Where the Mountains Meet the Sea

by A. R. Breck

"You can just drop me off if you need to go back there and grab your things."

  He shakes his head. "We can stop there afterward. The guys will pack everything up so all I'll need to do is grab everything."

  I nod, and we walk quietly through the evening spring air. Soon we're there, and I use the key from my purse to unlock the door.

  My teacher, Leona Ivanov, used to be a famous ballet teacher in New York at Julliard. But her sick mother eventually led her to moving out here, and she's been my teacher ever since. I was little when I met her, only a short while after I moved here. She's always been the teacher that has me practice rigorously. She even prefers I go when no one else is there to stay focused and get my work in. I think she's even more determined than I am that I need to get into Julliard.

  Roman turns on the lights and goes to sit in his usual booth that's built onto the wall. I go into the back, getting dressed quickly. I put my hair into a knot on the top of my head, and walk out barefoot, the ribbons of my ballet slippers wrapped around my fingers.

  My feet slapping again the wooden floor make Roman glance up. He smiles when he sees me, patting the spot next to him when he sees my bare feet.

  I hand him a slipper when I get to him, propping my foot up on his lap. He slides the slipper on, having watched me since I was a child, he knows exactly what to do. He replicates my movements that I'm doing with the opposite foot, crisscrossing the ribbons over my foot until it’s at the back of my calf, and then he ties a perfect bow.

  I smile at him when its finished, knowing its perfect, maybe even more perfect than the one I did, only because he did it himself.

  "What're we listening to today?" he asks, the CD player next to him with a stack of CDs on the floor.

  "Mmmm. You choose today."

  I've practiced with every type of music. From rock that Roman listens to, to folk that my parents listen to, to classical that I've grown up on while dancing to ballet. I can dance to anything and everything.

  But classical is always my favorite.

  He pops open the top of the CD player, putting a disk in the middle and clicking the top down. Switching the player to turn it on, he clicks Play, and Canon in D starts by Johann Pachelbel. I smile at him knowing this is one of my favorites.

  I stretch a little bit as I walk around, feeling my limbs and muscles flex and bend. I go up on my toes, and back on my feet. I spin around, doing a plié and going back down again. I twirl, bending and moving to the music as gracefully as the melody tells me to. It speaks to me, it always has. No words are needed with this type of music, it bleeds into my skin and I move however it wishes me to.

  I spin and spin, floating through the air from one side of the studio to the next. I don't even pay attention to Roman, although I know he's paying attention to every move and step I take. He knows my dances well enough to know what needs to be improved on. He's listened to my teacher ream me out about the silliest, smallest things. But they aren't small to her, and if I want to get into Julliard, I need to be as focused as she tells me to be.

  The crescendo of the song builds, and I can feel my heart expand with emotion. My eyes well as I dance, feeling the emotion rip through me as I give it my all. Suddenly, I spin around, and there is Roman. He stands on the other side of the studio in the middle of the wooden floor, arms at his sides.

  He waits.

  I run to him, as fast as I can, and when I'm within reach, he lifts me at my waist and extends me in the air. His arms don’t shake. His body is certain, still, strong. Perfect as he keeps me in the air and suspends me above him. I point my toes as he spins me around, and then he slowly brings me back down his body. I wrap my legs and arms around him as I hold him tight, laying my lips on his.

  I love him so much.

  "You dance beautifully. Every single step you take has the most breathtaking emotion in it. It's almost heartbreaking to watch you."

  My eyes start to water again, and I nod. Because I know how he feels. Sometimes it's sad when I dance. A sadness buried deep within me comes out, and it’s a darkness I only show when I dance. I'm not a sad person, and there's nothing depressing about me, but sometimes, when I dance, this uncontrollable grief hits me in the center of my chest.

  I dance until the heaviness goes away. Dancing always makes me feel better. Every. Single. Time.

  He sets me down. "Keep going. I want to watch more."

  I do.

