The Ballerina: A Lesbian Romance

by Nicolette Dane

  *

  I was sitting in my office, organizing my notes and documentation into something digestible for Charles, packing up some personal affects, and generally cleaning house so that I could exit efficiently. I kept telling myself that it was only a sabbatical to distance myself from the drama, Charles said I was welcome back at any time, no questions asked. Still, it felt like a termination, like I was being forced out, even if that feeling was all in my head.

  Breaking up the silence of me riffling through some papers, I heard a soft knock at my office door. I looked up from my desk.

  “Come in,” I said.

  The door slowly creaked open and Dinah stood behind it.

  “May I come in, Mish?” she asked self-consciously.

  “Get in here, Dinah,” I said, standing from my chair and circle around the desk to meet her. As she entered, she closed the door cautiously behind her.

  “You’re quitting?” she said as she slid up next to me. Reaching out, she touched my arm dotingly.

  “It’s a sabbatical of an undetermined duration,” I said. “The door is open, but I’m going to leave for a little while to avoid the fallout that could have been.”

  “What did you tell Charles?” she asked.

  “I was honest with him,” I said. “Surprisingly, he didn’t care that you and I had grown closer, though he granted it looked funny that you were the one who was being given the role. But,” I went on, wrapping my arm around Dinah’s waist, inspiring her to lean her head against my shoulder. “Everyone agreed, based on talent, that you should get the job.”

  “I feel so conflicted,” Dinah said, nuzzling into me. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I’m not leaving the city,” I said with a smile. “And I only hope to leave the company until this all blows over. Maybe a year. I’ll possibly be back after Giselle closes. I just shouldn’t be a part of this production.”

  “Can I still see you?” said Dinah naively. I laughed softly.

  “I want nothing more than that,” I said.

  Tilting her head up, Dinah initiated a kiss with me, delicate and sensual, and the two of us stood there in each other’s arms as we let our lips mingle and merge. She looked so sweet in her rehearsal outfit, a tight black leotard with thin translucent pink tights over it, her feet housed in small pink pointe shoes with ribbon wrapped up around her ankles. Her brown hair was tightly back in the usual bun, pinned up expertly against her head. Dinah closed her eyes as we kissed, fluttering them open occasionally, and moaning softly into my lips.

  Pulling away from our kiss after a moment, I smiled at Dinah as we both opened our eyes and looked at one another.

  “You should probably get back to rehearsal,” I said.

  “Yes,” she said, looking down. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. Dinah smiled at me and then slid toward the door, making her exit without another word.

  I knew I had made the right decision. I couldn’t sacrifice Dinah’s career for my own. This would only be a minor setback for me, something I could remedy with some hard work down the line. But for Dinah, this was a huge leap, a shortcut to something greater that could certainly propel her into the next stage of her art and life.

  Leaning up against my desk, feeling the sweet wetness of Dinah’s lips still on my own, I tried to envision what was next.

  *

  After a couple months of searching, I landed a job with a repertory opera theatre doing much of the same as I was doing with ballet. Opera was a different beast all together, but the skills I had picked up as assistant director for Charles paired with my abilities as a dance choreographer lent to my swift success in my new position. It took me a few more months to really get up to speed but once I had figured out my place, working at the opera almost made me forget about ballet.

  It was Monday morning, one of my favorite days, as I didn’t have to be to work until the early afternoon. Taking the kettle off of the stove, I filled two mugs full of water, each already containing a tea bag. Setting the mugs onto a platter, I ambled lazily through my kitchen wearing only a loose white tank and a pair of panties, and entered my bedroom. Approaching the bed, I placed the platter down on my bedside table.

  Lying in my bed, only half covered by the blankets, was Dinah. She was naked and snoozing, face down in the pillow with an arm strewn above her head and wrapped around a pillow. Her full bare back was exposed and just the slight peek of her ass crack, the fluffy cream-colored comforter layered over her bottom half. I smiled happily as I watched her sleep, unconcerned about what I had given up professionally to be with her. We had grown so much closer in the past six months, I knew I made the right choice.

