The Virgin’s Dance_Older Man Younger Woman Romance

by Michelle Love

  “Ha, it really is a very simple dish.” Pilot leaned over and caught a little glob of marinara sauce next to her mouth with his finger. She grinned at him.

  “We keep cleaning each other up.”

  Pilot laughed. “Strange you should say that because what I’ve got in mind for us is very, very dirty.”

  Boh chuckled and slid off of her seat to go to him. He wrapped his arms around her. “Listen, I have news about our project.”

  He showed her the shots he had sent to Grady Mallory. Boh’s eyes were wide. “That’s me?”

  “That’s you, baby. You are luminous in front of the camera.” He traced the line of her body on one of the pictures. “Look how much movement you can see just in this shot. You’re amazing.”

  “Yeah, I think it’s you who are amazing, Pilot, I—”

  Pilot’s intercom buzzed, and they looked at each other. Boh felt her heart sink. Please, please don’t let it be that bitch of an ex-wife…

  Sighing, Pilot answered but when he heard the “Hey, loser, let me in,” he began to smile.

  “It’s Romana, my sister,” he explained to Boh, “thank God.”

  Boh hopped off her stool, still alarmed. “Should I go?”

  “Hell, no.” He waved his hand at her. “Romana will love you. Fair warning, you’ll feel like you’ve been hit by a friendly hurricane.”

  Boh giggled. “Really? Still,” she looked down at her almost naked body, “I might go throw some clothes on.”

  In the bedroom, she yanked her sweatshirt over her head and pulled on her jeans. She heard voices outside, sounds of greeting, loud Italian being spoken, and shyly went to join the siblings.

  Romana Scamo was slender, elegant, but, as Boh was pleased to note, obviously a tomboy too. She and Boh both wore jeans and sweatshirts, but while Boh’s hair was long and wavy, Romana had cut her dark hair into a shoulder skimming bob. Her eyes were dark brown, unlike her brother’s, but she was as beautiful as her brother. She smiled at Boh as Boh came into the room.

  “Hey there, Bella. Pilot’s told me all about you.” She kissed Boh on each cheek. “It is really good to meet you. Pilot’s talked about nothing else but you for a week.”

  “Ro, don’t ruin my game,” Pilot said, grinning, and slid his arm around Boh’s waist. “Proper introduction. Boheme Dali, prima ballerina, meet Ramona Scamo, irritating sibling and incredible photographer. Almost as good as her brother,” he added with a wink and Boh and Romana laughed.

  “Don’t believe a word of it. I’m better,” Ramona shot back, then eyed Boheme critically. “But I would kill to have you in front of my camera.”

  “Dude, are you hitting on my girlfriend?” Pilot teased his sister, not knowing the effect his words had on Boh.

  His girlfriend. Wow.

  Her pleasure must have showed as Pilot kissed her temple and Ramona beamed. “Look, kids, I’m sorry to barge in on your romantic evening, but I was passing by and Pilot promised to show me the photos of you, Boh.”

  “Which you couldn’t have looked at on your email?”

  Ramona grinned. “I admit I did, but I was passing by anyway.”

  “For gossip.”

  “You caught me.”

  They all laughed. Boh relaxed. Ramona was as warm and friendly as her brother and as Pilot talked with his sister about the project, Boh felt them including her at every turn, as if she were already part of the family.

  “I agree with Grady,” Ramona was saying. “No gimmicks. Boh doesn’t need them. Look at her …” She bent to study the photos and then grinned. “You’re right. I absolutely am forming quite the crush on you, Boh.”

  Pilot opened another bottle of wine and they lounged around on his couch, chatting until the early hours. Seeing Boh dropping with exhaustion at nearly two-thirty, Ramona got up and hugged them both goodbye. “Sure I can’t drive you home?” Pilot looked concerned but Ramona rolled her eyes.

  “Dude, I’m fine. You, lady, come here and hug me. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

  After she left, Boh smiled at Pilot as he led her back to bed. “She’s wonderful.”

  “She’s a maniac, but yeah, I do love her. She’s very like our mom, a force of nature.”

