Mason hesitated. He knew the company had two troupes—so they could have one show in performance and another in development at any particular time—so he wasn't sure this collection of dancers belonged to the right one. Nor could he see any sign of a teacher or of the company's artistic director, Veronica Roth.
"We should probably find Ms Roth and introduce ourselves," he said.
On his first day at Emotion in Motion, Carl, the artistic director, had been waiting to welcome him, along with a couple of the dancers, who buddied with him for his first week. Admittedly, he was older now and probably didn't need that sort of help, but Gemma was as young and fresh-faced as he had been.
He turned around at the click-clack of high heels striking the floor. Veronica Roth, whom he recognised from his audition, smiled at them both. She was wearing a navy blue skirt suit, and her grey-blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Wisps of hair fell around her face, making her look approachable. She was wearing make-up but had made an effort to have it look as natural as possible.
"Mason and Gemma, welcome to BalletEast." She gestured towards the occupied rehearsal room. "This is the B troupe," she explained. "The one you'll both be joining. The A troupe is rehearsing in the theatre at the moment. Shall we?"
She led the way inside, clapping her hands to draw the attention of the dancers, who stopped what they were doing but didn't move from their positions. Most were standing in first or fifth position, which was pretty much Mason's natural pose, too.
"Everyone, I'd like you to meet our two new dancers, Mason and Gemma."
There was a ripple of 'hi' and 'hello', but nothing that made Mason feel massively welcome.
"Andrea will be along shortly for your lesson," Veronica informed them all. "Make sure you're warmed up." She turned back to Mason and Gemma. "It's an exciting time to be joining us," she told them. "This season, we have a guest choreographer coming on board."
"Who?" Gemma asked.
Veronica chuckled. "All in good time."
With that, she swept out of the room, leaving Mason and Gemma standing near the door as the other dancers went back to warming up.
"I guess this is why you wanted to stick together, huh?" Gemma asked quietly.
It hadn't been. Mason had received a much warmer reception at Emotion in Motion, but he wasn't going to tell Gemma that. Instead, he smiled and said, "We'd better warm up."
They found a quiet corner of the room to dump their bags and change out of their outdoor clothing and footwear. When Mason started to run through a stretching routine, he noticed that Gemma was copying him. All the while, she was glancing around nervously, smiling whenever someone looked their way. Her smile faded quickly each time she was met with what was little more than stern glances.
"Maybe we have to prove ourselves?" she asked.
"We wouldn't be here if we weren't good enough," Mason reminded her. "Ignore them. Just do your best and show everyone how great a dancer you are." He wasn't sure why they were getting such a cold reception, but he wasn't going to let it get him down.
Gemma didn't look too convinced by his words, but she carried on stretching with him until the dance teacher, Andrea, arrived.
They spent the next hour working on barre and centre work, posture, core strength, and turnouts. It was a hard hour, but a good one, not that Mason had ever been shy of hard work. He was used to putting in long days, spending hours perfecting one move and having people comment on every tiny aspect of his posture. He was used to it, and he loved it. If he could subsist on dancing alone, he would. But he couldn't, and that was one of the main reasons he'd made the hard decision to leave Emotion in Motion.
"Take a break," Andrea told them. "Five minutes."
"That was intense," Gemma said as they both sat and drank some water.
"Fun, though." Mason grinned.
She raised her eyebrows. "I love dancing, but I wouldn't describe that last hour as 'fun'."
Mason wondered what she'd been expecting and what sort of days she'd had in whatever dance school she'd attended. He'd also done degree-level training in ballet. His parents had insisted on it once they'd realised he was serious about becoming a professional dancer. He could have joined a company straight out of college, but they'd wanted him to have a degree so he'd have options. The course had been hard work. Hours of lessons and rehearsals, not to mention lectures and essays on dance theory, classical context, basic physiology, and healthy living. He'd lapped it all up, loving every second of it, especially those he spent dancing.
"Ms Roth is back," Gemma whispered, dragging Mason away from his thoughts.
Mason glanced up, and his heart froze in his chest. Veronica had indeed returned, and behind her stood… David.
What is he doing here?
Mason's stomach sank as he realised that David—the man he'd slept with twelve hours earlier—had to be the guest choreographer Veronica Roth had spoken of. That explained why David was in such good physical condition.
He looked away, studiously staring at the floor. So much for his rule of not getting involved with his co-workers.
Chapter Six
David
The last person David had expected to set eyes on as he walked into the dance studio was Mason. He did his best to maintain a happy, smiling expression as he locked gazes with the young man. It was brief, just long enough for him to see shock and panic mar Mason's handsome features before his expression became carefully neutral and he looked down at the floor. For Mason's benefit, David looked away. Clearly, this was something they'd need to talk about later.
He felt no guilt about having fucked one of the dancers. Neither of them had had any way of knowing that they would be working together; work had been one of the few things they hadn't talked about. And now that he did know? He couldn't instantly stop himself lusting after the young man. He'd spent ages in the shower that morning, imagining what they'd do the next time he paid Mason a visit. He wanted to fall back down the rabbit hole again, into a fantasy where a young, vivacious man wanted him. But clearly, Mason wasn't quite so calm about the situation.
