Come, Dance With Me

by Mary Middleton

  ‘I can’t believe we did that,’ Sasha exclaimed, her face scarlet, ‘anyone could have come along. It would have been so embarrassing. We are never, ever going to do that again.’

  She wagged a finger at Andrei who pouted playfully.

  ‘Never do what again? Make love?’ He stalked toward her, deliberately flaunting his physique in her face but, although she couldn’t help but relish his toned young body, Sasha backed off, laughing.

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  He placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face, kissed her lightly on the nose.

  ‘Thank you, Sasha. That was the most erotic moment of my life …so far anyway.’ His smile was gently sincere, making Sasha’s heart flutter.

  She smiled back at him.

  ‘And mine,’ she confessed, blushing like a schoolgirl.

  Rehearsal that week was very different to the preceding weeks. By Wednesday with the anger dispelled, the sexual tension dealt with outside the rehearsal room, they worked together well. The routine was hilarious and very camp. This time Sasha had to learn to use her face as well as her body to express the story of the dance. Her main problem was keeping a straight face while she watched her usually sultry, sexy partner play the buffoon.

  He was dressed in lycra shorts and a vest so tight that it seemed to be welded onto his torso, each rippling muscle clearly visible. In normal circumstances she would have found the sight arousing but every time he assumed his vaudeville expression and danced the straight limbed, jerky steps, she couldn’t keep a straight face.

  ‘What am I to do with you, Sasha?’ Andrei exclaimed when, for the fiftieth time, she glimpsed him in the mirror and collapsed into laughter, folding her arms across her stomach, eyes streaming.

  He switched off the music and sat down, pulling her onto his knee, speaking directly into her ear. ‘You are a naughty girl, I should give you a thorough spanking.’

  The tone of his voice made Sasha turn and look at him sternly.

  ‘Enough of that talk, young man. I told you, never again …not in here, anyway.’

  Andrei sighed and lay back, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

  ‘I suppose it’s time for lunch. This afternoon I will expect more from you. No more nonsense. We must dance, dance, dance.’

  Bubbling with happiness, Sasha spun away from him across the floor in a series of reasonably executed deboulés. Andrei slowly applauded as she picked up her towel and began to dab the sweat from her face and neck.

  The canteen was crowded and several of the other dancers clustered around one table, discussing their progress. Celia Chernikova, seeing them enter, moved her bag, expecting Andrei to join her at her table but, when Andrei led her to a table for two, where they were less likely to be disturbed, she hurled a ferocious glare in Sasha’s direction.

  While Andrei ordered food from the counter, Sasha, left alone, avoided looking in her direction and, when he returned and slid into his seat with a laden tray, she nodded toward the other competitors.

  ‘I should sit with them really. And what about Celia, she has been waiting for you? People will guess what’s going on if we aren’t careful.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I owe Celia nothing and I was behind Joe in the queue just now, I told him you were in for a severe lecture about your sloppy footwork.’

  ‘You what?’ Sasha’s face stretched indignantly. ‘My sloppy footwork? Couldn’t you have thought of anything better, something less insulting?’

  He smiled lazily. ‘It won’t hurt the opposition to think you are struggling; it will give them false confidence.’

  Andrei bit into his sandwich, chewed thoughtfully while he watched her delicately eat her fruit yoghurt. Unconsciously provocative, she licked the spoon clean, letting it slide slowly from her mouth. Andrei groaned and leaned forward.

  ‘I have never before been envious of a spoon,’ he whispered.

  ‘Down boy,’ Sasha hissed, with a quick glance to the opposite table. ‘I don’t want people knowing, not unless we decide to make it a proper relationship.’

  Andrei sat up, his face indignant. ‘You mean, it isn’t? What is it, then?’

  ‘Well, it’s just that it’s early days yet and, if the press get hold of it and blow it up into something it isn’t, well, my …my family will get wind of it and be, erm, upset if it doesn’t last.’