  I dance and continue dancing, pressing all my weight in my toes until I can feel them start to crack and bleed. I float myself in the air until I feel like I'm going to touch the clouds, and I extend my arms as if I can wrap myself around Roman from across the room.

  Wandering over to the bar, I stretch into a split, curling and stretching my back to rid the ache. Only soon enough I can hear Roman's footsteps behind me, and then his hands are there on my waist, lifting me off the ground as he spins me around. He sets me on the bar, and I wobble a bit.

  "This won't hold me." I worry, trying to grab onto his shoulders for support.

  His eyebrows lift. "You weigh five pounds. It'll hold you just fine."

  He walks between my legs, keeping his hands planted on my waist. I roll my spine, bending down until my lips press against his. He kisses me deeply, plunging his tongue into my mouth. His kiss is heated, turned on. He swallows my moan, his fingers going between my leotard and pressing against my sex, which is already damp.

  "Stop, we can't do this here." I look to the left, where the windows are. They’re big and wide, no curtains to shield us from pedestrians. Anyone could see us. This town is small enough where everyone knows everyone. One look in here and our parents would know we were fooling around.

  Not like they don't already know.

  But there's one thing—we haven't had sex. Not yet, anyway. Not that I haven't tried. Roman puts it off, telling me I'm not ready.

  That doesn't mean we haven't done everything else.

  Why he won't go that extra step is beyond me. I've practically begged at this point, but all he tells me is that it should be special. He wants it to be special.

  And that is exactly why I'm in love with him.

  "I know we can't. I just can't help it when you dance like that. You're so fucking breathtaking." He lifts me off the bar, sliding me down his body. I reach up on my tiptoes, giving him another kiss. I push him across the studio, back through the back room where I change for the evening.

  I press him against the wall, raising my leg so it's over his waist. "I want you," I moan. "I want you now."

  He groans. "Not here. Not now."

  "When?" I whine.

  "When it will be special." He presses his fingers between my thighs, rubbing the ache that grows whenever I'm around him. "I can make you feel better now, though." He slides his fingers beneath my leotard, finding my naked folds wet and ready.

  I'm ready. I've been ready.

  He sticks a finger in, and I grunt around the pressure as he starts fingering me. I reach down to his erection and squeeze, knowing he's just as pent up with tension as I am. I drop to my knees, grappling at his button until his pants are loose and I'm shimmying them down his waist.

  "N-not here, he stammers, although I know he won't turn me away.

  I shake my head. "Please. Let me." I pull his erection out, seeing him rock-hard and red with need. I lick the tip, tasting the dollop of precum there. Placing my lips around the head, I suck until I get as far to the base as I can.

  Roman's head tilts back to the wall, the back of his head knocking against it as he lets out a tortured groan. "Shiiiiiit."

  I lick him faster, hollowing out my cheeks and sucking him hard. My hand goes down to the base, cupping his balls and giving them a small tug. He grunts, his hips jacking forward slightly. It makes me gag, and I let him slide out of my mouth a bit while I struggle to swallow.

  His hand goes to my bun, and I go back down, my other hand going to the base of his cock and pumping him a few times while I get him as wet as I can with my to
ngue, my head going back and forth until I can feel him harden even further in my mouth.

  "I'm going to come," he grunts, and that makes me pump him faster with my hand, my other hand pulling on his balls as I flatten my tongue on the underside of him and suck until he starts throbbing. He comes, the salty warm cum filling my mouth. I swallow, but there's so much it leaks from the corner of my lips.

  He pulls me up roughly once he can breathe again, his hands going under my armpits as he yanks me up like a child. His fingers pull my leotard to the side, diving between my drenched folds as he sticks two fingers inside of me. There's a pinch of pain, but he uses his thumb to rub my clit until I'm grinding against the heel of his hand.

  He fucks me hard, and I grip the back of his neck and pull his lips to mine, groaning into his mouth as I hump his hand. I want to fuck him—not his hand, but this will do.

  For now.

