"Emboite!"
I used to find this particularly difficult - co-ordinating my entire body, balanced on one leg, resting on the tip of my toes. It alluded me at first, my muscles giving out in a fit of tremors. Our ballet master's increasing derision made me hot with shame, and it almost became my breaking point.
I mastered it by watching Natasha.
It wasn't difficult to study her from this vantage point, head turned to the side, desperate for any distraction from my trembling limbs and burning embarrassment.
She captivates all when she dances, with a grace that the rest of the class can only dream of. Her skill, combined with her lack of interest in engaging with her fellow dancers, meant I was less than pleased when I was placed next to her. But the more I watched her the more I perfected my own craft, and my resentment turned to respect, then admiration.... then something just short of adoration.
My observations were purely clinical at first, analysing every inch of her to understand how she was able to defy gravity. It didn't take long to master my emboite, but once she really caught my eye, it was impossible to look away from her. Her lithe athleticism. Her high cheekbones. The flash of red hair. The way her lips pressed together. The curve of her breasts pressed tightly beneath Lycra. Her piercing, blue gaze.
But that wasn't what captivated me. She was stoic, but the more I watched her, the more I felt the intensity that rolled off of her in waves. An energy that just kept drawing me in. I was hooked on her, but my fantasies only came once I was away from the class, her sharp focus rubbing off on me.
Our ballet master was soon full of praise, and I couldn't help but bask and revel in it.
'
Very good! Good girl!'
It left me glowing. Of course it was nothing compared to the amount of praise Natasha received, and another thing I wished I could mimic was her curt acknowledgement. Unaffected. Dancing only for herself. Even when she'd catch me staring I felt like she was looking through me. I could hide nothing, and I envied how nothing affected her.
- - - - -
One day, out of nowhere, something shifts.
We're changing after class, and one of my classmates invites me to dinner with the rest of the group.
"What about Natasha? Did you ask her?"
My question is barely more than a whisper. She's only a few feet away, and while I want her to join us, I don't want her to know.
"As if
she
would consider mixing with us mere mortals. I don't even think she's capable of conversation."
This is spoken none-too-quietly, and yet Natasha gives no indication that she's heard. I'd have usually joined them but I'm aching all over after a gruelling rehearsal, and have little interest in making small talk without Natasha's presence to distract me.
As I step out into the crisp night air I realise I've lingered too long, and I'll have to call for a taxi if I want a ride home.
"I don't think your friends like me."
I'd know that voice anywhere. Assured. Smooth. Perfect english, with an eastern european accent. I try keeping my cool, but misjudge how close she's stood behind me. I stumble as I realise our faces are just inches apart, and my phone slips from my hand as I steady myself against her, hitting the concrete screen-first.
Thrown off by her proximity, and hearing her speak more than two syllables, I can't contain the flash of irritation that seeps through me as I bend down to retrieve my phone.
"And what makes you think I do?"
My sudden bravery seeps away when we're face to face again as her eyes burn into mine, but this time she's really looking at me, not through me, and now I'm warm all over, the chill of the night forgotten. She's only a few inches taller but I feel tiny in her her presence, and powerless to resist the pull I feel towards her.
Her lips twist with amusement as she glances down at my phone.
"Were you planning on calling anyone with that?"
The screen is smashed to bits, and it won't switch on. I can't help but feel irritated by her obvious amusement.
"I was, until you practically knocked it out my hands."
"I did nothing - you're just clumsy."
Humiliated, I turn away from her, and prepare myself for a long walk home, but a gentle tug on my arm pulls me back to her.
"Hey, don't be stubborn. I'd offer you mine but I don't bring it to class as I only live a few minutes away. You're welcome to use it if you don't mind the walk."
Excitement and nerves bubble up in the pit of my stomach. I've imagined something along the lines of this so many times before, but she is a stranger to me. Eventually my aching feet make the decision for me.
"If that's not too much trouble?"
"Only a little, but not too much."
She laughs as I roll my eyes, and hooks her arm around mine, setting off at a brisk pace. We walk in silence for a few minutes, her purposeful and focused as always. I don't know where to look so admire the quirky shop displays as we pass them - it's well past closing time but the colourful lights help break through the darkness.
We stop as we reach a shuttered shop front - through the gaps I can see antique jewellery glittering in the window. I admire the displays as Natasha fumbles with several locks on a heavy, non-descript wooden door. When it opens, we're bathed in soft light and warm air, and met by a a polished wooden staircase.
I follow her lead, removing my boots, and feeling a certain heat prickling over my skin when she unbuttons my jacket for me, slipping it from my shoulders and hanging it next to her leather one.
"This is nice - is it sheepskin?"
I nod wordlessly, wishing I could object to this sudden, weird intimacy and ask her the million questions that are racing through my mind. But I don't want to ruin the moment, and she's always so focused that I know I'll soon have all the answers I need. Natasha never wastes time.
I follow her up the stairs, admiring the curve of her neck and trying to ignore how badly I want to have my mouth all over it. Of course her place is as gorgeous as she is - open plan, immaculate and softly lit, warm brick walls and gleaming cherrywood floors with surfaces and furniture to match.
"This is beautiful."
She motions for me to sit at a counter, smirking a little when it takes a couple of attempts to lift myself onto the stool.
"It's ok I guess. You know, I've never met someone with your talent who is so uncoordinated away from the barre."
I want to be annoyed by her teasing, but I'm too busy delighting in the idea that she's paid attention to me long enough to assess my skills. Her top rides up as she reaches for some glasses, and I admire the smooth, milky skin beneath. I don't bother looking away as she returns with a glass of wine for each of us. Red. Of course.
"You could have given me a choice. I don't like red."
"You have a choice. You can choose to drink it, or not."
I set the glass down on the counter. She's smirking, challenging me, and I can't help but push back."
"Are you always this rude to your guests?"
She downs her glass and moves closer, until she's stood right between my knees. She smells divine, everything about her designed to draw me in.
" I never did answer your question. About what makes me think you like me?"
She's inches away from me, and her eyes are so blue, and so warm, and I can smell the alcohol that just passed her sweet lips. I can't think, let alone answer. Our noses are almost touching, and for a split second her eyes flit to my lips before returning to meet mine - the first time I've ever seen a chink in her armour, and it's because of me.
"You watch me. How many times have I caught you staring? You were hardly discrete. I think the whole world knows by now."
"You never reacted. You stared right through me. I didn't think you'd noticed."
"You thought I'd hadn't noticed you, when all this time I was imagining the many different ways I want to play with you."
I'm about to go up in flames, from my head to my toes, for fucks sake - just an inch closer..... please. But her soft fingers are now pressed against my lips as she breathes out a sigh of frustration.
"I can't start without coming clean."
