"You alright? I lost you there for a second." His smile made the memories hurt less.
"Sorry, I was just thinking about something." I'd told Samson a little about my father, but I wasn't ready to talk in depth about that dark period of my life.
"Pretty vague answer," he said, still smiling. "Wanna talk about it?"
"How about we talk about something else? You haven't danced in a couple of days. Your body must be upset with you," I said. I was always told that if I took any time off, it would be detrimental to my talent.
"You could just say that you've missed dancing with me." His arrogance had returned, but this time I wasn't turned off by it.
"I think you've probably missed holding me in your arms far more than I've missed dancing with you."
He nodded and pursed his lips. He didn't outwardly admit it, but his expression said it all. We sat there for a few minutes, not speaking. Sipping the liqueur from our glasses, we peeked at each other, smiled, and then quickly looked back down at our glasses.
"I've got an idea," Samson drained the rest of his drink and placed the glass back onto the table. He stood up and took out his wallet, throwing a fifty-dollar bill on the table. "C'mon, this will be fun," he declared.
Leaving my own empty glass on the table, I followed Samson out of the restaurant. We walked to the corner of the street, Samson strolling ahead of me.
"Samson, slow down. Where are we going, anyway?" I was practically running, trying to catch up with him.
"You'll see."
We walked in silence for at least twelve blocks. We finally arrived in front of a two-story brick building that was surrounded by a black wood fence. Samson keyed in a code, turned the knob, and walked through the opening. I gave him a worried look, my imagination running wild. Was this where I was going to die? I knew it was an outrageous thought, but the bland building had no sign or description. It could have been a torture chamber for all I knew. Trudging up the six steps, Samson rang the doorbell. I remained on the sidewalk, refusing to budge.
"What are you doing? Get up here," Samson demanded.
"First tell me where we are!"
He rolled his eyes and looked at me pointedly.
"Okay, fine. But if I don't make it through this, tell my mother that I'm sorry for not returning her call this morning," I joked.
The door opened, squeaking loudly. A tall woman stood in front of us, her face full of surprise.
"Samson!" she yelled, jumping forward and wrapping Samson in a bear hug.
I studied the two. The woman looked to be in her late forties. They didn't look anything alike, so they couldn't be related. It couldn't be someone he had been with, could it? I doubted he would ever bring me to meet a woman he'd hooked up with.
"Brigitte, this is my friend, Natalia." Samson's hand found my shoulder. The woman stretched her hand out.
"Nice to meet you, Natalia," she said, her voice soft.
She was beautiful. Her platinum blonde hair was cut pixie-style, accenting her beautiful features perfectly. She wore a fancy white pantsuit with black heels that I couldn't imagine walking in. I stood on my toes most days, there was no way I'd put my feet through more pain by wearing heels.
"Nice to meet you, too." I dropped my hand back to my side, looking up at Samson.
"Please," Brigitte stepped aside, "come in."
Samson and I walked past Brigitte and stood inside the foyer. Looking in every direction, my eyes met painting after painting, and sculptures standing ten feet tall. White furniture filled every corner. It was immaculate. Brigitte embraced Samson once again, continuing on with how much she had missed him. This woman was already getting on my nerves, pouncing all over Samson. Could they have hooked up?
As if he read my mind, Samson leaned down and whispered, "She was my dance teacher." Phew.
"Would you two like some tea?" Brigitte asked while her hand rested on Samson's back.
We both nodded in unison. I couldn't believe I was jealous of another woman touching Samson, but when you like someone you can't help it, right?
Brigitte walked ahead of us, entering into her kitchen. I heard cups rattling, and cupboards opening and closing.
"You could have just told me that you were taking me to meet your dance teacher, you know? The suspense was lame," I said.
"That would have ruined the look on your face when Brigitte opened her door. You thought she was something more than that." It wasn't a question. He knew exactly what was running through my mind. I made a mental note to be careful with my facial expressions in the future.
"I didn't think that," I lied. "I thought maybe she was an old neighbor or something."
