First Position

"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."

She reaches into her jeans pocket and places her phone on the counter in front of me. It takes me a second to click.

"You tricked me into coming back with you!"

I'm trying to seem outraged, but I'm not angry. Far from it. She's close enough now I can feel her breath on my face.

"I want you to choose this."

When I make no attempt to reach for the phone, she closes the distance between us, pressing her body into mine. One hand cradles my jaw, whilst the other unfastens my hair so she can tangle her fingers in the curls at the nape of my neck. I'm so ready, and it's torture when she pauses yet again.

"Is this ok?"

Her lips are so close they brush against mine as she speaks. I nod eagerly, pressing myself closer, and then I'm lost as she kisses me, slowly and gently, keeping control whilst I do everything in my power to try deepen it. She pulls away far too soon, laughing at my growl of frustration.

"So impatient. Drink your wine."

"Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"I just want you to relax. Your heart is pounding."

I am nervous, so I steel myself and knock it back in one go, waiting for the involuntary shudder that never comes. Of course it's delicious - just like every other thing about her.

"Good girl. I knew you would like it."

I resist the urge to melt into her, those words from her lips awakening every part of my body - suddenly I'm brave again.

"I didn't actually. It's terrible."

Her throaty laugh is music to my ears, and she cups my face again, amusement in her eyes.

"You are such a bad liar. I'll allow it just this once, but you must never lie to me again."

"And if I do? Will you punish me?"

It was meant to be a joke, and her expression is still soft but the humour is replaced with a new intensity I haven't seen before.

"If you'd like me to."

She's completely serious, and although it's a statement, I know it's really a question. I don't need to think twice.

"I would like that. Please."

Her fingers brush the hem of my top, but she pauses.

"There are rules, but you're new so we'll start off slow. I'd like to undress you, is that ok?"

I nod eagerly, but she doesn't move.

"You need to say it."

"Yes, please, it's ok."

My breath hitches as she removes my top, brushing her fingertips up my sides as she lifts it over my head.

"You address me as Ma'am from now on, unless I tell you otherwise, Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good girl."

In one smooth motion she lifts me from the stool and sets me on the counter, standing between my legs once more. Her expression is still gentle, but there's a steeliness underneath that makes me weak. She's unbuttoning my jeans now and I lift my hips so she can slide them down my legs.

"Once we both agree on our limits, I expect you to obey me without question. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am.'

She presses herself against me so she can unclip my bra, and I hear her breath hitch as she takes me in.

"But you must always be honest. If something is uncomfortable, you tell me by using a safe word."

I lift my hips again so she can slide my panties down my legs. Her breathing is quicker now and I know she's as impatient as I am.

"Did you have any questions for me?"

"Yes Ma'am. What's the safe word?"

She grins at me wickedly, before moving her mouth to my neck, and nipping at my ear.

"The safe word is emboite. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

And then her glorious mouth is licking, sucking and nipping at my neck. I instinctively reach for her, but she pauses, and I feel her smiling against my skin.

"Did I give you permission to touch me?"

"No, Ma'am."

Her mouth returns to exploring my neck, and then down my chest. She teases one nipple gently, stroking it lightly between her fingers, whilst kissing and sucking the other, and pulling at it gently with her teeth. I feel her hum with pleasure as I arch my back and press more into her mouth. I'm in heaven and hell because I can barely think beyond the pleasure, but she's still fully dressed and I want to see her, touch her, worship her...

Eventually her mouth moves lower, teasing a path down my abdomen, before pausing just below my navel. She undoes her hair, auburn waves cascading over her shoulders.

"You have permission to touch me, if you need to."

My hands are gripping the counter tightly and I feel my stomach clench with nerves for a second as her mouth finds its way between my legs. The first few licks are teasing, fleeting, but as soon as she puts some gentle pressure on my clit, beginning a slow and steady rhythm, my hands are suddenly in her hair, holding her exactly where I need.

I bite my lip as she slips a finger inside me, gently exploring to find my sweet spots, and I feel her hum of delight at how desperately wet I am for her. When she adds another finger I can't think anymore, and as she slowly picks up her pace, matching the rhythm of her fingers and tongue, my hips are bucking and I'm pressing myself harder into her sweet mouth.

I can feel the tension starting to build through my body, my muscles growing tight, my breath coming out in gasps. I'm getting so close that when she pauses for a second I have to bite down on my lip harder to hold in my frustration.

"From now on, you are only to finish when I allow you to. Would you like my permission, sweet one?"

"Yes, please. Please-"

"Please what?"

"Please, Ma'am."

Her tongue and fingers build quickly to their original pace, and my hips buck as I bear down on her fingers and push myself into her mouth. Then the tension becomes unbearable, and explodes through my body, filling me with warmth and pooling between my legs.

Her mouth is on mine, kissing me hard, sucking and biting my lip as she teases the last of my orgasm out with her fingers. She kisses me harder each time I moan into her mouth, and I can only pray that one day soon she allows me to return the favour. When my body has finally stilled, she carries me to the couch, kissing me softly until I can't keep the exhaustion at bay any longer.