Chapter 18 - First male of the empire II
"Great work everyone," Jude called as they finished their scene rehearsal.
The boys were awestruck by the size of the venue and it was hard to get them to focus. Jude didn't blame them though, he was as awestruck as they were.
The Empress Arena was a massive indoors arena with over eighty thousand seats. Each step and each leap they took echoed through the vast space, and it being empty made it even more eerie.
They all looked for him to lead and he needed to reassure them it was going to be okay.
"Guys, when we step onto the scene today, remember your training. Remember the hall back at home, I have faith in you, don't mind the audience, keep your eyes on your comrades and focus on yourselves. It doesn't matter if you dance in the dark or before a crowd of thousands. The dance won't change."
He put his hand out and they gathered to put theirs on top of his.
"On three. One. Two. Three."
"FIGHT-O!"
They left the scene to make way for the next group. It wasn't even midday yet but the organisers were in full motion to prepare the event, installing cranes, sound equipment and so forth. When they arrived at the arena there had been dozens of tents outside, apparently many fans had stayed overnight to be the first to enter.
They headed to the dining area assigned to the contestants. Jude spotted Mikkel, sitting with his backup dancers.
"Hey Jude over here," he called to him and Jude walked over.
"How did rehearsal go?"
"It went well. I'm worried though, I didn't think the arena would be this big."
"I know, right? It's massive, just imagine what it will look when it's full."
The vision made Judes gut churn in anguish.
"I can't wait to get out there and shake it. Everyone looking at me, at my butt," Mikkel went on.
"It's quite something all right."
"My butt or the arena?"
Jude put his hands on his hips and sighed but before he could reply something drew his attention away.
A boy entered the room, followed by two others. He wore a long white dress with a blue tint, that would've dragged on the floor had the two other boys not held it, and a tiara atop his crown that shimmered in the light.
"Are those diamonds?" Jude said in awe.
"Bloody hell, I think they are."
The boy stepped forward and sniffed. He had long brown hair and wore an indignant look as if he smelled something foul.
"Peasants," he said out loud so everyone could hear him, "We can't dine among the plebs, it's undignified. Let's go to mother's lounge." He swirled around and walked out of the room with his nose held high.
He had a strange dialect. He didn't sound American or British.
"French bastard," Cedric, one of Mikkels dancers, muttered.
"Who was that?" Mikkel asked.
"He's Antoiné of House Montfaucon, one of the most powerful Aristocratic families within the empire. They think they're so much better than the rest of us but I say their shits smell just as bad as ours, if not worse."
Jude noticed Cedric's Scottish accent. It was exciting to be among so many new people of different nationalities.
"He seemed to think himself better," Mikkel mused, "So what's his skill then?"
"Ballet apparently. As expected of nobility, uppity people demand uppity dancing."
"Jude is a ballet dancer."
"You are? Sorry, I meant nothing by it."
"It's okay. I didn't take offense. I'm aware that's how people view it and it's something I wish to change."
"You gotta kick his butt Jude, you can't let a brat like him make fools out of us commoners."
"Eh?! I can't do that, violence is a crime!"
"No, I didn't mean it literally. I meant that you need to put his ballet to shame and show them nobles what real talent can do. It's different when you don't get everything served on a silver platter."
"Okay. I'll try but he must be very good, he seemed quite sure of himself and he is an aristocrat."
"Bah, aristocrat this, noble that. They don't have the heart you do. You have more talent in your pinky than that boy has in his entire body and I'd bet my chocolate cake you've worked ten times as hard as he has."
Mikkel was very fond of his chocolate cakes, so it meant a lot for him to put it on the line.
"Thanks. I'll try my best."
"Not your best, you need to kick his ass I'm telling you."
"Okay, I'll k-kick his ass."
"That's better."
They ordered food. Jude ordered a chicken salad and Mikkel ordered his favourite, chocolate cake.
When Mikkel was halfway through Jude pulled his plate away.
"Hey, what are you doing? I was eating that, order your own."
"If you eat too much sugar, it will make you tired and affect your performance. You've had enough already."
Mikkel crossed his arms and looked grump.
"Okay, mom."
"You'll thank me later. Here, you can have some of my salad."
Mikkel snorted at that, "Salad is for rabbits, a growing boy need carbs."
He glanced at Mikkels hips. He was still growing indeed, but Jude wasn't sure it was in the right places. He should think of his future. What if he got fat and his future mistress didn't like him anymore?
