I woke up with a cold draft passing over my naked body. I couldn't feel Olive's compact heat next to me, or feel her warm breath against my ear.
She must have had business to attend to
, I thought. I almost called her name, but it made me feel too vulnerable. She always knew how to knock me off balance, and make me ache for her validation. The worst part was, I could always see my options before I succumbed to her, and I knew I could stop if I really wanted to. But I never did. My life just felt so real and intense under her hands, in her command.
Resting on the cushions, I got onto my elbows and pulled myself out of the box, slipping and slopping out like a newborn. I couldn't hear the cheer of the audience, couldn't see the dancers above my head, and I couldn't see Olive anywhere. I felt around the box until I found the pile of my clothes. Next to it, I found a towel. Huh, guess Olive doesn't hate me
completely
. Wiping myself down the best I could, and trying to spit the oil out of my mouth, I got dressed and felt my way to the door in the pitch black room. Opening the door, I was blinded by the lights of the hallway. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw her, crouched on her heels, back against the wall: Olive was writing in a little black notebook halfway down the hall. She had kept her hair down, and it still shined with the oils of the box. Her dress hung down from her thighs, and its thin straps were pulled over her collarbones. Her skin glowed with the residual oil. She stood up and started down the hall, not looking away from her notebook once. When she got to the end, she half-turned her head to me and said, "Come on, we're running late." There was a coldness to her voice that I couldn't reconcile with her mood earlier.
I hesitated, then trailed behind her like a puppy dog, as usual. She didn't look back. After heading up the stairs and through the lobby, we made it to the dance room. Everybody was doubled in the mirror wall where the barre was. Up against the mirrors, foldout white plastic tables had little sandwiches and cookies. A couple dancers, Mina and someone I didn't recognize, sat in the corner pulling leg warmers up over their bare calves. Mina had soft, almost curly hazelnut hair that sat in a frizzy ball on top of her head. The others had pulled jackets over their shoulders with the dance department logo printed across the back. Janell stood at the helm of the biggest circle, near the center of the room. A couple other loose groups of more inexperienced dancers orbited this one.
As soon as Olive and I stepped through the doorway, the lively conversation wavered, dipped into a half-silence of acknowledgement, and bubbled back up. I could feel every single body in the room shift with an awareness of us, as if a light burden had rested itself over them all. Strangely, no one looked our way, aside from Janell who glanced at me, a quick smile flashing across her eyes. Nimina was nowhere in sight. I looked at all the feet I had been under for so long, crushed and reshaped by the vital rhythms, the beautiful tapestry of balanced asymmetries. I still felt the ghostly tread pressing my skin all over, like the wash of waves you feel after a day in the ocean. A quick wave of vertigo passed over me, looking down at the feet from my full height instead of up from below. I leaned into Olive, and she took my extra weight until the feeling passed. We walked straight through the crowd to one of the Freshmen sitting in the corner, a new girl with a halo of fuzzy light red hair circling her head.
"Candace," Olive said, glancing at her, "Keep Goldmund company while I talk to the dancers, would you?"
Candace looked up, tilted her head, and gave a smile of confirmation. Feeling a bit ridiculous, I sat down next to her and her friend. Once Olive had headed to the group Janell was talking with, Candace turned to me. She had a little nose that perked up at the end, and soft chestnut eyes under thin wispy eyebrows. She smiled at me like a fox.
"So you're the star of the show, huh? This is my friend, Stell," she said. Her friend leaned forward and looked at me with bored eyes. She had wild eyebrows and dark eyes. Her hair was an intricate tangle with small silver clasps holding it all in place. She had a button nose that twitched from time to time.
Candace lifted her leg and laid her slippered foot in my lap, holding out her hand on a limp wrist and crooking her chin down to her shoulder blade like a shy princess. "So it's time for a little test. Do you recognize me?" Her foot was big for her size, with long curved toes and a low broad arch. I felt her flex her foot in my lap, but my dick ached in protest and wouldn't get hard.
"Uh, sure yeah." I said, not wanting to be rude. "Great dancing, by the way."
"Hmm... not good enough," Candace said, lowering her eyes and pouting in mock disappointment. "If you remember my foot," she said, lifting it and dropping it lightly back into my lap, "tell me: where was I dancing?"
Still feeling lightheaded from the performance, I decided not to take her too seriously. "I don't know man, just tell me."
She looked a little hurt, but played it off. "Riiiiight... here," she said, circling her finger in front of my chest until she poked one of my nipples through my shirt. "By the way, that squeezing wasn't in the script, I just thought I would treat you." Candace winked and giggled to Stell, who rolled her eyes and started searching through her bag.
I looked over to Olive and Janell, absentmindedly trying to push Candace's foot out of my lap. She swung her other leg and dropped her other foot in my lap, leaning in to hold my arm and looking over to the group of older dancers. "You really like her, huh?" she said. "We all do. I don't know if you've heard, but she's kinda the queen bee around here."
"What do you know?" I asked, getting annoyed. "Look, you seem sweet but don't assume you know everything about me."
"Oookay. Because I'm the one here with the assumptions," she said, rolling her eyes and leaning her head against my shoulder. With one hand she started adjusting the velcro straps on her ballet slippers. Every once and a while I felt my dick give a feeble throb at the touch of her feet. Once she mentioned it, I
did
remember her feet, kneading my chest softly like a cat's paws. Not taking my eyes off Olive and her other dancers, I put one hand over her slippered foot as a peace agreement. Candace made a little squeal in the back of her throat, and whispered into my ear, "You know, I have a