Dance with Me, Exotica

by CountingWithStraws

One must disguise himself as a woman in order to dance or else face the wrath of his homophobic father. The other goes to the club just to relax, take a break from factory work, and pick up chicks. Naruto/Sasuke. Rated M for later chapters. DISCONTINUED: The story has been rewritten, altered, & is now "Exposure."

1. Prologue

Author's Notes:

The prologue is rated T (for a single swear word) but the story as a whole is M or will be when I get that far.

I'm horrible at finishing stories so please give encouragement if you want more, it will guilt trip me into writing more! (Though, if it is before May 14th 2012, I haven't finished term so it might take longer for things to get done). Also, whilst I've been on for awhile, I haven't actually put a lot up so I'm still figuring out how the set up works, so please bare with me until I get the hang of it. ^^;

Lastly, most of the characters are in their early 20s.

Hope you enjoy,

-Nik

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The razor slid over his tone, swimmer legs making them satin smooth. Once he had triple checked to make sure he did not miss a single spot, he stepped out of the steamy shower and wrapped his lithe waist in a terrycloth towel. He walked into his expansive bedroom, which was awash with seductive jazz tones, and over to the vanity. For a few minutes he simply sat there, looking around the large, oval mirror at all the different pictures taped to it. There were mostly pictures of different places he had been, most of which had his blonde best friend either flicking him off or not even paying attention to the camera, but there were also quotes and lyrics weaved within the layers of pictures.

After blow-drying his hair, he effortlessly braided it back into a high ponytail before securing an extension that matched the colour perfectly. When he was happy with the style, he checked to make sure his temporary nails were still secure, and then he applied enough eyeliner and lipstick to make him look incredibly sexy but not whorish. He then went to the back of his closet, grabbed his dress, a bra that he had glued implantation into so that it would look natural, and strappy heels. Just as he was putting his handful of silver bangles and clip-on earrings on, there was a knock on the door. Walking perfectly in four inch heels, he turned his music off and went to answer the door.

Temari's eyes widened and her car keys clattered to the floor. "Holy fuck-"

"Exotica." With a smirked he locked the door and walked out of his apartment.

The function of music is to release us from

the tyranny of conscious thought.

-Sir Thomas Beecham