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The Ballet Student [Ff, pedo]
by Randi Patterson (rcp@theriver.com)
Date: 1998/06/14
*** Standard Disclaimer ***
The following contains a textual depiction of consensual sex between a
woman and a young girl. The descriptions are graphic and clinical. Please
read no farther if this kind of material offends you. Permission is
hereby granted to reproduce, archive, and disseminate this story by any
means, as long as the following conditions are met:
1) The entire text of the story is reproduced, archived, or disseminated,
including this disclaimer.
2) The story is not reproduced, archived, or disseminated as part of any
commercial product or collection that is distributed for financial gain.
* * *
I watched her walk into my studio and felt my heart skip a beat. She was
young, about sixteen, and seemed awkward in her very old-fashioned leotard,
all long legs and gangly arms. However, there was something about her that
ignited my libido. I've always preferred sex with women, but she was much
younger than any woman I'd ever felt attracted to. I have no problem with
having relationships with my students; unlike many of my professional
peers, I do not think it compromises discipline. Moreover, I do not share
the American taboo about sex with a child. I simply do not think that sex
with a child in and of itself should necessarily be a crime. She paused at
the balance bar, where she self-consciously looked at her image in the
mirror wall. I watched her watching herself, and felt my lust merge itself
with a potent wave of deja vu. Twenty years ago, that was me standing
there, nervous and shy, summoning my courage before facing Lydia, my first
maestra. Her hair, raven-black like my own, was piled atop her head. I
could see that her hair was very long, one errant tress floating gently
along side her cheek. She noticed it the same time I did, and lifted a
hand with long, slender fingers and delicately pressed the lock of hair
back under the berette I could see peeking through just above her ear. She
took a deep breath, and continued towards me, until she was standing in
front of me, toes pronate, knees touching.
"Ms. Duvall? I'm Randi. I'm here for my interview."
She offered her hand, which I took. Her grasp was delicate, but firm. I
looked her steadily in the eyes, wondering how long she would meet my gaze.
Mentally, I timed her. She dropped her eyes shyly before I reached one
"Baryshnikov," disengaging her hand. As she dropped her arm back to her
side, her leotard slipped off her shoulder. The leotard was about two
sizes to large, and her breasts weren't prominent enough to hold the cups
up. Consequently, the leotard slipped down, and I was treated to the sight
of her right breast. The aureole was about the size of a quarter and the
nipple was pink. Her breasts were small; one could easily fit inside a
wineglass. She blushed immediately, while quickly pulling the strap back
up.
"Well, Randi, it is a pleasure to meet you. I think you need a different
leotard, no?" She ooked up at me. For a moment, I lost myself in clear
blue eyes. With an effort, I focussed on her and nodded my head
encouragingly.
A little tensely, she said, "Yes, but I'm afraid I can't afford one right
now. This was my mother's leotard, and it is two sizes too big. I was
hoping I could use it at least for the first month or so. I can't buy a
new leotard with my next paycheck, but maybe the paycheck after that...."
She paused and smiled a little. It was a small, crooked little smile, and
it melted my heart. "I guess maybe I should have listened to my sister.
She said wait until I had everything before starting the lessons. But I
was in a hurry."
Paycheck? She didn't look old enough to have a job. More to the point,
I'd never had a student with a job. I looked at her more closely. Her
shoes were very good, the same maker as my own, and I know how expensive
they can be. But she was carrying them in the original box, and not in the
designer shoe bags all my other students had. The leotard was old, and had
been repaired many times. It reminded me of the Soviet leotards that all
the Russians I'd trained with had worn. I remembered I'd received a money
order to cover her first month's retainer, which I'd thought unusual at the
time, but had dismissed as a vagary of the wealthy. My students have
always had wealthy parents and/or flush trust funds. I began to realize
she was funding this out of her own pocket, something none of my students
had ever done since I started accepting students for training, over four
years ago. Without being falsely modest, I'm not cheap. At my rates, five
students cover the rent on the warehouse in Marin that is my exercise
studio and my three-room flat in San Francisco's Marina district. I
was training 16 girls, and Randi was the first new student I'd accepted in
a year.
Curious, I said, "Do you work? You seem a bit young to have a job." She
nodded, and I could see she was starting to relax. I felt my libido
stirring again. "And you are paying for all this, by yourself?" Another
nod. She was still a bit flushed, the color high in her cheeks. I thought
she looked beautiful. I took her by the hand and led her over to a futon
in the corner of the studio. We sat down, and I started drawing her out,
little by little. I am a professional, and I don't take on students who I
know will be wasting their time and mine. I work very hard for my
students, and I expect them to work hard for me. Though I was aroused by
this young girl, I was not going to compromise my professional ethics just
to indulge my libido.
"I make enough to pay for these lessons. My parents would help me, but I
can handle it. We aren't poverty stricken, if that is what you are
thinking." I could hear the pride in her voice, and see it in the way her
nostrils flared. No, they were not poverty stricken, but I was willing to
bet that $700 a month would strain their budget. I immediately resolved to
find away to make it more affordable to her, without damaging her spirit.
I also needed to know that she had enough time to attend school, do
homework, and see her friends, and everything else a young girl has to do,
plus learn to be a ballerina. I said simply, "Tell me about yourself,
Randi."
Her story unfolded slowly, but gathered steam as her shyness gave way.
Randi wanted to achieve grace and balance in her life. She considered
herself awkward and inept. She'd apparently seen a production of "The
Nutcracker" last month, and had decided then and there that ballet would
give her everything she thought she lacked. She applied to take lessons
with me, having evidently been declined by several of my colleagues in the
Bay area. I looked again at her threadbare leotard, and I thought I knew
why -- those snobs.
