Tutus And Treachery

Tutus and Treachery

The Nutcracker and the Mouse King

This is my entry for the

Winter Holidays Story Contest 2023

- please leave a comment and a rating at the end!

Elsa can hear the excitement long before she reaches it - shrill, eager voices echoing through the castle, as she descends the grand front stairs. Below her, the 6th and 7th graders jostle for position in front of the empty noticeboard. She picks out a few of the faces in the melee, their eyes wide with nervous anticipation as they await their fate. It seems almost yesterday that she was in their shoes, waiting to find out what role she'd been given. Back then the 12th graders were her heroes. Now she's at the top of the school, she hopes she's up to the task.

There's the loud clunk of a door handle turning and a sudden hush descends on the group. The door to the side opens and out steps Frau von Tanzenhohe, the senior ballet mistress - a tall, ageless figure, revered and feared in equal measure. A thin sheet of paper in her hands, she walks forwards, the hollow sound of her footsteps ringing through the castle entrance hall. Before her, the youngest members of the school bow their heads, shuffling back to create a path.

She's reached the noticeboard now. Slowly and deliberately, she pins each corner of the paper, covering the text with her hand. Elsa knows she's milking it, she's seen it before -- Old Tanzenhohe knows how to stoke the tension.

And then it's done. The youngest members of the school surge forward like a giant wave, searching for their names on the list. Shrieks of excitement fill the air. The lucky ones are in the party scene at the start of the first act, the less fortunate will be mice. For the 6th graders in their first performance on the grand theater stage - it's the start of the rivalries, petty jealousies and falling outs that will follow them throughout the rest of their time at the school.

Frau von Tanzenhohe turns and catches sight of Elsa looking down on the group. A wry, knowing smile passes between the two. The teacher opens the door to her office and disappears.

"Shall we take a look?" says a voice.

Clara spins round. Kerstin's behind her.

"Yeah, might as well," she replies. "Just in case Old Tanzenhohe's thrown us a screwball."

The two eighteen-year-olds descend the final few steps to the entrance hall. The throng is thinning now. The despondent ones are slinking away, shoulders slumped, dragging themselves to their next class, muttering that The Nutcracker's stupid and they didn't want a big part anyway. The joyful are still hanging around, basking in their moment of success, taking photos of the list to send their parents, who'll doubtless be even more proud.

Truth be told, Elsa is a little nervous. The two friends made a pact last year -- Kerstin would take the lead in Sleeping Beauty in the summer and she would dance Clara in the Nutcracker. They took their proposal to Frau von Tanzenhohe, who reluctantly agreed, more than a little displeased that the girls were making casting decisions for her.

Elsa takes a deep breath and steps up to the list.

Instant relief floods over her -- she's got the role she wanted. And Kerstin will be the Sugar Plumb Fairy -- just as they planned!

The two friends throw their arms around each other in a big sisterly hug.

"You're gonna be Clara," squeals Kerstin excitedly.

"And you're gonna get to wear the pink tutu!"

Kerstin is loves her tutus. Really loves her tutus!

The next three names are exactly as they expected. Jürgen and Jana will be the Snow King and Queen -- they've been dating since forever. And, of course, Nils -- the amazing Nils - will be the Nutcracker.

It's all fitting into place for Elsa. She's dreamt of this for as long as she can remember -- dancing as Clara with Nils, her secret boyfriend, as the male lead. She can't wait for the Waltz of the Snowflakes! It's all gonna be so perfect!

But the next entry on the list is unexpected.

"Mouse King - Matteo Thaler" it reads.

"Who's Matteo?" Elsa asks, puzzled.

Realization dawns in Kerstin's eyes.

"He must be the guy who's coming for half a term. Do you remember -- Frau von Tanzenhohe mentioned it a month ago. He's coming from Italy -- Milan maybe, or is it Pisa?"

"Oh yeah," Elsa responds, recalling a vague memory. "Do you know when he's arriving?"

Her friend shrugs. "Dunno -- early November maybe?"

"He hasn't got long to learn his part. We'll almost be into full run-throughs by then."

"But he'll only be in the Battle Scene," Kerstin replies. "And that's what -- seven minutes at the most? It's not that much to learn, especially if he's as experienced as us."

"And he's joining our year group?"

"I think so. But only for the second half of term. Only up until Christmas."

