The Virgin’s Dance_Older Man Younger Woman Romance

by Michelle Love

  She looked around the bare room. “Wow. If you had told me three months ago …”

  “That you were going to fall in love with a gorgeous billionaire, move to a great loft apartment, and be the subject of a major art installation?”

  Grace was grinning as Boh laughed. “When you put it like that.” She sat down on the bed next to her friend. “I’ll be dancing too. Right at the end of the exhibition, the last photograph will lift and I’ll do a short piece. It was Pilot’s idea.”

  “The Arnalds piece?” Grace looked impressed and Boh nodded.

  “I took some persuading. Also, I should warn you … there’ll be, um, nudes.”

  “Of you?”

  “No, the Stay Puffed Marshmallow guy. Yes, me.”

  Grace’s eyebrows shot up. “Girl … I’m so proud of you. Geez, the man has been so good for you. And you for him, I know. He’s lost that haunted look he had when we first met him.”

  “You saw that too?”

  Grace tapped her temple. “People watcher. That man was in pain and now he’s alive again.”

  Boh suddenly felt a wave of emotion. “I keep thinking the other shoe is going to drop.”

  Grace hugged her. “That’s just being human, boo, and a New Yorker. We’re naturally cynical. Nothing is going to go wrong.”

  Pilot came to pick her up, and they shared a last meal with Grace, Chinese food which Pilot brought, plus two huge bottles of champagne. He clinked his glass against theirs. “I’d say I feel bad about stealing Boh away from you, Gracie, but I don’t,” he grinned as Grace laughed.

  “Just look after my girl is all I ask.”

  “I promise, and you know you’re always welcome to come stay with us, if you get lonesome. Any time.”

  Grace smiled. “You really are a sweet man, but as a matter of fact, I already have a roommate lined up.”

  “She replaces me so quickly.” Boh pretended to be shot through the heart, slumping in her chair and letting her tongue loll out of her mouth. Pilot grinned and Grace chuckled.

  “Lexie. The kid has to commute from the other side of Paterson every day. I offered her your room at a reduced rate. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. That girl hero-worships you, with good reason.”

  Grace nodded. “I don’t know about that, but she’s a star in the making.”

  “No arguments here.”

  Eventually, Grace threw them out. “Go, go christen your new place, and be happy. I love you both.”

  As they rode the elevator to their new loft Boh felt a calm descend over her. A new life, she thought, full of love and laughter, and this gorgeous man, holding her hand. She looked up at him, still always surprised by the beauty of his smile.

  “Are you okay?”

  “More than okay,” she said. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby.”

  He insisted on carrying her over the threshold. She giggled as he pretended to stagger. “We’re not married, Pilot; we don’t have to do this.”

  He stopped, put her on her feet, and took her face in his hands. “Yes, we do. This is it, Boheme Dali. The beginning of everything. Our life together. From now on, Boh, we’re going to be the happiest people on this earth.”

  But, of course, he was wrong.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Serena slammed her locker shut and made her way down to the outside of the building. Kristof was still teaching class, but he’d given her a key to his apartment. Whether he acknowledged it to himself or not, Serena thought of it as a reward, a thank you, for solving his Eleonor Vasquez problem.

  And it had been so easy. The older woman had already been wandering throughout the halls of the company’s residency. To lead her up to the roof had been a walk in the park, steering her towards the edge.

  “Celine is waiting for you just over that little wall,” she’d said to her, and watched as Eleonor Vasquez had walked to her death. Serena told herself that it didn’t count as murder.

  Kristof had been shocked when she’d told him that Eleonor had died. He had been in bed, sick from weaning himself off the drugs, getting clean. She smirked to herself. Fool. He would never be clean—she was dosing him in his food with a new drug—small doses at first, but enough that she could measure his reaction to them. As she increased the dose, she could see it in his eyes, the slight loss of control again. Good. When she needed him to blow, he would.

  She took out her pack of cigarettes as she reached the sidewalk and didn’t immediately see the limousine parked at the curb side until the window was slid down.

  “Excuse me?”

  Serena looked up and saw a thin but beautiful blonde woman smiling at her. “Yes?”

