Hello readers!
This is a real shot in the dark for me. The idea came to me over time, and it was a work in progress for many months. More than a few times, I was tempted to drag it somewhere else, but I stayed true to my original idea.
My biggest worry is the category I'm posting it under. In my mind, it is an interracial love story, albeit developing in a rather uncommon manner. Much of the stuff I've read under this category seems to involve cheating, cuckolds and at times the outright replacement of white men in the bedroom. I'm sorry, if that's what you're looking for, you won't find it in my story, so please just don't read it. No judgment here, just not my cup of tea. It has a romance component as well, but I don't really read much under that category, so I wasn't sure if I was in the literary ballpark there. Hence novels and novellas.
There is reference to gay sex, but it's not the focus of the story's direction. It's relative to my character's development. For any readers who have a professional dance or performing arts background... my apologies for some of liberties I took to shape this story in my direction. Please know, you have my upmost respect!
As usual, I self-edit so please excuse any minor (hopefully) spelling or grammatical errors.
Cheers,
C_T
**
Left Of Center Stage:
"Mr. VonDelburgh!" The lispy, annoyed voice put a heavy accent on mister. "Do you plan to hit your mark, in this century?" The source of disdain was coming from the Art Directors desk, 4
th
row up in the theatre. "Such direction should be beneath a man in your position Mr. VonDelburgh." Arthur, our flamboyantly gay director was flicking his wrists like a medieval diva... it was his trademark.
"Hitting my mark is not an issue Arthur. Having to enter around the hodgepodge of incompetency is the issue." The arrogant fuck looked back at me, casting blame without names.
"I see. Then tell me, Mr. VonDelburgh. Is it also their incompetence that makes you labor so much with the simplest of lifts with Miss Meadows? What does she weigh... oh that's right... 88.9lbs!" Arthur was now standing with his head in his hands, visibly rubbing his temples. Nathan was about to offer another rebuttal, but he got the stop signal as Arthur raised his hand. After a deep, nasal-like breath, he clapped his hands together three times. "I believe a break is required. And if I could be so bold Mr. VonDelburgh... I suggest you find your upper body strength pronto!"
There were a few soft chuckles among the group. Nathan VonDelburgh had stepped on more than a few toes in this company. His arrogance was off-putting as one might say. He wasn't always like this. We both started at this company around the same time, with him coming a few months after I started. He immediately warmed up to me and we became friends... well maybe friends wasn't the right word. But as it is in most dance companies, friends eventually become competitors.
Maybe I should back up a little. Some history of how I got to this point would be prudent. My name is Ashton Carter and I was born and raised in Toronto, Canada. My family had originally come from Nigeria, and I was now part of the fourth generation on Canadian soil. My mama told me what our real last name was years ago, but I was never a fan of looking back. I was young and full of life, living for what the future held for me. In my family unit, I was the youngest of three and the only boy. Like most boys, I was a handful and rightfully received my share of the cane growing up and it was a last-ditch effort from my mom to keep me out of trouble by throwing me in dance classes. Yeah... dance classes. There was no saying no to mama and if I tried, dad was there to see I heeded my mother's will. I was only 12 at the time, but my rep took a colossal hit. 12-year-old black boys who went to dance classes? Not awesome.
Life has a funny way of opening doors for you and showing you the opportunities, it held, and dance was my door. I did it all... jazz, tap, even a little hip hop, but my passion was ballet. Wish you could've seen my daddy's face when he heard me say that! Yeah, I got teased a whole bunch, but it wasn't enough to deter me from what I loved. I had to fight my way through all kinds of insults and situations, the scar above my right eye was proof of that.
At 16, my parents enrolled me in a performing arts school and that's when I really began to blossom. So many people like me, under the same roof, with similar passions... it was incredible. I was also at the age of curiosity... about sex. My home was filled with gender norms, and they were a definite influence on my own choices. I never really came out to my parents. I think they knew but didn't want to know, if that makes sense. You see, I watched my mom and dad fight steadily. I may not have been in the room, but I could hear much of everything. Too many times to count, I heard my dad accuse my mom of cheating and more often than not, she would admit to it. They pretended to patch things up until the next man and it always made me feel bad for my dad. If my momma loved him so, why was she sharing her body with other men?