"That's nice. It'll be good to have another 12th grader -- even if it's only for a few weeks."

Kerstin leans a little closer.

"He might give Nils a run for his money!" she adds, giving her friend a knowing look.

Elsa smiles back, but doesn't respond to the jibe against her boyfriend.

"We need to get to class," she says, changing the subject a little abruptly.

The two girls begin to move in different directions towards the opposite sides of the entrance hall.

"Are you coming to Contemporary later?" Elsa calls.

Kerstin turns and shakes her head.

"Sorry, dentist," she calls back, pointing a finger at her immaculate teeth. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She's always got an excuse for missing Contemporary, Kerstin has. It's only once a week, but she'll do anything to get out of it.

For Elsa, it's a nice change. Normally there's a maximum of only five in her classes, the two boys and the three girls, but all the non-ballet students at the school have to take at least one dance class -- and this is the one they choose. That's probably why Kerstin hates it -- much harder to shine if you're in a group of thirty. And to be honest, the others don't take it too seriously -- there's lots of messing around and general chatting.

But there's one more important reason why Elsa enjoys Contemporary. With Kerstin out of the way, she gets Nils all to herself!

She's lost in the world of happy dreams as she makes her way down the long hallway, a giant smile writ large across her face. She's not in a hurry -- she's got an hour of free time before her next class starts.

At the end of the corridor, she pauses in front of the bronze bust of the school's founder -- the ballet-mad Prinzess von Lotsageld. It's one of those traditions - the girls are meant to curtsey when they pass her. It's supposed bring good luck and keep them injury free. Elsa doesn't really believe that stuff obviously, but she always does it. If you want to be a professional ballerina, you take all the help you can get.

"Hello lovely," says a voice behind her.

Two arms snake around Elsa's upper torso. It's Nils.

"Fancy seeing you here!" he whispers into her ear.

He kisses her lightly on the cheek, pressing his body against her back.

The bronze Prinzess looks on disapproving; this wouldn't have happened in her day.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" she asks teasingly.

"I got a surprise for you!" he whispers in her ear.

He sweeps one hand down the side of her body and trails his fingers across her buttocks.

"Mmmm, I like surprises!"

Nils holds out his other hand in front of her and opens his fingers. It's a key.

"What's that for?"

"It's for the storeroom next to the ballroom," he replies.

"And what are you going to do in there?" she teases.

She's got a pretty good idea that Nils wants to do -- and it certainly involves her!

"Why don't you come along after Contemporary and find out?"

She spins round.

"Can we go now? Please Nils. Let's just do it now!"

She reaches up to kiss him, but he pushes her firmly away.

"Uh-uh," he says wagging a finger at her. "Not until after Contemporary!"

And with that, he's gone, leaving Elsa with a smile on her face and a frustrated ache through her body. Happily, she skips off to the library to count down the minutes before she can see her beau again.

--

It's always a bit strange doing a Contemporary class in the castle ballroom. The techno beats never quite go with the ionic columns, vaulted ceiling and ornate plasterwork. Beneath the four giant crystal chandeliers, the thirty or so dancers are simply lost. But it's the largest rehearsal space in the school and this is where the class has to be, even if the body popping and rolling around on the floor are unworthy of the surroundings.

Standing two rows in front of her boyfriend, Elsa feels the drag of the monotonous rhythms. She feels his eyes on her, as she moves to the music, desperately seeking out an opportunity to throw him a knowing look. She's barely managing to concentrate on the steps -- all she can think about are his soft lips and hard body. The modest neckline of her black leotard scarcely hides the flush on her upper chest -- it's not just the dancing that's caused that.

As soon as the class is over, there's a rush for the doors -- every girl for herself, as each tries to beat the line to the showers. Elsa hangs back, laboriously repacking her dance shoes into her holdall as she waits for the room to clear, arching her back to make sure that Nils can't miss the pert little curves of her butt.

She turns around, expecting her boyfriend to be waiting for her, but he's not there. The corridor is empty too. She pauses outside the door of the storeroom, ears straining to hear any sound over the pounding thud of her heart in her chest.

Tentatively she turns the handle and cracks the door open. Inside the light is off. She checks behind her, half-expecting Frau von Tanzenhohe ready to demand an explanation - but there's no one there. She peers inside. The smell of musty gym mats and decaying rubber reaches her nose. With a final glance over her shoulder, she slips inside, closing the door behind her.

