I am so sorry for the delay in posting this and keeping you all on tenderhooks. I have not been feeling way and trying to write the content of this chapter was very difficult with a sore throat, blocked up nose etc. etc. Found inspiration was lacking. Hope you enjoy it! Pips xx
Chapter Eighteen
I sat in my seat awed and stunned by the sight I was beholding. My beloved Ali walking down a flight of stairs en pointe! It was quite a spectacle and given the hushed admiration of those around me, I could only assume they felt the same.
I had never had time for the ballet before now, always found it too feminine with what I perceived to be woman wearing ridiculous tutus and men in; well tight tights. But having lived with Ali; having seen the sweat and tears and love that she poured into her art, I became aware of the immense physical and emotional suffering that hid behind the beauty created on stage.
And so I sat there drawn into the world that was created on stage; watching my love; my…girlfriend perform feats of dancing that I did not think possible; contorting her body into the most amazing positions.
And when the final curtain came down and the audience burst into noisy applause, I stood and clapped until the palms of my hands stung with the impact and my fragile skin started to redden and bruise. It took four curtain calls before we were finally satisfied with our adulation. On the last bow I could swear that she looked directly at me; through the glare of the footlights; her mouth widening in a special smile.
"Come quickly, we have to go. Please would you excuse me," the high pitched voice came from my left. I turned and saw a little girl standing next to me, her hair drawn back tightly into a bun and a wand clasped in her hand.
I drew back as much as my seat would allow and waved her past, letting her gain another two feet of space towards the exit. "I want to see Christine," she said as she scrambled over me, followed by her parents shooting apologetic smiles in my direction.
"She is mad about Christine de Theale," the mother filled in as they filed past, carefully avoiding making eye contact and with a pleasant smile on her face. "She wants to see every ballet she's in, determined to become a ballerina herself!"
I smiled and nodded my head politely, hoping that would be enough response, although as luck would have it, the queues filing out the magnificent building ground to a halt. The little girl was not the only one jumping in impatience to see Christine de Theale. I could not wait to slip backstage and take her into my arms.
"Do you enjoy the ballet then?" The girl's mother continued, obviously feeling that now she had struck up conversation she must continue. I began to feel very hot and claustrophobic, not helped by the beads of sweat that had begun to slide under my mask.
"Um, yes, well this is the first time I've been in a very long time, but I know one of the dancers, so I am showing my support really," I supplied reluctantly, trying to give away as little information as possible. I am sure Ali would not be grateful if I started advertising our relationship to all and sundry. After all, I was very aware of the glaring anomalies between her stage and public image and the woman she was in private.
Thankfully luck was on my side and the bottleneck slowly began to ease, allowing me; as I had been instructed; to slip away and find an usher to escort me backstage to her dressing room. There pandemonium reigned as almost forty dancers and associated stagehands celebrated the end of another successful production.
I timidly knocked on Ali's door, unsure what to expect only to find her dressing room full of people, many in a state of undress. Her prince charming sat in the chair with only his dance tights on; their long straps going over his shoulders, his tunic removed to reveal a muscular sweating chest. Various dancers were also gathered round sitting on each other's laps and wherever there was a place to perch; in a mixture of costumes and sweaters, chatting and dissecting the performance that had just taken place. It was all so horrendously normal, that for a moment I stood back and took it all in.
"Can we help you?" Prince Charming asked me in heavily accented english, his manner not unfriendly, but with a certain degree of judgment in the question. Obviously they could not identify me, immediately putting them on their guard.
"I've come to meet Christ…." No, that wouldn't do, they would immediately think I didn't know her. "I've come to give Ali a lift home." I replied.
"Have you now," Prince Charming drawled, looking me up and down in a way that immediately sounded my alarm. I realised that I had nothing to worry about with his state of undress in her room, for there was no way he would be attracted to her. He gave me a smile and shouted over his shoulder. "Al darling, there is a rather interesting gentleman here to see you. Are you coming out of that shower any hour soon?"
"Bugger off Eduardo," the dulcet tones of my loved ones floated out from the cubicle in the corner. "If you gave me half a second of peace then I would be out much quicker!"
