The Virgin’s Dance_Older Man Younger Woman Romance

by Michelle Love

  “Be sweet, baby.” God, had her voice always been this grating? He said nothing, letting her rant.

  “We could try again,” she said, “there’ll always be a history between us now, always a connection. I think about you all of the time, and I really think, if we tried again, we could be happy. I miss you, baby, your gorgeous face, your eyes, your big cock. I dream about you fucking me so hard, like the way we did when we first got together.”

  Jesus. “Genie, it’s late and I have to work tomorrow.”

  There was a silence. “Are you with another woman?”

  God help him, he wanted to hurt her. “I’m with my girlfriend. I have to go.”

  Eugenie reacted exactly how he thought she would, an explosion of vitriol that he had heard before. He ended the call with her in mid-rant. Yeah, he was definitely going to look for a new apartment. He called his sister. Ramona was a night owl, like him.

  “Hey, dude.”

  He told her what had happened with Boh, reassuring her that she was okay, then told her about Genie’s call. Ramona sighed. “That bitch … is she ever going to get the message? Seriously, bro, you need to ghost her entirely. Change your phone, your address, everything.”

  “I agree. Everything apart from the studio—she never knew about that to begin with.”

  “Sure? She’s obviously keeping tabs on you, and it’s not like she doesn’t have the money to hire private dicks to tail you.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “You all set for the exhibit? I talked to Grady. He’s really excited, based on the photos of Boh you sent. Listen, he asked me to, um, maybe do the next benefit for the Foundation … but I told him I wouldn’t commit without speaking to you first.”

  Pilot was astonished. “Why? Ro, this is a huge opportunity; you need to call him back right now …” he checked his watch, “It’s only nine p.m. in Seattle.”

  Ramona laughed. “Dude, chill. I’ll call him in the morning.” She chuckled, then Pilot heard her hesitating. “Is Boh really okay? I hear horror stories of how those dancers are treated.”

  “She’s tougher than you think. A little anemia and an asshole like Mendelev are nothing to what she’s overcome in her life. Ro?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You think I’m too old for her?”

  “Shut up.”

  He snorted with laughter. “Say what you mean, sis.”

  “I’m selfish. I haven’t seen you happier with someone … ever. Even if it’s only been what, a week?”

  “Is everything too fast?”

  “Dude, come on. What’s fast? You met, you were attracted, you went to the next level. It’s not like you’re moving in together.”

  After Ramona had said goodbye, Pilot felt his body relax. He turned off his phone and went back to bed. Boh stirred as he curved himself around her. “Pilot?”

  “I’m here, baby,” he said, “I’m here.”

  Kristof was, as always, in a foul mood and there was the fact that he was here, in this toilet cubicle, lifting the lid to the cistern and not finding the small vial of urine he was expecting. He heard someone come into the bathroom and trying to get into his stall. Kristof opened the door and pulled Elliott into the stall. “You’re late, fuck nut.”

  Elliott didn’t seem remotely bothered. He handed Kristof the sample. “Were you worried, Kristof?”

  “Don’t talk back, you little asshole.”

  Elliott’s eyes narrowed. “Your supply could always dry up, Kristof. Remember that next time you torture Boh into a hospital bed.”

  Kristof laughed humorlessly. “So that’s what this little tantrum is about? Your girlfriend?”

  “My friend, and yes. You do that to her again and I’ll go straight to Liz.”

  “You’re threatening me, you little punk? You’ll never dance again if you tell anyone about our little arrangement.”

  Elliott squared his shoulders. He was shorter than Kristof by almost a foot, but he stood his ground. “To stop your bullying, I’d do it. Remember that, asshole.”

  He stalked out of the stall, Kristof on his heel, ready to argue again. They both stopped when they saw Eleonor Vasquez looking at them quizzically. Her eyes lit on the urine sample in Kristof’s hand and he went cold.

  Eleonor’s eyes fluttered around the room. “This isn’t my studio.”

  Elliott took her arm. “No, Madam Vasquez. Would you like me to take you to it?”

  She smiled at him. “Nureyev. Are you him?”