Nils is on her in an instant, kissing her in a frenzy, his tongue wrestling with hers as he pushes her against the nearest wall. Frantically Elsa's hands scrabble under his compression top, fingers raking across his back as he grinds against her.

He breaks contact for a brief second, catching her wrists in the darkness and pinning them above her head. He paws her breasts with his free hand. She twists her arms, trying to free herself, trying to get her hands back on his body. But he's too strong for her.

His fingers reach between her legs, stroking lightly along the length of her slit through the fabric of her leotard.

"So fucking sexy," he growls.

"Please Nils, please," she begs. "I want you. I want your cock. Let me suck you!"

"Get on your knees," he hisses, releasing her wrists and placing his hands on her shoulders.

Obediently Elsa sinks downwards, fettering his chest and abs with her lips as Nils rakes his fingers through her hair. Down his body she slides, nuzzling his hard cock as she scrabbles for his waistband.

With a cry of delight, she slides his pants down. In the darkness, his erection springs forwards outwards, hitting her cheek. Tightly he grips her head, humping against her as she tries desperately to catch the tip with her tongue.

"Please Nils, please," she moans again in frustration.

"You want my cock?" he growls as he rubs his hardness against her, spreading little strings of pre-cum across her face.

Even in the stuffiness of the storeroom, his masculine scent is irresistible. He's driving her wild. She's so horny, she couldn't care less if they get caught. She just has to have him!

"Please! Let me suck you!" she begs again.

Nils' left hand is under her jaw now. She opens wide as he teases her lips apart with his tip, shooting out her tongue to taste him for the first time. Once more, Nils slaps his erection against her cheek, then gripping her firmly, he lines himself up and thrusts into her mouth.

The movement takes Elsa by surprise, but she tries her best to take as much of him as she can. His hands are on the sides of her head as he pushes deeper. She grips his buttocks tightly and pushes herself forwards until her nose is buried in the scratchy curls of his pubic hair. The sound of her retching reaches her ears, echoing around the tiny room.

Abruptly he pulls away from her and bends to kiss her, tasting himself on her lips on tongue.

"You like that?" he growls.

"Please, Nils," she groans. "Let me suck you again."

"Such a slut!" he mocks.

And before she knows it, he's forcing his cock back in her mouth, grinding and thrusting in-and-out as he builds himself to orgasm. Elsa takes him as deep as she can, ignoring the discomfort as he batters the top of her throat. She's desperate to please him. That's all that matters - her only desire is to make him feel good.

Suddenly, his grip tightens and with a sharp upward twitch of his hips, Nils erupts. Hot jets of cum pour down Elsa's throat as her mouth fills with the salty liquid. She chokes and tries to swallow what she can. She leans back and wipes her eyes with her hand, then sets to work, cleaning him with her tongue, making sure she doesn't miss a single drop.

Roughly he pulls her to her feet. Their lips meet in a cummy kiss.

Nils hears it first. The clack-clack-clack of high heels approaching along the corridor. He breaks the kiss and clamps a hand over Elsa's mouth as he fights to control his breath.

Clack-clack-clack. The footsteps are getting closer.

Elsa freezes. There's only one person that can be!

In her mind's eye, she sees Frau von Tanzenhohe striding along the corridor. She must be at the bottom of the stairs now. The footsteps come to an abrupt halt. Clara imagines her teacher pausing at the entrance to the storeroom. She prays that she won't try the door.

The deafening silence stretches for an eternity. What is she doing? Surely can't just be standing there, staring at the door?

The two young lovers hold their breath, preparing for the worst. But just as they're sure they're caught, the footsteps resume, climbing the stairs to the upper dance studios. They wait until the sound has completely disappeared.

"Fuck, that was close!" whispers Nils.

He kisses her.

"You ready for your turn?"

She nods and again he clamps one hand over her mouth. He can't risk her making any noise. If she does, they'll be discovered.

"Keep quiet," he hisses.

With his knee, he pushes her legs apart and places his free hand between her thighs. Slowly he begins to stroke her through the stretchy fabric of her leotard.

"Is that the right place?" he whispers.

Clara can only nod, so firm is his hand clamped over her mouth. She sinks a little lower, bracing herself against the wall as begins to work his magic.