"I have to tell you, ma cherie, that I will make extraordinary demands on
your time. You need to commit yourself to the discipline." She nodded
resolutely. I could tell she meant it. At this point, three-
quarters of my prospective students would ask what kind of demands. She
did not. This is a very good sign.
"Do you work for somebody that will give you the time you need?"
"I work for myself. I'm a computer geek. The money is good. I work
when I want to."
"Indeed? Then that should not be a problem." Interesting, I thought. I
was beginning to have the glimmering of an idea.
"How are your grades in school?" More than one angry parent has tried to
blame their daughter's miserable academic performance on the time that she
was "wasting" with me. I try to weed those girls out early.
"I'm a straight A student so far. "
"How far is "so far?"
"Well, right now, I'm a freshman in high school. But, I just found out
today that I'm going to be advanced one grade when the semester starts in
January. I'll be a sophomore then." I could hear the pride in her voice.
"You are perhaps then fifteen years old?" I had guessed about 16 or so,
but her answer surprised me.
"I'm fourteen." She looked at me, as if she was unsure what effect this
revelation would have on me. She seemed almost defensive about it. "I
like school," she added, as if in explanation. "I enjoy using my brain."
"That is very good. Ballet can be very complex. A sharp mind is as
important as a trained body."
I have a standard series of questions I ask each prospective student at
their first lesson, and I rapidly went down the list. Randi seemed to have
recovered completely from her initial embarrassment, though her innate
shyness was still with her. Yet, her answers were unforced and very
straightforward. She was about as different from my typical student as she
could be. She knew what she wanted, and that was such a pleasant change.
Randi insisted that she had plenty of time for everything. I believed
her, but I also had a feeling that she was planning on giving up whatever
social life she had. Discipline is necessary, and I can be a stern
taskmaster. Yet, I didn't want this delightful young girl to overwork
herself just so she could afford my retainer. The idea that had been
simmering in the back of my mind presented itself to me.
"How many hours a week do you work, Randi?"
"Depends. At my rates, I need to work 20 hours a month to cover the cost
of your retainer. Some weeks I do a lot. Some weeks I do nothing."
I was silent, doing some mental arithmetic. I've never been great with
numbers, so it took me a while. Randi must have misinterpreted my
prolonged silence for disapproval. She started to explain that she still
had plenty of time, and I could detect a note of panic in her voice. I
finished my figuring and raised my hand to silence her explanations. "What
kind of computer things do you do?"
"Pretty much anything. I'm familiar with allthe standard productivity
apps, and I can RTFM if I run into something that I'm not familiar with,
which to be honest, does happen once in a while."
"RTFM?"
"Read the fucking manual. Oops. Sorry." She started to blush again.
"That's ok. I may have a proposition for you." I had deduced that she
was working for about $35 an hour, since that is what she would have to
make to cover my $700 monthly retainer in twenty hours of work. The last
time my computer died, I hired a computer consultant at $200 an hour, who
ended up taking four hours to tell me that I needed to "upgrade to the
twentieth century, lady." Randi was undercharging herself by about a
factor of six. I know I need a more modern system; that consultant was
right, even if he was less than tactful about it. Now - how to make her
see that I'm not offering her a handout? It won't work if she doesn't
think she's earning it. I need to be tactful.
"I want a new computer. I know what I want, but I have no idea how to ask
for it. Can you help me with that?"
She did not hesitate at all. "Yes. Tell me what you need your system to
do, and I can tell you what to buy. Will you give me an idea of how much
you wish to spend? I can tell you that I can put a competent system
together, nothing too fancy, for about $1500, including all the software.
The thing about personal computers is that once you get the basic
configuration, upgrading is a fairly straight forward and inexpensive
task."
"Let us say forty-five hundred dollars. "
"That is more than enough. That will get you a killer system."
"Good. I want a `killer' system. And how shall I pay for it?"
"Do you have a credit card?" I nodded. "I'll draw up a parts list
tonight. We can order the parts tomorrow, after class, or whenever is
convenient for you. I'll place the order and then you can give them the
credit card number. All the suppliers will ship next day air if you want
them too. If we call early enough in the day, it should be here day after
tomorrow."
"Sounds fine to me, Randi." Good. The idea I had was simple: Why not
have Randi work for me, if she was going to work for anybody? It will take
the burden of finding $700 each month from her, and give me that much more
time with her for training, and perhaps a little more...?
"Now, I think we should try some ballet, no?" I took her by the hand and
led her out onto the exercise floor. We walked over to a stack of exercise
pallets that I stored in one corner of the studio, and we each pulled one
from the top of pile. We dragged them into the middle of the dance floor,
and I said to her, "First we stretch. I want you to do what I do, as in a
mirror, but stop when your muscles tell you to stop. Ready?" Randi
nodded, and I said, "Then we begin."
I went through my stretching routine, which isolates each muscle group in
the legs, torso, arms and neck. I watched Randi as she mirrored each of my
moves, captivated by the thought of that beautiful young body hidden
beneath that awful leotard. As we bent and flexed our bodies, Randi's
leotard revealed more of her to me than I think she realized. I began to
orchestrate the stretching routine, seeing if I could coax further glimpses
of her lithe young body from that leotard.
It became a game for me. I would lean forward, so Randy would lean
forward, and her shoulder straps would slide off her smooth young
shoulders. The tops of her pert breasts would be revealed each time and I
drunk in their beauty. Her breasts were not large, much smaller than my
own, and I longed to reach out and caress them. Then, we set facing each
other on the floor, legs in a V before us to stretch the muscles of the
inner thigh. I watched as the crotch of her leotard tightened across her
mons, hinting at the curves of her labia hidden beneath.