"Okay," he said with disbelief in his voice. "You were right. Not dancing for a few days has sucked. So, here we are, in my old dance studio. Hope you're ready to move," Samson said, his eyes searching mine.
"Hope you can keep up. It's been a few days, so don't hurt yourself."
He laughed loudly, just as Brigitte was walked back into the room, holding two teacups.
"Here we go, mes chéris."
Every time Brigitte spoke, I couldn't help but smile. Her French accent was beautiful. I was in love with the language, and often dreamt of visiting Paris and dancing in front of the Eiffel Tower.
"Natalia, you are a dancer, too?" Brigitte handed us the teacups and motioned for us to take a seat on the couch. She sat on the edge of her love seat, focusing her attention on me.
"Yes, I also go to Juilliard. Samson is my partner." I took a small sip of the tea, the refreshing taste lingering in my mouth. "This tea is delicious."
"That's a tea from my home. It's called 'the des poetes solitaires,' which means 'the tea of solitary poets.' It's one of my favorites." She looked over at Samson and smiled, full of admiration. "I'm very surprised to see you here. I thought once you got into Juilliard, you would forget all about this old place."
"Never," Samson stated genuinely.
Brigitte looked down at the hardwood floors, concealing her smile.
"I wanted to bring Natalia here, show her how wonderful of a teacher you were, and still are."
"You never needed me as a teacher, Samson. You've always been extraordinary, but it would be my pleasure," Brigitte responded. It was apparent how much respect Samson had for his teacher, and vice versa.
Brigitte stood and prompted Samson and I to do the same. We walked past her beautiful modern kitchen to a spiral staircase leading downstairs. The walls were taupe, and more colorful paintings covered them. We entered another room, and Brigitte turned on a light. As my eyes adjusted, I took in the space. The large dance studio had a mirror covering one wall with a barre on the opposing wall. There was a floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking a beautiful garden full of orchids and lilies. The sight was absolutely breathtaking.
"This place is beautiful," I said, examining every inch of the room.
"Thank you. My late husband built it for me when I decided I wanted to teach in my home." With the mention of her husband, Brigitte's face filled with sadness.
"I'm sorry to hear about your loss," I said, giving a small knowing smile in Brigitte's direction. I knew a lot about loss, and could relate to her grief.
"No worries, love. He'll always be here." She pressed her hand against her heart.
"I didn't bring my shoes or anything with me, I don't–" I started to say.
"You can dance in that." Samson insisted.
I was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, granted they had some stretch to them, a T-shirt, and my boots. I obviously didn't think I'd be dancing this evening.
"How do you propose I do that?" I'd always danced in proper ballet attire. If my mother saw me dancing in anything else, she would have never let me hear the end of it.
"It's not going to kill you to dance in your street clothes," Samson said.
I looked at his outfit. His preppy style was more relaxed today: a pair of dark blue jeans and a white T-shirt that peeked out from under a maroon, zipped-up hoodie
, topped with a navy blue blazer. Even when Samson didn't dress up, he looked better than the average guy.
Samson unbuttoned his blazer, unzipped his hoodie, and threw each piece to the floor. His shirt was tight, showing off the defined muscles in his chest and arms. In that moment, all I really wanted to do was be alone with him and rip his clothes off. I had to remind myself to be good. For now.
"Okay, I'll give it my best shot."
"Let's get to it then," Brigitte said as she walked to the corner of the room and turned on the stereo.
It was the song from the first night I saw Samson dance. The first time we kissed. The beauty of the song made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
"Let's see how well you two can move together. Start with finger turns?" Brigitte asked us.
We both looked at each other and nodded. We had done this in the previous week of class, and were quite good at it.
"Natalia, take Samson's left hand. Good. Now take his finger in your right." Samson and I were in sync with our movements. "Great job. Now, Natalia, first start with a single, and then do as many as you can."
I twirled around, holding onto Samson's finger, and then did a chainé turn.
"You two look very good together."
