Chapter Two
He waited outside silently, hearing the laughter and the yells that were coming from within the apartment. The corridor was brightly lit, and he disliked it. It made him feel exposed despite the late hour. He was mildly relieved of his thoughts when the door opened.
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Yohei stood in the doorway, looking the man over. He was covered with a floor-length trench coat of black leather, and the collar reached up, to cover his neck and frame his partially masked face. He smiled to himself. Hanamichi would be in for the shock of his life.
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"NANI?! A male stri—"
I could just leave if you don't want the show, the performer thought silently as he unbuttoned the coat and let it fall to the floor. After all, I've already been paid.
"He's a dancer, Hanamichi, a dancer."
"But he's going to—!"
"This is your last night to try something new and exciting!"
Silence.
"Do you think Haruko-chan would allow you to have fun of this nature?"
Silence.
He walked stealthily, his bare feet making no noise, his shoes abandoned at the doorway. His head was bowed slightly, his fingers clasping lightly onto the small disc. I can't wait for this to be over. He paused at the junction of the corridor and the living room.
The dark-haired man who had greeted him at the door beckoned to him smilingly. "It's okay. Do begin when you're ready. The stereo is over there."
He nodded and moved over to the player, his slim fingers deftly retrieving his own music and inserting it into the machinery, pressing the Play button and turning around as the rhythm started.
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Hanamichi gulped, sandwiched in between a giggling Takamiya and a laughing Yohei on the couch. The sensual strains of an instrumental flooded the room, insidiously filling the air with smoky warmth and promise. And as he watched, the man, clothed in black pants and a hugging, sleeveless black shirt, turned to face them, his movement abrupt as the rhythm jolted to a stop.
Mechanically, at the exact time of the heavy sound of the drums burst into life, the man started to move, and he felt his mouth go dry.
Sliding forward on one foot, arms lifting in a fluid motion, the man flicked his wrists and entwined them about his slender body, dappling like a bending blade of grass. Then he launched into the dance, a graceful, swirling myriad of steps that took the breath away just by looking.
The rhythm intensified, pounding into the ears of those present with its inexplicable rage and tension. And then he paused as the music changed again, into a soft, layering wave of instrumental music that faded, slowly, slowly…as he brought his hands down onto his waist, across his body, embracing himself like a lover, and then with one swift gesture, rid his upper body of the black cloth covering it.
An animalistic growl broke from the slender, white throat as he tossed his head back and surveyed them from the corner of his eye. The mask…Hanamichi was entranced by the mask. Bottle-green and elaborately decorated in make, it faded colors from a deep forest jade to a crystal sea in the shifting light, the up-turned corners of silver and gold catching and reflecting the warmth in the room. It covered his face from brow to the top of his lips, which were stained a rich shade of color that brought the pale skin around it to vitality and glowing luminescence.
And his movements…as the man spun again and gyrated his hips to the varying tempo of the sounds that filled his consciousness, he noticed that the body was slim and well-sculpted, fair and subtly muscled. He traced a shimmering trail of perspiration up…up, until he was looking at the mask again. Set in the mask, stony eyes the shade of the coldest blue, enhanced by the dark sensuous lines of kohl that drew on the slant of the eyelids backed by a brilliant cast of silver-white. The man's head whipped up and that stony gaze met a slightly flustered one. A small, mirthless smile curved the corner of the full mouth as he stripped down to a pair of slinky black briefs, his piercing stare locked with that of a shocked honey-brown gaze.