"Not getting shy in your old age are you?" He shot back, but obviously listened to her and stood up, shifting the dancer who was sitting on his knee in her tutu and a ragged old sweater. "Come on boys and girls, the prima donna has spoken, let's go and leave her to get some sex!"
He pushed the grumbling line in front of him; winking at me as he past; the top of his head reaching my chin. I had to smile at his audacity and the way he seemed to treat those around him. But with peace restored to the room, I closed the door behind me with a thankful sigh and sat down at the table; looking around at the signs of Ali's life.
If I had needed evidence beyond the kiss yesterday that Ali was mine; I only had to look at her mirror. There were several pictures of Tess and I; Ali and I and a couple of me alone; pinned around the frame. In most of them I did not face the camera, could not bare for my ruined features to be captured on film, but the fact that she still pinned them to the wall reinforced my ego.
"Hello," she came up behind me silently, smelling of shower gel and shampoo, her hair wrapped in a towel. A small trail of water seeped out from under the turban and dripped down my shoulder as she leant over it, claiming my mouth in a kiss.
I couldn't get enough of kissing her. We seemed to spend most of Christmas afternoon holding hands; kissing and hugging; like two lovesick teenagers. We had months to make up for; I reckoned and could therefore justifiably be excused for being unable to keep my hands off her, desperate for her touch.
We had squeezed into my narrow bed the night before and as she lay there in my arms we talked, restricted by the lack of room and my parent's unseen presence around us to engage in anything more physical.
But now as she leant over and kissed me, I caught a tantalising glimpse of her naked body as her ragged dressing gown gaped open.
"Sorry about the welcoming committee," she added once she had claimed her kiss. "I tried to bar them, but they got very upset."
"Oh," I tried to recall the faces of those who had been gathered in the room, but failed. "Who were they?"
"My little posse," she laughed. "No, just Eduardo, Lise, Amanda, Jules and Rory. They are my antidote to the stress of performing; especially if it is with James. They are just friends that's all." She signed. "Let's go home then. I'm knackered."
"In just your dressing gown?" I raised an eyebrow in question. "Whilst I find it a delectable covering, it might disappoint the hordes of fans waiting for you outside the door, half of which I am sure are not legally allowed to perform or even think of sex. Actually probably don't even know what sex is!"
Her face fell slightly at the comment and she let out a long sigh, reaching up with her delicate hands to unwrap the towel around her head and shake out her long hair. "Sit, let me comb that out for you," I commented, standing up, realising that her feet must be aching and every limb screaming for rest.
"Oh, I don't mean to be so callous," she said closing her eyes briefly and passing me the comb over her shoulder. I gently got to work on the matted rattails of hair, determined to restore the mess to its usual golden glory. "It's just that bunheads are so caught up in the romance of it all. Most of them will quit as soon as the pain becomes evident. There is probably one girl out of everyone that stands outside the door each week who will have the guts to become a dancer. But how can you tell them that?"
"I assume by bunheads you mean little girls who want to grow up to be you." She nodded. "Well, you could say, go home, put on a tight pair of shoes and dance for two hours then see if you still want to do ballet, but I don't think it would go down well. I would stick with thank you very much if I were you." I watched as she closed her eyes again, letting me pull the comb through her hair, her sleepy gaze reminding me of a resting cat. She let out a little snort of laughter at the comment.
"Actually, it was a dancer telling me the truth that made me all the more determined. I was a bunhead, outside the stage door and she told me that it was hard work, very painful and very tiring, but if I managed it would be magical. It was enough to spur me on at least. Mmm, don't stop, you have magical hands, I forgot how much."
"You haven't experienced half their magic yet," I whispered softly in her ear, chuckling slightly as she opened her eyes and a blush rose up her neck. She sought my gaze in the mirror, but I merely smiled back at her, not letting on what I had planned. We were going to have our night of privacy if it killed me.
