Beautiful Music

Contents

Beautiful Music

By Kathlyn Lammers

Kindle Edition © 2013 by Kathlyn Lammers

All Rights Reserved.

X rated - Not for everyone

www.eroticastories.biz

Beautiful Music

I watched her as she stood there, in the shadows of the wings, waiting for her cue. Rahab had been my best friend for so long. It was she who had sought me out, come to me under the Theatre House, to offer her assistance, her friendship. She had been so young then and yet so fearless. We had spent so many hours and days together, sometimes leaning over the piano, creating both serious and silly tunes, our jet black hair mixing as one head. Sometimes, there was laughter, activity, games and fun. Of course, there were arguments, we had those on occasion. She would be tired from the show, and I from my pursuit of Carol. Then there were yells and screams, tears, and broken objects. And sometimes, there was just the roaring silence of our thoughts as we sat there, perhaps her hand entwined with mine.

I had always thought Rahab was beautiful, even when she first came to me. I had never really thought that about anyone. Carol became intoxicating as her voice became stronger, and Madeline’s dance had captivating me. It couldn’t have mattered less to me what these ladies looked like, but they were beautiful in their own way. Rahab captivated me from the moment I saw her, her raven hair, her violet eyes, and her soul, overflowing with love and compassion.  She won’t ever be a singer, I’ve tried to work with her voice, and she will never be the best dancer out there, but she will always be mine. I tried to love her like I loved Carol, like I loved Madeline, because she would love back. But I couldn’t. I loved her too much to ruin what we have. And, in a way, it’s ok. She can have her friends, her lovers, but Rahab will always be mine. She told me so herself.

She turned back to look at me, only she knew where’d I be, only she could see me there in the shadows. And then, knowing her cue would be awhile yet, she stepped back into darkness, near me.

“It’s cold, Alaric,” she said. I looked at her strangely. Backstage was known for too many bodies perspiring together. But indeed, she did look cold. Her teeth chattered slightly: beneath her stage makeup, she seemed pale, drawn, her cheekbones seemed more noticeable. In a moment of inspiration, I took off my glove, and took her hand. It was like ice, unbelievably so, and I put it to my face. She turned then, hearing a sharp note in the music and I noticed how thin she had become.  She was shuddering, despite all the heat, trembling for pure weakness, and suddenly I understood in all, in a rush of panic. All those times came flooding back to me, and I could have slapped myself. All those times, all those excuses I ate already, I’m not hungry, I’ll eat later, I don’t feel well…I should have seen that they were happening one time too many.

“Reb?” I asked, carefully, not wanting to distract her before the show. “Reb, have you eaten anything today?”

“Not before the show, Alaric,” she replied lightly. “You know I can’t.” And then she flounced off.

***

“Dissapear into the shadows, Alaric, ” Madame Wenton was at his side. “You will be seen.”

“Madame.” Alaric turned his eyes to her in a panic. “Madame, is Rahab… unwell?”

“How so?” Madame Wenton turned to him.

“She isn’t eating. She hasn’t been for a long while now.”

“All ballerinas go through those stages, Alaric. I know the danger signs, and she is not yet there.”

“What do you speak of? Have you looked at her lately?” Fear flooded his mind, which quickly transferred to anger. “Have you not been watching, Madeline? Why does Reb not eat?”

“She wants to be thin.” The chorographer said smoothly. “Thin on stage, thin and beautiful. She thinks that is what will get her far.”

“She was always thin…”

“But she does not see herself as such. We have watched her as we watch them all. Rahab does not have the willpower to starve.”

“You do not know Rahab!” Alaric was frightened now.

“Carol tries the same.”

“Carol….. Carol… Madeline, why do they care so much about how they look? They are so beautiful…” Alaric watched the grace of the dancers with a wishful glance, and Madame Wenton had no choice but to sigh.

“That is what this world is made of,” she looked left and right and then she slipped into the shadows with her, behind the curtain, and he gently drew an arm around her, once again creating the relationship that was so organic and so right neither of them ever thought twice. They would be together when they could and that was all. Who Alaric lusted after didn’t matter, in the end. Together, they watched the dancers, clad in identical pink. “At least we don’t have to worry about Mary.”