  Giselle went swimmingly, garnering extremely positive reviews and almost immediately being granted a performance extension. Dinah was perfect in the show, a treasure, and one reviewer even went as far as to prognosticate that she would only day be the star of the company.

  While my new position often made me lose track of my old life in ballet, every time I looked at Dinah I was brought back. I could remember the rush of performing not so long ago, the heartbreak of discovering I just wasn’t good enough, and the feeling of finally finding my place when I was brought into the production and choreography team. It was a whirlwind and I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss it.

  I was getting dangerously close to my 30th birthday, a strange landmark of a birthday by which you finally feel like you’re being thrust into adulthood whether you like it or not. Somehow, even at this age, I had achieved so much in the performance world. In the local alt-weekly paper there was one of those “30 people to watch under 30” articles that featured me. “From ballet to opera, she is a blossoming powerhouse of creative energy,” it said. I didn’t believe the hype about myself, though. The article did get me a raise, however, so I went along with it to that degree.

  Sitting down on the bed next to Dinah, I softly ran my hand along her nude back, feeling the firm curvatures, the sculpted muscles of her sleek figure. Her hair lay tussled against the pillow, the almost imperceptible freckles that dotted her shoulders accented her pale skin, and her small angelic face revealed her high cheekbones, full and pursed lips, and diminutive incisive nose.

  As I petted her, her dark brown eyes gradually fluttered open, recognizing me as I gazed down at her, coaxing a gentle smile to form across her lips. Dinah turned herself over in bed, readjusting for comfort, and laid on her back, now displaying her tiny chest, each breast marked with the smallest pale pink nipple. My hand continued to massage her, running up her stomach and over her chest, my fingers lightly flicking over her pointed areolas.

  “Good morning,” I cooed to her. “Sleep well?”

  “Yes,” she said languidly, yawning and stretching her arms above her head, her torso elongating with her stretch and flattening her chest slightly.

  “Do you have to be at the theatre today?” I said.

  “Not until later,” she said. “I don’t perform tonight.”

  The comforter had slid down Dinah’s body further, her pubic mound now revealed from beneath the blanket, dotted with the dark stubble of growth. I moved my hand down the length of her chest and ran my fingers over the prickly stubble of impending fur, causing Dinah to sigh happily. Reaching down, Dinah guided my hand under the comforter and positioned it over her pussy. She smiled to me as our eyes locked.

  With two fingers, I deftly caressed her slit, dragging my fingers up and down over her, causing little moans to exit her mouth and the faintest of wetness to drip from her lower lips.

  “Mmm,” Dinah said. “That feels good.”

  “I love touching you,” I said. “So much.” My fingers gracefully massaged her, parting her lips just slightly so that I could touch the wet pinkness between them.

  “We’re going to do Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Dinah said languorously, running a hand up over her face and through her hair, relaxing and spreading further as I petted her. “The company
hasn’t done it in almost a decade.”

  “It’s a beautiful show,” I said. “It’s one of my favorites.” Slipping a single finger between her lips, I ran my fingertip up over her hole, through her softness, and settled daintily on her clit.

  “Were you involved with it last time?” she asked, her eyelids flickering until they closed as she calmed into the pleasure.

  “Mm hmm,” I affirmed. “Very small part,” I said. “I was your age.”

  “I want to be Hermia,” she said.

  “You would be great,” I said, lowering my face down and planting a tender kiss on her stomach. I kissed her again and then once more, moving my lips down past her navel and rubbing my lips over the fine, scattered hair on her mound.

  I could feel Dinah’s small hole open and contract with her breaths, moistening further as I fondled her. Soon I let a finger slip inside of her, pushing it in and pulling it back out unhurriedly. Dinah’s mouth went slack, hanging open just the slightest bit, her visage intimating a comfortable joyousness.