Embarrassment created a barrier after that, despite the intimacy we had shared, for she knew my intentions and my comment had only served to make it obvious. Until now, the fact that we were to go bed together had been insinuated and looked upon as inevitable, but never mentioned out loud. Now she knew; there was definitely no turning back.
She dressed in record time and led me through the maze of corridors to the stage door, pausing outside. "We could be naughty and sneak out another exit, there are plenty," she said a wistful smile on her face, possibly hoping that I would give her permission to skive off this particular duty.
"No, my prima ballerina," I said gently. "As I would tell all my signings, the fans are what make you. Without them you could be fantastic; but nobody else would know. Now, chin up, smile and we will be through them in five."
The shrillness of over fifty young voices all shrieking in excitement at Ali's appearance nearly had been covering my ears, it worse then any rock concert. The adoration in their eyes; the excitement of meeting their superstar was quite humbling. I had seen many fans and the way they worshipped their idols, but nothing had quite prepared me for this. These little girls wanted to be her; for they imagined that her life must be the same as the one on the stage.
She was wonderful with them! I quietly observed from the side of the crowd, as she chatted and signed autographs; smiled and had her photo taken numerous times; as if she was not dead on her feet and desperate to get away. Possibly the fact that she was a mother herself gave her that extra ability to forget her own needs in the face of a child; or in this case a lot of children!
She had just worked her way to the edge of the group where I was standing and smiled up at me. I couldn't resist when she rose on her toes and claimed a simple kiss on the cheek. With a wave to her adoring fans, she linked arms with me and we turned to leave and escape the dwindling crowds.
"Mummy, Daddy look," the voice echoed in my ears as we made a move. "Christine is going off with that man with the funny face, the one I was sitting next to. That must be her boyfriend!"
"Charming little bugger," I muttered under my breath as we escaped. "At least she is too young to sell it to the papers. Funny face indeed!" I could feel myself getting het up, but the angel on my arm simply laughed.
"Oh Eric, that little girl is exact copy of me at aged eight and no doubt Tess will be the same. It comes with the territory or being a little girl. Besides wouldn't you prefer a child to be confident and happy, but slightly precocious, rather then timid and shy?"
"Hmm," I mused on her comment, mulling it over in my mind as we strolled to where I had left my father's car. London on Boxing Day was almost pleasant, devoid of its usual crowds so that at least we had been able to park close to the theatre for once. I tried to push the remark away, but it stuck, knowing that it was a fact I would have to face one day.
I pulled away from the curb into the light traffic, almost automatically heading out of the West End and towards the flat. "Um, aren't we going the wrong way?" Ali's voice cut through my concentration.
"No, I thought you would like to go back to the flat, take a bath, wind down for the evening. Doesn't that sound like a nice idea? There is no reason not to."
"Yes it does sound heavenly, but you haven't been there for over three months so it will be cold, dark and dusty. You haven't got any food and there are very few shops and restaurants open so we don't have anything to eat and my daughter is at your parents. How about that for reasons not to!" She crossed her arms and glared at me; reproaching me for obviously being so lacking in sense. I laughed at her aggravation, causing her to frown at me. The joy of baiting her, to watch her rise and bristle under my teasing was quite amusing. "Stop laughing," she growled watching me.
"You are so lovely worked up. Actually you are so lovely period, but I cannot help but adore that sweet little frown you get between your eyebrows when you get worked up. It is more real and more you then your smile."
"What are you talking about?" Her voice was perplexed as she frowned some more. "I don't think I will ever understand you Eric!"
"Good. Being familiar with people can be very boring. All I meant was that if you smile without thinking it is lovely. If you think about it for even a minute, it is your stage smile. But your frown is all you."
"Oh stop it; I'm too tired to follow the conversation." She leant her elbow on the armrest, cradling her head in her hand. "All I want to know is how you think we can spend the night at your flat."
I heard the tetchiness in her voice, saw the sag of tiredness in her shoulders and realised that it was cruel to bait her. We had not slept much last night, too excited with our reunion and uncomfortable crammed together in the tiny bed. I was tired and had not danced for three hours so she must be exhausted. "I have a cleaner, the apartments are serviced, Mum is looking after Tess and has packed us a picnic, which I must say is rather heavy on the Turkey, but looks delicious all the same. Does that answer your question?" I pitched my voice low and soothing, knowing she was sliding into a sour mood, bought on by her tiredness.