I kept this game alive for half an hour, and was becoming so aroused that
it took an effort of will to focus on the routine. Randi was concentrating
on keeping up with me, and I could see the effort it was costing her. My
lust was joined by a sense of respect. Randi seemed determined to match me
move for move, though her untrained muscles could not stretch as far as
Randi obviously wanted them to. She grimaced with the pain, but she didn't
ease up. As we finished the legs and stood up, I saw perspiration beading
on her young face. I wanted very much to draw her head towards me and
gently lick the drops from her cheeks with my tongue, but I suppressed the
desire. Instead, I concentrated on easing the pace, trying to establish a
rhythm in our movements. Randi struggled, but I could tell she was
beginning to get the idea. I caught our image in the mirror wall in my
peripheral vision and studied it. The human body has a wonderful bilateral
symmetry that can make even the simple act of stretching into a thing of
harmony and grace.
I looked again at the young teen. Her face was flushed with her
determination. I realized with a sense of surprise that Randi would
probably injure herself trying to keep up with me. Such effort should not
go unpraised. I reached out my hand and touched her cheek, and said to
her, "Your are doing fine, Randi...do not expect to conquer ballet in one
night. Your muscles need time to get accustomed to the uses you are going
to put them to. Stretch until they protest, then no farther. They will
learn in time." I had my legs extended to each side and was sinking slowly
into a split. Randi stopped trying to emulate me, and looked down at me.
"I can do it. Just...give me a moment." Randi's legs were as far apart
as her muscles would allow them to go, and my head was level with her
groin. Perspiration had darkened the crotch of her leotard, and her mons
was clearly delineated beneath the damp fabric. I could smell her musky
odor, and had to resist the urge to lean forward and kiss her there. Her
legs were trembling with her effort. I brought my legs back together and
rose smoothly until I was standing in front of her. Randi was watching me
with a look of awe in her eyes. I realized that the simple act of rising
gracefully out of the splits was what had amazed her. I reached out and
held her under her armpits and pulled her up until she too was standing. I
could feel the swell of her breasts against the heels of my palms, and I
could resist my desire to touch them no longer. As I released her, I let
my hands slip casually over them, and I felt my libido surge. Her breasts
were nearly round, and I imagined myself caressing her nipples, feeling
them stiffen as I aroused her passion. With an effort, I abandoned this
delightful fantasy, and released her completely. If she was aware of the
storm that she had just aroused in me, she gave no sign of it. I decided I
had better end the session before I asked her to spend the night with me.
With an inward sigh, I smiled at her and shook my head.
"I know you can do it, ma cherie. And you will, but not today, or
tomorrow. Today we introduce your muscles to their new jobs. This is,
what do you Americans say? In the job training?"
"On the job training."
"Yes, that is it. We have no hurry here, in the studio. Waiting is, as
one of your American authors put it."
To my surprise, Randi's eyes lit up and she seemed to forget the
uncomfortable messages coming from her legs. She said eagerly, "You've
read Heinlein, Ms Duvall?"
I smiled. A Heinlein fan, it would seem. Another good sign...she may not
have the sexual taboos that plague most Americans. "Hasn't everybody? And
Randi, please call me Gabrielle."
"Gabrielle? That is such a pretty name. I will...Gabrielle."
"And Randi is very pretty as well." I glanced over her shoulder at the
clock mounted on the wall above the mirrors. "I think that is time enough
for today. Tonight, I want you to do what we have just done before you
make ready for bed. And tomorrow when you awake, the same.
Remember-stretch only until the muscles protest." I walked with her to
where she'd left her bag with her street wear. She reached into it and
pulled out a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, which she quickly donned over
her leotard. As we walked towards the street exit, I caught her by the
shoulder and said, "Until we start to perform, Randi, a leotard is really
unnecessary. In fact, for the first month or so, a comfortable pair of
shorts and a tee shirt are perfectly adequate." Randi seemed to sigh with
relief. As I spoke these words, I decided that tomorrow I would shop for a
leotard for her. My libido aside, her body deserved a more flattering
outfit.
At the door, Randi looked up at me, and again I lost myself in azure
depths. As if from a distance, I heard her say, "I will stretch when I go
to bed and when I wake up. And Gabrielle?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for accepting me in your class." She turned and hurried down
the street. I stood gazing after her for a long time before I went back
inside.
The next day was busy for me. I saw five students, and then met with the
building manager in Marin about remodeling the small closet I was using as
an office. Randi was hovering in the back of my mind during all of this.
She was distracting me, but it was such a pleasant distraction! At
lunchtime, I wrapped a street skirt around my waist and went to my favorite
cafe. After lunch, I went shopping for a leotard for Randi. I knew what I
wanted-a neo-minimalist ensemble similar to the one that used to get me
reprimanded by stage managers and producers for being "immodest." I
visualized what Randi's body must look like under that unlovely leotard she
was wearing yesterday, and felt my nipples erect almost immediately.
Randi's body was beautiful, and I wanted her in a leotard that would reveal
as much of it as possible, without the games I played yesterday.
Back in the office, I phoned my broker and my accountant and announced
that their services would no longer be required, since I was getting a new
computer to handle all that. The former was polite, simply asking me if I
preferred a check, or a wire transfer of my balance to my bank account.
The latter was pointedly hostile, so I hung up and called my attorney, and
asked her to deal with him. With nothing to do until Randi arrived for her
session, I indulged myself in fantasizing about making love to her. I
visualized us together on the futon in my flat, seeing the way she would
tremble under my touch as I caressed her young body in my imagination.
Locking the door to the office, I slipped out of my street skirt and lay
back on the couch and pleasured myself. Slipping my hand into my leotard
through a leg opening, I caressed my labia. Penetrating my vagina with two
of my fingers, I probed my clitoris. I came hard, Randi's image floating
before me as I climaxed.
