Outing of the Heart by Lisa Ann Harper Page B

Lindsay and she liked the idea of remaining with them. Some people claimed V & G stood for Vicious and Greedy , but they’d always come through for her.
That evening Marissa phoned. She wanted to fill her in on the details for practise tomorrow. It was customary for the others to go straight after work. Their booking was from six to seven o’clock.
‘Is that okay with you?’
‘Cool. No problem.’
She gave her the address of the studio, tucked away on a side street off King, past the Roy Thomson Hall complex. ‘It’s a bit of a stretch, but it’s not worth waiting for a bus. The studio is on the first floor, at the back. Go past the office and you’ll see the stairs on your left.’
Tenille was writing this down.
‘Wendy is usually there early. She works at First Canadian Place on King, so she sees to payment and then we reimburse her. Okay, see you tomorrow.’
‘Sure thing. I’m looking forward to it.’
Although this part of Toronto was unknown to her, Tenille found the studio easily. Closer to the waterfront, the derelict buildings made Roy Thomson Hall an outstanding edifice. Many old warehouses abounded, now sadly neglected. The central business district however, growing at such a rate, small enterprises found it advantageous to relocate here; the effect rejuvenating.
The studio itself wasn’t large. These old buildings could be rabbit warrens of small rooms, but because of the thickness of the walls, only muffled sounds penetrated to the outside. Musicians and small combos used them too. Tenille could faintly hear a clarinettist.
She was early, but still Wendy was there before her. Mirrors had been installed and the floor was perfect. It was old tongue in groove from days gone by, before the extensive use of composition flooring over concrete. Marked and badly scuffed in places, no matter, it was beautifully sprung.
The others arrived and quickly changed. Tenille felt good in her new outfit. The black leotard with the low, round neck and three-quarter length sleeves; the skirt, calf length, apple-green shot taffeta, with black lining to the flounce at the hem. Devon had said she liked the look of her in this one. The skirt was cleverly cut on the bias to hang off her hips, then flare into a full circle around the legs. She wouldn’t normally choose green, but Devon with her coloring, wore it all the time.
Marissa also admired the new outfit. Tenille looked breathtaking. She had tied her hair into a knot on top of her head, using a green silk ribbon, making her neck looked slender and fragile. Kissable too, she thought. Wispy tendrils had escaped and lay against her amber skin in captivating curls.
‘You found your way all right?’ she asked in a soft voice, with a hint of a smile. The sight of Tenille filled her with gladness and she shivered with the force of her erotic response. She looked so beautiful this evening. She had the most perfect body. A plan to spend more time with this woman was forming.
‘Thanks to your directions, no worries,’ she responded brightly. The practise got under way. It seemed Ingrid was the leader here, but the others contributed their share when needed. The hour flew, Tenille fitting in well, not minding how many times they went over sequences. When it came to dancing, her patience was endless.
After the session it was not long and Wendy, Daphne and Ingrid were saying their farewells. Marissa hung back then asked hesitantly if she had further plans for the evening. Surprised, Tenille scanned her face. ‘Just going home.’
Marissa felt the full impact of those black, lustrous eyes and momentarily lost her composure, being replaced by a nervousness which seemed to shiver through her. ‘I … I don’t … have any plans … either.’ A deep breath. ‘Would you like a bite to eat at Ed’s Warehouse? It’s close by.’ Was that casual enough? ‘Have you been there?