  “I wish, Madam Vasquez,” Elliott grinned. “It’s Elliott, remember?”

  Eleonor didn’t answer. She was looking at Kristof. “I know you.”

  Kristof, the urine sample now firmly behind his back, nodded. “Eleonor.” Thank God she had dementia, he thought. Maybe she wouldn’t have known what was happening between him and Elliott. If Celine, or Nell had walked in …

  He watched Elliott lead Vasquez out of the bathroom and felt the energy sap from his body. A close call. Maybe he should tone it down for a few days. When Boh came back, he’d go easy on her. He knew she knew the ballets like the back of her hand and if push came to shove, she could be off for a week and still be ready.

  It pissed him off that she was with Scamo. His Boh was with that man … Kristof took credit for Boh’s talent entirely and to have her so far out of his control … no. Keep calm. She’ll come back.

  For now, his bigger problem was if Eleonor had a lucid moment and was able to process what she had seen. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what he was doing and if she told Celine, it would be the end of him personally and professionally. Kristof found his hands were shaking and screwed them into fists. There was a way to deal with this, but he didn’t know if he had the guts to follow through. If he silenced Eleonor, he could never go back. For now, he knew, he was just a junkie asshole with an ego the size of a planet. Immoral but not … he swallowed hard. No, I am not even considering this.

  He swiped the urine sample, poured it into his own marked container, and replaced the original back in the cistern. He would come off the drugs, clear out his system. Hopefully, if and when Eleonor remembered, he would be submitting his own urine for drug testing and none of this would make any difference. He would be kinder to Elliott too, the little weasel. Satisfied he had this under control, he left the bathroom and went to begin his day.

  Serena slithered around the corner with a smile on her face. So, it was Elliott’s pee Kristof was using to pass his drug testing. She had been passing the bathroom and heard the argument inside. Good. Now she had that in her back pocket too.

  Serena only had one thing she wanted to achieve and that was being principal. She had almost been there and then Boheme Dali came along. Well, if she couldn’t get there by talent, she’d use other means.

  Blackmail being one of them.

  She grinned to herself and went to her next class.

  Chapter Twelve

  It had been two days since her collapse, and Boh was rested and relieved it hadn’t taken her longer to recover. She had spent the last two days with Pilot, and now, they were back in his studio, working on the exhibition photographs.

  Boh had asked the ballet company’s clothes director if she could borrow some costumes, and Arden had come through for her with some incredible outfits, some traditional, like the costume for the white swan, some not so traditional.

  For now, though, she wore a simple light pink leotard, her hair down and slightly damp, and she posed around the studio. Right now, she was en pointe on top of an old shipping crate as Pilot moved around her, clicking away. The studio lights were hot but Boh didn’t care.

  “Okay, baby, you can get down now.” Pilot grinned at her, then stared down at his camera, flicking through the images. She loved to watch him work. It was as if the sadness she saw constantly in his eyes evaporated and he became this other being, Pilot, the photographer.

  Her love.

  She padded over to him and slid an arm around his waist as he showed her wha
t they had created. She chuckled softly. “I’ll never get over the fact that that’s me. You are a genius.”

  She looked up to find him gazing at her and a thrill went through her body. His eyes were soft with love, full of desire. “Hey, pretty girl,” he said softly and brushed his lips against hers. God, he was intoxicating. Pilot put his camera down and took her in his arms. “How are you feeling?”

  Boh smiled. “So, so much better, Pilot … so much better.”

  His lips crushed against hers and she tangled her fingers in his dark curls as they kissed, the heat between them a firestorm. Pilot peeled her leotard from her shoulders, pulling it down so he could take her nipples into his mouth in turn. The feel of his tongue on her nipple made her moan with pleasure and she took his hand and pressed it between her legs. “I’m so wet for you, baby …”

  With a groan, Pilot swept her onto the floor and covered her body with his. He tugged her leotard off and kicked out of his jeans as Boh pulled his T-shirt over his head. She couldn’t get enough of this man’s body, the way he made her feel so precious, so beautiful. She ran her hands over his hard chest and looked up into his eyes. The way he looked at her …

  “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered and he chuckled.