Samson bent down and whispered in my ear, "Yes, we do."
It was hard enough trying to balance in boots, but when Samson came that close to me, I dropped out of relevé. We continued laughing, while Brigitte walked to the stereo, ignoring the commotion.
"How do you always make me lose my balance?" I asked.
"It seems like whenever my lips are right here," his lips closed in at the top of my ear, "you become completely unprofessional."
I turned, lightly slapping his chest. "I'm not unprofessional," I claimed, following it up by laughing even more.
For the next hour, Samson and I moved our bodies together under Brigitte's direction. It felt as though we had been dancing together our whole lives. Growing up, different teachers had said that once you find the perfect partner, to never let them go. It's rare to be perfectly in sync with someone else. Being paired with Samson might have been the best thing to ever happen to me. He challenged me to be the kind of dancer I needed to be.
My mother may finally see my talent.
When Samson and I left Brigitte's, we were covered in sweat. She worked us hard. I now understood why Samson was such a stunning dancer; Brigitte was an excellent teacher.
"That was really amazing. I had such a good time," I said.
Samson stopped walking and turned to look at me. We had walked a block, hoping to catch a cab back to the dorms.
"I did, too. I think I finally found a good enough partner." I responded with a playful dirty look.
Samson grinned and slowly lowered his head, his lips inching closer to mine. He stopped just as our lips were almost touching. "You make me really happy."
His lips finally met mine. I pushed my lips firmly into his, holding my body flat against his chest. Samson's arms were tightly wrapped around my waist. In that moment, I wanted him more that I wanted anything else in life.
As soon as we entered my room, I threw my blazer and hoodie on the floor, removing my T-shirt as fast as humanly possible. Natalia was in front of me, half-naked, in a pink lace bra and matching underwear. My lips met the crook of her neck. Her body tensed, a small moan leaving her mouth.
"I want you, Natalia." I looked into her eyes, studying the beauty.
She responded by grabbing my neck and pulling me close to her body, pressing me against her. Our bodies moved toward my bed, the edge hitting the back of my knees. I fell backward. Natalia straddled my legs and bent down to kiss my neck. If she keeps kissing that spot, there's no way I'm going to be able to stop.
My arm reached around Natalia's waist, holding her against my bare chest. A gasp left her throat as we pressed against one another. The air was cool, but our bodies were warm, and I felt the sweat that began to bead on the small of her back. My body was growing with anticipation. I wanted to be closer to her.
Natalia's phone vibrated. Reluctantly climbing off my lap, she walked across the room. She looked fantastic. All muscle, but still thin and fragile. Natalia grabbed her phone from her purse, hit a button and shoved it back into the side pocket.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"My mother," she quietly responded.
"Is everything okay?" I was concerned by the dejected look on her face.
"Yup." She stood up and walked back to the bed. She sat next to me, pressing her back against the wall.
"Wanna talk about it?" I inhaled, trying my best to relax.
"She's just so demanding of me. If I don't talk to her at least once a day, and tell her how long I danced, she blows my phone up every hour."
"It sounds as if she cares, though."
"She doesn't." Natalia looked down at her lap and grabbed a sheet nearby to cover herself. "All she wants is a successful ballerina. It doesn't have to be me, just anyone she's taught."
"I'm sure that's not true," I said, though I wouldn't be surprised if Natalia was speaking the truth. I could relate to that kind of parent.
"You have no idea." She sighed heavily.
"Unfortunately, I do." I reached for her hand, entwining our fingers together. "We're damaged goods."
I laughed softly. Natalia looked at me, and I felt like she was seeing everything I'd hidden from the world. She saw all of my broken pieces, but refused to turn away. In that second, I realized she was exactly what I'd been missing in my life.
I grabbed her body and placed her back on my lap. Natalia started laughing as my fingers touched her sides where she was ticklish. She slowly licked her lips and my body responded. I roughly pushed my fingers through her hair, bringing her face to mine, and kissed her.