In front of him, Veronica clapped her hands to get the attention of all the dancers.
"Okay, everyone," she said. "I'd like you to welcome David Morton, our guest choreographer for this season. I'm sure you're all familiar with his body of work…"
Veronica kept on talking, but her voice faded into the background as David gazed at Mason, trying to read the young man's expression. He saw recognition flash through Mason's eyes when his full name was mentioned. Mason pressed his lips together tightly, blanching them of colour. He gave a slight shake of his head, a gesture which David guessed meant his name meant everything to Mason, and had Mason known it the night before, things would have panned out very differently between them.
David was glad Mason hadn't known who he was. He was glad he'd had the chance to be with him, to be in him. It was an experience he wanted to repeat—as long as working together wasn't going to put a barrier between them. There was no reason it should, unless they let it.
"David," Veronica said. "Would you like to share your vision for the production?"
David cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Thanks for the introduction, Veronica. I'm not sure I can live up to all the hype, but I'll try." He held up the book he was carrying. "A Midsummer Night's Dream, one of Shakespeare's most famous comedies, which we're going to translate into a ballet."
He looked at every dancer, making eye contact with them all, leaving Mason until last. God, he loved those brilliant blue eyes; even from a distance, they were dazzling.
"I want creative input from all of you. I'm not going to dictate every step, jump lift, or leap. I want this to be a collaborative piece. I'm told there's a lot of talent in this room. Prove it to me." He gestured towards Andrea. "Andrea is my rehearsal director as well as your ballet coach. So, when I'm not around, she's in charge. We're going to spend the rest of the day workshopping ideas. I want to see your best dancing, as Veronica an
d I will be starting to make casting decisions." He smiled. "There are a lot of great parts in A Midsummer Night's Dream."
That was partly why he'd chosen it. It wasn't a story for divas. With the four lovers, Titania, Oberon, and Puck, plus the amateur players headed up by Bottom, it was hard to tag any one role as being the lead.
"I'll leave you to it," Veronica said, touching his arm lightly. "I'll be back later to see how things are going. Thanks again for this, David."
"This is what I love," he reminded her.
"As much as dancing?" she asked.
"Yes."
Which was true. He'd retired from dancing when he started incurring injuries more regularly and had switched to choreography, where he got to exercise his imagination more fully. It was one of the reasons why he liked to involve the dancers in the process as much as possible: to give them some room to play and devise their own movements and steps. Dance was the plaything of creativity, but all too often, he encountered ballet dancers who lacked vision because they'd always rigidly followed set steps given to them by a choreographer with a very specific concept. And that was fine. Wonderful productions were created that way; it just wasn't how he worked.
"Right, then," he said. "I want you all to break into groups of four. I don't care about the gender balance."
He waited for that to happen, noting that it took a little time for Mason and the redhead with him to find another couple to work with.
"Do you all know the basic setup of A Midsummer Night's Dream?" To his dismay, half a dozen dancers shook their heads. He sighed. "We have four lovers: Hermia, Lysander, Demetrius, and Helena. Hermia and Lysander wish to marry, but her father, Egeus, wants Hermia to love Demetrius. Hermia's best friend Helena is in love with Demetrius, but he only has eyes for Hermia. When Hermia and Lysander run away to get married, the other two follow, and they are all lost in the woods, where Puck and Oberon, the faerie king, play tricks on them."
There was a lot more to it than that, but for the purposes of what he wanted to achieve that day, the brief explanation would suffice.
"In your groups, split the roles of the four lovers between you. I want to see what you can come up with, to express the love and jealousy between them. You've got twenty minutes. Go."
He heard a couple of discontented mutters, probably because of the short time frame he'd given them, but he shrugged them off. The longer he gave them, the more they were likely to overthink it and not come up with anything of substance. What he was looking for was spontaneous creativity, and he hoped that in a company as successful as BalletEast, he was going to find it in spades.
Chapter Seven
Mason
—How was your first day? I need to know everything.
Mason stared at the text from Adam as he sat on the bus home.
—It was great. We’re going to be doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream. David Morton is the choreographer.
He felt guilty for not expanding further, but he needed to get things straight with David before he confided in Adam—if he decided to tell Adam about what had happened between him and David at all.
—David Morton? Holy fuck, that’s amazing! I know how much you admire him. I’m jealous.
Mason stuffed his phone back into his pocket and leaned his head against the window. The rumble of the engine vibrated through the glass into him, making his teeth chatter. He doubted that Adam would be jealous if he realised just how awkward the situation was. It had been stupid of Mason not to find out who David was before he slept with him. Stupid. Now he had to figure out what to do about the mess he’d got himself into.
Mason wasn't sure he was doing the right thing as he knocked lightly on David's front door later that evening. Half of him hoped David either wouldn't be home or wouldn't hear his tentative knock. But seconds later, the door opened, and he found himself staring at David.