One of the organisers, a female, entered the room. She was cute, Jude thought, but if she'd been a foot taller with a bulge in her pants she would've been a stunner.
"Hello everyone. If I may have your attention, please. We will proceed with the briefing in half an hour. Make sure to inform your assistants who are not present to make their way backstage."
"Better eat up your salad," Jude said to Mikkel.
"Blech, do I have to?"
"Yes," Jude said and giggled.
The other contestants had already gathered when they arrived. Jude was interested to see who his competitors were. There were boys of all colors and races among them. There was a short and stocky boy from the Bongo Bongo islands. His build reminded him of Mikkel and he was packing a behind as well.
Then there was a german boy wearing a pair of tights and a t-shirt cut in half, covered with glitter and pallets, that left little to the imagination. Jude had heard of the germans. They were a promiscuous people, only wearing clothes when they absolutely had too. People from other states viewed them as queer but prized their males as good boys.
There was a tall, blond boy who Jude figured must be from the Jarldoms. He'd never seen a male that tall before, he was almost as tall as a futa and had wide, muscular shoulders.
The boy turned and looked straight at him, waved his hand and approached. Jude had no sexual inclinations towards males but when the blond boy looked at him it felt as if his eyes cut right though his soul.
"Hello, I'm Sven. What's your name?" He held out his hand.
Jude reached out and shook it. Sven had a firm grip and his big hand enclosed around his to hide it from view.
"I'm Jude, nice to meet you."
"Ah Jude, I've heard of you. From America, right?"
"Yes, and where are you from?"
He smiled. Jude felt as if he could drown in it.
"Guess."
"The Jarldoms?"
"Correct. Was it ballet you did?"
"Uh-huh."
"It must have been a special performance to land you a ticket to the finals."
"Thanks but it wasn't that special, I just went out there and had fun."
"That's the best way to do it."
"Do you have ballet in the Jarldoms?"
"No, we don't. The Jarls have little interest in the finer arts, they're only interested in displays of strength, which is a shame if you ask me. I've always wanted to try it but I don't think I have the body for it."
He raised an arm and flexed his well built bicep, "too much brawn."
"Are you kidding? Ballet schools would kill to have someone with your..."
Jude was about to say beautiful body but he didn't want to come off too strong, "uhm, physique."
"Is that so? I thought all ballet dancers were elegant and cute like you."
Jude's cheeks flared red.Did he just call me cute?
"That's not true at all. There are many roles you would fit into. Most plays have a futa counterpart but few futas do ballet so males with muscular builds do them instead."
"Interesting, I didn't know that. Maybe you could teach me sometime."
"I'd love to," he almost shouted but contained his excitement in the last moment.
"It's a deal then. I need to get back to my group now. It was fun talking to you Jude, I hope we meet again."
"You too," Jude said and they smiled at each other before Sven turned to walk back to his group.
Jude followed him with his eyes. He'd read about the Jarldoms, it was said that some of their males were just as strong as futas. He'd not believed it at the time but looking at Sven he wouldn't be surprised if it was true.
"Who was that?" Mikkel asked from behind.
"Oh, it was one of the other contestants, Sven. He's from the Jarldoms."
Mikkel nodded and regarded Sven.
"Handsome guy, don't you think?"
"I didn't say that!"
"No, I said it but you were thinking it."
Mikkel grabbed Jude's shoulders and shook him.
"Admit it, you thought he was hot and now you're in love."
"No, it's not like that," Jude said and wriggled free from his grasp, "Uhm, but I did think he looked nice."
He blushed and averted his gaze while Mikkel hummed mischievously.
Then someone bumped into Jude so he stumbled forward.
"Woah, are you okay?" Mikkel asked.
"Yes, thank you."
Mikkel turned to the boy responsible.
"Hey! watch where you're going!"
The boy stopped in his tracks. It was Antoiné of Montfaucon.
"Clemens," he said to the boy on his left, "did the peasant address me?"
"I believe he did, sir."
"Could you tell him off for me?"
"My pleasure sir," Clemens said and stepped towards Mikkel.
"Show some respect, you're in the presence of his eminence Antoiné of House Montfaucon."
"What?!" Mikkel exclaimed, "Hey dummy, face me when you're talking to me. I don't care if you're the son of House Montfartson or whatever, you're the one who needs to show some respect."