  “You should come back for it,” she said quietly, a hand reaching out to me and flowing over my bare thigh. “Everybody misses you.”

  “I don’t know,” I mused, my face still hovering below Dinah’s waistline. Releasing my tongue, I lapped at her top of her slit, flicking it upwards against her clit as my finger smoothly penetrated her.

  “Mmm,” she sighed, her hand moving to my head to stop me momentarily. Dinah rolled over to her side, causing my finger to exit her, though the moistness coating it glistened in the early morning sun coming through the windows. On her side, the covers having fallen off her hips, her small but firm ass jutted out, exposing her tight and crinkled little asshole and the puffy, meatiness of her pussy lips between her thighs.

  I crawled up onto the bed now, sitting on my knees, and placed a hand on her hip. My head descended, my face closing in on her backside, and I buried my lips into her crevasse, my nose touching her wet pussy while my mouth centered in near her taint and rear. I knew how much she loved attention on her backside and although I had proceeded with some trepidation when we first started seeing one another, I had grown to love pleasing her in this way as well.

  Dinah had even implored me to try it early on, to be on the receiving end, and I was certainly shy at first. But I soon came to understand why she enjoyed it so much. I was a quick convert one I realized how pleasurable it could be.

  My tongue poked out from my mouth and licked her from behind, running wetly over her creased hole, dragging over her taint, and lapping at the base of her pussy. When I did this she trembled and moaned, her arms twisted into each other, and she widened her herself down below to allow me greater access. I brought a finger up near my mouth and pushed it between her lips, lovingly rubbing it over the entrance to her pussy, feeling the succulence and the ingress of that beautiful fleshy cavern.

  I prodded at Dinah’s ass with the tip of my tongue, feeling the folds of it, licking the hairless softness. As I advanced, Dinah’s breathing quickened and she sighed with each out-breath. Then I licked upwards and slurped at her moist pussy from behind, while my fingers settled on her clit and massaged her own lubrication into the fleshy cherry. Her hips grinded back and forth subtly, rocking against my face as I pleasured her to her greatest preference.

  “Mish,” she cooed, my name coming like a soft, almost soundless squeak from her open mouth.

  I ran my hand up and down her back as I maintained my steady licking at the bottom of her pussy, pressing my tongue between her lips and giving her a long, hard lap upwards. Pursing my lips, I pressed into her folds and suckled, slurping the growing wetness from her, tasting the sweet, sultry flavors oozing from her moistening insides.

  Dinah was heated and growing more aroused by the second, and she lifted her leg up higher into the air, almost as though she was were doing an arabesque while lying down. I took the opportunity to further bury my face into her womanhood, drinking sloppily from her pussy, vocally sucking and slurping, and steadying myself against her by gripping onto her thighs. Dinah’s small stomach began to heave in and out, her pussy contracting with her increasing breath.

  “Oh!” she called, one hand lowered to help brace her leg and keep it in the air while the other snaked into the pillows next to her and held on to the sheets below. I could feel her pussy pulsing as I ate her out, squeezing and releasing, creaming itself in ecstasy.

  Then, abruptly, her body began to shiver and shake, the warmth and wetness between her thighs lightly coating my nose and mouth. Her moans grew louder and she squirmed where she lay, her leg suddenly falling from the air and clamping down, pressing her thighs together. I pulled back from my licking and straightened my body, caressing her side with one hand while my other hand cradled and massaged between her legs as she traveled through her orgasm. The viscid wetness of her pussy slopped against my hand, and I could feel the humidity amid her thighs.

  After a few more moments of asynchronous shakes, soft and cute trembles, Dinah rolled onto her back. Her petite chest moved up and down with her huffing, and I eagerly crawled up next to her, lying down with my arm slung over her. We kissed one another, adoringly and indulgently, eyes closed, lips sensitive and moist. I nuzzled my nose into the side of her face and whispered to her of how much I truly adored her. Her smile said it all.

