Dance: The Collected Series

by Charlotte Eve

Oh God.

  How the hell is that gonna work?

  CHAPTER NINE

  The very moment I’m back in New York, I call Nat and arrange to hang out. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen her. All this last week, I’ve been resisting the urge to just message her cell with my amazing news, because I want to tell her in person. And even more importantly, I want to see the look on her face when she sets eyes on this gigantic sparkling rock on my finger.

  “Natalia!” I squeal, the very moment she answers the phone. “Please say you’re free tonight, because I’ve just got to see you. I’ve got some big news. Like, huge.”

  “Girlfriend, where have you been?” she replies. “Cuz I’ve got some news, too, and you’re not gonna believe it. We need to hook up, like, immediately. I’m teaching classes at the Project right now, but meet me at Mike’s at seven? I can’t wait to see you!”

  “Me too,” I laugh.

  But as I hang up the call, I can’t help but reflect on how Nat seemed weirdly intense just now.

  I wonder what her news can be?

  Oh well, I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  §

  A couple hours later, we’re sat in our favorite booth at Mike’s, sipping frozen margaritas, both eager to tell the other our big developments. Today, Nat’s wearing an unforgivingly tight red dress, cut to show some real cleavage, but its coupled with this silver necklace that looks kinda expensive.

  Where’s her usual gold jewelry? I wonder. Nat never wears silver!

  “You go first,” she says.

  “No, you go first!” I reply.

  It’s so funny. We’re clearly both totally desperate to blurt out our news. And while I can’t quite think what Nat could possibly be so excited about, me? Well, all I have to do is to show her my left hand and she’ll know everything. I mean this thing is so huge you couldn’t miss it from space, which is the reason I’ve been keeping my left hand hidden from view, safely in my lap beneath the table.

  And it’s Nat who goes first with her news:

  “I met someone, Jules, I actually met someone,” she gushes.

  “Oh my god, Nat, that’s amazing!” I laugh. “I’m so pleased for you! Where did you meet him? At Countdown?”

  At this suggestion, Nat screws up her face and shakes her head in disgust. “Hell no!” she snorts. “I told you I was tired of that shit. All those broke-ass guys, grinding up to you? I told you, baby, I wanted to get myself a classy guy, like the one you’ve got. Someone who can take me out to dinner for a change, remember? And by dinner, I’m not talking a slice of pizza.”

  “At the Rhythm Project, then?” I guess.

  “Nope,” Nat grins, shaking her head.

  Then my mind flashes back to our conversation of a few weeks ago, and I take a closer look at the dress she’s wearing. In the past few months I guess you could say I’ve learnt a thing or two about expensive clothes, and on closer inspection I reckon this red number of Nat’s must’ve cost a few hundred dollars at least, not to mention the necklace (which I’m starting to suspect isn’t imitation silver).

  “So where did you meet him then?” I ask.

  “Okay, get this,” she grins. “You’re gonna laugh your damn ass off but I didn’t know where fancy ass guys go to drink. And you were away in London, with the time difference and all. So I Googled it; Where do millionaires go in New York. I know, I know. It’s not exactly rocket science. But guess what? It gave me the names of a few bars, and the first one I went to was this real swanky place. I started to panic that they weren’t going to even let me through the door, that somehow they’d all be able to tell that I was some nobody from Queens, looking for a good time. But I thought, hell, it’s worth a shot. So I throw my shoulders back and stride towards the bar all confident, like I own the place. You know, that Real Housewives swagger; that kind of walk. But I don’t need it anyway, because when I get to the door, the guy who’s working it’s only Tony’s freaking brother! You know, Tony from Countdown? I’ve known that meathead practically my whole life. And he just says, how you doin’ girl, and I walk straight in. Like I always told you, Jules, your girl’s got connections!”

  She offers up her palm and I high-five her.

