The center had been long cleared, the students hanging around in a circular way, creating a methodical dance floor.
Of course, they all wanted to step in with their partners, get a chance to prove themselves... but they knew not to, not when the Vancouver stepped in, and the Houston followed.
Apart from being respectful, they all wanted a show... they were all expectant of the drama that would unfold between part of the powerhouses.
A standoff dance battle? A dark confrontation? Brawl between the males? They didn't know, they could only anticipate.
And damn, the air crackled with unspoken tension, charged with expectations that bordered the lines of deadly and thrilling.
Amy stood in the man-made circle, her arm still audaciously hooked around Syril's, her milky skin giving an unnatural glow, smug expression worn like a second skin.
Oliver moved first, he inched closer to them. The students held their breath, watching, eyes heavily fixated on the trio. 'What is he gonna do?' They thought.
To the surprise of everyone, he moved past them and went into the crowd. He pulled a sexy girl out, seconds later. The girl's dirty blonde hair flowed, accentuating her shiny blue dress and blue eyes. The lower slit in the gown revealing her tanned thighs, thick and daring.
It was the students' president.
Oliver walked back into the circle with his surprise, his gaze briefly fell on them, gave Amy a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His eyes moved to Syril's, and a flash of irritation or annoyance passed, but he quickly turned it to a grin. It was fast, but Amy had noticed, she had acknowledged his unspoken challenge.
Her grin too widened, accepting his challenge without exchanging words.
Emmy, the students' president, followed obediently, not even daring to challenge Oliver's choice. Who would resist a family from the Big Four? In fact, she wanted to be part of the drama. Every. Single. Part. Of. It.
"Ooou, let's see. Emmy and Oliver versus Amy and Syril! Weird, but exciting!" Someone murmured from the stand.
Both sides ignored the comments, already moving to prove themselves.
Amy's hand moved to Syril's shoulder, and the other reached for his hand. Syril attempted to mirror her, clumsily placing his free hand on her shoulder.
The crowd erupted into a laughter, loudly mocking him for not even knowing the easiest pose for the classic Waltz dance.
However, Syril paid no attention and followed Amy's lead. She broke contact and guided his hand to her waist, then softly demonstrated how to pose.
Syril immediately earned disgusted looks from the males, envy overwhelming them. Oliver wasn't left out, he already pictured himself slicing the hand with a jagged metal plate, but he maintained composure and turned his anger to a taunt.
"Try not to trip, Cereal!" Oliver goaded, already in the perfect pose for the dance, earning loud cheers from the enmassed.
Oliver moved slowly, guiding Emmy who followed closely with perfection. Amy too moved, taking a gentle step... but Syril had moved faster, stepped on her foot in his haste.
"Oh, he is a mess! What is he doing there?!" A student disdained in a frustrated tone.
Amy didn't vex, instead, she gave a faint smile and whispered; "One step at a time. Follow my lead."
Syril soon got the hang of it, being a fast learner. His steps became bolder, daring to take the lead.
"Great... you're doing great!" Amy purred, her hot breath intoxicating and drawing him closer.
Syril soon took the lead, guiding her steps gently, grasping her waist tighter, drawing her closer.
Amy's breath became ragged against his ear, commending and exhaling roughly.
"Oou! Yes, just... like that." She rasped sultrily, her strong lavender scent wafting in his nostrils, intoxicating and stimulating.
"Look at that, he's actually... doing good?"
"Yeah, that's kinda... electrifying."
The comments started taking turn, and Oliver's head became hot, grasping Emmy's waist roughly, absent-mindedly.
"Ouch, Oliver. You're... hurting me," Emmy said, wiggling in his clutch.
"Sorry. Stick with me," he responded with a half-smile, already guiding her into wild steps, just to win the crowd back.
Suddenly, the tune changed to an upbeat one, as if someone wanted to level things up and start the real challenge.
The contestants' grins widened, breaking to give themselves a knowing glare.
"Let's see how you do now, sponsored thing." Oliver moved closer to taunt again.
He surprisingly switched pose, extending Emmy's hands, boldly taking two steps at a time.
Emmy followed smartly, her round titties jiggling in their confined space, the revealing lace displaying her rich bosom.
With practical speed, Oliver pulled her closer and distanced in quick succession, he then spun her speedily. When it looked like she was gonna stop and fall, he leaned in, arched his knee forward and pushed her down.
