by Ella Hilton
She slowly stretched her arms high, arching her back and leaning sideways. Then she moved her torso to the opposite side, like a tender plant being pushed and pulled by an unfelt breeze. She again stood straight, reaching out and taking hold of the barre bending her knees in the movement dancers call plies. Down, up. Down, up. Then her feet and legs moved in a more choreographed pattern. She stood with her left foot out in front of her right, slightly overlapping in a cross pattern. Jumping, she reversed the position of her feet rapidly, then switched them back before landing. Again. Jump, switch, back. Jump, switch, back. She brought her arms forward of her body, curved as if holding an imaginary cylinder. Then slowly up over her head. Her movement revealed the well-defined muscle tone in her shoulders, back and arms. Then leaning over, her arms lowered a bit, the right arm remaining out, wrist bent down, like a flower slowly wilting.
He dimmed all but the lights at the center of the large windowless room. Slowly working his way through the shadows, he approached with a dancer's practiced lightness, in total silence.
She stretched up high, elevating herself onto the tips of her shoes, as if suspended on a cloud. His hands reached out gently to support her. Her torso flinched at his touch. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder. Her tension eased at seeing his face. His hand took hers and lifted it up and out. As if on cue, she continued in her routine. She leaned to her right, stretching out her hand, while lifting her left leg out and holding it straight. His hands reached to steady her, resting on her hip and thigh.
She then began a series of spins, jumps, and twirls, the practiced steps of the ensemble coming naturally to her after the many hours of rehearsal.
She paused, appearing content with her performance. He walked to the back of the room and pushed a button. The orchestral sounds of the ballet emerged from the overhead speakers. He forwarded the tape past the overture, partway into the opening act. He started his own steps, demonstrating the opening dance of the male lead in the upcoming performance. She watched. He appeared older by about ten years and slightly taller. He was dark, both in his eyes and hair, which was cut short on the sides, but showed enough growth on top to allow a slight curl to emerge. His visage appeared Mediterranean, his skin a bit toned. He had a day's growth of his dark beard showing, the overhead light accentuating the shadow caused by the slight stubble.
She smiled at his expertise in the role. He bowed, then held out his hand. She hesitated, as if not sure what was expected. He began the movements of the pas de deux of the male and female principal roles. She gingerly tried to perform the female part. He encouraged her with his eyes, several times repeating the sequence till she became more familiar.
Coming out of a series of spins, she attempted the jump which the role required at that point. She moved, leaped and split her legs wide at the time of her arch, trying to position her lead foot for the landing. She stumbled, hopping several times awkwardly to regain her balance. He grabbed her to steady her. He led her back to the same spot on the floor and directed her to try again.
She wobbled again as she landed. Her face shown through with frustration and disappointment. He walked her back again to that spot, then waited for the music to repeat that sequence.
The orchestra reached a crescendo as she leaped high, arm extended, opposing leg out. He caught her in mid-flight, and the momentum carried them forward. Her lead foot landed solidly and steady, in perfect balance. She smiled at him. Then she turned and faced him with a thankful curtsey, holding out an imaginary skirt.
They began to play freely, practicing jumps, turns, and extensions. Her face took on the tormented look of Giselle, the maiden whose heart is broken by shattered hopes of pure love. She jumped, her face a picture of heartache. She paused, bending and reaching, as if trying to capture the fleeting illusion of love. As she balanced on one foot, leaning forward, she lifted out her other leg behind her, higher and higher, while reaching out with her forward arm. He came to her side, holding her waist and keeping her steady.
The music fell silent.
A single violin started in softly, beginning Act Two.
As she rose straight again, his hand crept up her waist to just below her chest. His hand slowly moved side to side across her. Her breathing momentarily stopped; then she let out a slow exhale before her chest moved out again. The rest of her body was still.
His hand stopped near her sternum, then followed down along the outline of her rib cage. She remained still, as the solo violin was joined by a soulful oboe. His left hand stroked downward along the outside of her leotard, starting at her chest and following the curve inward at her waist and outward at her hip. She swayed in tempo, closing her eyes. His hand inched higher, moving along the undulations of her diaphragm, back over her sternum to just under her breasts. The top of his index finger grazed the small curve alongside the bottom of her right breast. He paused as if expecting resistance. Her eyes remained tight, and her lips parted slightly. She circled her head slowly as if to coax his hands further.
He slid his other hand up from her side, moving them parallel under both breasts. They moved out and around, skirting by and moving over the top of her leotard. Two fingers traced over her bare skin, over the curve of her shoulder blade and up on top of her shoulder. Gently, they hooked under the top straps of her leotard, lifting up and down. She lowered her arms straight down, leaning her head back into his broad shoulders. The overhead light made the skin of her shoulders near totally white, almost luminescent in contrast to her black leotard. He left the straps midway down her arm, then returned his hands to her shoulders, stroking across the top, back and forth, alternating with gentle massages. She wriggled her shoulders and arms, as if the straps were confining. He obliged by sliding the top down further as she freed her arms. He leaned over, planting one soft lingering kiss on her shoulder, his eyes hovering just above, looking down to the very small curves of flesh newly exposed below.