At my words she lifted her head and looked up at me with a true smile that lit up her eyes. "That sounds like a little bit of heaven," she admitted softly.
It took us another ten minutes to reach my home, park the car and get inside. I stood in the doorway, looking around at the sterile room, reassociating myself with its space. Ali wandered in more quickly; her gaze settling on everything, connecting with the echoing emptiness before she wandered over to the table. There as I had said, sitting in a regimental line was an envelope with her name on, a spare set of keys to the flat and the car keys, sitting on top of the insurance paperwork.
She turned and looked at me and if there had been any doubt in her mind over the claims I had made in my letter, I knew that they were now erased. "I promised," I said to her wordless scrutiny.
"I know," she replied, watching as I walked over to the table and picked up the envelope. Out of it I drew two plane tickets, holding them in my hand.
"Merry Christmas," I said handing them to her. "They are open tickets, they are still valid. You can still go out there." She picked them out of my hand and put them back down on the table.
"Why would I want to? You're here, that's what's important." Her gaze held so much as it rested on my face. Love, trust, desire were all mingled in her stare and I suddenly felt uncomfortable. This was all too intense and part of me balked at the fact that I was no longer in control of what was happening. Charming, seducing and loving had always been my arts; but now I was as nervous as a schoolboy, because for once it actually meant something and was no longer a game. We were fast approaching the point of no return.
"Do you still want your bath?" I hastened to put space between the present and what was to come.
"Depends, do you want one with me?" She demurred with a smile.
"No, not really. How about some food and wine instead? My mother has done her usual feeding of the five thousand." She realised that I was playing for time and her nod of assent was quick and friendly. It didn't take long to unpack the oversized cooler that had been filled up that morning and I was able to lay a lavish spread out on the coffee table, sitting down on a huge cushion on the floor and inviting her to join me. "Come, sit; take your shoes off and I will give you a foot rub afterwards."
"Oh food," she groaned in sheer delight, looking at the sumptuous feast of leftovers arrayed before us. For the remains of a Christmas lunch it made a fantastic meal. I reached over and picked up a small bread roll, spreading it with some exotic salmon pate that my mother always bought for special occasions.
She reached out to take it from me, but with a wicked smile, I held it away from her, breaking off a small piece and holding it out to her mouth. Her answering grin replied that she knew my game and she took it from my fingers with her mouth, slowing closely her lips around their tips and sucking.
Piece by piece I gave her the bread roll, her lips and tongue caressing my hand with every mouthful. When she had finished her light starter, she proceeded to feed me a mouthful of dates and apricots, which were scattered around the carved turkey.
Never had eating food been such an erotic event for me. I had always wined and dined in some of the most fantastic and expensive restaurants, but the food had been the temptation there, not the feeding of it. I looked up under shaded eyes and saw her watching me carefully. "Are you okay?"
"Mmm," she nodded in reply before pausing. "Eric?"
"Yes?"
"Would you take your mask off?"
"Would I?" I was taken aback by her request. The mask had never been a stumbling point between us. She never knew me any other way and whilst other people tended to shy away, glance up and then hastily avert their gaze or look away into the middle distance, she never had. Of course she had seen me with it off, yesterday being an example, but she had never requested me without it. "Why?"
"I know you shouldn't really, but I want to see you without it and besides…," a wicked gleam came into her eyes as she spoke. "It gets in the way of kissing."
"Oh." It was a simple request, with no artifice behind it and there was little I could do except reach up and undo the Velcro straps that held it in place, lifting it off my face. I placed it on the couch within reach and turned to look at her.
I was trembling and more nervous then I had been as an inexperienced sixteen year old when I lifted my hands out to hold hers. She took them in a steady grasp and looked into my eyes. Blue on blue.