When Randi peered in my office door late in the afternoon, I was just
finishing up with my lawyer. It turned out my accountant was being audited
by the IRS. My lawyer said that she would get a court order to pry my
records loose from the IRS. Randi stood just outside my door and waited
patiently for me to finish my phone call. I glanced at her and smiled,
holding up two fingers. Randi nodded, understanding it would only be a few
more minutes. I motioned her to come in and sit down on the sofa that
took up one entire wall of my small cubicle. I quickly wound up my
conversation with my attorney, replaced the phone in its cradle, and turned
to contemplate the young girl. She was dressed in street clothes, a short
plaid skirt, white blouse, and a short dark jacket against the December
chill. As she crossed her legs, I glimpsed the entire length of one thigh,
and the panty-clad tip of her pubis. I felt my libido engage.
Randi said, "I brought the list. If we call now, we can probably get most
of the stuff here by tomorrow." She held out a neatly typed piece of
paper.
I took the list from her hand and looked at it. At the bottom were three
sets of figures, which apparently reflected three different versions or
configurations, as they were labeled, of my new computer. Even the most
expensive was fifteen hundred dollars less than the limit I'd set
yesterday. I scanned past all the technobabble, and found the entry for
her fee. One hundred dollars? She really does undersell herself. But I
saw how to remedy that...the fifteen hundred dollar difference between my
limit and the high bid would be her bonus. Also, I would propose an
in-kind relationship-I would train her as a ballerina if she would teach me
how to use this new system.
"Okay. Here's the phone, and here's my credit card." I turned the phone
around towards her and dug my gold AmEx card out of my purse. Randi got up
from the couch, crossed the small room, and propped herself against my
desk.
"Where should I have the components delivered? Here?"
Hmm. "How about my flat in the city? Here's the address." I wrote it
down quickly on piece of paper and handed it to her.
She picked up the phone and started dialing. I listened raptly as Randi
made each order. It was fascinating to hear such a technically
incomprehensible conversation being conducted by such a young girl. After
ten steady minutes of megahertz, baud rates and gigabytes, I realized that
this might take a while. I got up from behind the desk, took Randi by the
shoulders, and guided her around the desk to sit in the chair. I sat down
on the couch, pulled my knees up, and watched her. She seemed so poised
and confident as she laid out her orders with each vendor. Much different
than the shy girl that I interviewed yesterday. She was in her element.
Between calls, Randi would tell me the progress we'd made, citing any good
deals that she'd made. I was thoroughly impressed. Finally, she hung up
the phone for the last time, and then addressed me in decent Spanish.
"Estoy terminando."
"Bien," I responded in kind, "Muchas gracias, Randi. Yo piense que hay
un error en la cuenta.
"No. No hay error. Esta correcto." She looked at me quizzically.
I switched back to English. Maybe she would like to learn French. "I see
your fee is way too small. I think you've earned a bonus. Shall we say a
fifteen hundred dollar bonus?" I smiled as her eyes widened in surprise.
"And you didn't include the time you are going to spend training me on my
new system."
"Uh, Gabrielle, I...well, thank you for the bonus. I...I've never been
paid a bonus before. And Gabrielle, I wasn't gonna charge you for the
lessons." This last was delivered head down, in a very soft voice. I was
a bit surprised.
"Well that is sweet of you Randi, but you are a business woman, like me.
You deserve to be paid for your talents, just like me. But, if you are
interested, I have a proposition for you." She looked up, and then arched
one eyebrow. "I want you to work for me as my aide. You would be
responsible for the book keeping, and training me on the system, and other
things that I might require. You can set the hours. In return, I will pay
you a salary of $1000 per month, and give you all your ballet for free."
Randi hesitated for several moments. Finally, she nodded her head. "I
guess I'm gonna have to tell my other clients that I won't be as available
anymore. But Gabrielle, I have to find someone to take care of them. I
can't just abandon them."
I'd forgotten about her other clients. She was right; it would be
terribly unprofessional of her. I thought quickly. "How many regular
clients do you have?"
"Most of my income is from three clients. And I could hand them off to my
friend Alyx, who is almost as good as me."
"What commitments do you have in the next month or two?"
"Four appointments next week." She paused, and I could see her thumbing
through a mental appointment book. "And I think five or six the week
after. I'll make enough from those appointments for your next retainer and
a new leotard. Nothing after that until late January, when I need to make
enough for your February retainer."
"Okay. You are on the payroll. Don't take on any new clients, and that
gives you nearly two months to "hand off" your clients to your friend.
Deal?" Mentally, I held my breath and crossed my fingers.
"Deal. Oh, thank you, Gabrielle, thank you so much." She got of the
chair and hugged me. I felt her breasts press tautly against my own. I
hugged her back and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
"Shall we start our stretching exercises, then?"
Randi disengaged from our embrace, and said, "Is there a place where I can
change? I'm sorry, but I had to see a client just before I came here."
Other than a small restroom on the third floor of the building, there was
nowhere to change. "There is a bathroom upstairs, or you can change here
in the office. Would you like privacy while you change?"
Randi hesitated; I could sense her shyness surfacing. However, she seemed
to pull herself together, saying, "No, that's ok...I don't mind."
"Randi...I know you are shy. Has anybody told you that you have a very
beautiful body?"
She gave a small shake of her head and looked down at her feet. "I'm
awkward and clumsy. I'm too tall. My arms and legs don't fit my body."
She blushed and turned her back to me, and then she began to unbutton her
blouse, simultaneously stepping out of her shoes. I got up from behind my
desk, pulling the leotard I'd purchased for her from the bottom drawer. I
crossed the small room to stand behind her. I took her gently by the
shoulder and turned her around to face me. Her blouse was half-open, her
small breasts thrusting against the cups of her bra. I kept my eyes
focussed on her face. I was dismayed to see tears beginning to well up in
the corner of her eyes.