  Boh felt a pang at the tenderness with which he spoke about his family and he noticed her reticence. She smiled at him. “It’s just … I wish I’d had that kind of familial love.”

  “You have it now if you want it.”

  They didn’t make love again, both too exhausted, but they wrapped themselves around the other. “Goodnight, baby.”

  “Goodnight, my sweet girl.”

  She nuzzled her nose against his, then his lips were against hers as they fell asleep. As Boh closed her eyes, she wondered if tonight was just the beginning of a new happy life. Could she believe in it? She hoped so.

  In the morning, however, the dizziness came back. Boh and Pilot made love. But he could tell something was off. “Hey, are you okay, baby? We can stop.”

  Boh shook her head, wanting to be near him despite her whirling mind. “No, please don’t.”

  The nausea kept her from climaxing, however, and she confessed her illness to Pilot. “It’s only mild anemia. It just sometimes catches up on me. I’ll be okay.”

  Pilot frowned. “You should take the day, recover.”

  “Ha,” she said, “and find myself out of a job.”

  “If you’re sick, you’re sick. They’ll understand.”

  The idea of just lying here and resting or being with Pilot was too tempting, but could she risk Kristof’s rage? She sat up and shook her head. Big mistake. Waiting for the dizziness to pass, she leaned into Pilot’s arms. “Seriously, I’ll be okay in a few minutes. I should go to the studio. It isn’t worth Kristof’s temper to risk a day off, and he did see us leave together. He’ll think I’d rather be in bed with you than dancing with him. Which would be true,” she added with a grin.

  Pilot still looked worried, but he nodded. “Okay, but I’ll drive you in after a huge breakfast, no arguments.”

  “Sounds good.”

  After she had showered and dressed, she went into the kitchen and laughed. A plate piled high with steak, spinach, and eggs was waiting for her. “You just happen to have all these iron- rich foods around?” she asked Pilot, who laughed.

  “Hey, look, I used to love Popeye. Eat up, Dali.”

  She ate every bite and regretted it when she saw the food baby in her stomach. “Leotards are unforgiving,” she groaned, then grinned. “But that was wonderful, thank you. I probably won’t need to eat again for about a week.”

  “Ha, just try that around me.”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “Food, sex, art with a beautiful man. I’m the luckiest girl alive.”

  Pilot smiled, his eyes merry. “Yeah, you are,” he drawled, tickling her and making her giggle. “Now, are you sure that you’re okay to work today?”

  “Positive. I’m Popeye strong now.”

  “Is that a thing?”

  “It is now?”

  Pilot chuckled and grabbed his keys. “Come on then, Popeye, let’s get you to work.”

  “You realize that makes you Olive Oyl, right?”

  “Does not.”

  “Does too.”

  They joked all the way to her work, and Boh was still smiling when she walked into Kristof Mendelev’s studio—and into a nightmare.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Late again,” Kristof barked at her but Boh ignored him. She wasn’t late; she had made sure of that. Still her fellow dancers looked beat up already—clearly, Kristof had surprised them.

  “You okay?” she mouthed at Elliott, who shook his head. Serena gave her the finger surreptitiously.

  “Now, seeing as the rest of you look like a bunch of football players, Boh, I want you to go through the combination for them. Hurry up and change.”

  Boh had already put her leotard on, so she quickly strapped on her shoes. “Which combination?”
<
br />   Kristof looked at her. “The combination for the ballet we’re doing, Boh.” He said the words slowly, as if she was a child, and Boh flushed, annoyed. Bastard.

  “We’re doing three ballets, Kristof, unless you forgot to count.” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she felt the atmosphere change in the room.

  Kristof’s eyes took on a dangerous look, but he merely said. “The Lesson. The Pupil’s murder. I’ll dance the Teacher for the first few times.”

  Boh knew he wouldn’t hold back but she would die before she let him intimidate her. They went through the combinations a few times, Kristof criticizing her at every level. When it came to the murder scene, he would force his fist against her stomach until she felt she would be bruised from the force of it. But she didn’t say anything, continuing on and on as he made her rehearse it over and over again.

