by Linnea May
The end of a season always overwhelms me with a wide range of conflicting emotions. It's a relief on one hand, because it means that I will have more time for myself and can - theoretically - take things a little slower. I always gain a little weight during off-season, which is okay with me because my body always bounces back to stage weight once I start preparing for the next season. Besides, it's one of the perks of not being in-season to indulge a little. Not on alcohol, though, that's for sure.
But I'll also miss it. The stress, the bond that grows between the corps as we spend even more time together than we usually do, all of us working on the same goal - making this performance a success. Most of the other girls will still be there next season, but not all of them. The lineup changes every year, especially as some of us seek out other opportunities with other companies.
"You have anything fun planned?" Isabella asks me, as we meander to the dressing room.
I shake my head. "Not really. I don't have enough savings to travel."
She sighs. "Yeah, me neither. But I might lock myself in for a week of binge-watching TV shows or something."
"That sounds glorious," I joke.
She grins at me. "I know, right?"
"Are you going to do some touring with the company?" I ask. "I thought you were."
Isabella nods. "Yeah, I am going to. You're not?"
I shake my head, trying not to let it show how much this disappoints me. I know they don't necessarily ask everybody to join, but it was something I had been hoping for, especially after doing so well during this Swan Lake season. Money is always tight, but it gets worse during off-season. I can still consider myself lucky because I'm part of a big company, an opportunity that comes with its own perks, but it also means that getting up in rank is all that much harder because the competition is more fierce than it would be in a smaller ballet company.
Isabella is proof of that. We started at the same time and we're the same age, but she not only has that little bit of extra talent, but also the physique to surpass me when it comes to casting. She's only a small step away from stepping up in rank and becoming a soloist, and I know she has what it takes to make it all the way up to principal.
Me, however... I might have to be content with remaining in the corps for the rest of my career, even though I really don't want that. The fact that Isabella will be touring during off-season while I'm not is disheartening, and only solidifies my pessimistic outlook.
I have to think of Lux and what he said about me wanting to become famous. I'm certainly not a limelight hog, but I do want the spotlight, those wonderful lead roles, the rank of a principal dancer, the only ones who can really call themselves ballerinas.
But it may never happen for me.
While peeling myself out of my swan costume for the last time this season, I find myself dwelling in sad thoughts about everything that I've missed out on because I've been chasing this dream. A healthy and long-lasting relationship is one of those things, and just a while ago, I might have said that my daring dating adventures were fun, but now I feel the desire for something real growing inside of me.
Is it just because of him? It can't be. I've decided that the smart thing to do is to keep my distance from Lux. He's an ex-convict, and while his bad boy attitude is exactly what drew me to him in the first place, I vowed to myself that I should no longer seek this kind of thrill.
He screams danger, not only because of his criminal past, which I'm sure he's only told me the smallest bit about. His domineering nature is what scares me the most. It's a delicious fright, something I know I crave. My body has won over my mind several times when I was with him because of the things he did to me. The way he looks at me, the way his voice changes when he commands me to do things to please him, the way my core pulses with need every time he does it - it's all so very alluring, tempting like a dangerous drug.
I know that he wants to do more, and now that the season is over, I don't have to be as careful as before, at least in regards to leaving marks that would have shown through my pure white costume. A part of me wants to tell him. I want to tell him that now he can do whatever he wants with me, I want to experience all the things we missed out on so far because we had to be careful. I yearn for it.
But what if things go too far? What if he loses himself and does more to me than just leave a few marks on my pale skin?
We haven't seen each other since I stayed over that night, and then the next morning eating breakfast completely naked because that is what he ordered me to do. I blush as I recall the feeling of the leather fabric on my naked behind, my core tingling with anticipation while we ate, his eyes hungrily taking in my entire body. His gaze was so intense that it felt as if he was actually touching me. It's enough for me to get excited and aroused, waiting and hoping for him to lay his experienced hands on me.
That morning ended with him telling me to scoot backwards until my ass was jutting over the edge of the seat, making my sex accessible for him, while he stood behind me, fucking me roughly with his massive cock. I held on to the counter as he drove into me, glowing with heat as my cheeks blushed in shame at my own arousal in response to his controlling demeanor.
Even now, my heart is racing and my core throbbing with need as I remember that morning - or any encounter with him.
So, he may not be great boyfriend material. And yes, I should be careful and shield myself emotionally from him.
But he's still by far the greatest sex I've had in my entire life. And I want more of it.
Especially now.
Despite the somber mood that comes with the last curtain of the season, I cannot help but smile when I get out of my graceful swan costume and begin to remove the pins from my feathery headpiece.
There's room for a different me now.
Chapter XXII
Lux
"Another one?" I groan when my secretary Emily enters my office, cowering as if she's the one who's causing me this much of a headache. I almost feel sorry for her. She's merely the messenger of bad news, but that also makes her the person who's confronted with my rage first whenever things don't go the way I want them to.