"Randi, Randi. You are beautiful. You do not believe me, I know. Ballet
will help you gain the confidence in your body that it deserves. And," I
added brightly, "I have something here that will help." I was relieved to
see curiosity replace the unhappiness in her eyes. I handed her the
package and then stepped back. I watched her as she opened it.
Randi unwrapped it carefully and held the two pieces up in front of her.
Her first words were, "Thank you, but I can't wear this...can I?" She
looked at me, and I could see the indecision in her face.
"But of course you can, Randi. Pretty girls should wear a pretty
leotard." I smiled gently, took a step forward, and finished unbuttoning
her blouse for her. I lifted it clear of her shoulders, and let it fall to
the floor. I looked at her, trying to judge her reaction to this
usurpation of her personal space. Her only reaction was to raise her arms,
tacitly inviting me to continue undressing her by unhooking her bra for
her. I stepped closer, allowing my own breasts to brush against hers. I
felt an electric tingle surge through me at the contact. I reached around
her and unhooked her bra. She brought her arms down, and I slipped the
straps off first one arm, then the other. The cups still covered her
breasts, held in place by pressure from my own breasts. I resisted an
almost overwhelming impulse to reach under the cups and caress her nipples.
Instead, I reached down behind her to her waist and unfastened her skirt.
I stepped back and both the bra and skirt fell to the floor at her feet.
She stood before me, clad only in her demure panties. One arm
automatically went to her chest to cover her breasts. I caught Randi's
gaze with my own. She stared back at me, almost defiantly, daring me to
tell her she was still beautiful, now that I'd seen almost all of her.
I accepted the silent challenge in her eyes. I said, "I wish I had a
young and beautiful body like yours. I would cover it only very
reluctantly."
Randi seemed nonplussed at this frank statement. She stammered out,
"Really? You aren't just saying that?" She slipped the top over her head,
and then turning her back to me, gracefully slipped her panties down to her
ankles, and then stepped free of them. This maneuver can truly reveal
whether a woman possesses an innate sense of grace and balance. Randi did
it with an effortless ease that belied her claim of clumsiness and
awkwardness. Equally gracefully, she stepped into the bottom half of the
leotard and pulled them up around her hips. She turned around and I
admired the view. The top accentuated her small breasts, and bottoms
hugged her hips, the waistband dipping seductively towards her mons, while
the high cut legs revealed a tantalizing expanse of her hips and thighs.
She stood there, a goddess in my office. My libido soared.
I motioned towards the studio with my head. "Go look at yourself in the
mirror, Randi. If you don't like what you see, you don't have to wear it."
Randi disappeared into the studio. I followed her, stopping just outside
the office door. I watched her as she studied herself in the mirror wall.
Suddenly, she turned and saw me standing there. She walked over to me and
spoke.
"Oh, Gabrielle! Thank you for this leotard! It makes me
feel...different."
"In what way different, Randi? You are still beautiful, and now you can
see it too."
"I feel...attractive. I, I like the way it looks on me. It looks so,
so...." She trailed off.
"So...sexy?" She nodded and blushed again. She really was shy. "I think
so, too."
"How much did it cost you, Gabrielle? I will pay you for it as soon as I
can."
"It is a gift, cherie," I said, and then as she began to protest, I said,
"If you must pay me for it, I demand the privilege of naming my price."
Randi nodded, uncertain, but willing. "My price is to see you wearing it
whenever you are here."
"But..." she started to protest again, but I quickly interrupted her.
"No buts. That is my price. You must pay it. Now you may believe you
still owe me something. If that is the case, then perhaps I will think of
something else. For now, seeing you in it is payment enough. You do have
a beautiful body, Randi."
Randi seemed about to protest, but then something must have clicked for
her. She smiled at me, and the smile lit up her face like a klieg light.
"I do like it, Gabrielle. Thank you very, very much."
"I am happy, then. Randi, ma petite cherie, I have an intuition that you
will bring a great many people a great deal of happiness, my self included.
You are young, and you have a beautiful body for dancing." And
lovemaking, I added to myself. I took her by the hand and led her into the
center of the dance floor. "First the stretching, and then today I will
teach you a kick. Today we will stretch to music, Mozart. Do you like
Mozart?"
"I don't know. I'm not good at recognizing music or identifying
composers. I do like all kinds of music, though."
I walked over to my little sound system and pressed the "play" button on
the CD. The lively but subdued strains of Mozart's Clarinet Quintet in A
Major filled the studio. I walked back to where I'd left her standing and
said, "Shall we begin?"
We went through the stretching quickly and smoothly. Randi picked up the
rhythm of the Mozart, and I was pleased to see she could match her
movements to the music with no real effort. I realized that her new
smoothness was probably due to the fact she wasn't worried about her
leotard falling off of her body. I watched her intently, drinking in her
curves as we stretched. The leotard top cradled her breasts, accentuating
their pertness. The top was cut low in the front, and revealed much of
Randi's cleavage to my eager eyes. I followed the course of a rivulet of
perspiration that started on her neck and then trailed off to disappear
between her breasts. I wanted to trace its track with my tongue. I
fastened my gaze to her groin, where the leotard bottoms, darkened with
perspiration, revealed as much as they concealed, delineating the soft
curves of her pudenda. As we warmed up, Randi's body emitted a powerful,
musky aroma that I found utterly compelling. I longed to bury my face
between her legs and breathe that heady odor. I submerged myself in a
delicious fantasy, visualizing all the ways I would make love to Randi.
