Truly Juliet

But there was a problem.

"She's too short," Michael complained. "Or I'm too tall, whichever way you like to look at it. The school knew this would happen. That's why they told me I wouldn't be able to join the company. They want girls who aren't too tall, so the men can't be either. I don't have this problem in the States."

He paused, and a far away look came into his eyes.

"There was one girl though," he continued, remembering. "We were at school together for five years. She was the tallest girl there. I guess that's why we were partnered."

He smiled at the memory of two young people who had a complete rapport when dancing together. Then he snapped out of it.

"Come on, let's get back to work."

Rehearsals progressed steadily and the day of the first performance was fast approaching, but a chill wind blew through the ranks of the company. There was a feeling of disappointment. Michael Hurst, great dancer though he might be, had proved to be very cold and distant. Since his arrival in London he had shown no interest whatsoever in the other members of the company. He was rarely seen outside the rehearsal room and didn't socialise. In fact, he spoke to no-one except those directly concerned with his performance. There was an air of hostility between him and everyone else.

Joanne hadn't seen him, except as a fleeting figure walking quickly along a corridor. She wondered if he was deliberately avoiding her, then realised, sadly, that he probably didn't even know she existed. He had completely forgotten her.

One evening, long after everyone else had gone, Joanne was alone in the rehearsal studio. With the aid of a tape recording of her music, she was practising her solos. This was the biggest chance she'd had for a long time and she had no intention of making a mess of it. Deep in concentration, she moved gracefully around to the music, beginning to feel as if she might just be Juliet. She began to enter into the spirit of a 14 year-old girl.

Suddenly she became aware of a figure in the doorway and stopped dancing.

"Bravo."

It was Michael Hurst.

They stood gazing at each other in silence. The tape continued playing the sweepingly romantic dance of Romeo and Juliet. Without a word Michael took off his jacket and began to move as if he was a young Italian lover come courting. Hesitating only momentarily, Joanne joined him and together in the rehearsal room they danced one of the most romantic duets in ballet.

He swept her into his arms, lifted her high and held her close. There was magic in every movement and an unmistakable feeling of passion. As the last bars of the music faded away, Juliet was back on her balcony and Romeo bade her farewell as he went off. Michael picked up his coat and left.

For a moment Joanne was unable to believe what had happened. She ran to the door and looked out into the corridor. It was empty; there was no sign of him.

Joanne hadn't cried over him for many years but now, leaning against the door, her tears were falling for the second time in a few weeks.

The full house received the performance rapturously and the following morning the papers were full of praise. The only points of criticism were the disparate heights of Michael Hurst and Michelle Hinton and the slight lack of ardour. Otherwise it was a marvellous rendition of one of the best ballets in the repertoire and one to cherish for all time.

There was little excitement when Joanne danced the role with her partner. It was a good house, though not full, and the applause was more polite than ecstatic. Hardly any critics were witness to the performance so there would be very little in the papers. All the attention and all the publicity centred on the Hurst/Hinton partnership. Since that night in the rehearsal room Joanne hadn't seen Michael except in a crowd.

She was also coming to realise now that her career as a dancer was over. It had never been anything more than a damp squib, and now it had fizzled out. As for any vague thoughts she might have had about making a home with Michael, they were just girlish dreams that fade away with time.

She put out the dressing-room lights and went towards the stage door.

"This has been left for you, Miss Keane." The stage-door keeper was holding out a single flower.

"Is there a note?"

"No, miss."

"Who left it?"

"Don't know, miss. One minute there was nothing, I turned me back, and then it was there. Funny, if you ask me. Maybe you should have someone see you home. You can never tell these days. There's a lot of strange people around."

"I'll be all right. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Miss Keane."

Joanne took the flower back to her flat and set it beside her bed. She fell asleep wondering who might have given it to her. One name kept recurring to her, but it seemed too unlikely; nevertheless, Michael Hurst haunted her dreams that night.

