Sing!

Chapter Seven: Jack's Routine

I THINK MUSIC IN ITSELF IS HEALING. IT'S AN EXPLOSIVE EXPRESSION OF HUMANITY. IT'S SOMETHING WE ARE ALL TOUCHED BY. NO MATTER WHAT CULTURE WE'RE FROM, EVERYONE LOVES MUSIC

|Billy Joel|

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Jack was on a search. He searched high and low to find the talent he knew was out there.

First, he came across a girl he knew very well. Her name was Helga Katrina Sinclair. He often met Helga in the club, where she made certain that Jack would dance with her and only her.

Helga's eyes, were like the indigo ocean, were pools of iridescent blue, sculpted upon her creamy face like dazzling jewels. Strands of molten gold tumbled out of her scalp, cascading down her back like a waterfall. Cherry lips, crystal white teeth: she truly was a beautiful sight to behold. As well as this, Jack knew that she could dance and sing. Beautiful and talented.

However, Jack had to use his persuasive techniques to tempt her. She was not so willing to audition for Sing. Helga didn't need to compete to know she could dance.

Jack knew that once he kissed Helga's neck her resistance would crumble. After just a few delicate touches of his warm lips, her hands will start doing Jack's bidding. Her hand's will fall down his back as her head swims, all previous thoughts stopped in their tracks.

Jack's hands rested against her thigh. Slowly and gently, Jack's hands began to rise up her leg. Gently caressing her inner thigh, Jack continued to press gentle kisses against her neck. Jack knew she would give up soon.

And she did.

Performing on stage, Jack stood to the right watching Helga. Jack observed as she swayed her hips and ran her hands down her body. Helga was an exceptional dancer, that was for sure. Even Elsa knew this, though she would hate to admit it.

Next.

•   •   •

Jack went on the hunt for two guys whom he had seen through many dance battles. The two were partners. They always danced together. They were blood brothers.

One had all the height of a man but none of the bulk. There were muscles under his shirt, but not the bulky kind men can get from years of weightlifting. From behind he could be anywhere in his late teens to early thirties, but when he turned that face was all boy. He was lit up with that grin boys wear when they have something mischievous planned. His sandy hair flopped over his eyes in the way no office worker could get away with and on his wrist were bracelets in woven leather.

The other had smooth brown skin that revealed his muscles, the clean-shaven square jaw and tuned into his voice. It was as deep as any man. He smiled with ease and made fluid arm movements to exaggerate his buoyant speech. Dark locks that were stubble that stretched over his scalp, thicker than a freshly harvested field. It was coarse to the touch, all trace of softness gone.

With this pair, Jack only had to ask once. They were good guys and were always willing for dancing. Dancing was their life and they wouldn't want to do anything else.

On stage, the two proceeded with a handstand and then dropped down into the splits, while swiftly rising back up with no help of their hands. Spinning the two boys posed as Elsa, Calliope and everyone else stared gobsmacked.

Another friend to ask.

The boy was perfection in coffee hues; his hair and eyes were the colour of dark roasted beans but his skin was all latte. He had that shy look about him teens often get when they've grown too much too fast like they aren't really sure about being a man just yet. He was skinny, but the way his clothes hung gave away the muscle beneath; always in his wake where heads turning to watch him go.