The studio faded from my mind, to be replaced by an image of Randi, nude,
her body dancing to the tune I played on it with my fingers, lips and
tongue. I lost myself in this pleasant reverie, only coming back to
reality when I heard Randi's voice.
"Am I doing something wrong, Gabrielle? You seemed to slow and stop the
routine. I thought I was making a mistake."
"Oh, no. I...I am just a bit distracted. You are doing fine. Really. I
am sorry. Let us resume."
When we finished the warm-ups, I led her to the mirror wall. A bar at
waist height ran the length of the wall, which my beginning students used
for support while working on leg movements.
"Now watch me and do what I do." I faced the bar and grasped it with one
hand. Then, I raised my right leg until I could rest it on the bar. I
left it there for a beat, and then brought it down to the floor again.
When my legs were together, I waited another beat, and then repeated the
process. I turned to Randi, and said, "Now, you."
Randi stepped up to the bar and swung her leg up. I knew she wasn't going
to have the horizontal stretch necessary to reach the bar, so I moved
around her and caught her ankle as it fell back, well short of the bar.
"Here, I will help you. It will be awhile before your muscles will stretch
enough on their own for this." Slowly, gently, I lifted her ankle until it
was even with the bar. Randi had to shift her footing a little, and lean
to the left, but she did get her ankle all the way up. I glanced down at
her groin, and saw the thrust of her mons against the crotch of the
leotard. Her labia were clearly defined beneath the thin material.
Kneeling, I brought her ankle back down until she was again standing, feet
together.
"That is very good. Now, you should try to do it without leaning over. I
will lift your ankle; you concentrate on not leaning." I remained kneeling
as I again raised her ankle. Randi held herself upright; I could feel her
effort in the way her leg trembled. I said, "Very good. Now, eighteen
more times on this leg, and then we change to the other." I placed my free
hand in the small of her back to steady her. It was slick with her
perspiration. As the exercise continued, I let it slip lower and lower,
until I was grasping the round globe of her derriere. Her buttocks moved
beneath my palm sensuously, and I had to resist the impulse to stroke her
fanny with my hand. When she finished the set for each leg, I turned her
around so that her back was to the mirror. "Now Randi, kick straight out
in front of you, as high as is comfortable. Your leg should be parallel to
the floor at the top of the arc. Still kneeling, I slid to one side. As
she kicked, I place my palm on the underside of her thigh, just centimeters
from her groin. I took her ankle with my other hand and helped her elevate
it to the horizontal. I wanted to slide my hand higher up her thigh to cup
her mons, but I knew she wasn't prepared for any such overt message of my
intentions. Instead, I kept it where it was.
I had Randi practice the side kicks and front kicks for the rest of the
session. When I finally called time, I could tell Randi was relieved. She
was perspiring freely, and in the short rests I had allowed her, I had
noticed she breathed heavily while her legs trembled. Now, she collapsed
onto the stack of exercise pallets in the corner. She lay on her back on
top of the pallets, one hand behind her head, eyes closed, her knees draped
over the edge of the stack, her feet on the polished wood floor.
She looked so innocently erotic, that I knew I would have to try to seduce
her tonight. But how? I'd never felt as aroused by any of my other
lovers, and they were all adults. I have no problem making my arousal
known to another woman-she either accepts it or rejects it. But Randi,
barely out of childhood, would not be able to make such a decision, since
she was lacking, I was certain, any sexual experience on which to base a
decision. I wasn't about to take her by force, though the idea had a
certain appeal. I submerged that thought, and continued to ponder how to
approach her. I walked over to her and sat cross-legged on the floor in
front of her. I contemplated her as she rested. The armpits of her top
were stained dark by her perspiration, as was the crotch of her bottoms.
As I watched the rise and fall of her small breasts, I felt my arousal go
into orbit.
After a minute or two, from her position on her back, she said, "Please
tell me that at some point, my legs will stop hurting, won't they?"
"Yes, they will." Then I saw the opportunity I was looking for. "A
little massage, or a rubdown, can help with the pain. Have you ever had a
rubdown, Randi? I have one at least once a week. A rubdown will help your
muscles relax. If you like, I will give you one."
"Oh no, you don't have to do that. I will remember to bring some Tylenol
or something each time."
"Yes, the Tylenol is a good idea. I probably should keep some around her
for new students like you. But Randi, I would like to give you a rubdown.
You have earned it, sweetheart, and it would bring me a great deal of
pleasure." Randi sat up, and looked down at me hesitantly. I gazed
steadily back at her, and was suddenly swept up in another wave of deja vu.
I was fifteen again, and Lydia, my maestra and the woman who first seduced
me, had just offered to give me a rubdown. She was so gentle and so
confident of her touch, that I barely protested when she slipped my leotard
off my shoulders and began to kiss my breasts. After arousing my libido,
it seemed only natural when she turned her attentions to my vagina. With a
start, I realized why Randi had such a profound effect on me-she was I,
twenty years ago. The role reversal was what was arousing me. I let the
deja vu wash through me, and the path to Randi's seduction was clear before
me.
I waited for a sign from her, and after a few seconds, taking silence for
consent, I stood up, and then picked up her right leg and straddled it. I
backed up until I could feel her foot resting against my derriere. I
clamped my hands around the calf, and began to massage it with firm, slow,
strokes. Slowly but steadily, I worked my hands up her calves to her
thighs. Carefully, I let my fingers brush against her pubis as I massaged
the tendons of her inner thigh. I carefully made sure that the touches
seemed accidental, allowing long intervals between them, and keeping them
very brief, swift, delicious foretastes of what I knew was to come. After
spending several minutes on her right leg, I switched to her left leg and
started again. By the time I was finished, the tension in Randi's leg
muscles had diminished greatly. I let her left leg slip from between my
own, and then sat next to her on the stack of pallets. She opened her eyes
and sat up.