  He rubs my clit harder while he fingers me, and soon I feel the low burning in the pit of my belly. It starts slow, tingling from my stomach and spreading to my toes.

  "Oh, fuck," I moan against his lips. I lose my standing, and Roman sweeps and arm around my waist and holds me up against his body while my orgasm takes hold. He holds me until I come down, and he holds me long after, too.

  "I love you, Roman." I've said the words a million times, but I've never said it like this.

  He leans back, looking at me with a soft expression. A smirk lifts his mouth, his pouty lips quirking up on the sides. "I love you, too, Luna. Now and always."

  "Now and always."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Roman

  This is it.

  Tonight is the night.

  I'm bringing Luna down to a secluded spot by the beach, and I'm going to sleep with her. She's been wanting it, and I've wanted it to be special. How can I make it special, though? What can I do that would possibly be enough and special enough for her?

  I've wanted to fly her to a different country, but even that doesn't seem like it would be special enough.

  Nothing would ever be perfect when it comes to her, but I realize she doesn't want perfect. She just wants me, and I just want her. Together we are as perfect as we'll ever be.

  I found a small secret area of the beach, a place where we've been only a few times while exploring around the lake. A place that's hidden from people and sights of everyone. The only things that I've ever known to explore this area is wildlife.

  But today it's quiet. Not a sound, not an animal.

  The sun sets over the lake, creating a glistening appearance on the water. A few boats are out, but we're hidden by trees and brush. The sun is tinged red as it sets, the clouds a burnt orange as they shine back at me.

  I have my guitar here, a blanket, and a small basket I found in my kitchen. I packed a few things, even though I don't think Luna will want to eat anything when she knows what my plans are. She's eager, a nymph. It only makes me want her more.

  I left her at ballet this evening and told her I had to meet the guys for something. She didn't bat an eye. I left as quickly as I could, packed everything up and brought it to this secret spot. I'm hoping she likes it.

  With one last glance at the area I put together, I grab my car keys and head to my car. It's an old thing, a Ford Escort, not something I ever actually drive in unless I'm going out of town for a show or something.

  I drive to the studio, where I see Luna dancing and stretching her body like a bow as her body flips and turns and twirls to the music I can't hear. I watch her for a few minutes, as other people walk by the outside window and stop to stare at her too.

  She's something different. Not anything anyone has ever seen before. She's beautiful, and unique. Her long black hair is tied in a small bun on top of her head. Her long body, longer than most girls her age, is thin but strong. Her toes are always pointed, whether she's at home or in ballet. It's like her feet were made for the slippers she always wears.

  I turn my car off, hop out, stepping onto the curb and opening the front door. Classical music plays through the stereo, and Luna's spine snaps straight when she hears the small bell above the door ring. A smile breaks out on her face when she sees me, love and adoration filling her features.

  "You're here early," she says, her forehead damp from exertion.

  "I have something to show you. Are you ready?"

  Curiosity lines her face, her gray eyes sparkling in anticipation. "A surprise?" She smiles. "Let me grab my things.”

  She runs to the back, her toes holding most of her weight while she floats to grab her bag. I walk over to the stereo and turn it off, then flip off the lights and pick up the CDs while I wait for her. It doesn't take long, and soon she's back, her bare feet slapping across the floor with her slippers slung over her shoulders.

  "Ready?" she asks, a smile on her rosy face.

  I nod and lace my fingers through hers as we walk back out to my car.

  "You're driving today?"

  I nod, pushing her into the car without another word. I don't want to spoil anything.

  I hop in, and she instantly fiddles with the radio while I turn on the car and pull onto the street. I take a right, and it doesn't take long for her to notice we aren't driving home.

  "Where are we going?"

  "You'll see.” I smile, bringing my hand over to her thigh and giving her a squeeze. Her skin is hot against my palm, smooth and creamy white.

  I drive to the other side of the lake and pull off the road when I get to our spot.

  Her eyes light up when she notices where we are. "We're at our secret spot?"

  I nod, getting out of the car and walking over to her door. "You can leave your things here."