Suddenly I was no longer the seducer or the rake as she leant forward and kissed me on the lips, her mouth warm and inviting. I was helpless to do more then enfold her in my arms and deepen the kiss, our tongues dancing together and exploring each others mouths. The pace was slow and leisurely, neither of us wishing to spoil the moment by hurrying. We had both waited too long.
We finally parted and looked at each other, her chest rising and falling as she held me in her stare. I knew what she wanted, wanted it myself, my body aching with the need to have her. I glanced down and saw my penis straining against my jeans, desperate to be released.
"Do you want to go upstairs?" She asked softly.
I was beyond words and the only reply my sex starved mind could settle on was some lyrics I knew. "Ballerina, Crowd will catch you, Fly it, sigh it, try it, Well, I may be wrong, But something deep in my heart tells me I'm right and I don't think so" I crooned softly, taking her into my arms and pulling us both up to standing.
She gave a small laugh that turned into a sob and the blue eyes that she turned up at me had a film of tears on them. "I never had you down as a Van Morrison fan."
"I always liked it; but it meant more since I met you." I said, cursing myself when she laughed again. I didn't let her continue, but silenced her with a kiss.
"That's just corny," was her cheeky reply as she came up for air. I simply patted her bottom in reply, sure that such an action would aggravate her no end, before swinging her into my arm. "Eric! What, oh you romantic old thing," she laughed as I tossed her slightly, trying to get her comfortable before climbing the stairs with her in my arms.
The point of no return, that is what it's called, like that song, in that show or what I always think of is the point in the river that there is no turning back; from here the current will carry you over the waterfall.
He climbed the stairs carrying me in his arms, his breathing showing no signs of labouring under my weight, although I knew I was not too heavy. He pushed open the door to his bedroom and strode inside, gently lowering me to the cover, before crawling on next to me and laying down by my side.
We lay there, side by side, gazing into each other's eyes, our hands reaching out to stroke the small bits of skin that were on show. His forearms, dusted with hair, my chest visible in the neckline of my sweater. Words didn't seem appropriate at this stage. We had said everything of importance and all else could wait.
I took the opportunity to study his face, without the pressure of the mask, contorting and hiding his features. The surgery he had done in America had made a huge difference and whilst the skin around the right side of his face was still a graft, it had lost the raised hard look. It could be concealed under makeup with all its hiding powers! His face was still beautiful, the bones that made it classical still there, the aquiline nose; high cheekbones and a mouth that had enough of a pout on it to tease a smile out of most women. It was a face I loved and a face I wanted to spend a lot more time getting to know.
"What are you looking at?" The question was asked softly, hesitantly and the hand stroking my arm stilled.
"I'm thinking about what you might have on under that shirt," I improvised hastily with a smile. He didn't need to know that I was looking at his face; this wasn't the time or the place.
"Mmm, similar thoughts to mine then." He leant forward and softly kissed me on the lips, pulling reluctantly away, before coming in once again. At the same time, the hand that had been gently touching me slipped around my back and pulled me closer to his body. I went willingly and with my acquiescence he deepened the kiss.
Time slowly wound down and the subtle shift of light to dark happened as our world stopped turning. We were only here for each other now, no other reason. His hand moved, travelling up under my t-shirt, sure and light, tickling my ribs slightly, working up to my bra. I felt the delicate fumble before it was released, crumpling up in front of me and then a touch I had not felt for a long time.
His long delicate sensitive fingers lightly danced over my nipple, tracing around it shape and playing with the tip until it hardened under his finger. As if that was the he was waiting for he released me and pushed my top over my head so he could have full access to my body.
I shivered briefly; not so much due to the coolness of air over my skin, but the sight of a man, looming above me. His mouth closed around my nipple and I could not stop the slight gasp that came from my lips as he sucked the bud. He lifted his head slightly and kissed me long and full on the mouth before lavishing attention on my other boob, leaving me to gasp like a fish out of water.
It has been so long since I had enjoyed the intimate touch of a man. I could have easily had sex with many of the male members of the company, for it was an incestuous life. We lived with out bodies and nakedness was quite normal; therefore it was not a great step to fall in and out of bed with people. I had chosen to remain aloof however, partly for Tess and partly out of love for Eric. Therefore it had been over two years since I had been sexually active.