  “Stealing my best lines …” His lips were against her again then as she wrapped her legs around his waist, and they began to make love slowly, taking their time.

  The feel of his cock inside her, filling her, made her moan with uninhibited pleasure. Boh kissed his soft lips with such passion, she tasted blood. Pilot braced his arms on either side of her head and thrust harder as they both neared climax, Boh encouraging him harder, deeper.

  She came, arching her back, pressing her belly against his as she felt his body judder and jerk with his own climax. They collapsed next to each other, panting, and Boh giggled.

  “We’re animals.”

  Pilot laughed, his face flushed pink from his exertions. “That we are. God, Boh, you make me feel like a new man. Shit, that was so cliché, but it’s true. I’ve never felt like this before. Ever.”

  Her body tingled with delight at his words. “Really?”

  “Really.” He turned onto his side and trailed a fingertip down her body, making her wriggle with pleasure. He stroked her belly, then bent his head to press his lips against the smooth curve of it. He looked up at her, questioning, and she nodded as he smiled and moved down her body.

  He pushed her thighs apart and then his mouth was on her sex, licking, teasing, sucking. His fingers massaged the skin of her inner thighs as she felt the excitement build again from the depths of her body, making her skin tingle, her limbs liquify.

  Pilot made her come again and again, then, shyly, she told him she wanted to return the favor. “You have to tell me if I’m doing this wrong.”

  She took his cock into her mouth, flicking her tongue over the sensitive tip. She was gratified when Pilot sucked in a shaky breath and told her. “That’s it, like that, baby.” She trailed her tongue up and down the silky shaft, her hands massaging his sack. His cock, huge, thick, and long, quivered at her touch, stiffening until Pilot was gasping and groaning.

  “Baby, I’m close if you want to stop?”

  Boh shook her head, instead wanting to swallow his seed down. Pilot came and she felt his semen pump into her tongue, a sweet yet salty taste.

  Afterwards, they showered together, and ordered pizza. While they waited, they sat on the couch and went through his photos. Pilot chuckled to himself. “You know what? I think we almost have an exhibit, baby. I’ve never known someone to be as affecting as you on camera. I would like some outside shots too, plus some of you working at the barre in class.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Listen, Grace is in Rubies tonight at the Lincoln Center. I’d like to go and support her … wanna come?”

  “Hell, yes. You know, I have a confession.”

  Boh grinned at the mischievous look in his eyes. “Oh, yes?”

  “When I was married to Genie, we used to go to the ballet … but as soon as they started, I would go off and do something else. I’ve never actually seen a performance.”

  “Pilot Tiffany Scamo, you dirty rotten scoundrel!”

  Pilot busted out laughing. “Tiffany?”

  “What, it’s Richard Gere’s middle name.” Boh shrieked with laughter as Pilot tickled her into submission. “Anyway, what is your middle name?”

  “Joseph. Yours?”

  “I don’t have one.” Boh nibbled at his earlobe as he pulled her onto his lap. “So, you’ve never seen a ballet, huh?”

  “Nope. But to answer your original question, yes, I’d love to come to Rubies with you. I’ll get us a box.”

  “Fancy.” She kissed his cheek as he snagged the phone from his pocket and called the Lincoln Center, grinning as he dropped his name without hesitation.

  “One box reserved for Mr. Pilot Scamo and his beautiful guest, superstar ballerina, Boheme Dali.”

  Boh stroked his curls away from his face, his devastatingly handsome face, and kissed him gently. “His lover, Boh, thanks Mr. Pilot Scamo, and asks politely if he wouldn’t mind very much fucking her again, right here, right now.”

  Pilot grinned as he laid her back on the couch. “Anything the prima wants, the prima gets …” and they began to make love again.

  Kristof poured himself a mug of coffee and looked up as Celine Peletier entered the staffroom. She nodded to him, unsmiling as always. Miserable bitch. He’d never liked the other woman, probably because Celine was the most exquisite dancer he’d ever seen, and she knew her shit now as a teacher. Plus, the company of dancers adored her, even when she was at her most strident.

