Jazzed by Jo-Anne Wiley
Dance, deceit and destruction… pure Wiley!
The Russians go berserk.
The dancers of the ‘American Dance Demon’ have breasts. The Russians only know The Bolshoi where the girls look painfully like little boys.
The identical dancers of the Demon are the prime of Broadway’s best. Each is a perfect thirty-six “C’…not that there’s a bra to be found anywhere on stage. Each girl is a sultry, green-eyed brunette, same age, six-foot, identical build.
When General Chenkov starts cheering, the enthusiasm is contagious. The dancers faltered mid-step. They shyly came forward, so the men in the first rows are treated to a naughty peek under short hemlines. Excited nipples protrude through silk. The dancer’s don’t know it yet, but their European tour has just been sidelined. Chenkov has their passports and he wants these women ” which becomes evident during the very next performance.
Following her solo number, Andrea advances to the edge of the stage to accept the accolades. But instead of a curtsy, she fumbles her buttons. Her costume floats down and she stands naked before three-thousand admirers. All of them military. Andrea gives them a moment before she reaches for her Danskin and exits the stage, clutching the silk to her flailing breasts. and ducked around her startled Stage Manager.
“What the hell?” Chay, Stage Manager questions the Wardrobe Mistress as she follows Andrea into the dressing-room. “What’s going on?”
“Just trying to get my passport back,” Andrea says bitterly.
“Yes. And I understand you’re having dinner with him.”
“Yes,” Chay admits.
“Play along. Give him what he wants and you’ll get your passport; be free to leave.”
“No. I couldn’t. Not that way.”
“Trust me, Chay. It’s the only way.”
A non-consensual story, including sexual conniving, stalking, obsessive control, violence, revenge