His hands again traced up her stomach, this time moving past the underside of her breasts. His index fingers found her small dark pink areolae and touched the tips. Her chest heaved, and her hands came up over his head, pulling him down to her shoulder. His fingers pressed into her, creating small shadows over the indentations in her flesh where the overhead lights beamed down. Then he eased the pressure, her nipples again standing out. His fingers moved over them, pushing them down, then up, observing how they would spring back.
She turned and faced him, her pale blue eyes looking into his, a rich, deep brown. The music switched to a brisk allegro. She took his hand, beginning a gliding movement with her feet, accomplished by small steps on the points of her shoes. He smiled and followed. He caught up to her, taking her hands high above her head and releasing her with a spinning motion, elevated still high onto the tips of her shoes. She followed that with series of jumps done along a circular path across the room. He followed her movement across the room, occasionally reaching to steady her, occasionally brushing her breasts.
Her rapid movements left her breathless again. She paused, again held in his arms. His hands pushed down on her leotard, sliding it off the curve of her waist and hips. It fell to the floor, and she expertly pinned it to the floor with her shoe while pulling her foot out of it. Her other foot proved equally talented. Her stockings beneath were sheer. Her hips were slightly wide for a dancer, but the clear muscular definition of her buttocks from countless hours of training showed clearly through the white fabric. He held out his arm, like a human barre. She took hold, stretching her leg out far, extending her foot and working on her flexibility. Holding onto his arms, she played the lead, moving in a series of quick twists and turns.
She took two quick steps and leaped high in the air, her legs splitting apart front and back. He caught her in mid flight and carried her forward, moving in a circle. As he lowered her down, his left hand slipped inside the waistband of her tights. His palm cupped one firm cheek. She wrapped her hands behind his neck and pulled, raising her
self high on the tips of her elongated ballet shoes, matching him in height. Then she lowered herself, his hand sliding upward again. She closed her eyes and repeated the sequence, moving up and own, using his hand to stroke her backside.
As she raised high up again, he pushed her tights down off her hips. She paused in her movement, letting him kneel to slide them down to the ground. She lifted one foot. He removed her shoe and stocking. Then the other. He stroked her foot, which bore the rough callouses and wear from years of dancing. He lifted up her foot, kissing the end of her toe as she steadied himself by resting her hands on top of his head. His hand massaged the bottom of her foot. A look of relief and contentment crossed her face. He looked up at her face and smiled. His fingers began the slow route up her leg, exploring her thin ankles and firm, developed calves. Her legs appeared unsteady as his hand traced up the inside of her thighs. His thumb massaged her skin, moving higher almost to her crotch.
Her mons pubis had a medium strip of light brown hair which stopped only a few inches shy of her navel. From there, a barely visible trail completed the path to the small cavity in her stomach. His hands held her hips as he kissed her at the point the two hairlines met, then ran his tongue up to her navel. After a moment he broke his kiss, and his back hand, which rested on her bottom, tugged gently. She stepped with her right foot, then moved her left foot behind it, rising gently on it and pivoting around in waltz tempo back to her right foot. She stood with her back to him. He tapped her left leg, which she lifted, putting her foot against her right knee. She lifted her arms over her head, fingers almost touching, and raised up on the ball of her feet, slowly turning a pirouette. He smiled, watching her naked body rotate before him. She repeated the sequence with increased tempo. Then faster again. He observed her movement from waist level, seeing buttocks turn to pubis and back again. She slowed and stopped, bringing up her arms over her head. Poised. Posed.
Her partner raised up his shirt. Even before he had taken it over his head, her fingers began exploring his chest. Tiny bits of perspiration lay across his smooth-shaven chest. Her hands slowly moved over his pectorals, then down along his firm stomach. She moved two fingers back and forth along the subtle valleys which lay between his stomach muscles. He touched her hand lightly, and followed as her hand led his through its sinuous course. Up his stomach, over and across his nipple; looping back midway across his sternum, then over the other nipple and down again. Their hands parted when hers continued around his side to his lower back. She swayed as the music hit a heavy down beat, stepping with her right foot. He followed, then stopped as she gracefully pivoted in a circle twice around him. From underneath and behind him her arms shot forward. Her hands slid back to his belly. Her fingers on both hands fanned out, again exploring the curvatures in his skin, coming together at the center, then sliding back out to the side. They moved up, scaling his broad shoulders and descending back down his chest, this time slipping to the top of his leotard. She continued her journey downward, finding the discernible bulge in the center, lightly stroking across the material. He gasped. His hand took hers, pressing it harder into him. She pulled him tight, holding her fingers outstretched and moving her palm in a slight circle, like a saucer rotating on a pointed axis.
Her free hand climbed over his shoulder. He reached up and greeted it at the top. Raising it high, he brought her around again to his front in the same pivot-and-turn motion. He guided her flawlessly into a dip, moving his left foot forward and draping her across his bended knee. He leaned his head forward and kissed her below her right rib cage. The cellos plucked out a staccato rhythm as his tongue darted out, flickering in and out, up and down along her stomach. His face moved up, to her breast, stretched flat against her chest. His lips found her small area of darkened skin and covered it briefly. Then he pulled her back up to face him.