The following week Michelle Hinton landed awkwardly in one of her dances towards the end of the ballet. She struggled through the remainder of the performance, but she was obviously in pain and next day the doctor declared that she wouldn't be able to dance for at least a month. A replacement had to be quickly found and word had it that another of the youngest dancers would be chosen. When Joanne was summoned to the office and offered the chance to partner Michael she was as surprised as anyone.

"It seems Mr Hurst refuses to dance opposite anyone but you," said the administrator with a sigh. It was obvious he disapproved, but was powerless to do anything about it. Michael was proving as rebellious against authority as he had been at school.

They had time for only two rehearsals before their performance. Michael barely spoke a word to Joanne, and then only to comment on the difficulties of the choreography. They were dancing well together, but that essential rapport was missing. There was a general shaking of heads. Joanne was obviously secondary to Michelle.

On the night of the performance Joanne found another single flower in her dressing-room. There was no note. It was a full house and as the lights faded there was a hush of expectation. The first notes of the ballet started and the curtain rose on a Verona street. Standing at the side of the stage, waiitng for her first entrance, Joanne felt strangely calm. She'd expected to be nervous almost to the point of sickness, but there was nothing but a kind of inner peace.

When the ballroom scene began, she went on with the excitement of a young girl at her first dance; a young girl who was going to meet her lover for the first time. Juliet saw Romeo across the crowded room and time stopped as they went towards each other. The audience held its breath. There was the magic of love in the air. From that moment it was clear the new partnership was a stunning success. They weren't two strangers dancing with each other, but lovers, revealing all the passion, joy and sadness that goes with love.

The curtain fell at the end and, after a few moments of silence, thunderous applause rang round the darkened auditorium. The curtain rose and fell several times; the two principals came to stand at the centre of the stage, and still the audience cheered. It seemed as if they would never stop, as the flowers rained down onto the stage.

Michael bent down and picked up one solitary flower which he presented to Joanne. Then, in front of two thousand people, he kissed her.

The audience went wild, as did the rest of the ballet company. The Press Representaive, Ray Sheldon, rubbed his hands in glee.

"This'll make the front page of every paper.! A real life Romeo and Juliet. And what dancing! This will be the best partnership since Nureyev and Fontaine."

Joanne went back to her dressing-room with the applause still ringing in her ears. She could still feel the touch of Michael's lips upon hers. Everything had happened so fast she was completely dazed. Perhaps it was a dream and soon she'd wake up in her bed.ood But everything seemed real enough as people clamoured around her, offering their congratulations; and she still had the flower.

"Has Mr Hurst gone?"

"Yes, Miss Keane," the stage door-keeper told her sympathetically. "About half an hour ago."

"Oh. Did he leave a message?"

"No, miss."

"I see." She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice, but failed miserably. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, miss."

Harry shook his head sadly as he watched her sign a few autographs for people waiting outside, then walk away from the theatre, a lonely figure with the collar of her coat turned up against the cold and rain.

The following performances of 'Romeo and Juliet' went smoothly enough and all were received with a standing ovation, but somehow the vital spark that had turned into a blaze on the first night was missing. It was as if Michael was holding himself in check emotionally. He didn't kiss Joanne again and, though he handed her a flower at the end of each performance, it was an automatic gesture to please the audience.

The press and the public were all clamouring for Michael to stay on this side of the Atlantic and create a true and long-lasting partnership with Joanne. However, it seemed as if their wishes would be ignored. The date for his departure was set.

On the last night the electricity was back. Love and passion flowed across the stage between the two dancers. When Michael lifted Joanne high in a pas de deux then slowly set her down, there was longing and desire in every movement. At the curtain call Michael once more took Joanne in his arms and kissed her to roars of approval from the crowd.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear and held her tight.

It was 20 minutes before they were released by the audience and Michael took Joanne back to her dressing-room. They embraced and kissed again.

As if in a dream, the two left the theatre, slipping out through a side door to avoid the waiting fans, and made their way to a cosy, quiet restaurant with subdued lighting and soft music.