Antoiné sighed.
"Clemens."
"Yes, your excellency?"
"Tell the peasant I have no interest to dawdle with his kind."
"Of course, sir," He said and turned back to Mikkel.
"His excellency has no interest to associate with you. Begone commoner!"
Mikkel's face turned red.
"Are you looking for a fight? I'll kick your snobby ass upside down, you turd!"
Mikkel was up in arms, waving his fists in the air while Jude tried to calm him down.
"I'm okay, Mikkel. Please calm down, it would be bad if you got into a fight here. Think of the competition."
Mikkel saw the sense in his words and collected himself.
"Fat boy do well to listen to his friend," Antoiné said.
"I'm not fat," Mikkel shouted. People around them started to take notice of the ruckus.
Antoiné examined Mikkel.
"You say all that jiggle, jiggle is not fat. I see fat boy is dishonest as well."
Jude rushed in to keep Mikkel away but to his surprise he stayed calm.
"Hey you're a ballet dancer, right?," Mikkel said with a smirk, "Well you know what? So is Jude and he's going to make you look stupid."
Antoiné raised a brow and looked at Jude.
"What are you saying Mikkel, you're making it worse."
Before Mikkel could respond Antoiné approached Jude and stopped within a foot's distance, regarding him with cold eyes.
"You dancer, yes?"
"Uhm, yes I am."
Antoiné had an air of superiority about him and Jude struggled to not shrink away before his gaze. The boy leaned to the side and examined him.
"I see, you have dancer's body. Must have worked hard to achieve."
"Thank you, I.." Jude began but was interrupted.
"You'll make excellent backup dancer one day."
"What was that?" Mikkel growled, "Jude is a much better dancer than you can ever dream of becoming. Just you wait, you'll see."
Antoiné snorted and stepped back behind his servants.
"I'm sure he's very good but if hard training is all it takes, there would be many exceptional dancers in world."
He raised his chin and looked down on them.
"To be the best it takes class, something which your kind knows nothing about. Thus I say he will become excellent background dancer because that's where commoners like you belong, in the background."
Mikkel fumed but before he could do anything Antoiné spoke to his servants.
"Clemens, Marlaund, I'm tired of conversing with the peasants. Let's move along."
"Yes, your excellency," They responded and the three of them walked away.
Left was Jude and Mikkel, who trembled in anger.
"Why didn't you say something?" Mikkel reproached him.
Jude sighed, he wasn't sure if Mikkel would understand but as his friend it was his duty to explain.
"What should I've said?"
"I don't know, like you were gonna kick his butt or something."
"Don't you see that was exactly what he wanted. It was his goal all along to stir up trouble and make us angry. If we go out there with thoughts of vengeance it will affect our performances and he'd win."
He did feel irritated about Antoiné's words. He'd been very disrespectful. But at the same time he felt a strange calm. It didn't matter to him that someone like Antoiné would look down upon them. Could it be because he was not doing this for himself but for those who were precious to him?
"Still, you should have said something. You can't let people walk all over you like that."
"You're right, I should have said something but it doesn't matter now and hey, thanks for sticking up for me. I'm lucky to have a friend like you."
"You better damn well be, there's no one like me."
Jude laughed at his boastful remark.
"That is so true."
"May I have your attention, please," Someone called out.
Jude stood on his toes to see above the crowd. It was Hanna Epstein.
"Welcome to the 78th installment of the first male of the empire competitions."
The boys clapped their hands and Mikkel whistled.
"Among you stand the best of the best, singled out for your prowess in your respective fields and put through arduous screenings. It's my privilege to guide you through this experience. Each of you will receive a brochure with instructions, within you'll find the rules and a short essay on the spirit of the competition. This shouldn't be any news but we recommend you read it anyway. It also contains the schedule in which order you'll perform and seating instructions for the scoring phase. Every competitor will be assigned an assistant who will help with anything you might need and make sure you're in the right place at the right time. It's of paramount importance that you inform your assistants of any problems ahead and we'll do our best to solve them as quickly as possible. Questions?"
"Yes," Antoiné spoke up, "This assistant I won't need. I have two already and I have no interest in yours."
"I'm sorry, Mr Montfaucon, but I must insist."
"Hmph, okay, just tell them to keep their distance."