And lately, this has all too often been the case.
"I'm sorry," she says, casting me a consoling look as she places another letter on my desk that has an attorney's address listed as the sender.
"This is not our God damn problem," I hiss, reaching for the letter, even though I know what it says. "It's time for our clients to understand that. Why do they keep sending that shit our way? We have a clear disclaimer, freeing us from any responsibility when they get in trouble."
"I know, sir," Emily replies, still cowering like a little school girl, even though she's several years my senior. "That's what I tell them when they call. I think they're just helpless and overwhelmed. Being sued is a scary thing, especially for small companies."
"You don't say," I mumble without looking at her. I know very well what it feels like when the damn law comes after you. That's exactly why these attorney letters bother me so much. I've been trying to avoid all of this shit, I've been careful, doing the God damn right thing, being professional and safe about our work, just like I was told to do. All my company does is provide loopholes for other companies and improve their security systems to make them less prone to hacker attacks. Yes, we do sometimes circumvent regulations, but bending the rules is not breaking them. Nothing we do is illegal, and we have secured ourselves from any consequences that may arise when our clients take advantage of the systems we created for them. This is clearly stated in their contracts.
Yet I have to deal with more and more of these attorney letters. Frightened clients are forwarding them to me – they’ve done something unscrupulous or illegal and gotten caught, but then they don’t know how to handle the ramifications of their dubious actions that they thought were going to be hidden behind the shield of our system.
It doesn't endanger our own operation, but it is a nuisance that costs me a lot of time and
sometimes money. Some of these cases may lead to us having to appear in court, which of course is something I'd like to avoid by all means.
Why do I even bother with this? Why do the good thing, when it's not only less lucrative but also so much more tedious than breaking the rules and doing my own thing?
Max doesn't get it either. He's ridiculed me more than once for doing this, and I'm beginning to think he's right. He's running a new operation all by himself, making more and a quicker profit than I am with my legit business, and - most importantly - enjoying himself while he does it.
Those were good times. Working in the shadows, not only breaking the rules but standing above them, taking advantage of a system that leads others to screw up and make bad decisions when they try to circumvent it - that's me. I loved working with the boys, and I despise the spic and span perfection that comes with slowed down progress of honest business.
"You know what to do," I tell Emily, who's still standing on the other side of my desk. "Give them the usual reply, make a note in the client's file and let me fill out the rest after the weekend. I'm going home for the day."
Her eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, already?"
It's only 4:00 p.m., so she has every reason to be surprised because I never leave my office before 6:00 p.m., but I have plans for tonight, plans that involve a particularly slender swan who needs to be wrapped around my cock and handled in a way I couldn't have her before. When Sara texted to let me know that she'd like to see me again, she mentioned that her ballet season was over, and I'm pretty sure she has a good reason for mentioning that. There are things I can do to her now that I couldn't do before, and I'm not missing out on that chance.
My pretty little fuck toy will get what she needs, and I want to take my time with her without risking another sleepover in the same bed. I'm not passing out next to her tonight, but I will leave my marks on the canvas that is her perfect porcelain skin.
She'd hate the idea of me working together with Max again, but she will never know about it. Besides, why should I even worry about what she might think? I shouldn't, and I don't. This is none of her business.
All she needs to worry about is what we will do tonight.
Tonight, she'll dance just for me.
Chapter XXIII
Sara
"I'm glad you're enjoying your food," he remarks, sending me a little smirk across the table.
Tonight is all about me getting wined, dined and fucked, he said. We're still in the middle of the wining and dining part, and I'm digging in like I never would during ballet season. This is is one of the perks of off-season, and it's not uncommon for us dancers to become "fat and lazy," as Isabella once put it. Of course, that isn't entirely true for the lucky girls who will be touring, but for me it certainly is, to a certain degree.
However, I've never been to as fancy of a place as this one. I know Lux is swimming in money and this is nothing new to him, but I still feel a bit weird about being taken to such a luxurious restaurant. I'm wearing one of my fanciest and most expensive dresses because I knew he'd take me out tonight to somewhere special, but I still feel horribly underdressed, especially in comparison to him.
I'm wearing a cute navy blue cocktail dress that I bought on clearance, whereas he's dressed to the nines in a custom-tailored, dark gray suit that hugs his broad shoulders perfectly, the fabric stretching just so over his muscular arms when he reaches for the bottle of wine to top off my glass. We're at an Italian place, and the Calzone I ordered looks like it's the size of my head. I don't even want to think about the nutrient value of the rich Ricotta filling, so I won't. This tastes too good to spoil it by thinking about the ramifications of eating this much. I will still hold back, but for other reasons. Our evening is only beginning, after all.
"It's amazing," I tell him, nodding toward the plate in front of me. "Best Calzone I ever had."
"Do ballerinas ever eat Calzone?" he muses.
