I was unsure where to place this piece because although I wrote it by way of poetry it held no guideline to poetry whatsoever but neither had it by way of short-story or any other genre. So I decided to leave it in the short-story genre.
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She was a young lass, beautiful and fey, lithe and very much the sylph whilst she swayed to and fro to the ivory keys and arpeggios that filled the chamber - She was but a waitress aspiring to become the greatest of dancers – Free and unchained in this world she sought to be. A unity of utter elation and bliss, magnificent euphoria. Clean and perfect whilst that passion for Baryshnikov showed within her step, that longing to become something she had wished as she threw herself into the routine of the allegro.

She was but a young lass seeking to better herself and reach for that which was just beyond her sights whilst a lad with such heady infatuation had promised such dreams for her, such high hopes whilst he pressed the ivory keys and his foot had nestled upon the pedal. Such dreams he had encouraged within her as curled fingertips stroked the keys of that finely tuned instrument that had settled before him.

It had seemed days had turned to weeks and weeks to months when he had scowled lest his passion make a slave of him yet no longer could he hold it when she bared herself to him within her dance, that utter and overbearingly searing emotion of dance as she had performed her arabesque flawlessly, leaving him stunned and in awe when the sun caught upon her sable tresses and graced her flesh.

He had averted his gaze lest he lose himself within her and lest he find himself entertaining thoughts that would soil her and bury the seed that would one day be the product of their union. Nay, he would not allow his passion to overwhelm him. He wouldn't allow that heady pleasure that he found when looking upon her settle within his senses and blind him. But speaking of such things would always be much easier than acting them out. She was much too tempting. She the siren and he her sailor.

Magnificent she was when she had swayed to and fro within his grasp as they had clasped to one another as young lovers would. Aye, he would oft recall that day when he had held her for the first time with his hands clasping her shoulders and his chest crushing her breast whilst his mouth caught her own to drink of her sweet ambrosia. Her voice cried out in oh so sweet clarity when he had stroked his fingertips, hands curled along subtle curves.

Her scent was overwhelming – She was his intoxicant and he had lost himself within her very being as he recalled the taste of mouth, flesh, breast and hand. The scent of her hair, skin and breath and even the feel and set of that long slender column of her throat, shoulders and waist. Those subtle curves ever tempting and the softness of her mouth alluring. The euphoria and elation that had come with such was overbearing and utter blissful as they had sung their song in unity and collapsed together in a mingling of limbs as they had come down from their high to settle against one another in a soft harmony of heavy breaths. Hands brushing, touching ever so softly and ever exploring that flesh that had thrummed with new found life in the wake of callused hands. She was a mewling cat there underneath his touch, content as she could ever be with naught else to ask for.

“My heart is yours,” he had whispered his soft confession fervently against her ear and she had shivered visibly throughout before gazing upward upon him with that pleasantly breathless smile that had come from coupling. “And mine yours.” She had murmured huskily, eyes warm with fondness whilst they lay within one another's arms with noses brushing over one another, brow to brow and breath coming quick as their glistening forms nestled and pressed. Their scent mingling. They chased away the cold and darkness in which surrounded them when naught else but the moonlight spilled forth from the parted drapery to touch their joined bodies.

Her mouth had raised with reluctance from his having buried against his chest and heeding the beat of his heart and had come closer. Her breath had made him shiver when it rolled upon his naked skin when lips had barely touched in her wake of shifting. Lips parting, mouth ajar as his tongue tasted her scent and eyes rolled, half lidded and head lolled to her inviting mouth as it had graced his ear. Her voice came husky and pitched low for his ears only to murmur that soft sweet nothing.

“What would tomorrow be without you?”

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