by Lynn Turner
He signaled for them to get back into position, with Mina’s leg lifted behind her, and Zack’s hands at her waist.
“And, five…six…seven…bring her down…and stop.”
Zack brought Mina halfway down from the lift, her face at his abdomen, her…treasures…in his face. Not my most brilliant choreography, he groaned inwardly. He drew her musky scent into his nose and throat with every deep and frequent breath. Jesus Christ.
“This pas de deux is the most significant in the entire production,” Alex said. “You must show how hopelessly in love you are, against all that is good and proper. Because you are, Mina, after all, a courtesan. And so, you have a unique set of skills…” Taking Mina’s hands, he brought them to Zack’s thighs, then stepped out of the way. “…As you come down, maybe caress here. Bring her down, Zack…yes, slowly…”
Mina ran her hands along his taut thighs slowly, before reaching up and back to clasp her ankle, her head between his legs.
“Yes!” Alex clapped. “Dear God, excellent, you two! That’s what the audience should see on your faces. Should feel. That urgency, that raw, desperate desire. And… up…Work with the natural tension of your movements…good. And hold…six…”
Zack couldn’t see Mina’s face, since they were posing in that cursed sixty-nine, hugging each other tightly, but it was a safe bet, since Alex hadn’t commanded them to do the move again, they were both convincing enough. Now they were stuck breathing each other in for the most awkward three counts they’d ever endured until Alex finally got to…
“…eight…and split…nice and slow. Good, Zack. Push her legs apart gently, caress that leg…and five…six…seven…”
Their bodies formed the T, holding the pose until their muscles cried out.
“Breathe through it,” Alex instructed. “I need to see every breath. Use it to paint the picture. No need to be subtle…good…and transition for the plank, nice and smooth…”
Zack moved upright again slowly, allowing Mina to lift her leg back up. They were perfectly aligned now, and with a quick twist of his arm around her waist, he spun her around so she faced forward, her legs hooked over his shoulders.
“Hold his hips here, Mina. It’ll support you and add that sensuality. Good…and down…”
Holding Mina’s knees, Zack bent to a sitting position on the floor. Her body curved with him, until he was lying flat on his back with her sitting on his stomach.
“Lovely, but it’s dragging a bit,” Alex said. “It should be smooth, but fast. Again.”
It was torture, but they did it once more, until Zack lay flat again, with Mina on his stomach.
“Good. Come up now, Mina.”
She stood, her feet on either side of his face, and bent at the waist sensually, bringing her face to Zack’s for a count.
“And five…use your hands, Mina.”
Dragging her hands up her body, she pantomimed the moment she flipped her flowing hair.
“And hold. Keep breathing. I want to see those chests rise and fall…Good.”
Zack wished he’d hurry up. From his vantage point, all he could see was leg…miles and miles of flawless leg…and the place where legs meet…
“Mina, breathe into it. Hug his head with your legs-”
Zack coughed.
“Don’t kill him, Mina…”
She shifted her stance a bit and Zack gulped for air.
“Better…No need for nerves. His body is there to support you. Arms, Zack.”
Zack lifted his arms in front of her, one hand gripping his wrist for reinforcement, the other flat against her tummy.
“Carefully now…and, down…”
Their muscles were locked, every inch of their bodies tense and vibrating. Breathing felt most difficult of all, because they needed to keep their bodies perfectly straight. Mina leaned forward, Zack’s hand stiff against her abdomen. Her legs hugged his head, anchoring her on her slow descent, until the soles of her feet began to leave the floor…
“Arms, Mina.”
She brought her arms down to her sides, and Zack felt her trembling with the loss of her extended arms to help her balance. He was demanding the most challenging show of strength she’d ever been tasked to do, but he knew she could do it. Every muscle was engaged, and she had to appear as though trapped in a slow free-fall. The more she leaned forward, the more level she was with the floor, suspended just inches above it.