  *

  I was sitting up in bed, sipping my tea, and thumbing through a news site on my phone. Dinah was in the bathroom connected to my bedroom and I could hear the faint sound of her relieving herself echoing out of the open door. I wasn’t quite ready to get out of bed yet and get started on my day, partially because I was feeling lazy and also because I felt that Dinah and I could go for another round of morning sex. I smiled, took a big gulp of tea, and continued reading my phone.

  My reading was suddenly interrupted by an incoming call, the chiming of my ring tone, and the vibrating buzz of the phone in my hand.

  The caller ID displayed who was on the other end. It was the ballet theatre. Puzzled, I answered.

  “This is Mish,” I said into the phone.

  “Mish, this is Candace,” said the voice from the other end. Candace was a production assistant for the company, someone I had worked with often. Her voice sounded grim.

  “Hey Candace,” I said. “It’s odd to receive a call from you,” I admitted with a nervous laugh.

  As my conversation with Candace began, Dinah slinked out from the bathroom and hung in the doorway, her hand bracing herself against the frame, naked from head to toe. She heard me say Candace’s name and waited with a curious and confused look on her face.

  “I have some terrible news,” Candace said with a whimper. “Charles had a heart attack.”

  “Charles had a heart attack?” I repeated, looking over to Dinah whom now had fear and sadness washed over her face.

  “He’s stable right now,” said Candace. “He had emergency surgery late last night. He’s recuperating in the hospital.”

  “This is awful news,” I said. “Can he have visitors?”

  “That’s why I’m calling,” she said. “He’s asking for you.”

  “For me?” I said. “But I haven’t even spoken to him in six months.”

  “He said he wanted to see you,” Candace said. “I’m just reaching out to ask if you’ll go see him.”

  “Of course,” I said, leaping out of bed and searching around the room for a pair of pants. “I’ll go down there right now.”

  “Thank you, Mish,” said Candace. “If I can help in any way, let me know.”

  “Thanks for the call, Candace,” I said. Hanging up the phone, I grabbed a pair of jeans from a heap of dirty clothes on the floor and quickly slid into them, pushing my phone into the pocket. In my hurry, I had almost forgotten about Dinah who was still watching me as I frantically moved around the room.

  “Oh Dinah,” I said when I finally looked over to her. She was crying softly from the news. I rushed over to her and took her in my arms, pulling
her bare body close to me, and she fervently hugged me back.

  “Is he okay?” she whimpered.

  “Candace said he had surgery last night,” I said. “And that he’s stable.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “I really don’t know,” I said. “But he’s asking to speak to me so I’m going to go down there right now.”

  “Should I come, too?” Dinah said.

  “No,” I said. “You just stay here. Or go down to the theatre,” I said. “I’m sure everybody could use some support right now.”

  “All right,” she said. Dinah craned her neck out and we softly kissed.

  “I’ll text you if I find out any more,” I said. I could tell she was distraught from the news, her eyes welling with tears of uncertainty. “I love you, Dinah.”

  “I love you, too,” she said. We kissed once more and I gently ran my hand over her bare hip. Giving her a pained smile, I then turned and scooted out of the bedroom, grabbed my coat from the rack, and moved toward my front door. I knew I had to get to the hospital as quickly as I could.

  *

  A nurse was inside Charles’ room when I arrived, so I waited just outside of the door. I hated hospitals, as I assume most people do. They just feel sad. So sterile, serious, and you’re only there when something’s wrong. I tend to avoid them as much as I can.

  I could hear the nurse finishing up with Charles and I peeked inside impatiently, worried and scared and confused all wrapped together. As the nurse came toward the door, I smiled gently at her to get her attention.

  “Hi,” she said. “Can I help you?”

  “My name is Michelle,” I said. “I’m here because I was told that Charles was asking to see me.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “You’re from the theatre.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “He’s recovering from heart surgery,” she said. “He’s awake, just weak. There’s a chair next to his bed,” she said, pointing into the room.