  The woman beckoned her closer. “You’re Serena Carver, yes?”

  “That’s right, and you are?”

  The woman smiled. “Eugenie Radcliffe-Morgan. I’d like a few moments of your time, if you don’t mind. I think we could be of great use to each other.”

  For the first time, Boh saw Pilot look nervous. Today, they were finalizing the order of his prints in the exhibition, and his friend Grady Mallory was flying over from Seattle to view the photographs.

  Despite her bravery in allowing Pilot to photograph her nude, she balked slightly when she saw the huge blow-ups of her body, her breasts, her belly, even the dark triangle between her thighs. They looked stunning, she had to admit, but still, it was her body on display to the world.

  Grady Mallory soon put her mind at rest. A handsome blond in his mid-forties, his easy manner and friendly personality eased both her and Pilot’s nerves.

  “It’s incredible, Pilot,” he said as they walked around the space at MOMA. “So freaking beautiful. You have gone over and above for the Foundation.” He smiled at Boh. “And you … you ready to be a superstar after this? Because you will be.”

  She blushed scarlet. “As long as it does the trick for the Foundation.”

  “And I hear you’ll be dancing for us too?”

  “If we can get the music cleared,” Pilot said, squeezing her hand. “Fingers crossed, but go, I hope so. You should see Boh dance, Grady. It’s the second most beautiful sight on Earth.”

  “Second?” Both Grady and Boh laughed, and Pilot smiled wickedly, nodding at the full-size nude he had taken of Boh just after they made love.

  “That’s number one.”

  Later, one of the assistants at MOMA was talking to Boh about the small stage area where she would dance. Pilot watched her interact easily with the other woman. Grady chuckled, watching him. “Dude, you are in so much trouble. I know that look. You’re in love, and you have it bad.”

  “True story,” Pilot chuckled. He and Grady had always been good friends, and Grady, like his other friends, had disliked Eugenie, but had always been too polite to say so.

  “Look at these photos. Look at how she’s looking at you. Wow, man.”

  “I know.”

  Grady nodded. “This is your career high, Scamo, I hope you realize this.”

  “Believe me, I do. When I met Boh, I met my muse. It almost doesn’t matter that she’s a ballerina, although it is a fundamental part of who she is. You can’t extricate the ballerina in her. But to me, Boh herself is the work of art.”

  “And it shows in your work, friend.” Grady clapped his hand on Boh’s shoulder, then smiled as Boh rejoined them. “Can I buy you both dinner?”

  Boh looked regretful. “I’m afraid I have rehearsal, but you two should go. I’ll see you at home later, baby.” She kissed Pilot’s cheek, meeting his gaze.

  Pilot smiled at her. “Sure we can’t drop you off?”

  “Nah, the walk will warm me up. Grady, it’s lovely to finally meet you. I guess I’ll see you at the exhibit?”

  “I’ll see you in 10 days, lovely lady. My wife, Flori, will be with me. I know you two will get along.”

  Serena touched her champagne class to Eugenie’s and smiled. What the other woman had offered her, and what Serena had told her i
n return, made her realize just how much power she held in her hands. When Eugenie opened her purse and drew out the money, Serena had to fight to keep her countenance. She’d never seen so many 50-dollar bills.

  Now, she studied the other woman. “Are you sure? Are you sure you want it to go this far?”

  Eugenie smiled. “You can get it done?”

  For a moment, Serena hesitated. What she was being asked to do … there was no coming back from it. Yes, the plan meant she would not have to take responsibility to anyone but herself. But could she live with it?

  “Carver, I asked you a question. You in?”

  Fuck it. “Yes,” she said with certainty. “I’m in.”

  Eugenie watched the redhead leave. Ever since she’d followed Kristof home, she’d known he was screwing the younger woman, but it wasn’t until she’d actually seen them together that she saw it. Serena Carver had Kristof Mendelev on a string. Kristof! Eugenie had laughed aloud at the thought of it, then almost as quickly, she’d realized how useful that could be in her revenge plan.

