Disclaimer: You know the drill by now.

Rating: PG-13. Nothing has changed in that area.

"And one, two, three, four………."

"Go, Jessi! Now!"

As the pulsating, electro-synthesizer filled music filled her ears, Jessica Ramsey squeezed her eyes shut, letting her body go limp, trusting her muscles to remember everything they needed to know……

And she went off.

As the electrifying, pulsating music shook the studio floor, Jessi launched her body forward, twisting and turning in time to the beat, moving with both aggression and grace. In a sharp, sudden movement, she lifted one leg and allowed herself to drop, feeling the floor rush up to catch her.

"Now, Joaquin!"

Seemingly out of nowhere, just before she hit the ground, a pair of strong, muscular  arms caught her, twisting her around, pulling her up to her feet. She landed on her toes and rested her head against his shoulder, in a moment of staged breathlessness. She then ran one finger down his bare chest, and pressed her lips to the same spot.

"Cut!"

Jessi instantly relaxed, bracing her hands against her partner's chest and lunging back to her feet. "A little HELP here, maybe? Joaquin?"

"Sorry."  Her partner, a tall, leanly muscled man dressed in a pair of gray sweats, scowled at her. He tossed back a lock of thick black hair and reached for the water bottle that was on the floor nearby. "You're heavy!"

"You're weak! If you had been one more beat behind the music I would have been flat on the floor!" Jessi sighed and raked her fingers through her shoulder-length hair, which had come loose from her ponytail while she had been dancing. She grimaced as she felt her fingers come in contact with a dampness that she knew was from sweat, and prayed that her recently-permed roots wouldn't suffer. She was SO getting braids next week.

"Well, it certainly isn't my fault that you can't seem to manage to get to your spot at the time you're supposed to. How can I catch you properly when you're always-"

"Catch me properly? You've got a lot of nerve to say that when you're the one who-"

"Enough!" A sharp voice interrupted their tirade, and a tall, well-built man dressed in black sweats and a Knicks sweatshirt emerged from the shadows in the corner of the room. "I'm the choreographer here, remember?"

The couple looked up and glanced in his direction. "Sorry, Quint," muttered Jessi.

"Yeah," Joaquin muttered, looking slightly embarrassed as well.

Quint rolled his eyes and turned back to the radio. "We have about a week before we shoot this scene.  I know that you two are my leads, but that means nothing. Female dancers are available anywhere, and Joaquin? I have at least two male dancers ready to break your legs and take your spot at a moment's notice. Quit bickering and get yourselves together!"

With that, he turned and stalked from the room.

"Um, Quint?" Jessi called timidly after him.

"What??"

"How can we keep going if you're not here?"

Quint let out an irritated sigh. "Take five. I'm going to look for a fast-acting drug to use on myself."

Jessi turned around to face Joaquin, whose eyes were wide. "Don't take him seriously," she said with a smirk. "He always gets this way before performance week."

Joaquin shook his head and poured the remaining contents of his water bottle into his towel, dropping the whole wet mass on top of his head. "He's a nut. Was he this way when you guys were in training?"

"No." Jessi laughed. "I had to talk him into staying with ballet back then- we were like, eleven! Then, later on when I got into the ABA and he got into the Dance Theatre of Harlem, he found out that choreography was his thing. He's the most popular choreographer around here these days."

"He's a slave driver."

"And a good choreographer." Jessi took the bottle from his hand and splashed some water on her own hand, rubbing it over her face, neck, shoulders and the portion of midriff and chest exposed by her cutoff spandex tank top. Water dripped from to her abs and disappeared into the waistband of her leggings, clinging to each muscle as the rivulets made their path. She saw Joaquin watching her with interest.

"Think I should get it pierced?" she asked dryly, watching him focus on her navel.

He flushed, grinned and laughed. "Not really. You know I don't like you, girl."

"Whatever." Jessi was unconvinced. "Come on, let's get this thing right."

"Ooookkkaayyyyy," Joaquin stepped back to his place on the floor, and Jessi stood in place, waiting for the music to begin. Joaquin began the count.

"And….five! six! Five, six, seven eight!"

Jessi threw herself into the routine once again, determined to get it right, and she could see the concentration etched on Joaquin's face, as well. This time, they were right on point, and when the music stopped abruptly, they were both out of breath.

"Amazing!"

