AN: Yes, it's back! After a super long, inexcusable hiatus, I'm picking this up again.
Suddenly on edge, Edward leaned in as far as the cover of darkness would allow, surveying Bella Swan. She was taller than the previous girl, Alice, but still not tall by standard measure. 5'5 at the most, Edward estimated, and that's if she wasn't wearing heels. Panning down her slender body as she shrugged off her coat, Edward was slightly surprised to find that she was wearing a pair of casual brown loafers. Loafers for a prima ballerina, Edward pondered, as she slipped out of them. Maybe her feet needed a break.
Bella dropped her coat to the ground where she stood, and her shoulder bag along with it. Edward's eyes were now drawn upward from her shoes once again, as her figure was now in full view. Long shapely legs wrapped in black silk stockings, which turned into her surprisingly curvy hips. Bella turned and bent at the waist to retrieve a record from her bag – curvy indeed, Edward appreciated. And here he thought all ballerinas were walking stick figures.
In her plain black leotard, Bella strode over to center stage in order to put on her record. Lost in her curves (her breasts, though restricted and concealed beneath her leotard, kept Edward's attention for more than a few seconds), Edward had still not gotten a good look at Bella's face. As she played with the record needle her long, chocolate brown hair that had just the slightest wave, fell in front of her face, hiding it completely. This frustrated Edward – the sooner he got a look at this girl, the sooner he could leave.
Still bent over the record player, Bella quickly swept her hair to the top of her head and secured it into a ponytail with an elastic that came from around her wrist. Finally, Edward thought.
The suddenness of Bella's movement and the simultaneous commencement of the music almost caused Edward to tumble from his perch in shock. She flipped her hair and straightened her back at the exact moment of the first note of her chosen song, as if she had danced to this record all too many times before, knowing just when to start.
It took three chords for Edward to regain his composure, and just four more for him to lose it again. Not only was Isabella Swan perhaps the most stunning natural beauty he had ever seen, but she was dancing to Clair de Lune. Transfixed, Edward's eyes followed Bella around the stage, eager to drink in her newly revealed facial features. Her skin was like ivory – flawless, with a soft luminescence. She had deep brown eyes, free from the makeup with which the girls of the day were all too liberal. High cheekbones turned into a strong jaw, which framed the most perfect, tiny, rosy pout. Edward couldn't stop staring at those lips, even as Bella slowly paced barefoot around the stage into time with the music.
A beautiful girl, he could handle. But why, why the song.
Bella's movements were light, yet measured. Unlike Alice's dance en pointe, Bella's barefoot ministrations were less technical and more exploratory. She was grounding herself in the space, feeling her way around the stage, establishing her connection with the floor and the walls and the lights.
As the music quickened, so did Bella's movements. They were less ballet now, and more primal. She threw herself with wild abandon into aerial pirouettes and grounded rolls – moves that would normally only be seen at a figure skating rink or at a dojo. She was never loud, however, despite the ferocity with which she flung her body around on the stage. Every roll, every jump was executed with almost inhuman grace. As the song entered the arpeggio section, Bella's dance grew fiercer, until a silent moment, a retard in the song, in which Bella balanced in a perfect handstand.
Edward watched with baited breath. What would come next? He had never seen anyone dance like this before, never in all his years as a fan of the ballet. The only time he had ever seen anyone move with such fluidity and strength was in a fight between two trained assassins – the skill was omnipresent, but the passion and ferocity, that only came when fear was introduced. In the case of the fights Edward had seen, this had been the fear of death. How could Bella dance like this in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday? What was it that she feared?
Before Edward could be granted more of the private spectacle, a booming, unapologetic voice rang out from the opposite wings.
"BELLA!"
The call must have shocked Bella, for she tumbled out of her handstand in anything but a graceful manner. Landing quite heavily on her rear end, she whipped her head around to see who had encroached on her private rehearsal.
A tall, sturdy man in a suit walked briskly onto the stage and halted the record.
"Bella, you know you're not just supposed to take off from the hotel without security."
"Sam, I'm a grown woman, I don't need a babysitter."
Though agitated, Bella's voice was music on its own, filling the space that Debussy had a moment earlier.
"Bella, honey, you know it's not safe. This is New York City-"
"Don't 'honey' me, Sam. And I know that it's New York, I lived here for two years."
Sam took a deep, steadying breath. "It's just that Jacob…he worries. You know that hon- er, Bella." He walked over to pick up her coat and bag. "Now come on, back to the hotel. Your fiancé has a very important dinner with the mayor tonight, and he'd like you to look your best. There's a new dress waiting for you on the bed."
Begrudgingly, Bella wrenched herself up from the floor, massaging her backside before allowing Sam to help her slip into her coat.
"He's not my fiancé."
"Oh, he will be soon!" Sam trilled in a sing-song voice as Bella hopped alongside him, trying to put her shoes on while walking. "Any day now."
As they exited the stage area, Edward could just barely make out Bella muttering, "Yeah, any day."
He waited until he heard the sound of the back door to the theatre slam shut on its metal frame, then exhaled deeply while stretching his limbs. He had been crouching in the darkness for only a half hour, but it felt like an eternity. Watching Bella dance, he had lost all track of time, all sense of his mission. His first encounter with Bella Swan, and all he had gained from it was an erection.
AN: Please, please, please, PLEASE - I need feedback now more than ever before. Should I return to this story? I have another chapter on the go, but I really need to know that there is interest out there. One word reviews, guest reviews, negative reviews, any any anything, just let me know you're reading. (Also, reviewers might get a treat. And by treat, I mean sneak preview of the next chapter!)