"Mmm. That felt so good. My legs feel much better. Thank you,
Gabrielle."
"You are quite welcome, Randi, but I'm not quite done, yet. You've worked
so hard, you deserve a reward." I put my hand on her chest between her
small breasts and gently pushed her back. She resisted for a moment and
then lay back down. I started with the tendons along her neck, working
them gently with my fingers. Randi closed her eyes, but I could still
detect some tension in the way her muscles resisted my touch. I worked
them for several minutes, then gently coaxed Randi to turn over onto her
stomach. I straddled her back with my knees, and began to work my way down
her spine. At last, I could feel Randi beginning to relax to my touch.
I began to change the way I was massaging her. My touches became more
light, and lingered longer. I was in fact caressing her and not really
massaging her anymore, but she didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she
didn't seem to mind. I allowed my caresses to slide farther and farther
around her torso until I could feel the swell of her breasts with my
fingertips. As I was doing this, I could feel her derriere pushing against
my pubis. I glanced down and saw an unmistakable signal of my rising
passion-a small damp oval in the crotch of my leotard. I slid my mons
across her buttocks, and felt an electric tingle arc through my vagina. I
indulged myself like this, slipping my mons across the cheeks of her pert
little ass as I continued to caress her shoulders and arms with my hands,
until a small orgasm took me.
I rearranged my position so that I was kneeling beside her. I took a deep
breath, and then calmly slid my hands under the back of the top, and
slipped it up until it was gathered beneath her armpits. At the same time,
I physically rolled her over onto her back. As she rolled over, she
brought her arms down to modestly cover her exposed breasts. She started
to speak, but I put my fingers against her lips and said, "Shhh, ma petite
cherie. Close your eyes and trust me."
I took both of her hands in my left hand and stretched her arms over her
head. With my right hand, I slipped the top up and over her head, sliding
it along her arms until it reached her wrists. I let go of her hands, but
kept my right hand on the top where it bound her wrists. At the same time,
I lay down next to her, my eyes even with her breasts. I swung my left leg
over her knees, and then brought my left hand back to her face. I cupped
her cheek in my hand and said, "Now your reward, cherie." With that, I
brought my hand down to her chest, where I gently cupped one of her small
breasts. I squeezed it softly, and then brought my head towards her chest
until her nipple was within millimeters of my lips. I blew lightly on her
nipple, and then pressed it down with my thumb, and then flicked it gently
several times. I could feel it begin to erect. Extending my tongue, I
licked it slowly in a circle, and as it came fully erect, I sucked it
between my lips. Randi gasped.
I let her nipple slip free and shifted closer to her so I could reach her
other breast. I cupped her other breast with my hand and again leaned
close to blow gently against the nipple. This nipple responded even
quicker than the first. Randi must be becoming aroused. This time, I took
her nipple between my teeth and bit down softly on it. This time Randi's
gasp was more like a low moan, and I almost came as I heard it. I let go
of that breast with my hand, and recaptured the other breast. I squeezed
it firmly, then pinched the nipple again and again as I tugged on her other
nipple with my teeth. Randi was beginning to breathe heavily, and she was
gasping, "Oh! Oh! Oh!" in time with the pinches and tugs. Suddenly, I
felt her body shudder, and I knew she had climaxed. I gazed up at her
face, and waited for her to become aware of me again. As I waited, I
slipped her hands free of the leotard's top, and then tossed the top aside.
straddled her torso, and placed my hands on her chest, each palm cupping
one of her breasts. When she opened her eyes, she said, "Oh Gabrielle!
What are we doing?"
I smiled down at her and said, "Shh. We are just beginning." I began to
squeeze her breasts rhythmically, slowly increasing the pressure, and then
letting up, slowly at first, and then more rapidly, and then slowly again,
in a cycle. When her breathing became heavy again, I grasped each nipple
between my thumb and forefingers, and began to move them in a circle, her
small breasts following. Slowly I increased the size of the circles, and
then reversed the direction of one of the circles. I was soon rewarded
with little moans of pleasure from Randi. I began to pinch the nipples as
I drew her breasts around and around. It wasn't long before Randi climaxed
again.
As she recovered from this orgasm, I lay down on my side next to her. Now
I wanted to give her a taste of me. I slipped my arm under her neck, and
cradled her head against my bosom. With my free hand, I slipped my leotard
off my shoulder, and lifted my left breast free of the cup. I then tilted
her head until her mouth was only centimeters from my nipple. I slipped my
hand to the back of her neck and pulled her head forward towards my breast.
She resisted a little at first. I said, "Please, Randi?" and I felt the
resistance slacken slightly. She allowed me to pull her head until her
lips were against my nipple. Again, I said, "Please?" Tentatively, her
tongue emerged from between her lips and flicked out to touch my nipple.
She looked up at me, almost as if seeking my approval. I nodded my head
encouragingly. She fastened her lips around the nipple, and I could feel
her begin to suckle. I sighed with pleasure. Her lips were feather soft.
She would suckle for a few moments, and then probe my nipple with her
tongue, and then resume suckling. The sensation was exquisite, and I felt
an orgasm begin to swirl in my mind. It grew to a climax, and I let it
engulf me. I shuddered deeply, and arched my back as it hit, and pressed
Randi's head hard against my breasts.
After it trailed away, I gently disengaged Randi's mouth from my nipple.
I stood up, pulling Randi to her feet beside me. Taking her by the hand, I
led her over to the futon in the corner. It would be much more comfortable
for what I wanted to do to Randi next. I knelt down on the futon, and
pulled Randi down beside me. I cradled her in my arms, pulling her half
into my lap. After a second or two, I could feel Randi relax into my arms.