I had forgotten what it was like; forgotten the joy of my body coming alive when he trailed kissed up my neck, lightly scraping his teeth over my jaw line and nibbled my ear. His kisses left me weak and wilting at the knees, desperate for more. With clumsy hands marred by lust; I reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, growing annoyed at how the buttons refused to respond. Eric let out a noise, half groan half laugh and swatted my hands away pulling the shirt over his head with one swift movement. And then he stayed there, braced over my body.
I watched as he slowly lowered himself on his arms to kiss me slowly; his muscles bulging with the strain as he placed his lips on my forehead, cheeks and then mouth. Taking advantage of his naked state I reached up and played with his nipples, flat and hard against his chest; my fingers skating over hard shiny skin; remnants of his accident.
I heard his sharp intake of breath as I made my actions more forceful and demanding. He answered with similar actions, our gentle touching of earlier being replaced with something more demanding.
Gasping for air as if it were rationed and trembled I was aware of his hands as they raced over my body; moving lower, gently taping the tight jeans that were all that I now had on. I responded by moving my fingers to the top of his flies, wrestling with the button that held them closed. He batted them away; obviously wishing to be in control of my torment. My answer was to pinch his nipple.
With a laugh he grabbed my arms, raising them above my head so that I was stretched out beneath him; quivering with lust and aroused by his demanding behaviour.
"I think it is my turn first," he whispered huskily, descending for a kiss, nipping my lip slightly with his teeth. "Just lie back and think of…England." I was willing to comply, but partly because it turned me on I twisted slightly in his grasp, testing the strength of his hold. "No my little minx," he chuckled softly, sliding down my body with a trail of little kisses, his hands still holding mine above my head.
I gasped as he took a nipple into my mouth, flicking with his tongue and then sucking until it stood proud and hard. He then moved further; his clever mouth pausing at my belly button where he blew a raspberry, as I often did to Tess after her bath. His actions made me chuckle and I was barely aware when he flicked open my jeans and dipped a hand down inside them. All he did was run one of his long agile fingers across my knickers. It was almost too much.
I struggled with some effort and he released my hands, letting me raise them to his groin, undoing his flies and pushing them down his lean hips. His boxers were tight; an unsubtle bulge showing me that our foreplay was not going to last much longer. I dragged my palms over it, enjoying the way he scrunched up his face trying to keep control.
"Stop it," he hissed out, between clenched teeth; causing me to laugh and continue. In reply he pulled my knickers and jeans off with one swift movement, so that I was now lying naked on his bed.
"You were saying?" He raised an eyebrow at me, making me swallow the words I was about to say. Instead he gently placed his hand over my groin, gently stroking lower and lower, sliding his fingers inside me; teasing and coxing. It was unbearable and unbelievable and I could feel my body responding in a way that it hadn't for a long time.
Therefore when he climbed on top of me and gently slid in, I was ready, my body once again opening and accepting. It seemed like centuries ago that I had last had a man inside me; but he was so gentle, slowly pushing in; punctuating his entrance with long drugging kisses.
"You're so beautiful" he whispered to me; as I shuddered against him. "I have loved you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you." I couldn't find the words to reply to him. His declarations were too much; too full and to reply to them would have pushed me over the edge of the chasm where I was standing. Instead my eyes filled with tears as I gripped him tightly in my arms. "Ali; Ali my love, what is the matter? Why are you crying?"
I gulped back my tears; not wanting to cause him any distress. "Kiss me," I whispered against his mouth. "Kiss me and I will stop." He complied; once again letting me drown in his embrace. It was therefore not long before I felt a tightening, a wave of emotion as if all my senses had closed down and then had been pumped full of blood; a tingling started in my teeth and fingertips, growing through my limbs filling them with a nectar that I could not describe.
And then it burst on to me, gathering me up in its wave and tossing and turning me. I was barely aware as my body gripped and caressed returning the actions of my loved one before he cried out; pumping into me before slumping on my chest in exhaustion.