  “So anyways,” she continues, “I get inside and I walk up to the bar, and I’m thinking, oh shit. What am I gonna do next? I mean, I can’t just stand here on my own all night. And I know I can’t order a drink, either because the internet’s already warned me it’s like thirty dollars just for a vodka spritzer here, and I’ve got maybe twenty in my purse, tops. So I’m walking towards the bar, slow but steady, trying to look confident, and then, just as I take my seat, this guy – tall, handsome, blonde, expensive suit, the whole nine yards, comes up to me, cool as anything, and says, ‘I hate to see a beautiful girl in a bar on her own. So what is it you’re drinking?’”

  “So,” I ask, still wanting to know so much more. “Who is he? Who’s the guy?”

  “His name’s Marcus,” she announces proudly, “and Jules, ohmigod. He’s suave, he’s sophisticated and best of all, he’s rich. I mean maybe he’s not quite at the level of your Dylan, but he’s got the money to take me out, to buy me nice clothes,” at this she gestures down at her dress, “and that’s all that matters, right?”

  Is it?

  I’m not so sure Nat’s in this new relationship for the right reasons, but I can’t think of a way to say that right now, without it just sounding like I’m totally raining on her parade.

  “Listen to me!” Nat laughs, shaking her head. “I’ve been talking so long I totally forgot that you’ve got news as well! So? What is it?”

  While Nat gave me a whole damn monologue, I don’t even need to speak.

  I just slip my left hand out from under the table and place it in front of her. She takes one look at the ring, glittering in the dim lights of the bar, then screams so loud I’m surprised our freaking glasses don’t shatter. Everyone in the whole room turns to look at us in total confusion and Nat holds her hands above her head and calls out, “Hey, my girl just got engaged over here! Gimme a goddamn break!”

  Then she turns back to me and leans in, her voice dropping a decibel or six as she adds, “Holy shit, Jules! This is big time! I don’t need to ask if that thing’s real. Oh baby, you are one class act. So? How’d he do it? I want to know every juicy detail.”

  “Well, we were in London,” I begin.

  “Lemme guess, lemme guess,” she cuts in. “It was Buckingham Palace, right? No, the Ritz. No, wait, he did it on the London Eye, didn’t he!”

  “Actually?” I laugh. “It was after a night drinking beer in a scuzzy dive bar. But you know what, Nat? It was just perfect.”

  As we talk more about the engagement, Nat wants to know everything: about my plans for a dress, about the ceremony, about every last little detail. And I’m totally glad she’s happy for me, but as we talk about my dream wedding, deep down my thoughts keep straying back to her – to this Marcus guy, whoever he is.

  I just can’t seem to shake the feeling that there’s something not quite right about Nat’s new relationship.

  You’d better be a good guy, Marcus.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I’ve just got back to the apartment, after another intense session at the Academy. It’s after eight in the evening, and I’m totally exhausted – every muscle in my body aching from the rigorous routine Madame Lyon just put us through. But even though I can’t think of anything better right now than to change out of these sweaty clothes, run myself a deep bath, light a few candles, and maybe put on some Netflix – all the things I desperately want to do – I don’t let myself. Not yet. Because deep down, I know I still need to work a lot harder on my moves.

  If I’m honest, I’ve been letting things slip these last few weeks. I mean, sure, I’ve had a bunch going on in my life, and it’s definitely not every day that a girl gets engaged. But even so: that’s no excuse.

  I’ve been distracted and I need to focus.

&n
bsp; I need to work.

  I made a commitment to myself, to the Academy, and to Madame Lyon that I would work my ass off. And so there’s just no rest for me tonight.

  Passion is the most important tool in the dancer’s toolbox.

  Madame Lyon’s favorite piece of advice echoes around my head, as I begin a fresh round of stretches and warm-ups in front of the mirror, trying to get motivated. But as I warm up, there’s one face I just can’t quite shake from my mind. The face of a certain tall, slim, swanlike girl. A girl who’s way better than I thought she was going to be. Liliya. She’s everything I’m not, and I hate to admit it, but I guess I’m feeling a little threatened by her.

  I finish my stretches, then set some music playing and start to dance.