  She does as she's told, leaving her slippers and bag at the foot of her seat.

  I grab her hand, pulling her from the car and through the brush. She slaps at her bare legs when the weeds brush against her skin. I know it feels like spiders and other bugs as it tickles her legs. I pull a tree branch back for her, and she ducks beneath it as she steps onto the sand. "Oh my God," she whispers, looking back at me with wide eyes.

  I smile at her, not sure what to say.

  "What is all this?" She waves her hand around, seeing the plaid blanket spread out on the sand and the small basket sitting in the corner. She looks at my guitar, propped up against a tree. "What is all this?" she repeats.

  "I told you I wanted it to be special. Do you like it?"

  She looks at me, her face draining of color and filling at the same time. "You mean… really?" Her hand separates from mine, and a brightness fills her features as she walks over to the blanket. She sits in the middle, her toes staying in the sand as she buries them beneath the grains. "This is perfect. Absolutely perfect." She lies back, her eyes going up to the evening sky.

  Out here in Shallow Lake, Wisconsin, the night sky is always filled with stars. So many stars, you never realized there were that many hanging in the sky. The stars that are far, close, small, and large all shine at you, making its own light as it shines on you at night. Her eyes flit over the different sparkles in the sky, and I know she's naming them off in her head. We've spent enough of our childhood studying them and memorizing the names of the different constellations.

  She sits up as I walk over to her. Toeing off my sandals, I sit next to her on the blanket and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her against my side. "I love you, Luna. More than all the stars in the sky."

  She looks over at me, her face soft and nervous. "I love you, too, Roman."

  My free hand goes to her jaw, and I cup her slim face, bringing her mouth to mine and pressing my lips to hers. She gasps, as always, and I breathe her in. I lick along the seam of her lips until she opens, sliding her tongue against mine. I swallow her, my greed and need taking hold, and I finally let it. I gently push her back, until her back once again presses against the blanket. I mold my front to hers, pressing into her body and settling between her thighs. "This should be perfect, and I can't take you to
the moon, so I hope this is good enough for you."

  She runs her fingers through my locks, slightly tugging on the ends. "This is perfect. Anywhere with you would be perfect. It doesn't matter where it is. I don't care if the sun is up, or the moon is shining. I don't care if there are stars in the sky or the rain is falling. I don't need your guitar, and I don't need a blanket. All I need is you next to me, and I know it'll be perfect."

  I press into her further, grinding my growing erection in the crux of her thighs. I nip at her plump bottom lip, licking away the ache and going back to nip at it again. Her fingers go to my cheeks, and she scratches along my jaw as her hips rise to meet my grinding. She wants the friction, and this time, I'm not going to stop her.

  Her hands drop to my shirt, and she tugs on it. I reach behind my head, grabbing the collar and pull it over my head. Her palms plant on my chest, and she brings her nails down, lightly scratching my tan skin. I grab at the strap around her shoulder, the light pink leotard that she never changed out of. I snap it against her skin, and smirk at her when she raises an eyebrow. I lower it, letting it loosen around her bicep, allowing me a glance at her naked shoulder.

  I bring my lips down, planting them gently against her collarbone, kissing my way up her neck and back up to her lips. She lets out a quiet sigh, tilting her head to the side and giving me better access to her neck. I loosen her other strap, letting it fall so her leotard sits just above her breasts. Her chest heaves, and my hand goes up to palm her breast, giving it a squeeze while I kiss along her cleavage. My finger goes beneath the fabric, pulling down until her nipples appear. They are peaked, hardened by the cool night air and my teasing. My finger brushes against its bumpy but smooth texture, and I give it a tug.

  She moans, her chest arching into my hand. "Yessss."

  I give her other nipple a tug, bringing my tongue down and swiping against the tender peak. I bring it into my mouth, sucking and running my tongue along the pink skin. My hand goes to her leotard, and I keep pulling until it's bunched against her belly. Her stomach quivers, and I press my palm against her to calm her nerves, settling her skin.