It took me a while to float down to reality; for feeling to return to my limbs and sense to my body. I shivered in the chill of the evening; the winter's night not held back by the low heating. And I looked at him; his face buried in my chest; the badly damaged side pressed against my skin; so that all I could see was the arch of an eyebrow, an eye softly closed and the sharp blade of his cheekbone. He was so beautiful, but then he always had been to me.
"Eric," I whispered quietly; unsure if he had fallen asleep, shifting slightly to ease the weight against my body. He lifted his face and smiled at me softly. It was my undoing and the tears that had threatened before now overflowed and ran down my face, until I was a snivelling wreck.
"Ali? Oh god Ali," he pushed himself off me and sat up; gathering me in his arms so that my tears wet his shoulder. "What is the matter?"
"Oh Eric, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry, I'm sorry;" I sniffed. "I didn't mean to, it's just that it was a long time and so; I mean the last time was with James and when Tess was…" I trailed off; the thought causing my body to wrack with tremors and a fresh vault of tears to open.
"Darling Ali; hush," he said; bracing me by the shoulders and wiping the tears from my eyes with his thumbs. "I understand, I know. Please don't let it hurt, I don't want to hurt you."
"You didn't; you were wonderful." I hiccupped slightly and rested against his shoulders, my tears drying up. "I didn't mean it to end like this; I didn't want to upset you. Truly that was wonderful. Worth the wait," I ended with a grin, which he echoed.
"That's better my darling; show me your smile, your real smile." I willingly obliged, chuckling slightly at his words, especially coupled with his earlier comments regarding my stage persona. "Now how can I please you some more; more food; more sex?"
"Kiss me again." I requested. He had no problem fulfilling my request and for a moment I thought we would once again collapse onto the bed. However as always my stomach with its usual sense of timing made its presence known. He started laughing as he was kissing me and I could not help but join in. And so we sat there, naked our lips locked together and our bodies trembling with laughter.
My stomach added timpani to our laughter; yet it refused to be ignored and so I reluctantly eased off the bed, shivering slightly now that I no longer had his comforting warmth against me. He spied my shaking shoulders and rising from the bed threw a cashmere dressing gown over my shoulders. I snuggled into its luxurious warmth and watched as he prowled out the room.
"Aren't you cold?" I followed him out and downstairs.
"No, I have flesh on my bones, he replied calmly as he strolled down the stairs, crossing over to the piano. I stopped on the stairs, smirking at the sight of him sitting in the nude; naked as the day he was born; his fingers stroking the keys. The same fingers that just before had been stroking me in a similar way.
Just as I was about to stroll down the stairs and join him, he pressed his hands down in resonant chords. I stopped as if frozen, amazed at the sound. Five minutes later I was still sitting there, unable to move with amazement and astonishment. The music was amazing, passionate, wonderful – I could not find the superlatives to describe it. This was the music that I had been craving and seeking. He had played extracts before, but now we started at the beginning; listening to the whole thing.
"What is it?" I finally reacted.
"What do you think?" He stopped playing and looked up at me; perched on the steps. I paused not sure what answer he was looking for.
"Um," I looked down at my feet curled over the step to try and stop them from moving and dancing. "A ballet maybe?" It seemed to be the right answer for he nodded and continued playing again.
"I don't recognise the music. Is this something that you wrote?" He nodded again. I rose from my perch and danced over to him, caught up in the beautiful music that rose from the piano. His eyes never left mine as he watched me doing a few steps, his dressing gown trailing on the floor behind me.
"Is that how you would dance to it?"
"What? Well possibly, I am not sure. I might be tempted to do it this way?" I changed the way I moved, rising onto demi-pointe and performing an arabesque rather half-heartedly as my limbs were still languid with love making and I could not be bothered to pull up my muscles properly and perform.
"What about this piece?" He changed the tempo and I paused, once again astounded with what I was hearing. All I could do was stand there and shake my head, my mouth hanging open; as if catching flies. "Close your mouth darling," he said calmly as I stood there. With a flourish he stopped playing and spun around on the stool.