Quint stood there, a huge grin on his face. He had slipped back into the room while they had been going through the routine. "That was great!" he cried, his previous fury forgotten. "Do it again."

They both nodded and got into position, but were interrupted when a cell phone rang, the theme music from the Nutcracker. Quint glared at both of them. Joaquin looked over at Jessi.

"Um, sorry," she said, meekly. "This'll only take a minute." She avoided Quint's eyes as she hurried from the room, her duffel bag over her shoulder. Talk about intense. Who is this, anyway? She pulled out the cell phone. Becca? That's weird. Since her younger sister had started grad school and gotten her own apartment in New Jersey, she barely ever called.

"Jessi here."

"Hey, Jess." Sure enough, it was her younger sister, Rebecca. "What's up?"

"Nothing much. Um, can I call you back?" Jessi glanced at the studio window, through which Quint was glaring. "I'm kind of in rehersal right now."

"Just calling to check on you. How's that movie going?"

"Fine." Now twenty-six years old, Jessi had quit the classical ballet a few years ago and taken up odd dancing jobs, ranging from being a dancer on Broadway for a couple of years to what she was doing now, being a "dance double"  for the movie Loves Music, Loves to Dance that was coming out that fall. She enjoyed the change. Despite her love of classical ballet, it was hard on both the mind and the body, and doing the modern dance that she was into now was much easier, and just as fun. Getting jobs was no hardship for her- she had been a principal for the American Ballet Association for years, after all. Now, she just picked and chose, enjoying what was left of her dance career.

"How's Quint?"

"Fine."

"It's so weird, how you two ended up on the same project. Has he asked you out again yet?"

"Becca!" Although Jessi had seen Quint quite a bit when she had returned to New York after college to dance, (she was at the ABA headquarters in Manhattan, and he was nearby at the Dance Theatre of Harlem)  they never rekindled their childhood romance. He seemed older, more serious, more mature- and Jessi was so focused on her career- it had never been quite the right time for either one. Plus, Quint never had time for anything.

It was quite a switch from the friendly, fun-loving boy she'd known as a kid.

Jessi forced herself to stop thinking and to focus on her sister's chatter. "I doubt we'll we "going out" anytime, Becca."

"What's your movie about?"

"It's kind of a modern-day version of Footloose, but with a girl from the city as the main character. She falls for this suburban Italian guy with connections to the mob. And, coincidently, both of them like to visit dance clubs."

Jessi could almost hear her sister's grimace over the phone. "Sounds horrible."

Jessi chuckled. "It is." She glanced over at the studio window- Quint had his face pressed up against it now.  "It's good money, though, and the dance scenes are hot. That's all that matters."

"I guess." Becca sounded unconvinced. "Anyway, I'll see you in a couple weeks, right?"

"Right." Stacy McGill had called her about the reunion that Mary Anne was planning, and although she hadn't seen any of them in a few years (with the exception of Claudia, who came to the ballet with her movie star husband all the time; and Stacey, who she had lunch with in New York once in a while. She and Mallory still kept in touch by e-mail, but it was touch-and-go.) "I really want to see Mallory. Did you know that girl cut her hair?"

"You're kidding!"

"It's true She wrote me and-"

"Jessica!"

Jessi winced as Quint's voice bellowed though the soundproof-glass window, sounding eerily like her father's voice when she was a kid and in trouble for doing something. It's a wonder he didn't shatter the thing. "Um, Becca? I've got to go. Say hi to Squirt for me next time you talk to him. See you in two weeks." She hurridly hung up the phone- and went out to face her instructor's ire.

This should be good.

As she hurried into the dance studio, Quint gave her a look. "Who was so important that you had to gabber for fifteen minutes, Jess?"

Jessi answered evenly. "That was my little sister, Becca."

"Becca?" He raised a brow. "How is she? She must be- what, like, twenty-four now?"

Jessi nodded. "She's in grad school. First year."

"Connecticut?"

"New Jersey."

"What's she studying?"

"Law." Jessi smirked. "That famous mouth of hers is finally getting put to some use."

Feeling left out of the conversation, Joaquin broke in. "Is she single?"

They stared at him, the rhythm of their conversation broken.

He shrugged. "I'm available. And looking. And if she looks anything like you, Jessi-"

"Shut up, Joaquin!" they said together. He laughed and shrugged again. "Like I said…."

Quint rolled his eyes. "Let's get back to work, shall we?"