  And to my relief, soon enough the old magic begins to work and I’m right back in the zone –losing myself again in the beat, the rhythm, the moves. As always, it’s like I can feel the everyday world starting to melt away. I finally feel myself getting lost in the power and energy of the music when all of a sudden ...

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Did I imagine that?

  I pause, halfway through my routine, stopping the music, and sure enough I hear it again: a loud, insistent knock at the door.

  Goddamn. Not now!

  With an annoyed sigh, I blow my sweaty bangs out of my eyes, frustrated that I’ll have to start the steps of my intricate routine all over again, just as soon as I’ve told whoever the hell is at the door to get lost.

  But what if it’s one of the neighbors below, complaining about the noise, I think a little sheepishly. I guess my dancing can get pretty loud sometimes. After all, I’m still kinda new to this building, and I really don’t want to make a bad impression. So I quickly jog to the door, wiping the sweat from my brow, trying to make myself look just a touch more presentable.

  “Can I help y-” I begin to say, pulling open the door to the apartment.

  But when I see who it is on the doorstep, my heart leaps and the words falter in my mouth.

  “Dylan?!” I gasp in total surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I guess I just couldn’t stay away,” he says, black eyes blazing with desire, white teeth flashing.

  I jump into his arms and he spins me around, hugging me so tightly it seems like he must have missed me these past few days just as much as I’ve missed him.

  “But I don’t understand,” I say between kisses. “You’re supposed to be in London!”

  “I know, I know,” he replies, setting me down, then taking a step back to look at me. “And I was. I know I promised not to distract you but goddamn it, you’re my fiancé and I needed to see you. So I scheduled my jet. After all, it’s eight thirty in the evening, right? This is your time. I hope you’ve done all your homework?”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “This is the best surprise ever!” I laugh. “I’m all yours! But sorry I’m not exactly looking my best,” I add, a little embarrassed.

  “What are you talking about?” he grins. “I love you like this. Your body in those tight workout clothes? Your eyes shining with fire and passion? The way you’re just ever so slightly out of breath. It’s so sexy. Come here.”

  He grabs me, pulling me towards him, cupping my face as he steals another hungry kiss from my lips, his tongue pushing urgently into my mouth. I shiver, pushing back against him, my hands slipping down over his muscular back, then cupping his perfect ass, and as we grind together, I can feel the hot bulge of his cock, too, pressing against me, not to mention the building ache and heat of my pussy.

  “I’m flying back at midnight,” he murmurs, his voice tight and low with desire. “I’ve got an important morning meeting in London, so let’s make the most of this.”

  “Don’t you worry, I was thinking the exact same thing,” I whisper back.

  And suddenly I know just what I want to do. I take him by the tie, and lead him into the apartment, towards the kitchen.

  “You must be very tense, ahead of that important meeting,” I suggest, really vamping it up. “But don’t worry, my stressed business man. I’ve got just the thing to help you relax and let go.”

  I push him hard, back against the wall, then drop to my knees before him, looking up at him, keeping my eyes locked firmly on his as I start to unbuckle his belt, then slowly slide down his fly: zzzzzzziiiiiiiippppppp.

  “You’re fucking incredible,” he grins down at me.

  “Shhh,” I reply, still keeping my eyes fixed on his. “You just relax.”

  I pull open his suit pants and slip his silk boxer shorts down, just enough for his cock to spring free, jutting proudly upwards, and a shiver of excitement runs through me when I see that he’s already fully hard, the head of his cock glistening.

  I moisten my lip seductively as I curl my fingers around his thick shaft and guide him towards my mouth, first teasing the sensitive patch of skin beneath the velvety smoothness of his head, then running my tongue up and down the underside of his shaft, enjoying the way his eyes close with pleasure as I wrap my lips fully around him. And as I start to suck him, slowly and sensuously, I close my eyes too, as I feel his hands slip into my hair, winding my ponytail around his fist.

  “God, that feels so fucking good,” he growls, his cock swelling a little in my mouth, and in reply I swirl my tongue playfully around him, feeling my own body charging with desire too; my nipples hardening and my clit starting to throb.