Jude felt a surge of anger at him. He'd thought nobles were well versed in etiquette but that obviously wasn't the case with Antoiné. Not only did he not bother to ask for permission to speak but he kept the same air of superiority towards Mrs Epstein as he did to everyone else. It was one thing to be rude towards a male and another to be rude against a futa.
There were no further questions from the boys and Mrs Epstein clasped her hands and continued her speech.
"Twenty two of you have made it this far but only one will be crowned the first male of the empire. Make sure to give the audience a performance they'll soon forget, take the step towards adulthood and glory, and know that the entire empire is watching. Good luck boys."
Her speech was met by cheers from the boys. An organiser approached Jude, a young futa with dark hair and slanted eyes, courtesy of her Asian heritage.
"Good evening Jude, My name's Yuta and I will be your assistant today. I hope you will accept me."
"Good evening Ms Yuta, nice to meet you." He curtsied to her.
She smiled and handed a bunch of papers to him and the boys from his club.
"This is the brochure Mrs Epstein mentioned. Would you like for me to go through it with you?"
"Yes please, is there somewhere we can do it undisturbed?"
"There's a lounge prepared for the contestants, should I take you there?"
"Yes, please."
"Okay, follow me."
Jude felt a slight tingle in his chest, a tenseness that made his breath laboured. He was beginning to get nervous.
The organisers opened the doors to let the audience in and a shudder rummaged through the walls as thousands moved to enter the arena.
Jude was so nervous he took a sip of Mrs Fawlornes breast milk. Just a tiny bit to calm his nerves. The atmosphere in the lounge grew tense and the ones at the beginning of the schedule began to warm up.
Jude looked around at his club mates. They seemed to handle the pressure well but he worried about Lukas. He was sitting by himself with a blank stare.
"How are you holding up?" he asked but got no reply.
"Hey Lukas, can you hear me?"
"What?" Lukas said, looking confused.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
Lukas was a good dancer and could probably be a professional, but his biggest weakness was how he struggled with the pressure of performing before an audience.
Jude sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulders. He could feel the heat evaporating from his body.
"It's okay, Lukas, just try to relax. It's going to be fine."
"Y-yes, I'm all ready to perform, just say when."
If he was this nervous now then how bad would it be when it was time for them to step onto the stage. He had to do something.
Jude fetched his backpack and brought out the thermos with breastmilk.
"Here, take this."
"What is it?"
Jude leaned over and glanced around to make sure no one was listening.
"Promise you won't tell anyone," he whispered, "It's futa breastmilk, it's good for the nerves."
"How did you get this?"
"That's not important."
"I promise I won't tell anyone, thank you Jude."
Jude patted his shoulder and stood back up.
"Don't take more than a sip, it's important that you don't. Too much and it will make you sleepy, okay?"
Lukas nodded.
As long as he could keep his nerves in check, Jude was confident he would perform when the time came.
Yuta informed them they were the last in order to perform so there was no point in warming up yet only to get cold and have to warm up again.
"The committee wishes to play on the drama that unfolded during the TV special. That's why they're keeping you until last," she explained.
Apparently there had been many articles written about how he collapsed during the TV specials. Living at Meredith Lee's school for boys he was cut off from the outside world and hearing Yuta explain it made his gut churn. As if the pressure wasn't enough already, they'd placed him in the prime spot to close out the show. He reminded himself to breathe and forced his thoughts onto other matters. He envisioned the school, his classmates, Chris, Meredith and Fawlorne. He would make them proud. Strengthened by their image he relaxed.
A thunderous cheer pierced through the walls.
"It has begun," a boy called out. The tension rose even further in the lounge, Jude could almost smell it. There was no escape now, running would bring an unforgiveable disgrace and tarnish the reputation of themselves and their schools for years to come. In a way it was a comforting thought. Their destiny was set and now there was nothing else left than to face it.
He looked up at the big screen, playing the broadcast.
There was a magnificent display of fireworks on stage. Large swathes of fire burst from the floor as an announcer appeared from behind the curtains. It was Tara, from the qualifiers, wearing a golden bowtie around her neck and dressed in a black tuxedo with glittery black stones on the lapel.
"Are you ready!" She shouted and the crowd cheered. Her silhouette shone as a loud bang and half a dozen rays of fire erupted behind her and brightened the arena.
"Welcome, ladies and Futas, to the 78th installment of The First Male of the Empire. We are live from the Empress arena in New York City." The entire audience was on their feet, screaming in delight.