Faster and faster his finger moves. She closes her eyes, trying to block out the image of Frau von Tanzenhohe's piercing eyes. She wheezes and moans against his palm as her legs begin to quiver. The excitement is building now. She bucks her hips as he moves faster and faster, until with a shudder, her climax overwhelms her and she collapses against the wall.

Nils takes Elsa into his arms, letting her feel his muscular body against hers. She feels so small and safe in his embrace as the raging heat of her orgasm subsides. Between them his soft cock presses gently against her belly -- it's a nice sensation knowing they've made each other very happy.

She plants a soft kiss on his naked chest.

"We need to get out of here," he whispers.

In the darkness she nods.

"You go first," he says. "And I'll make sure everything's locked and back to normal."

Another nod.

He kisses her. She knows he can still taste the cum in her mouth.

"Go!" he hisses. "Go!"

He releases her and she slides along the wall to the door. She gropes for the handle and opens it. A crack of light spills into the darkness. Cautiously she peeks out. The corridor is empty. She takes a deep breath and darts from the storeroom and up the stairs.

--

"Will you two stop laughing?" snaps Frau von Tanzenhohe as Clara slips quietly through the door.

One of the upper rooms in the castle has been turned into a photography studio for the afternoon and a hapless photographer is trying to take pictures for the publicity posters and the playbill.

In front of a white screen, the Nutcracker and the Mouse King are frozen in mid-combat, swords clashed, straining to hold in the giggles.

Old Tanzenhohe is not amused.

Elsa watches as the photographer ducks high and low, searching for the best angle for the shot.

The Nutcracker costume looks stunning on Nils. He's wearing a red, military-style waist-length jacket, with gold braid that matches his shock of blond hair. On his bottom half he has a pair of bright white tights - they show off his bulge perfectly, especially from Clara's angle! He's so handsome, she just wants to throw herself at him.

She glances at the boy he's pretending to fight. She feels a bit sorry for Andreas. Normally the best 11th grader gets to dance the role of the Mouse King. But with the mysterious Matteo arriving in early November, he's been demoted to understudy and general stand in. Still, he'll almost certainly be the Nutcracker next year.

She quite likes the Mouse King costume, Elsa decides. It's a kind of mirror image of the Nutcracker's with the same military-style jacket, but in black with silver trim. Andreas is wearing the mask, a terrifying rodent head with wild black eyes and a snarling open mouth.

"Ah our Clara has arrived!"

Frau von Tanzenhohe dismisses Andreas and directs Elsa to stand next to her boyfriend.

"Is my costume okay ma'am?" she asks.

The teacher steps forwards to adjust the little blue sash around Elsa's waist and pronounces herself satisfied. Then she starts to arrange her leading dancers in the right position for the photographer.

Obediently Elsa takes up the poses for her duets with Nils -- pirouettes, leaps and lifts. She's beginning to realize how difficult it is to dance in her nightdress costume. It's a thin gauzy white material, secured over an ivory leotard with a light blue band. It's the length that's the problem. Reaching well below her knees, it gets in the way all the time.

She rests her head against Nils' chest as the photographer takes a few more snaps. That's a really nice pose. It reminds her of him holding her in the dark of the storeroom. So much more than a girl embracing her crush.

The final photo of Clara and Nutcracker together is for the publicity posters. Elsa stands in front of Nils, but a little to the side, a simple shot of the two of them together. Or at least it would be, if he wasn't stroking her butt. Nothing too obvious, just lightly resting his hand on her bottom and tracing along the hem of her leotard.

Elsa groans inwardly, desperately trying to control herself and focus on the instructions of the photographer. But all she wants is for Nils to throw her to the floor and to have his wicked way with her.

"That's enough," calls Frau von Tanzenhohe. She looks at her watch. "Where has that silly girl got to?"

That 'silly girl' is Kerstin. She's late to everything. She's never on time. That's why she's got the last slot of the day with the photographer.

"Will you find her Nils?" the ballet mistress asks in despair.

He gives a little bow and quickly changes out of his ballet slippers into his sneakers. Then with a wink and a smile over his shoulder, he disappears out the door.

There are a few more photos to take of Clara on her own, but it's obvious that Frau von Tanzenhohe is stalling for time before Nils returns with Kerstin.