"Can I come in?" he asked, keeping his hands firmly in his jeans pockets. "To talk."
David pushed his glasses up his nose, his expression utterly unreadable as he nodded and wandered back into the house. Mason followed, shutting the door behind him. He couldn't help but gaze at the framed posters and publicity shots that lined the hallway, images that reaffirmed the knowledge that he should have recognised David. But he hadn't, and now everything was a mess.
David led him into the sitting room and sat down on the sofa, gesturing to offer Mason the comfortable-looking armchair opposite. Mason sat and then stood up again, shifting his weight from foot to foot in an action that probably made it look like he had itching powder in his jeans.
"We…" he began, but faltered almost immediately.
David waited, his eyebrows raised ever so slightly.
"What happened last night… It can't happen again," Mason said, hoping he sounded both determined and convincing. They were the words his head needed him to say, but his body had very different ideas.
"Why not?"
David's question took him by surprise. He blinked a couple of times before composing himself enough to speak. "We have to work together."
"So?"
"You're my choreographer."
David shook his head. "I'm still not seeing the problem."
He stood and stepped forward, placing his hands on Mason's hips. It was hard to resist a man who was so sexy and so close. Mason pulled away, trying to keep a clear head.
"It's not right."
"Why not?"
Mason dragged his hands through his hair, staring at David, not sure how the older man could be so laid back. "What if everyone finds out we're sleeping together?"
"What if they do? There's nothing in either of our contracts to say we can't sleep with other members of the company. Dancers sleep with each other all the time."
Mason knew it was true. That was how Adam's parents had got together. Well, how his dad and stepmother had got together, anyway. But that didn't make him feel any better about it. Maybe there was nothing external to stop them being together, but his head told him it was wrong and stupid and would lead to all kinds of trouble. That was why he'd spent the last three and a half years single.
David closed the distance between them and clasped his hands at the small of Mason's back to pull him closer. "I had a really good time yesterday," David said softly. "And I'm not just talking about the sex."
Mason felt his cheeks heat up. He dipped his chin, no longer able to maintain eye contact. "I should have recognised you," he admitted. "As soon as Ms Roth said your name this morning, I knew exactly who you were."
"I'm glad you didn't recognise me last night," David said, dropping his lips to Mason's neck. "Because I get the feeling you'd never have let me fuck you if you had."
At least David was being honest—not that it helped. Mason's head told him to back away, to put some distance between them, but he stood still, all his nerve endings tingling with desire as David kissed his throat.
"We can't," Mason reiterated.
What he was feeling—what they were both feeling—was lust. And lust was a fickle thing; desire could wane or switch at any moment, and he wasn't going to let it ruin either of their careers.
"I saw you dance, you know," he said, still not able to make his feet move to carry him out of the house and away from David.
"You did?" David looked up, curiosity playing across his face. His eyes twinkled behind the lenses of his glasses. "How old were you?"
Mason winced. "You probably don't want to know."
Except that was why he'd brought it up. Their age gap hadn't mattered to him, but David had been more cautious about it. Not very cautious, but maybe it would be enough to convince David that any kind of relationship was a bad idea.
David laughed, which was a lovely sound to hear but did nothing to boost Mason's anaemic desire to leave. Guilt plucked at his gut, making it twist in a sickening manner. Why had he shone a spotlight on the difference in their ages again?
"Tell me," David coaxed.
"Twelve."
"O
uch. Now I really do feel old." David went back to kissing Mason's neck.
Mason groaned, closing his eyes as he tipped his head back to bare more of his throat. This wasn't what was supposed to be happening.
"When you saw me dance…" David murmured between kisses. "Tell me about it."
"My mum won a pair of tickets to the ballet. My dad didn't want to go with her, and neither did any of my sisters, so she took me." Mason hitched in a breath as his cock jerked in response to the attention David was lavishing upon him. "Swan Lake," he recalled. "It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And the premier dancer…" He swallowed hard. "You were amazing as Siegfried. Watching you dance changed my life." He could remember it so clearly. "Which is why I should have recognised you."
"That was my last season," David said, a sad tone in his voice. "I retired from dancing after that."
"I'm glad I got to see you dance." Mason wrapped his arms around David's neck. He needed to leave, but he didn't. "It made me want to."
David stopped kissing him abruptly. Mason opened his eyes, confusion furrowing his brow. This was what he'd wanted—to prove to David that they shouldn't pursue their neighbours-with-benefits agreement—but that didn't stop his heart from aching with disappointment.
David's lips were pursed as he stared at Mason. "You didn't start dancing until you were twelve?"
Mason's stomach sank as he waited for the inevitable round of scoffing that always followed his admission. "Thirteen. After seeing Swan Lake, I pranced around at home so much, my parents gifted me dancing lessons for my birthday. It was a big deal for them. With so many of us, they didn't exactly have a lot of disposable income. But somehow they managed to scrape the money together. When I was sixteen, I cleaned at the dance studio in exchange for tuition, because by then I needed extra lessons."
David was shaking his head in disbelief. "You've only been dancing for…"
"Eleven years."
"Amazing."
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