“No.” Alaric agreed with a smile, watching the vivacious figure prance across the stage. Mary had always been larger than the other dancers, and it never bothered her. She kept a slim figure, for her bone size, and a healthy diet, and that’s all anyone could ask. Mary Wenton was beautiful as she was, an innocent blond, tall, wide-eyed, with a tiny waist and a large chest. Which she definitely didn’t inherit from her flat-chested mother - Alaric thought with a smile. No, the curves Mary was blessed with came from his side, from his mother, and he had passed them on to his daughter. “Is she keeping up in her studies?”

“When I can tear her and Carol apart. And speaking of studies, Rahab isn’t keeping her average in the sciences.”

Alaric’s eyes gleamed. One of his favorite topics.

“I’ll speak to her.”

They stood there for nearly an hour, watching, holding each other, like a couple who had been married decades, and in a way they had. They discussed their daughter mostly, made small talk, and Alaric was reminded how much he loved this ballerina, who seemed to grow more beautiful each day. No one could replace his first and always love, his first kiss, his first night….

“OWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!! MOM/DADEEEEEEEEEEEEE” They hadn’t been paying enough attention to the stage, and so both caught the end of the “eeee”

“She called you or me?” Madame Wenton asked, tensing in the one moment they had to decide who was going to rescue their daughter, who sat on stage with a turned ankle. Thank God it was only a dress rehearsal.

“You have to finish the show.” Alaric said, looking around quickly. “I’ll get Mary and meet you and Reb downstairs when the show is over.”

“Merci, Alaric.”

“Dernier.” He replied swiftly, and then she was gone. He maneuvered through the stage, reaching down to swoop up Mary. 15 years old and was she ever going to grow up? He sure hoped not.

“Dad?”

“You hope,” He replied sharply, shifting her weight, trying to find a space big enough for the two of them to dart through together. At last, with only a little shoving, and a little praying that his ears would recover from the shrieks, he managed to get off the stage, heading through the corridor and up and down the stairway, snaking through the trap wall in the Cathedral. At last, safe within the walls, he slowed down, allowing Mary to stop whimpering.

“My slipper lace broke…I slipped, Daddy, it wasn’t my fault….” She said, and Alaric looked up at her, as he examined her ankle.

“I’m not mad, Mary. I didn’t blame it on you, did I? Now….” Gently, he fingered the injured limb. “It looks like a strain, nothing more. A few hours of rest and ice will heal it. You should be able to dance tomorrow, if you are careful and wear proper shoes…Not like Rahab’s boots….” He muttered, half to himself, as he remembered that Del had plans to go out in high heels for lunch tomorrow. “Do you want to come down or shall I just take you to the dorms?”

Mary paused a second, looking down the dark corridor, and then up at the huge figure of her father.

“I’ll come down. Mom’s coming soon right?”

“After the show, as soon as she can…Come,” he picked her up again, carrying her almost like he had the first day she was born into this world. He allowed a small smile to escape his lips as they walked. Mary had looked to him for comfort in the dark. And she should. Nothing was going to hurt her when Alaric was around. Through the dark corners, the murky water, and the death traps, Mary was safe with her father.

***

“Jama mon M. Fermier!”Those were Rahab’s opening words as she and Madame Wenton came down after the show. Being a gypsy, Rahab spoke a language that both the adults picked up so they could understand her when she was angry.

“He’s just doing to his job,”

“He doesn’t know what his job is!”Rahab was angry, and it was obvious. And she turned away. Madame Wenton turned to her daughter, who was seated at the piano bench, a plate of food on her lap.

“How are you doing, Mary?”

“Daddy said I could dance tomorrow.”

“Ah,” With a slight glance at Alaric, who was comforting Rahab, Madame Wenton advance towards to her. “Well, Daddy doesn’t know everything about dancing…” She bent down to check to injured limb, relieved to find it was already returned to normal size. “However, this time, I can allow him to be right.”

“Pardon?” Alaric turned with a half smile.

“Mommy said you don’t know anything.” Mary said with a grin, and the Madame blushed.

“Hush. Rahab, could you take Mary upstairs? I’ll be up shortly….”