My sisters were no better of an influence. Brandy, the oldest, loved to twist and manipulate guys just for fun. She was my sister, and she was drop dead gorgeous but mean as Cobra. She once twisted a guy up so bad, he tried to commit suicide. Thankfully he survived and moved on, but you'd think Brandy would re-evaluate her behavior. Sadly, she never skipped a beat.
Tina, the middle child, who was 3 years older than me was the school slut. I got my share of black eyes defending her honor only to realize that, the boys be telling the truth. She was one nasty "take em anyway cum machine" slut. Boys needn't fight over her; she'd just do them all! Just last year the school had to fire the history student teacher. She wanted her grade improved, so she cornered him after class and convinced him to let her blow him. Well, a fellow student walked in and said teacher, lost his career and my sister Tina, got suspended one day. How the fuck does that work?
Women be bitches! Don't get me wrong, they're easy on the eyes, but the drama... the games... the damage they can do... NO THANKS! Now I didn't just decide to be gay. You see, at my new school, sexuality was more fluid than regimented. There were some obvious gay people, and they wanted everyone to know, but the majority were private, accommodating and accepting. Especially in the dance world. Your body was your instrument and every great performer looked after their instrument and always strived to make it better so they could show off. Casual nudity was common in the change rooms, as most of our dance gear did nothing to hide our bodies anyway. But after I turned 18 and into my senior year, I started to realize that I was different than most and for once, it wasn't the color of my skin.
Geoffry, a classmate of mine, pointed out that my cock was huge in comparison to all the other guys. I honestly hadn't picked up on that, but it did explain why so many guys stared at me in the showers. Many of the girls turned red, when I caught them looking at my Lycra covered cock. I was so green, I never put two and two together. Later that night Geoffry gave me my first blowjob and my eyes were opened to the world.
I was worried the next day about how Geoffry would be. I mean he swallowed my sperm twice... that's gotta change your friendship, right? NOPE. We carried on like nothing was different. No awkward moments, no clinginess ... nothing! As the year went on more opportunities with other guys proved that sex didn't have to be manipulative or dirty. Sex with other guys was simple and stress free.
Today I'm 25 and dance with the American Ballet Theater in New York. Some of the stereotypes are correct. There are a lot of gay men in ballet companies, but not all. Some are bisexual and others straight as an arrow. The same could be found through the ballerinas too. It's just here... nobody judges. Good people who have a passion for dance and a passion for love, whatever the form. Sure, there were some assholes... they reside everywhere.
I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I have a bit of a reputation within the company. It doesn't take long when you carry the equipment I do. I didn't use people so much as they used me, but I was getting my rocks off in some world class bums, so I wasn't about to complain. In fact, that was my relationship with Nathan VonDelburgh. He sought me out and I delivered his request. Problem was, he was one of the assholes. He was a drama queen from the start and would squeal like a pig when I fucked him.... No thanks! When I no longer gave him what he needed, we suddenly became competitors and frankly I was good with that. He was the newest Danseur for the company, having successfully succeeded over myself, leaving me as his understudy. Many in the company felt the decision was more optics and politics than pure skill, suggesting dance is no different than anything else in the world run by money.
He was more graceful than I; I'll give him that. Blonde flowing hair, bright blue eyes, he was the definition of eye candy and complimented a Prima like a Danseur should. I, however, was more powerful and taller... perhaps too tall and too dark some would say. My Grand Jete was always featured somewhere in our productions, reaching the height of others' shoulders. It was always a crowd pleaser. I was also a little thicker in the shoulders and depending on the Prima, I could come off looking like a football player. Niomi Meadows, our latest Prima, stands only 5'3" and, as Arthur pointed out, weighs a very light 89lbs. Beside her I would look like a monster. So, I get it. Too bad Nathan had to be a douche. His missing the mark had nothing to do with my placement, it was his timing. Two steps off and everything from that point is compromised. He knows this but prefers to point fingers... especially at me.