Zack’s back arched deeper into a bow the more Mina’s body became parallel with the floor. His face was red between her legs, his muscles burning as he worked to keep his shoulders, butt and calves flat on the floor. With each millimeter, his arms lowered, and his hands moved lower on her abdomen. The force of her body dragged his forward some millimeters, but they were almost in a perfect plank.
“Good. Keep compensating, Zack. Don’t lose her center of—Shit!”
It happened so fast. The last thing Zack remembered was adjusting his arms and hands to Mina’s new center of gravity before they fell apart. She’d collapsed to the floor in a gasping heap, and then, lightning fast, one hundred and five pounds of solid prima ballerina muscle powered the slap that sent his head reeling. Sitting up, he blinked hard several times, holding his stinging cheek, flexing his jaw left and right.
“Dear God,” Alex said over and over, visibly cringing as a slew of shrill French epithets echoed off the walls.
“Mina.” Zack tried to get through to her, but his head was still ringing. “It’s not what you thi—I didn’t know my hand would end up there…Goddamn it, will you calm down?!”
Immediately, the studio fell quiet. Shaking as she was, he thought she might take another go at him.
“Apologies, Mina.” Alex wrung his hands. “These things are…unpredictable. I should have considered that outcome.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Zack stood to his feet. “It’s not unusual that I’ll have to hold you pretty intimately.” He massaged just beneath his left eye until the room was no longer blurry. “But maybe we should have done a few trust falls until we were more comfortable with each other.”
Mina looked horrified, like she’d turn to vapor and get sucked through the vents. “I-I’m sorry.”
Frankly, Zack was impressed she’d lasted so long before she flipped. Choreographers talked amongst themselves, and when he’d inquired about Mina, the consensus was, she’s brilliant, if a little…impassioned. Now here she was, exhausted, and he was pushing her to the brink of her comfort zone, then pushing her some more.
“I think that’s enough for today.”
The words had barely left Alex’s mouth before Mina crossed to the other side of the studio, hefted her gym bag over her shoulder, and fled the building.
Zack blew a long, exasperated breath, then glared at Alex. “’Twin souls with one body,’ huh?”
“Oh, don’t give me that!” Alex snapped in a rare outward show of annoyance. “I needed to inspire my students! My very young, impressionable students. And what you two did? It was-”
“Inspired,” Zack said dryly, massaging his aching jaw.
“Yes. And so is what you did today.” Alex gripped Zack’s shoulder briefly. “Let our firebird cool down. Tomorrow’s another day.”
Zack nodded.
Firebird.
Indeed.
Chapter Six
Sunday, 3 July
Mina’s dream of having pretty feet someday sprouted wings and flew from her delusional subconscious, out through her ears, and into the muggy New York air. Sophie Danis had dragged her to Greenwich Village in four-inch heels (expensive four-inch heels) to look at Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment. After squealing around the place like schoolgirls, Mina navigated them back to the Upper West Side to view listings that were within the realm of possibility.
“You said reliving Sex and the City would be fun.” Mina collapsed onto a bench in Riverside Park. Letting her shopping bags fall to the ground, she laid out as if she’d fainted, leaving Sophie precious little room to sit.
“Will you quit being so dramatic?” Sophie complained, nudging Mina to sit up. “You’re making a scene.”
Mina cut her eyes at the elderly couple grinning at her as they passed by. “I can’t feel my toes.”
“You’ve danced with tendinitis, stress fractures, sprained ankles…A little Louboutin won’t kill you.”
“I can’t believe you made me buy six hundred-dollar shoes.”
“Isn’t it wonderful? So empowering!”
“Buying shoes?”
“The shoes, the clothes, the air,” Sophie crooned. “We work our asses off. We should cover them in pretty things. Besides, it was either Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment or these shoes.”
Mina giggled, feeling her body relax a little. Her ass would indeed be covered in brand new pretty things. Lacy things. Satin things. Things with tiny bows that no one was going to see anyway, because she lived in leotards and sweat pants. She would wear them on her days off with a conspiratorial smile, content that her derrière knew the finer things in life.