  She could feel the blood surging into her cheeks, roaring in her ears in the long silence that followed. The secret she kept from him seemed to loom large over the table between them. Andrei picked up his coffee, took a long draught and placed it down again.

  ‘Why shouldn’t it be a proper relationship, as you call it?’

  As she looked up into his troubled, almost petulant eyes her fear increased.

  ‘Well, you know what it’s like. Sometimes these things start off all right and then, well, things change and it doesn’t work out. I just don’t want anyone to be hurt …least of all us.’

  ‘I like the sound of that.’

  ‘The sound of what?’

  ‘Us …’ Andrei leaned closer, stroking one finger across her knuckles, his voice lowered, one eye on her mouth, the other on the opposition nearby. ‘Sasha, working with you these last weeks hasn’t been easy but I think that means we know the worst of each other …and that hasn’t prevented us ending up as lovers. I know you are stubborn …’Sasha snorted indignantly but Andrei held up a hand to silence her. ‘And I know you can be moody and have an evil temper, but I love those things about you, just as I love your humour and your self-depreciating modesty. I think we both know that I want this thing between us to be for keeps. What about you?’

  From the far end of the canteen came the sound of clattering cutlery as Celia pushed away her tray and stormed from the room but neither Andrei nor Sasha took the slightest notice.

  Sasha looked at him for a long time, the words she wanted to say frozen on her lips. How could she commit to a relationship with him when there was still the issue of Yana to be resolved? If she confessed now he would be furious and the resulting row would probably destroy everything.

  Is this love? It felt like it to her and, although Andrei had not actually said the words, ‘I love you’, he had mentioned it, she had definitely heard him use the word ‘love’ twice in the context of their future.

  To Sasha telling someone you loved them meant you wanted to be with them forever, bear their children, share their home, until death do you part. But it might not mean that to Andrei, whose past was peppered with so many broken relationships. Maybe he wasn’t hinting at anything lifelong at all, maybe he was just talking about ‘for now’. If that were the case she didn’t want Yana involved. Too many of her friends’ children had part time fathers or never saw them at all. Yana was too precious and she was already suffering from only having a part time mother, there was no room for a father who may, or may not, want her. Sasha couldn’t take the risk so she prevaricated, side stepped the issue.

  Andrei shifted in his seat, his face pale.

  ‘Sasha, you are making me nervous.’

  She had to answer one way or the other. She took a deep breath and bit her lips.

  ‘It’s just a bit soon, Andrei, to make a commitment. We need to know each other much better before we start talking about it being for keeps, don’t you think?’

  As she implored him with her eyes to understand, he stared at the wall, his face mulish. Then he shrugged his shoulders and pretended that she hadn’t just wounded him to the quick.

  ‘Whatever,’ he said, draining his cup and sliding out of his seat. ‘Listen, I need to do some things in town. The routine is pretty much an individual one; we can practice it separately for the rest of the day. I will see you in the morning.’

  Since they had planned to spend the next few nights either at his or Sasha’s apartment, she was stunned.

  ‘Andrei, don’t be like that. You wouldn’t want me to lie, would you? You want me to be certain?’

  H
e slung his bag over his shoulder, screwed up his face, refusing to look at her. ‘No, I wouldn’t want you to lie but what I do want, most of all, Sasha, is for you to stop lying to yourself.’

  He strode away across the canteen. Sasha stood up.

  ‘Andrei!’ she called after his retreating figure but he continued to walk away and, as she sat down again, she became aware that all the other contestants at the next table were watching with avid curiosity.

  Andrei didn’t go into town. He had no ‘things to do.’ Sasha’s words had hurt, not just his pride, but his heart. He felt like hell. She must be made of stone if she could make love with him as she had over the last week and still be unsure if she really wanted to be with him. It had been a close thing; he could have made a real fool of himself for he had been on the brink of asking her to move into his apartment. For Andrei, every minute without her was torture. When she wasn’t with him he listened for her footstep, dreamed of her tinkling laugh and, at night, her favoured side of the bed seemed cold, vast and empty.