His arm reached down behind and below her waist and lifted her off her feet, one leg of hers locked straight down and the other crooked around him, her foot touching his buttocks. They turned slowly, looking at each other, smiling, eyes eager with expectation. Around and around three times, till she slid down again, this time bending her lead leg and collapsing in slow motion, guided by his arm, to the floor. As she laid back, her hands found his cheeks, bringing his face down into hers, opening her mouth slightly in anticipation. The violins strained melodiously as they locked in a deep embrace. Their tongues circled around each other warily and then dueled. After a few intense movements, she breathlessly surrendered, opening her mouth wide, his tongue probing deeper. As he lay angled across her, she snuck her covered leg out to his side, then wrapped both legs around him. She stretched her powerful legs out, trapping him in her grip, then rolled him to his side, breaking her lock hold and rolling herself on top of him.
She reached up and removed the pin holding her hair bun in place. Her hair flowed down past her shoulders. He brushed a portion back over her as she leaned forward, resting her hands on the floor. His head lifted up, lips and tongue finding one exposed nipple; then the other. She stretched her legs out and to the side, her lower back forming a curve as she pushed down with her hips onto his pelvis. She rocked back and forth, grinding herself onto his leotard-covered bulge. After a moment, his eyes looked at her plaintively. She smiled, mischievous and knowing, then slid herself down so she rested over his knees. Reaching up, she peeled back the taut material, freeing him from its restraint.
She shifted to the side to peel the leotard off, slipping his dance shoes off in the process. He lay prone, the overhead lights making a sundial out of his pelvis. Slowly she traced her hand up his legs, feeling the tension in his muscles. The music slowed to adagio as her fingers delicately ambled up his groin. She grasped him between her thumb and forefinger, slowly squeezing as she slid from bottom to tip. His stomach clenched, the muscles rippling involuntarily. She mimicked the motion of an imaginary flute player, lightly tapping her fingertips up and down his shaft. Then she took a finger and traced around the bulbous head, studying the curves and form nature had designed. She leaned over, kissing the tip, which made his legs and stomach stiffen again. She took more of it inside her mouth, moving slowly up and down. His eyes first watched in delight; then he lowered his head back to the floor, closing his eyes. She danced her tongue around the head, then lowered her mouth down over him. She practiced the sequence over and over till he motioned to her to discontinue.
She lifted her head off. The wet trail she'd made caused the light to sparkle off him. She swung her leg out and over him, resuming the same position in which she'd teased his crotch earlier. This time she tickled his bare skin with the gentle coarseness of her pubic hair. Up and down, letting him slide across her, her back undulating as she slid forward and up, extending her elbows straight.
A mournful oboe made a chromatic run down the scale as she lowered herself onto him. She paused as she got halfway down, a fermata of pleasure and anticipation. She looked at him, seeing his face wracked with delight. She finished her slow descent, then pushed with her feet, ascending to the peak before plunging down again. They grasped hands. His powerful arms supported her weight as she leaned forward, her hips continuing to rock up and down.
She lay low on his body, extending one leg straight back. She no more than leaned a fraction to the side when he began to rotate his body to match hers. They turned a perfectly fluid reversal, her rolling again to her back and he on top between the angle of her opened legs. As he turned over, he saw their reflection in the mirror on the nearby wall. She noted his gaze and looked with him. The barre in front of the mirror framed their image. She lay her harms on the floor above her head, extending her far leg out straight and bringing her near leg up close to his hip in the pirouette position she'd struck earlier. They looked at their image; a tableau of sexual union.
The music increased in tempo, and he began to move within her rapidly. They looked away from the mirror. She pulled her legs back, her dancer's flexibility allowing her legs to point back over her
head away from him. He rested his hands on her thighs as his hips did his dance. He thrust in and out rapidly, with hard athletic movements. She thrust her lower back up as he'd withdraw. Point and counterpoint.
She wrapped her legs tightly around his back and he lowered himself into a passionate kiss, their hips keeping perfect rhythm. Their bodies coiled tensely, till she released in a cry of ecstasy, a long shriek followed by several staccato gasps. He joined her in duet, emitting a low moan, his legs and back tense as he held himself deep inside her for the finale.
Their motion slowed, bit by bit. They lingered together; chests heaving one above the other. Slowly he withdrew, kissing her gently one more time before falling to her side. She brought her hand to his, interlocking her fingers within his, giving him one final squeeze and a tender smile.
The End.
The Whispering Dream
It was an unusually warm spring night. The sky was moonless, allowing stars to give off their bright wondrous glow. Looking up at them one would feel so small and unimportant. The air was very moist and aromatic. Dew had overcome the surface of the world below like a still artist taking his time creating a one-time masterpiece. The morning light would then unveil the beauty he had left behind from his night labors.
I had gone to bed so tired and exhausted I almost fall asleep as my head touched the pillow. I had left the window open so that the clean fresh night breeze could enter the room. The house was empty and dead quiet. I cherish these rare times that I have to myself, but for now all I wanted was sleep to overtake my spent body.
