“Okay, now I would like to see something more complex,” Basil says. He walks to the back of the stage, starting in fifth position.
Then he proceeds through a combination with a pirouette in the middle and ending with a grand jeté. “And one, two, three, four. Five six, seven, eight. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve.”
My heartbeat rises. Every single move he executed is flawless, not that I expected any less. Toward the back of the theatre, the door swings open and a man enters.
But I’m too focused on what I’m doing to pay him any mind.
“Let’s go!!” Basil yells, clapping. “On my cue. One, two, three, and—“
The first line goes. I cue up right behind, trying to focus my attention on the moves.
“One, two, three, and—“
Like a puppet come to life, I am suddenly smiling and dancing. I keep my movements smooth and easy, doing a complex pirouette with several turns and then leaping across the stage.
My legs carry me far. I land right in center stage, beaming, and lift my arms.
This is it. This is the feeling that I’m supposed to have, I think to myself.
That’s when I suddenly make eye contact with him.
Eyes as dark blue as sapphire and glittering just like two gems. Dark hair, grown a little overlong, shoved back from his face. High cheekbones, a jawline that could cut diamonds, a cruel yet perfect pout.
And that big, rugged, sinful body that I know all too well. The very same one that I dreamed about riding last night.
Mr. X is here.
And he is glaring right at me.
All my worst fears, all in one place. The person who judges me is the very same one who I’ve been all but fucking at Club X. The same person that already inquired if I had training from a good ballet school, knowing perfectly well how taboo that is.
My smile falters, my arms droop. All the blood plummets to my feet.
I’m so incredibly screwed.