“If I don’t drown myself in the lake first, “Ahab said, bitterly. Alaric tried to smile at her.

“We will talk later, Rahab. Go on.”

It took awhile for the girls to leave, but when they did, there was a comfortable silence.

“Daddy doesn’t know anything?” Alaric repeated with a grin, going to pick up the plate Mary left. The Madame shrugged.

“I just wanted to make sure she really was alright to dance tomorrow.” Madame Wenton stretched her legs, legs that had known nothing but dance since she was nine. Alaric watched in admiration. Even now, she still took his breath away.

“She should be,” Alaric reached out for her. “One day, Madeline, I shall write a great Theatre. And Mary and Rahab will dance the lead, Carol will sing angelically, and even you shall have a part.”

“Don’t you write a part for me, Alaric,” she twisted out of his hold. “My days at the stage are over. I had my rein once.”

“I remember,” he said, almost dreamily. “Those were the days.”

“And I am older than you, you forget,” she said. “I no longer wish it, Alaric, please.”

“You were not too old to give me such a beautiful daughter,” he said

“That was 15 years ago,” she shook her head.  “I must go to the girls, now. I’ll return when I can.”

And then she was gone, leaving Alaric alone.

It was funny how the people he loved most in life knew his worst. Madeline had been the one to rescue him from a life of pain and torture. Mary knew how cynical and depressed he was. And Rahab herself was a gypsy, an offspring of the very band that had once captured him. And yet he wondered many things about the past. Was his mother still alive? Was his Madeline still young enough to give him another daughter? What did Rahab indulge herself in with those band of gypsies? She had started too young at so many things. The once and only time he had slept with her, out of animal lust , he had found her not a virgin.

He remembered it clearly, that night burned into his memory. They had gone out, celebrating her acceptance into university. Stumbling home after the clubs, they fell into bed, their mouths devouring each other.

He remembered tasting every inch of her, feeling the toned body from years and years of dancing. He ran his hands up and down her legs, over her arms and flat stomach, until she pushed him aside, a devilish grin on her face as she rolled on top of him. Undoing his belt with a practiced hand, and pulling out his manhood, she guided him towards her slit with ease. He needed no encouragement, slipping inside and groaning.

***

Their screams had filled the night as she rode him to completion, again and then again, barely sleeping as he spilled his seed and then rolled her own to return the favor, long fingers making her nearly explode in pleasure.

And when the dawn came, the harsh light he felt guilt and torn- she was not his fantasy, nor the mother of his child, but she was his Rahab…and why would he want more when she was so willing?

***

There were rare nights that Alaric got to spend with his “Family”. He very rarely slept with his prima donna curled up in his arms, and she even less allowed it. But after the show the next night, Rahab was invited out with her fiancé, and such, so it was left that the only girls left in the dormitories were the older ones who didn’t need supervision. And so, the mother and daughter came down for a home cooked meal, and a quiet place to rest.

“I passed my mathematics test,” Mary said when she got down, flouncing around her father’s home like she owned it. “It was marked so elegantly, though, in red calligraphy.”

“That’s because I had your father them for me, this time” Madame Wenton said, as she set the elegant table. Mary turned around with a grin. Alaric matched it.

“You were very strong in most areas, Mary.”

“Daddy!” She whined at the use of her full name. He smiled, enjoying teasing her. This was indeed going to be a fun night. He liked hearing Mary call him “Dad”, like the gentle humorous attitude that they always carried.

***

“Mommy! Daddy!” This however, was something he did not enjoy. Being awakened at near dawn, when he and Madame Wenton had just fallen asleep an hour earlier after talking all night.

“Mary?” he sat up blearily, rubbing his face. Beside him, Madeline sat up as well. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t move my foot,” she whimpered. “I can’t sleep, it hurts.”

Madame Wenton reacted first, recognizing the signs.

“Come here, Mary,” she said, pulling her onto the bed, and turning her around to check her foot. Both gasped. Mary’s ankle was swelled more than double its normal size, black and blue, and filled with water. Alaric drew back, looking at her mother.

“It’s 5:30 in the morning. What do you want to do?”