Have I ever mentioned how much I love to dance? Whether it’s a slow bump ‘n’ grind or a quick Foxtrot in a shimmering ball gown – I’m your woman. I have no professional training; I happen to have visited some pretty extravagant places where dancing is the order of the day, and my partner happens to love it, too.
This weekend, I have a late evening date with Jack, a professional dancer and choreographer. At the moment, he is in the West End, finishing up a run on ‘Dreamboats and Petticoats’ before heading back to New York. Despite his American good looks and piercing brown eyes, Jack doesn’t have a regular girlfriend, so he calls on me whenever he is in town – which tends to be once a season or every nine months, depending on how you look at it. I always have a fantastic time with him as he can gain us entry into all the top nightclubs or VIP treatment at a Wrap Party.
Above all else, Jack has a fantastic body as well as snake hips to match. His whirls, twirls and grinds with me till I’m sweating and begging him to take me home for some bed dancing instead. One day, Jack will probably meet some fabulous dancer who can get her foot behind her ear, but he seems to prefer my company at the moment. He explains that he could quickly bed half the chorus, but for emotional reasons, he tends not to. A lot of sexual tension makes for better on-stage chemistry rather than giving in to it and suffering a messy breakup mid-season. Never mix work and pleasure – unless you’re London call girl, where it is mandatory!
Now, I keep myself in shape, but Jack’s stamina far out-rivals mine. I’ve watched him from the front row before (he was in “Grease” in 2012), and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He didn’t even break a sweat. However, I can’t say I wasn’t damp after that one…
As I look through my wardrobe, I need to consider the weather, although skirts and heels tend to be the order of the day for a 24-hour London escort. Not only is it easier to dance in heels than flats (unless you’re being thrown about in a Lindy hop!), but jeans are too cumbersome. However, it’s meant to snow this weekend, and I don’t want frostbite in unmentionable places. I think “Jack” will understand that I have to wear leggings when the temperature plummets to zero, rather than the floaty number I donned in the summer. Brrrrr!