"Do you often play naked?" I was distracted by the sight of him; sitting there in all his glory. Naked, fully dressed, drunk, stoned, high, happy, sad; you name it." He paused and looked at me. "But I think this is the first time I have played when I am in love." He looked up at me with puppy eyes and I couldn't help the smirk that crossed my face at the comment.
"Sorry, I'm being corny again, aren't I?" He reached behind him to where a thick heavy folder lay on top of the piano and handed it to me. "Anyway, this is for you."
"What is it?" I was confused.
"You're real Christmas present!" I looked at it curiously. "Well you didn't think that the vase was the only thing you were going to get? You didn't really did you Ali?"
"Well, no, I don't think so." I tried to hide my disappointment and tried not to grab the file out of his hands, succeeding in neither as Eric chuckled at my obvious confusion. He put the sheaf of papers next to him on the stool and pulled me on to his lap.
"It yours Ali," he said pushing it into my hands. "It's a ballet that I've written for you. I've never done anything like this, but you inspired me. It's for you." There was a pleading in his voice that made me look at him in wonder before opening the cover and flicking through the pages, overwhelmed by the gift.
"What's it about? It was a huge score; fully orchestrated and annotated. I could barely believe my eyes. This was a true labour of love.
"It's a mixture of Beauty and the Beast, a touch of Swan Lake, stolen scenes from Cinderella. It is a slightly rough story line." He rested his chin on my shoulder and I could feel his breath tickling my neck. "There is a beautiful girl with a mean spirited sister who lies and cheats and turns her father against her. The father drives his youngest daughter out; believing the elder sister when she makes up a horrid tale. On the road she meets an old crone who tells her to go to the old castle and there she will find what she seeks. Mistress Belle," he paused and looked up at the ghost of a smile that crossed my lips, "okay it's not the best name I know. Anyway, she arrives at the castle late at night and sees a beautiful young man dancing in the grounds. She seeks sanctuary and hopes to meet him in the morning, but when she wakes all she finds is an ogre who lives there. Get it so far."
I frowned and nodded, realising the way he had stolen threads from other stories, seeing how the characters were etched out in the music already. "Go on," I encouraged, trying to follow his description through the pages of the music.
"Well, she gradually comes to be very fond of the ogre, but still seeks out the young man who appears every night to dance with her and she finds herself torn between her growing love for the man of the day and the man of her dreams. Just as she thinks she will be driven mad with the decision the crone appears and says she must kill the one she rejects and then the other can live. If she does not make a choice they will both die."
"Did you make this up yourself?" I interjected. "It's very good."
"Well, yeah. It was rather good fun. So do you want to know how it ends?" I nodded.
"Well, the ogre asks Belle to marry him and she realises that if she accepts she will have to kill the young man. However she eventually realises that she does love the ogre and; well; they live happily ever after." He shrugged. "I mean it is a bit more complicated and obviously lots of soul destroying dance and extra parts and stuff like that."
"Mmm, happily ever after." I snuggled into him, the pages lying limp in my hand. "Eric, you know I love you. It's a wonderful present. Thank you my darling."
"And you can dance Mistress Belle." He added.
"Well yes, one day I am sure I would love to. It will be wonderful. Hopefully I will make it my seminal piece."
"No, you will dance it, next season." He insisted, looking at me straight in the eye, annunciating his words as if I hadn't understood something. They are putting the ballet on, at the ROB; they want to create it on you." He paused watching my face carefully and I knew he was worried about what I thought.
I could not find words to rely and could only shake my head in wonderment whilst a smile split my face in two. It was the most amazing gift I could have ever been given. The music alone was a special present, but to have sorted it so that I could actually create this, make this my piece, create the role! Nobody had done such a thing for me before.
"There's one more thing as well, another present actually" he added, pushing me off his lap and standing up.
"What? Eric you spoil me!" I could not think what else he could shower me with after this amazing gift and prospect to my life. There was very little else I could want of him.
"Christine, Mistress Belle, Ali;" he addressed me; lowering himself on to one knee. "Will you marry me?"