  He didn’t want to go home and couldn’t face returning to the studio where he would have to confront her again. They had laughed so much this morning and now, after just a few ill-considered words, he felt he might never laugh with her again. No, he needed time to think, to sort out what a man was supposed to do when the girl he loved rejected him … for the second time.

  ***

  Belinda Kovalevsky was in her mid fifties and still bearing the fine boned elegance that, so many years before, had first attracted her husband, the Russian politician, Bruno Kovalevsky. After the joint tragedy of losing him and their beloved daughter in the same accident, she had never remarried, unable to break the ties of marriage even though they had been severed by death. That night, the secret police had destroyed all of her joys, save one, and although she did not see as much of him as she would have liked, her one remaining passion in life was her son, Andrei.

  So, when the doorbell rang on a chilly November evening and she opened it to find him on the step, she was both surprised, and delighted. She also knew that something must be very wrong for him to turn up unannounced on a weekday evening. Pulling the front door open wide, she stood back to let him enter and offered him her cheek, not allowing the unexpected pleasure of his visit colour her composure.

  ‘You are in luck; I’ve a casserole in the oven. I must have known you were coming.’

  He followed her into the kitchen, watched her fill the kettle and put some plates to warm on the Aga. Then she turned, her keen eye immediately noting his face was drawn and peaky looking. ‘You look as if you could do with a good meal.’

  ‘I’m fine, Mama. I had a spare evening, that’s all.’

  ‘Hmmm, and you thought you’d share it with your mother?’

  He took the teacup she offered him. It was from her best tea service, fine English china, decorated with deep pink roses. He sipped before carefully replacing the cup on the saucer and followed her into the adjoining sitting room.

  The curtains were drawn against the cold and the fire was lit, giving the room a cosy glow. Shooing the cat from the sofa, he sank gratefully into fragrant cushions while his mother perched on the edge of a matching chair. ‘I saw you on the television on Saturday. Your partner is very good, very …responsive.’

  ‘Yes, she is.’ He let his head fall against the back of his chair and closed his eyes, as the image of Sasha dressed in crystals and feathers danced across his mind.

  ‘Andrei, tell me what is wrong. I know there is something bothering you.’

  He turned his head toward her. Nothing escaped Mama.

  ‘If I could explain it properly I would. The problem really seems to be that I don’t know what the problem is.’

  Belinda sipped her tea and placed the cup on the saucer that she cradled in her lap. ‘But it has to do with your dancing partner, Sasha, does it?’

  Andrei leaned forward and put his tea on the coffee table, ran his hands through his hair, leaving it ruffled, reminding her of when he was a boy, denied of something he wanted.

  ‘I – we – well, we knew each other briefly years ago, but she left me with no explanation and I thought I had forgotten about her but now, well … Things were difficult at first, at the start of the competition. I thought I hated her. I certainly resented her but now, now I find that I don’t and we have, erm, begun a sort of relationship. But, she – I …’

  ‘You are afraid she will leave you again?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He sprang to his feet and began to pace the floor, his words freed by the activity. ‘I thought it was for good this time. Today I was on the brink of asking her to move in with me but she doesn’t even want to take it further. She said she isn’t ready, she isn’t sure about it, she is worried about something.’ He turned bewildered eyes on his mother. ‘How can she make love with me like that, if she doesn’t love me? Doesn’t want me? What makes a woman behave like that, Mama?’

  It was strange for Belinda to see her usually self-contained, confident son almost in tears over a woman. Usually she didn’t get to meet his girlfriends but she had read about them in the papers and knew he had enjoyed more than his fair share. She was glad his fling with Celia was over; even on screen it was easy to see she was a harsh, brittle woman. Belinda guessed the two had just been thrown together by circumstance. This one, Sasha, seemed to be different. She had seen her on the television a few times in the past, on some chat show but she knew little else about her. Without seeming to do so Belinda scrutinised her son closely before continuing.