  Still stroking him with my right hand in time to the motions of my bobbing head, I let my left slip into my yoga pants, then into my panties, feeling my own hot wetness there as I begin to stroke myself too. I moan a little, as I take his cock even deeper into my mouth, feeling him nudge right against the back of my throat, as I toy with my swelling clit, the electricity of desire flashing around my trembling body in increasingly powerful waves.

  I feel his grip tighten on my ponytail, and his body tensing, his cock growing even harder in my mouth, my throat. I bring us both right to the very edge, then force myself to pull my lips away from his cock with a final wet pop, opening my eyes again and gazing up at him.

  He looks so fucking hot, his black eyes burning with desire, his hard cock jutting up between his muscular thighs, his whole body tense and ready for me, giving off that pure animal heat I love.

  I push myself back to my feet, stroking his cock again with both hands as I lean in and kiss him playfully, before whispering, “I’m yours, Dylan. Take me. However you want. I’m yours.”

  He smiles, his voice just a growl as he says, “God, you’re amazing, Julia.”

  “How about like this?” I say, turning away from him, arching my back, teasing my yoga pants and panties down over my ass, then pushing my bare buttocks back against him, bending forwards, hands against the wall, shivering with excitement as I feel the hard heat of his cock against my ass.

  I gasp, as I feel him roughly pull my yoga pants and thong even further down my thighs, then his hot hands cupping my ass, spreading me wide. I feel his fingers slip urgently between my legs, sliding between my swollen pussy lips, discovering just how fucking wet he’s already made me.

  Then a moment later, I feel the heat and hardness cock pushing deep inside me, deep enough to make me moan. And as he starts to fuck me like that from behind, I feel the tip of his thumb touch against my asshole too, then push a little way inside me, causing me to gasp and shiver, grinding back against him, wanting to be filled even deeper with him, wanting him to fuck me so damn hard and fast, wanting him to consume me completely.

  And he does just as I want, plundering my aching pussy with his cock, slamming himself so fucking hard into me that I can’t help but cry out, each fresh thrust of his hips causing another intense flash of pleasure to build and crest inside me until I’m coming hard on his gorgeous cock, my whole body trembling and shuddering. And I know by now that it won’t be long until he comes too – my pleasure always sends him over the edge – but tonight that’s not how I wan
t him. Tonight I want to feel totally claimed by him, totally his.

  So I quickly pull off him, turning around and dropping back onto my haunches, taking him in my mouth again with a breathy gasp, before he’s even realized what’s happening, my hands on his body, pushing him back hard against the wall again as I suck him like my life depends on it, tasting my own sweetness on him now, feeling his fingers wind once again through my hair, his breathing becoming ragged, his washboard abs tensing beneath my fingers, and then, with a low moan, he floods my throat powerfully with his creamy liquid heat.

  I gulp him back, my body still shivering from my own orgasm, wishing this moment would last forever, but knowing deep down that soon – just like always – he’ll be gone again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Somehow I make it through the rest of the week without him, but it just never seems to get any easier. Finally the weekend rolls around again, and this time it’s my turn to visit Dylan in London. I’m even more excited than usual, not just because I get to see my brand new fiancé again, but because his parents are in town, too. They’ve flown out to see both him and Isabella, and Dylan’s assured me that this is the perfect time for us to tell the family our news.

  He’s picked out the most incredible restaurant for dinner with his family, too. It’s called The Ivy and its really beautiful – old fashioned and European, the kind of place that seems like it comes from a whole different age.

  And Dylan gave me strict instructions to buy a special, brand new new dress for the occasion, too, so that’s just what I’ve gone and done. I never thought I’d say this, but for once in my life I’ve actually chosen something pink.

  I know!

  Believe me, nobody was more surprised than me. Even as a little girl, I never went in for that kind of thing – I was always more of what you might call a tomboy. But when I was in the shop, and the sales girl was showing me around, well, I don’t know what came over me but I totally fell in love with it.