She took a deep breath, the sweet warmth of summer filling her lungs. “I like it here. It’s less crowded than Central Park. Reminds me of home.”
Mina couldn’t hide the melancholy in her tone. She had been stifling it all morning, because Sophie was trying so hard to keep her distracted, but what bothered Mina was beyond the help of a shopping spree in fabulous, strappy heels.
Seeming to sense her mood, Sophie bent forward and lifted a small box from one of her bags. “I know his birthday isn’t until tomorrow, but I brought you something, chère.”
Recognizing the pastry box from the famously gay-owned bakery she and Étienne had loved for its phallic breads and sweets, Mina reached for a naughty baguette.
“It’s not tartes,” Sophie said apologetically, “but I couldn’t risk getting fruit everywhere and having to explain to the stewardess why I was traveling with a box of dicks.”
Mina laughed despite her tears, which made her nose run. She didn’t care, because the sight of the soft, chewy bread nestled in a box she hadn’t seen in a year was already trapping her in a memory…
Étienne sat irreverently on top of Mina’s vanity in the otherwise-empty dressing room, playing with her makeup brushes.
“You know that drives me mad,” she complained, slapping the brushes from his hand and replacing them in their case. But she left a small pastry box in front of him in return.
“So this is why you lured me here so early,” he quipped, lifting a brow with dramatic flair. “You want to fatten me up so I can’t fit into my tights. Make me look ridiculous. You know it’s the only way to upstage me!”
He shot his hand out to tickle her ribs, grinning as she twisted away from him with a squeal.
“So you’ll buy new tights.” She shrugged. “No one could steal your shine. Now open the box, you fool.”
He complied, but his face lost all trace of amusement when he saw the fruit tartes shaped like pretty little cocks peeking up at him. There was a candle stuck in one of them, and he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.
“Happy seventeenth birthday, ma moitié,” she whispered. Removing the tarte with the candle in it, she lit it with a match. “I love you.”
He didn’t say anything yet. Didn’t move. He just watched the flame dance for a moment, sheltered by her cupped fingers, as her gesture sank in. When he looked up at her again, there were tears in his eyes. “How long have you known?”
She smiled. “You live in my heart, so as long as you have, I think. And you never tried to hit on me,” she joked with a shrug.
“Maybe you’re just not my type.”
“I’m everyone’s type.”
He grinned, watching the flame again. She knew him, knew that feeling vulnerable was hard for him, so she understood why he couldn’t meet her eyes for his next question. “And you don’t care?”
“Do you care that I’m straight?”
He frowned up at her. “Of course not. What kind of question is-”
“A stupide one. And so is yours,” she said with conviction, lifting her free hand to cup his face. “Now blow out the candle before we set this place on fire.”
“Mina,” Sophie’s soft voice grounded Mina back to their bench. To the present.
Swiping her tears away, Mina glanced around them to make sure she hadn’t made a spectacle of herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why this keeps happening. It’s like he’s haunting me. Or I’m hallucinating or-”
“You’re not crazy, okay?” Sophie took the pastry box from Mina’s lap. “It’s his first birthday after he…” She didn’t say the word. Instead, she dug a candle and matchbook from her bag. Sticking the candle into one of the pastries, she lit it and handed it to Mina. “Here, chère. Make a wish.”
Mina took a deep breath and looked out across the park. Closure. I just want closure. She shut her eyes. So you can rest, ma moitié…and I can live…in peace. “Okay.”
Sophie squeezed her hand, and Mina blew the flame away.
*
Zack was the last to leave the studio after his students had gone, wearing old sweats and warm-up clothes, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He checked his watch.
4:07 PM—seven minutes late.
Well, technically, he allowed himself a ten-minute window for his meals. Also, technically, this was a snack, and he still had a few more minutes before he missed the all-important window, so he didn’t need to be such a lunatic about it. Cursing, he dug into his bag for a banana.