  ‘How many women have you loved and left, my son?’ Andrei opened his eyes, affronted at the question but she carried on serenely. ‘Are you afraid that you are now to be used in the same way?’

  She could see she had annoyed him. His jaw clenched, his eyes gleamed darkly; if she hadn’t been his mother she might have been afraid of unleashing something rather dangerous. He was certainly very much involved with this girl.

  ‘I suppose I am,’ he admitted, ‘but, Mama, I don’t think she is being true to herself, let alone me. I know she loves me, I can feel it when I am with her but she is holding back, not giving her all and I don’t know why.’

  ‘Does she hold back in bed?’

  ‘Mama!’ He was shocked, his face colouring at her forthright question. She smiled at him, almost mockingly.

  ‘In my experience, a woman who holds back in bed doesn’t really care about her partner; it is only when she has sex with the man she loves that she gives of herself unstintingly.’

  As she watched this sink in, Andrei raised his chin, imperceptibly comforted.

  ‘Her lovemaking is almost savage.’

  Belinda laughed. ‘I must see to dinner. It seems to me, Andrei, that you almost have her, all you have to do is convince her that you are serious. Have you told her how you feel?’

  Andrei thought back to their lunchtime conversation. He had told her hadn’t he? He had talked about it being for keeps, told her how he loved her sense of humour and her bad tempers? Well, he had as good as said it.

  He followed his mother back into the kitchen.

  ‘Sort of,’ he said at last, watching as Belinda began to tie on a gingham apron. At his words, she turned to him, threw back her head and laughed.

  ‘Oh, my Andrei, you really know nothing about women, do you? ‘Sort of’ isn’t good enough. You must make it very clear. Tell her exactly how you feel about her, declare your undying love, ask her to marry you and bear your children. Then, I can almost guarantee, she will fall into your arms.’

  The next morning Andrei scraped a thick layer of frost from the windscreen and headed back for the city, determined to sort out the mess between them once and for all. It was ten thirty. He went straight to the rehearsal studio knowing she would be waiting for him, going through her steps, wondering where he was.

  He swept into the car park, grabbed his bag from the back seat and hurried through the swing doors, along the corridor, surprised to
find the room in darkness. He flicked on the light. It was more as less as they had left it on Wednesday. Her cardigan still hung over the back of a chair. She had not been here since. Where is she? Why isn’t she here? Cold dread began to nibble at the edges of his heart and, turning on his heel, he fled back along the corridor, leaving all the lights on and the doors swinging.

  Nobody in the canteen had seen her. Not since Wednesday. Andrei frowned, his mind racing, processing all the information she had ever given him, searching his subconscious for a clue as to where she might have gone.

  He fumbled in his pocket and drew out his Blackberry, started to tap out her number. It went straight to answer machine, making him swear and shove it back into his jeans. Where the hell was she, running out on him like this? Forgetting that he was, in fact, the one that had run away, he hurried back through the studio to his car. He slid into the driver seat. The engine was still cooling down, the metal gently ticking; he fired it up again, put his foot down and drove, too fast, out of the car park.

  He would try her flat first. Screeching to a halt, he ran across the grass verge and sprinted up the steps to bang on the door. When no one answered he bent down, peered through the letterbox, immediately assailed by the faint scent of Sasha’s perfume mingled with the lingering aroma of burnt toast. There was no one home. He leaned his forehead on the door and groaned. ‘Where are you, Sasha?’ he moaned. ‘Where have you gone?’

  For about half an hour he waited in the car, blowing into his cupped hands to warm them, constantly craning his neck along the street, scanning each passing taxi or pedestrian that came along. The longer he sat there, the more convinced he became that he had lost her forever and the idea of being without her was inconceivable.

  And what about Saturday’s show, what about that? He thumped the steering wheel hard and, just as he had given up hope and was reaching for the ignition key, Lisa came tripping along the street, her coat undone, scarf flying, her plump breasts jiggling with every step.