"From the romantic streets of Paris, to the unforgiving cold of the Jarldoms, from the grand city of London back to the great state of America. From Munich in Germany to the distant islands of Bongo Bongo, the world is watching! Our contestants come from all across the empire. One boy from each of the grand states gets a free ticket into the final, another two qualifies from the regional competitions and one from the colonies. They've all fought hard to be here today, millions have tried and we're now down to twenty-two. These are the finest, most beautiful boys the empire has to offer. Who will win? Who will take the title of First Male of the empire? Stay tuned because soon we'll find out."
Everyone in the lounge watched intently except Antoiné, who had a disinterested look on his face and filed his nails.
"Now i'd like to introduce my co-host for the evening, he's a boy you know well and a boy who has made many futas fall for him. Introducing the 75th First Male of the Empire, Avery Henricks."
The audience erupted in cheers as tens of thousands futas screamed Avery's name.
In walked the cutest boy Jude had ever seen. He had dark blond hair, shining green eyes, and a healthy blush on his puffy cheeks. He was dressed in a midnight blue dress that swirled as he walked to stand next to Tara.
"Hi everybody, thanks for having me. I'm so happy to be back," He said and the crowd responded with a deafening roar.
"So, Avery, would you like to have the honor of introducing our contestants for this evening?"
"Oh, do I! We have some great contestants this year. Let's begin with something exotic, from the far off Bongo Bongo islands in the pacific ocean comes a boy called Sami'a Haunani. He grew up on the small island of Pea'ati, with only a thousand inhabitants."
The screen showed a video of Sami'a's performance in the colonial qualifiers.
"Here we see Sami'a performing an indigenous dance to grace their gods called the Wakuhio, which translates to the Holy buttshake." Loud drums echoed from the speakers and the entire arena exhaled in shared awe. A few scattered wolf whistles rang out as the screen showed Sami'a shaking his butt to the beat of the drums."
"Hey!" Mikkel called out and stood up, "he stole my routine."
"Don't shout Mikkel, he can hear you," Jude tried to hush him. Mikkel sat down and crossed his arms.
"Just you wait, I'll show you."
"The screen returned to Tara and Avery".
"Our next contestant is someone all of you fans from America is well accustomed to, introducing your very own Mikkel."
"Ha! That's me, now you'll see."
"Please Mikkel."
The screen showed Mikkel's performance at the qualifiers, the crowd rose in wild cheers and waved their hands in sync to Mikkels ass bouncing off the floor. Apparently it had become a thing.
When his introduction was complete Mikkel pointed at Sami'a and shouted, "see that? That's how you do it."
Having been addressed Sami'a got up from his seat and approached with one of his countrymen at his flank.
"Uhm, sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you. I got a bit too excited," Mikkel said and had the good taste of appearing ashamed.
Sami'a said something to his follower in their language.
"Sami'a wishes to know the name of this esteemed competitor," his countryman translated.
"eh, me?" Mikkel said and looked at Jude who shook his shoulders.
"Yes."
"I'm Mikkel."
Sami'a spoke to his translator once more.
"Sami'a greets you and wishes to compliment your excellent dance. The gods must truly favour you."
"ho-ho, WELL thank you. Your dance wasn't so bad either. You really know how to shake it."
Sami'a bowed to him when Mikkels words were translated. Then reached for Mikkel's hand and kissed it. Mikkel looked horror struck.
"What was that? Sorry I'm not into boys."
"Sami'a wishes to inform you that this is the informal way boys greet their friends in our homeland."
"ah, I guess it's okay then."
Sami'a reached his hand out and Mikkel leaned down to kiss it but just as Mikkel puckered his lips he retracted it.
Both he and his translator laughed.
"Sami'a wishes to tell you he made that up, he just wanted to kiss your hand."
Sami'a giggled and glanced at Mikkel, flashing a pair of long eyelashes at him.
"You got me," Mikkel responded with a nervous laugh.
Sami'a bowed and said something in that strange language of his.
"Sami'a wish you good luck, may the best butt win."
"Thanks, and you too."
Sami'a and his translator returned to their seats and Mikkel sat down with a confused look on his face. Jude struggled to not burst out laughing. Sami'a definitely reminded him of Mikkel. He had the same humour and... assets.