“Oh good, I haven’t missed you!” a voice rang out from some distance behind him.
He turned to see one of the company’s senior contemporary choreographers hasten her small steps to catch up to him.
“Christine.” He took a bite, reducing the banana by half. “Impeccable timing, as always.”
“Very funny,” she said when she was close enough to lower her voice. “You may have quicker feet than me, but I’ve got stamina.”
“Fair enough.” Grinning, he consumed the rest of the banana in another bite. Tossing the peel in the waste bin just outside the studio doors, he dusted his hands on his sweats. “How can I be of service?”
“Well, thanks to your ballerina, I have all the help I need.” She was oblivious to his bemused frown as she reached into her gym bag. Removing a pair of slightly-worn ballet slippers, she offered them to him. “I wonder if you can return these to her for me? I won’t see her again for a few days and I’m sure she’ll need them sooner than that. There’s life in them yet!”
Zack accepted the slippers, adjusting his expression so he didn’t look as confused as he felt. “Of course. What are you two working on?”
And how the hell does she have time to help you when I work her as hard as I do?
It was Christine’s turn to be caught off guard. “Oh, I thought you knew? She’s been helping me work out some new choreography for about a week now…on nights when she doesn’t have voice lessons, of course. I get a muse and she gets some extra practice.”
“I see.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to overstep. She assured me I wasn’t overextending her. We thought it might be helpful, too, with the limited time you two have to rehearse for the Tonys…”
His brows lifted, his brain comprehending what was happening. She’s cheating on me with another teacher. Stupid notion, of course. He was proud of her for taking initiative, but his ego took a beating at the thought that Mina hadn’t asked him for more help.
“She’s picking things up quickly.” He hoped his voice conveyed appreciation. “I think the extra practice is making her more confident. I-thank you.”
Christine smiled. “Thank you. She’s brilliant.” She turned on her heel. “I see you’re really embracing the off-season,” she joked without looking back. “But a little more hair looks good on you, Zack!”
Chuckling, he raked his fingers through his longer locks, then rubbed his chin. He hadn’t even noticed the extra stubble there.
He could hear his mother now, “You work too hard, mijo. I worry about you.”
He examined the small satin slippers he held, frowning at the slightly off distribution of brown color…and then his brow smoothed. Christ, they’re dyed. She dyes her shoes…
Apparently, there was a person on the planet who worked harder than him. And lately, all work and no play did not make him feel like a dull boy.
*
Sophie was keeping room service at Mina’s hotel busy that night. The two picked through a smorgasbord of filet mignon, an assortment of salads, fruit and fresh rolls laid out on Mina’s bed. They watched Camille on a DVD they’d rented from the public library. Dessert had already been dispatched.
“Dieu, what is it about Colin Firth that is so hot?” Sophie swooned.
“Will you focus? This is research. I need to get into my character’s head.”
“And I need to get into his character’s pants!”
Mina snorted. “This movie is old, he doesn’t look like that anymore.”
“You’re right, he’s hotter now. Seriously, what is it though?” Sophie forked another bite of steak. “He’s not conventionally handsome, and we see perfect bodies all the time…”
“Charisma,” was Mina’s simple answer. “It’s his eyes. The way he walks, the way he speaks…Warm. Like his words are hugging you.”
Sophie sat up straighter at that. “Wow. That was really profound.”
“Merci.”
They ate and watched the film in silence for all of two minutes before Sophie spoke again. “What is with the hugging thing anyway?”
Sighing, Mina paused the movie. “What?”
“Hugging. It’s weird. People pressing their whole bodies up against each other like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It is not normal.”
Her twisted up face made Mina laugh. “It’s normal here. I’m still not used to it.”
“I wouldn’t mind hugging Colin Firth.”
Mina smacked Sophie in the shoulder playfully. “You make everything sexual.”
“That may be true, but I’m right about hugging. It’s very sexual. Americans are just a bunch of perverts.”
“Oh mon Dieu, you’re insane.”