"I want to explain everything to you," said Michael. "About my behaviour."

"I didn't know what to think when you came back. I hadn't heard from you in all these years."

"I know, but I've never forgotten you."

"And yet you didn't write," Joanne said, recalling the painful years of silence.

"I've never been much for writing letters." He groaned. "That's a devil of an excuse, isn't it? I was too wrapped up in myself and my career, if the truth be known."

"Why not? You've been very successful."

"And very lonely. I didn't realise how lonely until I came back here and met you again. It suddenly came to me that I was in love with you all those years ago. That night when I saw you practising, I knew what I'd been missing."

"But one minute you seemed to care, then the next you were cold and distant."

"That's what I wanted to explain." He hesitated; "I didn't want to get involved."

Joanne suddenly realised the significance of Michael's answer. "You're married!" She didn't want to lose him now he was back in her life.

He laughed. "Good Lord, no! At least, not now. I'm divorced."

"Oh."

"She was the Artistic Director of the Youth Ballet. More than twice my age -- at least. I was only eighteen when she asked me to marry her."

"She asked you?"

He laughed ruefully. "Yes. You might say she wasn't slow in coming forward. I was her toy boy. It made me king of the world, of course. Very impressionable. Lots of money, good sex.....I'm sorry, but I'm pretty experienced. There were a few others after the divorce -- nearer my age."

"I'm....I'm not a virgin."

"Of course not, why on earth should you be? I wouldn't expect it."

"If you're not married, then why....?"

"Why play hard to get? I couldn't offer you much of a life. For the past 15 years I've lived out of a suitcase, moving from one place to the next. Just recently it seems to have been getting worse. Then there was your career to think about."

"That never really got started. I'm not bad technically, but I'm a very unexciting dancer."

"Not judging by your performance as Juliet."

"That's because I was dancing with you."

Michael took hold of her hand.

"I can ask you to marry me now, Joanne. I've just been offered a contract with the Royal Ballet. Principal Dancer and a chance as a choreographer. I'll be able to settle down and make a home for myself and my wife. That is, if you'll have me."

"You and nobody else," said Joanne softly.

They were married in St. Paul's Church, Covent Garden, which was packed to the gills with performers and fans. After taking their vows they walked down the aisle to the strains of Prokofiev's Love Duet from 'Romeo and Juliet'.

By a mutual, unspoken agreement they had not been intimate, preserving that pleasure for after they were married. Now they lay together relishing the feel of their bare flesh against each other. He gently stroked up and down the length of her back, his fingers lightly brushing her skin. Little tingles of ecstasy coursed through her. She trembled.

"Are you cold?" Michael enquired. "Perhaps you should put on a nightdress."

"No, no!" Joanne protested. "I'm not cold, it's just......"

"Just what?"

"It's so arousing being close to you."

She could feel him hardening against her thigh and unthinkingly parted her legs slightly, ready to take him into her. She had lain awake at night so often thinking about such a moment, but never expecting it to arrive. Robert had been a mistake that she now regretted. Her first time should have been here and now, married to the man she had loved, it seemed, all her life.

Her nipples were little hard buds pressing against his chest. He was muscular and solid. Male ballet dancers were often categorised as soft weaklings, but that was a fallacy. To lift a woman weighing 120 pounds and hold her above his head, or on his shoulder so she may fall and be caught in a fish dive requires strength and coordination. Michael was all that. When she was high in the air balanced on one hand she felt safe.

He gently turned her on onto her back and lay on top of her, his knees pushing her legs apart. His cock caressed her vagina and the lips opened. She relished every moment as her warmth engulfed him and felt her juices flowing. He pushed in and out, gradually building up the rhythm and going ever deeper until she had taken all of him. He paused for a moment and then resumed pumping, faster and faster.

They came together and her vagina was filled with his semen.

"Aaaah!" It was a long, satisfied sigh.

Joanne remembered the first time she'd seen Michael, when they were only eleven. It had taken a long time, but Romeo and Juliet were finally together.