Avery kept introducing the other contestants until he came to a name which Jude recognized, a name that made his heart flutter.
"And here is the contestant from the proud states of the Jarldoms, Sven Hafstein, oh..."
Avery gasped as the screen flipped to a picture of Sven and so did Jude.
He wore nothing but a pair of leather trousers, his bare chest glistening with sweat.
"Uhm, he's a proud male from the Jarldom, he's tall and h-he's very h-h-ha.." Avery trailed off.
Someone shouted in the crowd, "speak up, or we can't hear you."
"What a handsome boy, truly a testament to the northern stock of males."
Tara saved Avery whose face had gone flush red. The screen flipped to Sven performing various tasks in the summer heat, in a fjord of his homeland of Norvegr with tall mountains creating a beautiful canvas in the background, building a boat, hammering nails and performing a rope pulling contest with a bunch of other boys, all bare chested and well built. The camera ran over the crowd, there were more than a couple of futas with drool hanging from their mouths.
"He's one of the betting favourites for a reason as you all can see," Tara said.
Sven's introduction ended. Avery stood panting, eyes dead set ahead of him. Tara nudged his side. "Hey, it's time to introduce the next contestant," she whispered.
"Oh yes," Avery exclaimed for everyone to hear, "for our next introduction we have the first seed from France. A boy acclaimed for his finesse and elegance. His art is ballet and he's spoken in terms of being the next Duke Langley. An extraordinary talent. Introducing Antoiné Montfaucon." The screen flipped to Antoine dancing on a stage. The background was elaborately set with a huge castle and real trees. Jude gasped when he saw Antoiné dance. He was skilled beyond comparison, he couldn't spot a single error in his performance, and he moved with a grace that made it impossible to look away. Jude recognized the play as the famous Swan Lake, where a Futa princess searches across the land for a Male to marry and find the beautiful Odern, who's been cursed by an evil futa countess which turns him into a swan during the daylight hours.
"What a graceful display," Avery said with dreamy eyes.
The boys in the lounge looked at Antoiné who wore a dignified expression. He glanced over at Jude and smirked triumphantly. Jude's chest tightened. There was no way he could compete with that.
"He's actually quite good," Mikkel said.
Avery and Tara kept introducing the contestants one after one until they came to the last.
"For our last contestant we have the first seed from America. I believe we've all heard of the drama that unfolded at his TV performance."
The screen showed the assembly hall at Meredith Lee's school for boys.
Jude felt sick in his stomach, they were about to show his disgraceful performance.
He watched intently though. Perhaps he could get a clue as to what went wrong.
He started off well enough, moving with elegance across the stage but then something changed in his movements. The crowd didn't seem to notice but Jude did. There was nothing at fault with his technique, rather there was something about his demeanor, a strange tenseness and desperation in the way he moved. And then it happened. During a Jéte leap his body slackened and he fell facedown onto the stage and remained unmoving.
The audience gasped and Avery let out a high pitched cry.
"Oh no what happened? Is he hurt? That was a bad fall."
Tara put a hand across his shoulders and comforted him.
"It's okay Avery. I heard he's healed up and is ready to redeem himself."
"That's reassuring," Avery said and exhaled. "Let's give him our heartfelt support everybody!"
A polite applause rose from the audience.
In the Lounge many looked at Jude, who tried to make himself small. Antoiné snorted and one of his manservants said, "What a disgrace."
He was right about that, it had been a disgrace.
Mikkel leaned over to him.
"Hey, it's okay. Whatever happened already happened. Today is the day you set things right."
The ballet club surrounded him and gave him a collective hug and patted his back.
"We believe in you Jude!"
"You can do it!"
Jude struggled to not burst into tears.
"Thank you everyone."
"Now ladies and futas we have something special planned for our pre-show," Tara said and Avery began bouncing up and down in excitement.
"Give a warm welcome to the Calabrezze Parade!"
A group of males and women took the stage. Dressed in carnival apparel, some which barely covered their private parts. Loud rhythmic music erupted from the speakers, with drums and percussion instruments that complimented the dancers moves.
A male dressed in a large colourful bird attire took the center-stage, shaking his body to the rhythm.
Mikkel looked upon it with lustrous eyes.
"Wow, that's so beautiful. I wish I could do that."
All the boys in the lounge looked in awe at the show, even Antoiné was interested. For a moment they forgot all the stress and pressure they were under.