  On the seventh run through, she felt the dizziness return. Push through it, push through it. She danced and kept dancing even as her vision blurred and she felt herself move outside of her body. She heard the rest of them begin to murmur but it sounded like the sound was coming from the end of a very long tunnel. Her ears buzzed, her throat burned. She felt herself falling, then her body was jerking uncontrollably, and she gave in to the darkness as she heard people screaming.

  Boh opened her eyes to find herself on a hospital gurney being wheeled through the stark white halls of an emergency room. She tried to sit. “Sweetheart, lie down, they’re just going to check you out.” She heard Nelly Fine’s voice and felt comforted. Nelly slipped her hand into Boh’s.

  Boh opened her mouth, but she found she couldn’t speak. What the hell? She knew it had to be the anemia, but she’d never thought it could feel this bad.

  While they waited for the doctor, Nelly stroked her hot forehead. “I called Pilot,” she said in a low voice, and smiled at Boh. “I know you two are close, and he’d want to know. Grace is also on her way.”

  Boh felt a pang of loneliness despite her relief that Pilot and Grace were coming. Her boyfriend of a week and her college friend. They represented her family now. When she’d joined the NYSMBC, she’d bonded with Nelly quickly, and over time had asked her to be her next of kin, so Boh had no worries about the hospital contacting her birth family, but still. It was a small group.

  Her fears fled though when Pilot and Grace arrived, one after the other, both of them looking fraught, and sighing with relief when they saw her awake. “Thank God.” Pilot bent over and kissed her gently. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, but Nelly interjected. “She’s having trouble speaking. I think it’s just shock at collapsing but I’m no doctor.”

  Grace, pale and shaken, kissed Boh’s cheek. “Hey, baby girl.” She and Pilot exchanged a glance. “Nell, I think you should know that Boh was recently diagnosed with mild anemia.”

  Nell nodded. “I did suspect something was wrong. Did she eat today?”

  It was weird that they were talking about her as if she wasn’t there, and Boh felt tears spring up in her eyes. She tugged on Pilot’s hand and made a motion—she wanted his arms around her. Pilot perched on the edge of the bed, and Boh wriggled into his embrace. Pilot kissed her forehead and looked back at Nell. “She did. We had breakfast this morning.”

  “Popeye breakfast,” Boh managed to croak, and she felt relief that her speech hadn’t gone forever. Her fear had been that it was indicative of something more than just the shock of collapsing, and her whole body relaxed.

  The doctor came to see them soon after and ran through some tests. He didn’t look too concerned. “I would suggest rest, more than anything else. I know how you ballerinas go hard at it, but rest and a good diet will go a long way in your case.” He hesitated. “Any other symptoms you’re not being forward about?”

  “No, I would tell you.” Boh was already feeling better.

  The doctor nodded and smiled. “I’d like to keep you in overnight just to make sure, but I’m leaving that up to you.”

  “Honestly, I’d feel better at home.” She tried to smile. “I don’t do well in hospitals.”

  He patted her leg. “Fine. I assume there’ll be someone with you?”

  “Yes,” Pilot and Grace both answered at the same time and broke into laughter.

  The doctor grinned. “Well, I’ll leave you two to fight over this one.” He smiled at Boh kindly. “Take care of yourself, Boh. My wife and I are great fans of the ballet.”

  “You’ll have the best seats at our next show,” Nelly told him, and he laughed.

  “I should say no,” he lowered his voice to a stage-whisper, “but I won’t. Goodnight, folks.”

  Pilot sat down next to Boh again. “So, where’s home for you tonight? No pressure either way.”

  Grace grinned. “Dudes, why not both of you stay at our place? Show Mr. Showbiz here the way real people live. I’m going back to the studio to practice my piece for the performance on Friday, so you’ll have privacy.”

  Pilot laughed and Boh was pleased to see her two friends bonding. “Well, if you don’t mind squeezing into a single bed?” She looked at Pilot, who grinned.

  “With you? I’d sleep under a bridge. Sleep, baby,” he added meaningfully and Boh flushed, unable to stop the grin on her face.