I gently rubbed her breasts with the palm of my left hand, while I let my
right hand trail down her torso until I could feel the bottom half of her
leotard. I cupped her pubis in my hand, and squeezed it gently. I heard
Randi gasp as I squeezed. I removed my hand from her breasts long enough
to turn her head towards me and tilt her face up. I captured her lips with
mine, and then thrust my tongue deep into her throat. I went back to
rubbing her breasts with my hand, as I probed her mouth with my tongue.
I changed the rhythmic squeezing of her mons to short strokes with the
tips of my fingers. Randi's chest was heaving with her passion. I
grasped the waistband of the leotard, and tugged it down, revealing first a
small rectangle of pubic hair, and then the slit of her vagina beneath
those silken strands. I left the bottom around the middle of her thighs,
and then brought one of her legs up. I slipped the leotard down that leg
and over her foot until it was free of her leg. I took the leg and
positioned it across my knees, exposing her pudenda completely to me. I
began to caress her labia, running my fingers lightly along their length in
one direction, and then trailing the tips of my fingers along her vaginal
cleft in the other. Shortly, I began to feel a dampness against my
fingers, and knew that Randi was becoming very aroused indeed.
I parted her labia, and then gently penetrated her with my middle finger.
I carefully bypassed her hymen, and pushed my finger as deep as I could
into her vagina. I felt Randi shudder, and she moaned against my tongue,
which was still exploring her mouth. I released her mouth from my own, and
began to lick her cheeks, eyelids, and the back of her neck with short
flicks of my tongue. I slipped my finger in and out of her vagina, and was
soon rewarded with a crescendo of moans from her. I felt the muscles in
her vaginal walls clamp down with surprising force against my finger as she
came.
When her orgasm had run its course, she opened her eyes and turned her
head to look at me. I smiled down at her, and then slipped from beneath
her. I laid her gently back against the raised side of the futon.
Grasping her ankle, I brought her foot up onto the futon, bending her leg
at the knee. Gently, I coaxed her to spread her thighs, and then slipped
by body between them. Leaning forward, I began to caress her mons with my
tongue. I could taste her pre-coital lubrication and her perspiration, a
heady mixture of salty-sweet tastes that I savored. I kissed her labia
several times, and Randi began to respond, thrusting her mons forwards to
meet each loving caress of my lips. With two fingers I parted her labia,
and then fastened my lips around her clitoris. AS my lips touched her
there, she groaned aloud. I sucked firmly on her clitoris, then flicked it
with the tip of my tongue. Randi began to thrash her hips wildly, and I
rested my forearm across her tummy to hold her still. Reaching up with my
free hand to her face, I pushed my index finger past her lips into her
mouth. Randi immediately began to suck on it with wild abandon. After a
few moments, I removed it. I placed my now wet finger against her anus and
with a gentle pressure, forced it deep into her rectum. I felt Randi grow
even more frenzied. I bit down on her clitoris with my teeth, and rotated
my finger in her rectum. Randi suddenly grew rigid, a long, low moan
escaping from her lips.
I waited until this orgasm had attenuated, and then eased my finger from
her rectum. I gave her clitoris a loving caress with my tongue, and then I
crawled onto the futon next to her. She was flushed, and breathing in
small, short pants. Between breaths, she said, "What is happening to me?
What are you doing?" She wasn't scared; I heard curiosity more than
anything else in her voice.
I thought for a moment, and then replied, "I am celebrating your body,
Randi. As I told you before, you have a beautiful body. This is my way of
showing you that. You arouse me, Randi, as no one else ever has. Have I
offended you? I apologize if I have. If you are not comfortable with
this, you can get dressed and leave. Our deal still remains though, if you
want it to." I gazed steadily back at her, and mentally crossed my
fingers. Randi remained silent for several seconds. At last she spoke.
"Thank you for telling me I have beautiful body, though I find it
difficult to believe that somebody as graceful and as beautiful as you
would think so."
"Randi. You are beautiful. Really and truly." I kissed her, and Randi
leaned back against the futon, her eyes closed, her hands trailing lightly
across her breasts, caressing them, pinching her nipples. One hand dropped
to her mons, and I watched her caress herself. I got to my feet and walked
back to the exercise pallets, where I retrieved her top. I walked back to
her with the top in my hand, watching her as she lay on the futon.
"Enough for today, Randi." She opened her eyes at the sound of my voice.
I knelt on the futon next to her, reached down, and threaded her leg back
into the leotard bottoms, and then pulled them back up around her hips, but
not before I gave her vagina a final, lingering caress with my fingertips.
I handed her the top, which she quickly put on. As she was tugging it
down over her breasts, I stopped her long enough to lean forward and caress
each of her nipples with my lips and tongue. She rose gracefully from the
futon, and startled me by kissing my lightly on the lips. She walked into
the office and emerged a few moments later, dressed again in her short
plaid skirt and white blouse, her jacket draped over one shoulder. Her
hair had slipped loose from her berette, and now one tress hung down beside
her face. I walked over to her and fixed it gently back into place.
"What time tomorrow do you want me to put your system together for you?"
I thought for a moment, trying to remember when the package services made
their rounds in the Marina district. Tomorrow was Saturday, and I had no
students until Monday morning.
"Better come late in the afternoon, Randi. I will fix you dinner, while
you fix my system. Deal?" She nodded brightly. "Wait just a second.
I'll get you the address."
I slipped into the office and took one of my personal cards from my desk.
I walked back out to where Randi was standing, and we both started for the
street exit. As she opened the door to leave, I handed her the card, and
gave her some simple directions to my flat. As she turned to leave, she
tilted her head up and kissed me, surprising me by slipping her tongue into
my mouth. Then she was gone. I went back to the office, and gathered my
things together for the trip home. I could hardly wait for tomorrow.