Summary: She lives in a world of innocence and romance. He lives in a worldof garish lights and pulsing music. Is their love strong enough to create aworld they can share?
I don't own HSM. Kenny Ortega does. Nor do I own this story.
3
.Lightning That Lingers.
Chp. 2
Looking everywhere in the room except the stage, in a harried effort to avoid the trauma of finding out how Peter the Policeman measured up (which was very well according to the wild applause surrounding her), she had time to wonder how much of what she had seen in those blue eyes was a trick of her imagination, or the stage lights. Subliminal chemistry was doing rather uncomfortable things to her, but she told herself it was probably due more to the awkwardness of all of this than to a direct response to a man who'd looked at her once. She was too self-conscious to risk another glance toward him until the policeman had left the stage--out of uniform.
The brunette man at the sound console was making an array of adjustments to the apparatus in front of him, the austere beauty of his hands outline against the start mechanics. The practiced movements were done by rote; the far-seeing gaze was softly unfocused as though his thoughts had drifted elsewhere. Appearing from a door on stage right, the M.C. laid her hand on his rear pocket and squeezed gently as she walked by. A tingle of laughter swept through the audience from those who had seen it. The M.C. looked back over her shoulder at the man and his ironical eyes lit slightly as he gave her a smile of bewildering approach before leaving the area by a side door.
"Give us the sound man!" came a shout from the banking group.
The M.C, who had begun to speak, ignored the interruption, but the call for the brunette man spread like a chant through the crowded room. Encouraged by a certain gleam in the M.C.'s grin, the clamor grew in momentum. More and more voices joined the swell. Raucous whistles rocketed toward the stage. Rhythmic clapping erupted. Breaking into laughter, motioning the rebels into order, the M.C. had to shout into the mic to make herself heard.
"All right, all right! Talk about lascivious...I can see you've all had the same thought as I did two years ago when I came upon him sitting on the public pier dangling his toes in the lake, his jeans rolled up to his knees..." She chuckled at the thunder of delight before her. "When I look for men to dance in the club, I'm looking for very special ones. They have to have better than good looks. They have to have better than good dancing ability. I go way beyond that. I look for men with that unique charisma that--well you know what it does to you. As you've guessed: he's not the sound man, he's definitely not a minor, and he definitely is a showpiece of the Coup de Grace club! Ladies, we're proud to present the number one male dancer in the Southwest. Here he is, our own native blue-blood to make your blood simmer--"
Amid pandemonium, added to it, Gabriella's confusion because she had not really guessed that the brunette man with the gentle gaze and face like a vision would strip his clothes off for money, he strolled onstage to the beat of "Stray Cat Strut." He was a whimsical blue-collar fantasy in a light shiny hardhat. A form-fitting shirt molded to his upper body, leading the eyes irresistibly downward to the softly faded denim caressing his hips and long thighs. There was a mesmeric quality, and almost playful kinetic energy to his natural grace. Moving to the music with easy sensuality, he pulled off the hardhat in a flow of athletic choreography. The light hair tumbled sensuously, and the blue and hot-silver eyes held a laughter that was at the same time innocent and full of utter deviltry.
"God, he's so..." muttered Sharpay.
The quaking excitement inside Gabriella had nothing to do with embarrassment, though heaven knew she was embarrassed by what she saw, what she felt. The icy ball that her stomach had become was melting all down the inside of her, through her nerves, into pumping pathways that led downward, inward.
He let one arm shrug out of his shirt, one more slowly than the other, the smooth liquid sway of his hips still catching the beat. Gabriella could almost feel the softness of his bare flesh, the heat and steel that came beneath. Her throat could almost taste the light tang of sweat that traced the intoxicating hollows stretched along his muscles. His vitality projected like rocket fire through the room, burning the imagination, flaming the watching bodies.
Soon, except for the flight fabric that left him exposed almost completely in back, he was nude. The purity of clean body lines in the ivory spot carried the wattage of chain lightning. The rim of the low stage filled four deep with women waiting breathlessly to tuck a folded dollar into the tiny garment he wore and to kiss the wide, smiling mouth.
Taylor, who had rushed up to the stage herself, now flopped back in her seat beside Gabriella, throwing one hand over hear heart.
"You've been up there twice," Sharpay said, her eyes sparkling, mirthful.
"I know! I told him I had to come back."
Jennifer leaned toward her. "What'd he say?"
"He just laughed. Jennifer, heavens, don't miss it! How often does anyone get a chance to make magic with a man like that?!" Taylor gave Jennifer a little nudge, and Sharpay tried laughingly to haul Gabriella to her feet. Sticking like a burr to her small chair, thrown further into unfamiliar mental disarray, Gabriella tried feebly.
"I'd better not. I...think I have a cold coming on and I wouldn't want to--"
The end of her sentence was swallowed by the laughter of her friends. Jennifer was saying, "Fie on you, woman! You haven't either!", when Gabriella, whose eyes had been straying helplessly to the stage for no very good real, saw that for the second time this evening, the brunette man was looking right at her. He must have seen the attempt of her friends to pull her from the chair, and her strong negative reaction, because he released the beautiful young woman he was holding. His head tilted in a pantomime of curiosity and tenderness. And then he beckoned to her, his smile roguish, sensual.
Gabriella's fingers clutched the sides of her chair in a death grip. One corner of his mouth quirked upward as he gave her a look of humorous reproach. She finally gave in to her friends and was tugged to that stage, where he seemed to be waiting just for her. Gabriella closed her eyes in embarrassment, but he leaned over to her.
"Hello, lady," he whispered. "Open your eyes." When she would not, he murmured, "I only want to kiss you." She felt the shock of his warm hand gently pulling at her wrists and urging her chin up. Then not persisting in the face of frozen resistance and temptation, he stroked the outer curve of her hot cheek with a soothing finger.
"What's your name?"
Gabriella shook her head helplessly. To her horror she heard Taylor's voice.
"Her name's Gabriella! Gabriella Montez!" Taylor giggled.
Over the girls' laughter, Gabriella heard his voice again. "Gabriella," he whispered. "You know what, Gabriella Montez? I think you're very sweet."
She was not able to watch the rest of his act as he abandoned his final cover to Bob Dylan's melodic rasp. The unfeigned lyrics of "Lay, Lady, Lay" seeped through the loudspeakers. But she knew that it was the voice and the light touch of another man that would stay with her through the night.
There's chapter two! Read and review! I know there was a blank page and first, but I couldn't upload a blank document. So I just typed something random obviously. XOXO, VG.