and Janelle were sitting towards the back of the beach on a quilted red blanket. Every so often, Janelle would push sand off the blanket. She hated sand, and found it always got into her clothing no matter how hard she tried to keep it out.

The water crashed hard against the shore even though there were no boats visible in the distance. There were children running in circles playing tag and eating ice cream. Curtis placed his arm around Janelle and rubbed at her ribcage. She was ticklish all over, and felt strange when Curtis touched her in public.

 “People are going to see,” she said.

 This made him tickle her even more. “Let them see,” he’d said.

 In the kitchen that night, Curtis surprised Janelle by walking up behind her and grabbing at her stomach like he did on the fourth of July. Her muscle memory kicked into gear and she bent forward, her sensory perceptions spiraling out of control.

 Feeling ticklish was one of the oldest things human beings had leftover from when they evolved from animals. This was what her father told her over and over again, that being ticklish was directly linked to fear. But Janelle enjoyed being tickled.

 “Can I take a shower?” he mumbled.

 “Sure,” she said, rolling onto her side. Before deciding whether or not she wanted to join him, she promptly fell asleep.

*****

When Janelle woke the next morning, it was already half past six. She needed to get showered and dressed quickly; otherwise she would be late to the studio.