  Also, he knew Celine thought of him as a boy, an amateur despite his prestigious career. His heroes—Baryshnikov, Nureyev, Vasiliev—all had careers after dancing and Kristof wanted his to be as impressive as theirs. He knew Celine, Nell, Liz … none of them believed he was at that standard, but he was determined to prove them wrong.

  “Good morning, Celine.”

  She looked up as if she was deep in thought. “Kristof. Oh, I hear I’m to thank you.”

  “Because?”

  “Elliott told me you and he managed to reroute Eleonor back to her studio a few afternoons ago. I do hope she wasn’t intruding on … anything.”

  Kristof went cold. She knew. “No, not at all,” he said, keeping his expression blank.

  “Well, thank you.” She sighed and sat down opposite him. “Eleonor is getting more and more confused. I think it may be time for her for give up her teaching all together.”

  “That’s a tragedy,” Kristof said carefully. His body relaxed a little. “After such an illustrious career.”

  “Indeed.” Celine stared out of the window and Kristof was astonished to see tears in her eyes. “They call it sundowning; did you know that? Such a pretty name for such a terrible thing. Eleonor has her moments of clarity but they are less and less. Sometimes she will remember the most random things from weeks and weeks ago and she’ll talk with absolute surety about them. Then the next moment …” Celine made a motion in the air. “Nothing. Sorry, Kristof, it’s none of your concern.”

  The constricting fear had already returned and he just nodded stiffly as Celine left the room, but he didn’t have a moment to process what he’d learned because Liz’s secretary came to find him. “She wants to see you.”

  Ten minutes later he walked out of Liz’s office, stunned. Not only had she told him that his Sex and Death showcase was being moved from their own theater to the Metropolitan Opera, but that she had authorized a bigger budget for … everything. Sets, costumes … he had free rein.

  Kristof had shaken his head in disbelief. “Why?”

  “We’ve had a significant donation—anonymous. But on the condition that you are given a large part of it for your new piece. You have a fan, Kristof.”

  He should have felt elated; after all, wasn’t this e
very choreographer’s dream? But now, knowing what he knew about Eleonor Vasquez … she could bring it all down. All of it.

  He couldn’t let that happen. He knew what he had to do.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Pilot look appreciatively at Boh in her gown and whistled. “Damn, woman … how am I supposed to concentrate when you look like that?”

  Boh smiled shyly. Her dress was simple in design, but the midnight-blue fabric and heavy beading around the bodice sparkled like stars at midnight, throwing little beams of light up into her face. “It’s just off the rack. It’s my go-to for events. Old thing, really.”

  Pilot’s expression was lustful. “Boh … you’re so beautiful it hurts.”

  She giggled. “Right back at you, handsome.” He was wearing a black tux with a bowtie, his beard neatly clipped back but his curls still messy. Boh kissed him. “The car’s here.”

  In the car, he asked her about the ballet. “So, what’s the story of the ballet?”

  “Well, to start with, there’s no story as such. The full ballet is in three parts—it’s called Jewels. But Rubies is the one we all love to dance. It’s very modern, abstract … I can see I’m losing you already,” Boh joked, seeing his confused face. “Just concentrate on admiring the movement, the shapes they make with their bodies. I think, as a photographer, you’ll find it fascinating.”

  Pilot nodded, trying to look convinced, but Boh could see he was a little bemused. She kissed him. “Just go with it. We’re here to support Grace anyway.”

  In the foyer, Boh recognized some of her colleagues from the company, and she introduced them to Pilot again, most of them looking at him with curious, admiring eyes. Boh was grateful at the ease with which he chatted to them.

  Elliott found her and grinned. “That man is crazy about you,” he said. “He hasn’t stopped talking about you since you got here.”

  Boh flushed pink, a thrill going through her. “He is the most wonderful man,” she said in a low voice, then stopped. She saw Kristof and Serena across the bar, talking in low tones. Boh sighed. “I see Cruella and his lapdog are here.”