  He took her home, and as they climbed the stairs to the apartment, she noticed a box of groceries outside the door, as well as several bouquets of flowers. Pilot smiled as he hefted the boxes and flowers inside. “The food is from me—well, the doc did say you needed to eat—and the flowers are from your friends. Even Kristof,” he said with a sigh as he checked the card on a huge bunch of lilies. “Lovely. Send funeral flowers, asshole.”

  “No matter,” she said, and dumped the lilies in the trash. “We can’t have lilies in the house because of Beelzebub.”

  Pilot stopped. “Beelzebub?” His tone was incredulous and Boh giggled. She really was feeling better now, and she went to find the malevolent cat. She picked him up and took him out to meet Pilot.

  “Pilot Scamo, meet Beelzebub. He earns his name.” The cat was already yowling to get out of her grip, but as she dumped him on Pilot, the cat suddenly calmed and rubbed Pilot’s chin with his head.

  “You damn little turncoat,” she laughed as Pilot looked smug. He stroked the cat then put him gently down and looked around the apartment.

  “This place is great.”

  Boh chuckled. “You don’t have to say that.”

  “No, I mean it. First up, bookshelves stuffed with books. Always the mark of good character.” He grinned as he spoke. “Do you know that John Waters quote?”

  “If you go home with someone and they don’t have books, don’t fuck them,” she answered and he laughed. Boh slid her arms round his waist. “It’s a good rule of thumb.”

  Pilot kissed her. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not really, but I should eat something.” She looked over at the box of groceries. “What did you buy me?”

  Pilot grinned. “Well, for tonight, I thought maybe scrambled eggs with a little truffle oil?”

  Boh moaned. “God, truffle oil, you seductive little tramp.”

  Pilot made them both plates of eggs and when Boh put the first bite in her mouth, she almost swooned. “Geez, Scamo, is there nothing you can’t do?”

  “You asked that before and believe me, the answer’s the same,” but he smiled and took her hand. “Sweetheart, you will rest over the next couple of days, right? Nelly’s clearing it with the ballet company, but I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just concerned.”

  “This was nothing, really, but I take your point. Don’t tell anyone but I’m actually kind of relieved to get some time.” She smiled shyly. “If you’re around, maybe we can work on some ideas for the exhibition.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He stroked his hand over her face. “You look exhausted.”

  “I’m okay.” But a half-hour later, the day’s events caught up with her and they lay down on her tiny sin
gle bed, Boh cradled in his arms. She was asleep before they’d even finished saying goodnight.

  Pilot lay awake long after Boh’s breathing became steady and he knew she was out. He had been so worried but at the same time, he was angry at Kristof. If the man was working Boh too hard as revenge on her for being with Pilot …

  Don’t be paranoid. Kristof and Eugenie had been the ones cheating, not him, so if anyone had the right to be vengeful it was Pilot … but that wasn’t him.

  Unless Kristof hurt Boh. Pilot had to be honest—he hated the idea of this ballet Kristof was putting together. It sounded cruel and sadistic, but what did he know?

  He looked down at Boh in his arms. She looked so young and not for the first time, he wondered if he was doing the right thing by dating her. There was almost 20 years between them. He was grateful for Ramona, Nell, and Grace’s support— but that didn’t mean he was good for Boh.

  The thought of not being with her was painful though and so, for now, he told himself, he would be selfish. They could work things out as they came along—wasn’t that how relationship worked? Relationships of equals?

  Despite his age, his experience, after being married to Eugenie, Pilot still felt he was new at this. He wouldn’t tell Boh that, however, because he wanted her to feel as if he was her rock, and he would be. He just had to learn how to do this too.

  He heard his phone buzz from the other room. He gently extracted himself, trying not to wake Boh. He sighed when he saw it was Eugenie calling. “Christ.”

  He debated turning his phone off, but maybe he could head her off at the pass. “Hey, Genie.”

  She was crying and Pilot could tell instantly that she was drunk. “Pilot … can you come? I just feel so low. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “What’s happened?”

  She hesitated and he knew she was just trying to make excuses. “I’m lonely, Pilot. Ever since you left me … God, I just feel wretched.”

  Pilot listened to her and found himself unmoved. “Genie, call your mom. Call your sister. This is not my problem anymore.”