We collectively take a deep breath as we fix our clothes to return to the best dressed. “That was just a preview of coming attractions, Viper.”
“No pun intended, right?”
Dylan
I know it sounds corny, but I feel like a young child at Christmas. From the moment we’re inside the doorway, my head is on a swivel. This stage is one of the oldest in New York City. Even looking at the painted walls and ceilings and admiring the gold chandeliers and etchings is an experience on its own.
Eli doesn’t say much; however I can feel his eyes. There are some friends of his father’s in attendance tonight as well. We greet them in the mezzanine before heading down the aisle to find our seats. As promised, we’re in the eighth-row center. Eli offers to let me sit on the aisle so I have a better view and can move around to see things if I wish. My whole body shivers as I wait for the performance to begin. My husband makes sure my leather jacket is secure around my shoulders before leaning in.
“Feeling warmer?”
“Some. I’m just excited.” Eli’s hand slides protectively across my lap to my outer thigh. He lets the fingers dance across my skin ever so slightly. In turn, I slide my hand into his lap under the cover of his open tuxedo jacket. “Turnabout is fair play, Goose.”
We play a bit of chicken with our stares until the orchestra begins to play. I don’t instantly recognize the piece. It mixes quickly with shades of light and dark. Slowly the larger-than-life red velvet drapes open exposing the stage, the wings, and the prima ballerina who has taken the center in a dull white light.
She is covered by a pale pink costume, so pale you’d swear it was white. The skirt floats off her hips to halfway down her calves. She circles the stage to the opening measures until she meets her mark. The violins cue her movement. She curves her spine until her knuckles nearly graze the floor, extending back so her fingers reach the sky.
They float back down to balance what I have to say is the most beautiful arabesque I’ve ever seen. The dancer goes slightly past center before she pops back down, spinning her way to pointe. She retreats into a series of backpedals and turns to greet every corner of the stage. Her body rotates in a combination of patterns on the ground in a way I can only describe as delicately animalistic.
I can feel Eli’s hand contract and release over my skin. I think it is his silent way of reminding me to breathe. I’m so mesmerized by what I see I think he will have to remind me often.
I’m trying to remember every detail of her shape. What do her fingers look like? Where is her chin pointed? How is her body arched? I need to commit every bit of choreography to memory so I can try things myself later. The thing I also say to myself is, on a different path this could have been me.
I don’t want the little ounce of longing, I can’t even call it regret, play into this moment. I’m here with the man I love more than anything, watching the thing I love more than anything. He’s as invested as I am. He’s seeing everything through my eyes. It’s an amazing thing to have someone by your side who completely revels in your successes, dreams, and passions simply because it’s part of who you are and makes you whole.
As this stunning woman continues her story through her body, across the entire stage from back to front, side to side, she’s taking me along with her and she doesn’t even know it. Every stretch through her toes, every back walk over to the floor, every caress of the air is pulling me into her story. I’m beyond lucky to be in this room and having this experience.
During intermission, I’m finding it hard to have any words. I’ve fallen inside myself just reliving act one over in my mind. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking, Viper?”
“I think I can. I’ll try.” My eyes are staring at the stage. They can’t leave it for some reason. “I don’t know if you fully understand what it’s like for me to watch dancing like this. I grew up wanting it. I trained and trained for most of my life to be just like her. I know I still can be like her. With rehearsal time, I could achieve this.
“The other side of it is in some ways, now, just knowing I can is enough. I’ve never shared this deep part of me with someone. My parents would take me to see whatever performance was coming into town. When I was little, I knew I couldn’t show them how much it meant to me because they wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t make me feel bad about it or anything. They just didn’t feel it like I do.
“I realized, sitting here with you, you get it. Even though I was totally focused on what was going on in front of me, I knew you were watching me. I could feel it. I could sense it. You want to live it like I am.” I angle my body in my seat so my knees graze against his. “You get it. Because you love me, you get it. Thank you, Eli. Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for getting it.”
Before Eli is able to respond, the lights flicker, signaling the performance is resuming in less than a minute. Everyone is filing back to their seats, but it might as well be only the two of us in the auditorium. The corner of his mouth turns up in the most beautiful half smile.
The hand that’s rested on my thigh remains there, only it grips me harder. He takes my other hand, the one between us, and raises it to his lips. His eyes are so filled with admiration, honesty, and love. As the music starts, I find it hard to break away from him, so I don’t.
I nestle in as close as I can, even with the seat arm between us. This act is the polar opposite of the first. The first was ethereal, magical, light and shade. This act is dark, sexy, and if I’m honest, the minute the first turn is made, it feels like sex in movement.
This time, instead of it being a female soloist, there is a duet between a man and a woman. They are dressed so sheer you’d swear they were naked. At first, they don’t touch. It’s the cat and mouse game. The push and pull. Instantly Eli and I both sit a little straighter. Our necks aren’t craning to see what is happening. The choreography leaves them right in our line of sight. It’s almost as if the story they’re telling is for us and us alone.
The male lead pulls her into his body. She shields herself with her hands as her head rolls toward him. Every hand that he places on her is soft, yet firm with clear intent and purpose. His movement is showing his love and lust for her, and she is showing she is willing to receive them.
Every position they make together is like one you could use in making love. She is often on pointe with her leg wrapped high at his waist. My mind races back to the first night I met Eli. Even in sneakers, my leg was as high on his hip. If I close my eyes, I can still feel that touch.
Eli’s hand, which has been steady on my mid-thigh all evening, has now begun to move. At first, he begins to stroke the soft skin behind my kneecap. Then within what feels like a few seconds, he takes a slow journey north until his hand nearly disappears beneath the ruffled skirt of my dress.
He carefully shifts the heel of his palm back against the apex of my crossed legs and forces them to no longer be crossed. I take a deep breath and exhale as I retreat to a cross at my ankles. His breathing has changed too. It’s no longer steady and even like when we yoga together. He’s provoking me for his pleasure and mine. I leave a subtle gap between my thighs as his fingers move under cover of darkness. I also sense he’s waiting for his Viper to strike.