  Now that Serena had filled her in on the relationship between Kristof and Pilot’s little whore, things had gotten a whole lot more interesting, and Eugenie knew she had found a partner, at least for now. The little redhaired dancer had the requisite amount of spite that Eugenie could tap into and she looked forward to working with her.

  It also meant she, Eugenie, had a scapegoat and that was always, always a bonus. For her entire marriage, Pilot had been her whipping boy, but now she needed someone else to help punish him.

  Genie grabbed her coat. Today called for cocktails at Gibson + Luce on 31st Street. She took the elevator down to the lobby and had the doorman called for a cab. She was still smiling as the driver pulled away from the curb.

  Serena waited until Kristof had fallen asleep then went to retrieve the envelope Eugenie Radcliffe-Morgan had given her. She counted the money twice, her hands shaking, and then stared out of the window. Five hundred thousand dollars. Five. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars.

  Serena dragged in a few shaky breaths. This was big-time, maybe more than she had contemplated. Could she do this? Should she?

  Five hundred thousand dollars.

  She heard Kristof stir in the next room and call out for her. She almost felt sorry for him. She looked down at the money again.

  Five hundred thousand dollars.

  The price of a human life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Boh’s heart sank. She saw Elliott limp into the studio with a resigned look on his face. “Oh, no, El, what happened?”

  “Some jerk rode their bike into me this morning, didn’t stop.”

  Boh went over to him. “Is it sprained?”

  “I hope to God that’s all it is,” Elliott said, lowering himself to the floor. He peeled back his leg warmer and they both groaned. Blood was soaking through his legging. “Goddamn it. Maybe it’s just a flesh wound. I’ve danced with worse.”

  But when Kristof looked at it, he sent Elliott to the hospital. “I want my dancer perfect,” he said in annoyance. “Pray, Elliott, that it is only a flesh wound.”

  But it wasn’t. The news came back that Elliott had fractured a metatarsal. He wouldn’t be able to dance in the showcase, only a day away now.

  “Fuck!” Kristof screamed, making the others silent. Even Jeremy, cocksure that he now would fill in for the injured Elliott in The Lesson, the show-stopping finale of the showcase.

  For a few minutes, they all sat in silence. Nell had come to help them discuss what should be done—the tickets had been sold, the audience would expect what was advertised, she said.

  “Or better,” Kristof said finally, looking between Boh and Nell. “I’ll dance Elliott’s part.”

  There was a stunned hush. Nell was the first to recover. “Kristof … this showcase was supposed to be for the students.”

  “The student I have trained, religiously, exhaustively was careless enough to get himself injured. I don’t trust anyone else to dance with Boh.” He waved his hand at Nell. “Make it happen.”

  Nell looked at Boh who grimaced but shrugged. It was Kristof’s showcase; he could dance the whole thing himself if he wanted. Nell sighed and left the room.

  “Boh.” Kristof clicked his fingers at her, annoying her, but she got up anyway and assumed first position.

  After an afternoon of Kristof’s increasingly irritable behavior, she couldn’t wait to get home to Pilot. When she opened the door, though, she heard voices. She dumped her bag in the hallway and walked into the living room. Pilot was there, and to Boh’s delight, Romana grinned at her, as another older woman she didn’t recognize stood up behind Pilot’s sister. Romana hugged Boh hard and then whispered in her ear. “It’s our mom. Don’t worry, but she’s about to grill you.”

  Oh, goodie. As Romana released her, Boh smiled shyly at the older woman. “Hello, Mrs. Scamo … I mean, Professor Scamo. I’m very glad to meet you.”

  Blair Scamo smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes and Boh felt her heart sink. Clearly, this meeting was going to be a test of her love for Pilot. Boh’s eyes slid to her lover. Pilot moved to Boh’s side. “Mom, I think we need to let Boh process this. We—and by that, I mean, you—didn’t give her any notice. So, before you launch into Personality Test 101, can we at least have a drink?”

  Blair Scamo glared at her son for a moment, then laughed. “Sorry, Boh. Let’s start again. Hi, I’m Blair, Pilot and Romana’s mother.”

  “Boheme Dali, Pilot’s … friend.” She blushed furiously.