Emmy fell softly on his stretched leg, her weight supported by his knee. Her breath caught, her gown slit pushed aside to further reveal her glistening, thick thigh. Her chest heaved in frantic patterns, her blue eyes staring at his calm face, reading admiration and respect.
Oliver's expression? Smooth, unfazed. He didn't break a sweat, he bent stylishly with the girl, grasping her waist possessively, like he owned every part of her.
The crowd's breath had been long held, half expecting a failure and perfection. When he spun and caught her successfully, they couldn't help but roar and applaud.
"Yeah, Oliver! That's how it's done!"
"That was magnificent! How did he manage to pose that way? Too smooth!"
"Mr. Cereal won't be able to do that!"
Syril totally agreed on that one. He already felt a lump in his throat, deeming himself unworthy of all the attention he got from the beginning. What was he even thinking? How did he end up with this sly Vancouver? How did he get pulled in all of this electrifying tension?
"Idiot! Don't cower now! You're way better than that egoistic bastard. Your stamina and strength is probably more than double his, if not double. Show them what you got. Remember what you're getting after this..." Raja's voice echoed in his head, pushing him in his regular teasing tone.
Just then, Oliver walked up to them, his smug expression worn like a second skin. He didn't say anything, he didn't have to. The Black Couples had gotten the message; it was their turn.
Syril braced, his eyes heavily fixated on Amy like a child staring at his candy snatcher.
Amy stared back, understanding the unspoken words in his gaze. Of course, she had competence doubts, but she trusted his decision.
'I have better stamina. I have double strength. I just need to be artistic.' Syril asserted himself in preparation for his crazy idea.
He surprisingly pulled Amy closer, his hands clasping her curves possessively, crazy grin curling his lips into dangerous slit.
"Oh!" Amy's voice hitched, a shaky moan escaped her throat as she arched into his touch.
"Don't get too excited. Follow my lead." He whispered back, instructively.
When they broke, they stared at each other for seconds, then Amy spun back into his clutch.
She twisted on her heels and allow herself to fall back into his hands. Her back arched into his clutch, her round ass teasing his clothed shaft.
And Syril? He melted into her, one hand firmly holding her hips, the other cupping her boobs from under, earning loud gasps from the onlookers, their eyes burning with envy.
He guided her in what looked like a salsa dance, twirling and pulling her close at the right time, his hands worshipping her body as he made crazy twists. However, it wasn't intriguing to win the crowd.
"Now!"
Amy had spun back in his arms, her hands firmly wrapped around Syril's neck, one leg hanging in the mid-air. She twisted on one heel again, but instead of falling back into Syril, Syril had proceeded with his idea.
He caught her by the hips and shockingly lifted her, legs completely off the ground. He then threw her up, all of her weight, gone, suspended in the air.
The crowd collectively gasped, their eyes fixated on the suspended figure in the air. Time seemed to pause, Amy's body seemingly held in the air.
They expected a crash, a sickening thud and crushed bones... instead, Amy flipped in the air stunningly, the kind that spoke of years of vigorous acrobatic or aerobatic trainings.
She wasn't done.
After successfully flipping, her fingers began to crackle with electricity, blue sparks pulsating around her arms wildly.
The air sparkled ethereally, crackling sounds drowning the upbeat song. The dance floor almost became a blinding light when suddenly, in a flash, Amy released the lightning, creating two pillars of lightning that followed her sides as she fell.
Syril didn't miss the opportunity. With the aid of his smooth pants, he slid on the dance floor, gliding on the tiled floor smoothly to catch his girl, sealing their performance.
His drift was the kind of popular jubilation soccer players did, whenever they scored a goal.
The timing was perfect, so perfect that Amy fell into his stretched arms when she descended, her legs hooking his back, arms thrown behind his head to smother his face on her heavy cleavage.
Her breath fractured, her exhalation mixed with soft moanings induced by his teasing lips on her sensitive flesh.
"BRAVO!!!"
"That was ecstatic!! Did you see that?!"
"That's it! Don't play with a Vancouver!"
"Man, I gotta give that loser accolades, too."
"Synchronized! Perfect!"
The cheers and appraisal came in a barbaric manner, the floors almost shaking from the impact.
The Black Couples rose graciously, and before Oliver's scrunched face could remark, another crackle of lightning seized the hall. This one, louder, brighter.
An intense light flashed immensely, momentarily blinding the occupants. And when the light faded and sight returned, Amy and Syril were nowhere to be found.