I huff. "Did I not tell you before? It's a common misconception that we don't eat well. Sure, we have to watch our weight, but because we work out so hard, we need a lot more calories than you'd think."
"Of course," he says. "Fuel the machine."
His attention returns to his pasta, and he absentmindedly curls some spaghetti around his fork, twisting it into the perfect twist using his spoon as the base. Something is bothering him tonight, I can tell. He's occupied and withdrawn, and hardly seems to look at me, which is very unusual.
"How is yours?" I ask, desperately attempting to keep the conversation alive, even though it never really got going tonight.
He looks at me, pursing his lips as he nods his head from one side to the other.
"Decent," he says. "Nothing special."
"Do you come here often?"
He nods. "It's very popular for business meetings."
A question lingers in my head, but I'm not sure if I should ask it.
"Did you ever bring another girl here?" I want to know, opting for the arguably dumber option.
Lux puts his fork down, and for a moment I fear I might have annoyed him too much with my question. He reaches for his glass and takes a big sip of the quality vintage, taking his time to ponder his answer, while I regard him with an expectant look. I know he's doing this to punish me for stating such a dumb question. Of course, there can only be one answer to this: that's none of your business.
But he surprises me.
"No," he says eventually, as he puts his glass back on the table. "No, I've never brought a girl here. You're the first one."
"Oh," I say, unsure whether he's telling me the truth or just trying to flatter me. But why would he do the latter? There's no reason to flatter me because he's not trying to win me over. I’m just his fuck toy. Right?
"I feel flattered," I admit, winking at him.
He responds with a short-lived smile. It disappears as quickly as it appeared, and at this point, I'm beginning to worry. What is bothering him? Why is he so distracted tonight?
"Is everything okay?" I finally dare to ask. "You seem a little off tonight."
"Do I?" he asks back, his eyebrows arching in surprise. Did he really think I wouldn‘t notice?
"Yes," I say. "I mean... you don't have to tell me, but something seems to be bothering you. You're very distracted tonight."
He looks at me, a concerned expression framing his face for just a moment, processing my words as if they were meant as an accusation.
Is it me? Did I do something wrong?
"It's nothing," he says, blocking my stream of thoughts. "It’s nothing for you to worry about."
"Who says I'm worrying?" I say, trying to sound lighthearted. "I just noticed that you're quite occupied tonight. Maybe it will help you relax if you tell me about it?"
He shakes his head. "I doubt it."
"Aha! So, there is something!"
He laughs as he looks at me, pointing my finger at him in an accusatory manner.
"It's just work," he finally admits. "I don't want to bore you with it."
"Work, huh? You're not the only one who can be bothered by work issues, you know," I mumble, now reaching for my glass of wine. It's a Pinot Grigio and one of the best I've ever tasted. I wish I lived in a world where I could drink wine like this every day. People like Lux don't know how lucky they have it.
"Lets make a deal," I say, looking at him over the top of my glass as I take a careful sip of the lavish liquid. "You tell me about your trouble, and I tell you about mine. We can be each other's trouble depot for the time being. It often helps to unload and share your worries with someone else, especially someone who has absolutely no connection to your work. And let's face it, we couldn't be living in more different worlds."
Lux huffs, casting me a smile that reaches his eyes and melts my heart. He's so freaking handsome, especially with that expression, a soft smile, almost innocent like that of a little boy. When he looks at me like that, I feel like I can almost see the young boy he once was.
"Al
right," he agrees to my proposition. "But I have one condition."
"Yes?"
"No lecturing," he says. "This is just for unloading. You know too little about me and my business to give me advice."
"Pfft," I utter. "We'll see about that."
"No," he objects. "We won't see. You proposed a deal, I'm agreeing to it, but only under this condition."
He's oddly intense, but at least he's not withdrawn and distant anymore. I'd rather take a fierce and dark look like the one he's throwing me right now than endure the absent chatter we shared earlier. I like this side of him, of course I do. It casts a different light on the rough and domineering side of him.
I would much rather have my chest throb with tension than my mind wander off in boredom.
Chapter XXIV
Lux
"I don't know if I ever told you what my company does," I begin, still struggling with the idea of telling this girl anything. But she has a way of getting to me. I need to be careful, not only for my sake, but for hers, too. But the way she probes and shows a sincere interest in who I am and what I do is new to me. No one has ever asked questions like these before, and no one has ever looked at me the way she does. Her blue eyes are locked on mine, eagerly awaiting my reply, and her expression is mixed with a little worry because she anticipates that some of the things I say will unsettle her.
"No, not in so many words," she says. "I know far less about your job than you know about mine, that's for sure."
I raise my eyebrows. "I guess you could say that."
The waiter arrives to bring our dessert, and I pause, collecting my words while he serves us. I can't help but notice the little spark that twinkles in her eyes when a plate of lava chocolate cake is placed in front of her. It's endearing to see her so passionate about her food. No matter what she told me, I'm pretty sure she has to relinquish a lot during ballet season.