  Pilot burst out laughing and Romana rolled her eyes, nudging Boh. “Girl, we just saw the complete collection of Pilot’s photos of you. We don’t have secrets. Mom knows you two are doing it.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re annoying?” Pilot asked his sister, who grinned widely. He kissed Boh’s temple. “Babe, why don’t you and I go fix some drinks and recover while these two harpies settle in?”

  Grateful for the get-out, Boh followed Pilot into the kitchen. “I didn’t know they were coming, I swear, and they turned up about five minutes before you. I didn’t have time to text you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Hello,” she said, pulling his face down to her for a kiss. He chuckled and pressed his lips to hers.

  “Hello, baby. How was your day?”

  Boh sighed and rolled her eyes. “A mess. Elliott got injured, badly. Broke a metatarsal.”

  She grinned at Pilot’s blank expression. “Bone in the foot, doofus. Not so good for a ballet dancer.”

  “Ah. Hey, that sucks. What about—”

  “Kristof is taking his place.” Boh met Pilot’s gaze and knew he was as annoyed as she was.

  “The ego of him.”

  “I know. But he does know the role inside out.”

  Pilot huffed out a long breath. “I just—damn it.”

  “What?”

  Pilot leaned against the counter and cross his arms. “I know it’s acting. I know it’s not real … but I don’t know if I can stomach him getting violent with you. Watching it.”

  She raised her hand to stroke his face. “It is just acting, baby. The one good thing I can say about Kristof Mendelev is that, on stage, he is utterly professional.”

  “Kristof Mendelev?” Blair Scamo’s outraged voice broke through their conversation.

  Boh nodded. “He’s our artistic director.”

  Blair looked at Pilot. “You knew about this?”

  “Of course. Mom, you know what? Not to defend Mendelev, he’s a jerk and an asshole, but he wasn’t the one married to me. Genie cheated. I don’t like Mendelev but he’s Boh’s boss.”

  Blair nodded, and when she looked at Boh, her eyes were sympathetic. “If you can survive being trained by that man, you can survive anything. That’s impressive.”

  “Thank you,” Boh said, softly, and looked at Pilot. “Hey, baby, why don’t you let me and your mom chat for a while?”

  Pilot hesitated then nodded. He kissed Boh’s temple
again and shot a warning look at his mother.

  For a moment, neither said anything. Then Blair grinned. “I think he thinks I’m going to be the Spanish Inquisition.”

  Boh chuckled. “If you were, I wouldn’t blame you. I’m a 22-year-old nobody from nowhere-ville. After what Pilot went through in his marriage, if I were you, I’d be strapping on the lie-detector tests and drugging me with truth serum. Here’s the facts. All of this—” she waved her hand around the apartment— “it’s great. But I’d live in a paper box with your son. I’d sleep under any bridge in the city as long as he was with me. I don’t care about his money. It’s his. I love him, the man, that funny, goofy, kindhearted, damaged man in there.”

  She flushed at her speech but Blair reached out for her and the two women embraced. Boh felt tears in her eyes. “I want to kill her for what she did to him,” she whispered.

  Blair drew back and wiped Boh’s face with her sleeve. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

  After that, they had a wonderful evening with Pilot’s mother and sister, and by the end of the evening, they both promised to be there the next evening at her performance.

  After they left, Pilot smiled at her. “You made yet another fan. I swear, you’re magical.”

  “Your family is magical. I have to admit, I’m envious.”

  Pilot held his hand out to her. “Come to bed.”

  They lay together for a while, talking. “Do you think you’ll ever reconcile with your family?”

  She shook her head. “No. And, honestly, I know I said I was envious of your family, but that doesn’t mean I want my family to miraculously change into them and come back into my life. Too much water has gone under the bridge. Too much.”

  Pilot stroked her face gently. “For what it’s worth … my family is your family now.”

  “I love you so much,” she whispered, and brushed her lips against his. She couldn’t imagine her life without this man now.

  He gently rolled her onto her back and moved on top of her. “Is ballet like sports? I mean, the day before a big performance, is it advisable to make love?”