Natalia's fingers caressed my back as her hips swayed back and forth. I didn't need to tell her that I wanted her. As soon as she rubbed against me, she became fully aware. I reached to unclasp her bra and threw it across the room. I stopped kissing her to examine her beauty. Her pale skin was as soft as silk. Every time I touched her, a shiver escaped her. She threw her head back, leaving her neck exposed. I explored her skin with my tongue.
"Samson," Natalia whispered, her breath hitting my earlobe, "have I ever told you you're an incredible kisser?" Her panting sped up.
"No need to." I clutched at her waist, just as her nails dug into my shoulder blades. Lifting Natalia off my lap, I laid her back on the pillow. My body hovered over hers, and the only sound in the room was our intense breathing.
"Aren't you going to get undressed?" Natalia whispered.
"Is that what you want?" I wanted to be certain this is what she wanted.
"Yes," she responded quickly as she reached down and began unbuttoning my jeans.
I grasped her hands, stopping her. "Natalia, if we do this, there's no turning back." I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince her or myself.
After a moment, she continued moving her fingers, the button on my jeans unclasping. Within seconds, we were both naked, wrapped in my sheets. I reached into the drawer of my nightstand and grabbed a condom. When I moved into this room, I threw them in there, not thinking I'd be using them so soon, or with anyone other than Aubrey. I hated that my mind kept roaming to thoughts of her. I was over her, and Natalia was underneath me, naked. I shook the thoughts away, and leaned down to kiss Natalia.
"You're incredible," I whispered. The room was dark, but the moonlight cast a shadow across Natalia's face. I focused on her eyes, smiling. When our bodies finally came together, Natalia's face flushed with pleasure. She stayed silent at first, but her breath quickened and her nails bit into the skin on my back. Her legs were wrapped around my hips. We moved together, and Natalia began moaning louder into my ear.
"Fuck," I sighed heavily, "I've never felt this good before."
I slowed my rhythm, my breathing also slowing, wanting to prolong it as long as I could. When I felt Natalia's entire body tigh
ten, I knew she was ready. I pushed into her harder, and she threw her head back onto the pillow, her fingers tightly grasping the sheets around her. I moaned and continued pushing into her, feeling the pressure build. Natalia screamed as she climaxed, and my own followed. Her body began shaking, her hands still clutching the sheets. My breathing finally slowed and we stayed silent for a moment. I stayed on top of her, not wanting to move away.
"That was–" Natalia began talking, her heavy breathing masking her words.
"Amazing." I finished her sentence.
"Yeah. Exactly."
I carefully rolled off of her and stood up from my bed. I felt Natalia's arms wrap around my waist, and I turned to look at her. "Hey," I smirked.
"Hey." Her face lit up with a smile, making my heart stir.
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Do you need anything to drink?"
"I'm fine." The smile remained on her lips as she let go of me. I grabbed my jeans and T-shirt from the floor and threw them on before leaving the room.
When I walked back in, softly shutting the door behind me, Natalia was covered in my sheets. She faced the wall and her eyes we closed as I climbed back into bed.
"Are you alright?" My hand touched her shoulder, willing her to turn and look at me.
"I'm wonderful," she whispered. When she finally faced me, a smile played on her lips. "Can I ask you something?"
I pulled her closer to me and wrapped my arms around her body. "Anything."
"Is there any significance to that song you dance to?" I nodded my response. "Will you tell me about it?"
"It's a song from my mother's favorite film. I choreographed a dance to it and showed it to her on Mother's Day. It's just a tribute to her for being so supportive of me," I explained. The first time I showed it to my mother, she cried and told me my dance was more beautiful than the song itself.
"You're such a wonderful person, Samson." Her hand cradled my cheek, as she pulled me close and kissed me. Her lips tasted sweet, like sweat and cherry lip balm.
"It's you who's wonderful."
I roamed the dimly lit hallways, the smell of disinfectant stinging my sinuses. The lights above me flickered, and anxiety surged through my body. No one was in sight. I was all alone.
In the Air (The City #1) Page 13