Winning the Blonde Goddess Ch. 01

I felt my face go flush with panic as I was forced to make an impossible decision. Whichever choice I made, I'd end up regretting it later.

Then Darya crept silently forward, and timidly tried to insinuate herself between the ballet mistress and myself.

"Excuse me, Amanda," she said with great deference to our leading authority figure, "Is it alright if I speak to Scott in private? I think I can get this all sorted to your satisfaction quickly, and let everyone get back to rehearsals."

Amanda still looked pissed, but she nodded at the soloist, and said, "You've got five minutes to talk some sense into him. Get it sorted."

The tension in the room seemed to have lifted somewhat, and then Darya dragged me to the other end of the room. It wasn't until we were far enough away from the other dancers that they couldn't hear us, that Darya spoke.

"Scott," she practically hissed, "Very nearly every dancer in this room is either gay, lesbian or bisexual, and your little emotional outburst just now basically managed to insult every one of them."

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to salvage the situation somehow, "But this isn't-"

"Hush," Darya sternly ordered me, "No words out of you now, just listen! Dance the pas de deux with Nari, kiss him on the mouth, and make it look pretty. Do what the choreographers tell you to do so we can perform the Bavarian Hex-Master on time, and with a full cast. If you do all of that, and stop complaining about how gay it makes you look, I will have sex you."

My heart suddenly seemed to beat twice as fast as before. Did I just hear her correctly?

"What?" I asked. My voice sounded weak and confused.

"It's not complicated," Darya responded, "I've seen the way you look at me. You're like a prospector that's just found a gold nugget the size of your fist. You get a look in your eyes like you're hypnotized, and you can't look away."

"Well, yeah," I replied weakly. I hadn't realized that I'd been so obvious in the way that I drank in her beauty with my eyes.

"So, do we have a deal?" Darya asked.

What could I say? Darya had the face of Jennifer Lawrence and the svelte, graceful, toned body of a ballerina. A guy would have to be nuts to turn that down. I nodded my head in agreement and responded, "Okay, we have a deal."

"You'll dance with Nari?" she asked, "No more complaining?"

"No more complaining," I agreed, "And I'll dance with Nari. I'll kiss him on the mouth and make it look pretty."

"Good," she said sharply, "Now, don't screw this up. We've got a lot of good, hard-working people here. They could be valuable, trustworthy friends if you let them be, but gay-bashing outburst like the one you did today, could end up alienating everyone here, and trashing any hope you have of friends."

Darya went back to the barre and resumed her stretching. I went back to Amanda and apologized for my outburst and promised that I would perform the pas de deux with Nari, and not give the choreographers a hard time about any of the "gay stuff" that they asked me to do. I even apologized to Nari, just in case I had offended him.

True to my word, I performed the pas de deux with Nari, and I didn't argue or complain when asked to kiss him, or place my arms around his waist. I had made a deal and that was that. Kissing Nari wasn't like I thought it would be. I was expecting it to be icky, but kissing Nari was very much like kissing a girl. If I closed my eyes, I could almost believe I was kissing Cassandra. His mouth was soft, warm and welcoming, just like her mouth was.

After rehearsals were over, there was an impromptu meeting between Christopher, Nari and I, in the area between the showers and the locker room. It seemed that I hadn't sabotaged my friendships with Nari and Christopher. It seemed that we were all still friends, and Nari thought it might help if I knew the plotline of the Bavarian Hex-Master, and Christopher and Nari both proceeded to explain it to me.

"The Hex-Master is an evil wizard," Nari explained, "He travels from one Bavarian town to the next, casting evil spells, he makes crops fail, he makes women barren, he makes snow and freezing rain fall from the sky and turns the land so cold that people freeze to death."

"When things get bad enough, the townspeople bribe him with gold to make him life the curse," Christopher added.

"That's the way it normally works," Nari said, "But when he comes to Rothenburg, things are a little bit different."

"He's smitten with the mayor's daughter," Christopher added, "He's absolutely intoxicated by her beauty and grace, so he speaks to the mayor and asks for her hand in marriage."

"I'm guessing the mayor's not too thrilled with this request," I said, anticipating the way this story was going.

"The mayor knows the Hex-Master's reputation," Nari said, "He knows that the guy is evil, and he refuses the Hex-Master's request. He'd rather die than marry off his only daughter to someone so evil."

"The Hex-Master throws a very melodramatic temper-tantrum in the town square, and then he curses the mayor, the mayor's daughter, and all of the townspeople, turning them all gay."

"Oh," I exclaimed, as I suddenly realized why my character was kissing Cassandra in Act One, and then kissing Nari in Act Three.

"As a plot for revenge, the Hex-Master's plan falls flat," Nari explained, "With everyone in town gay, nobody had a problem with homosexuality anymore. Even the priests were fine with it."

"And when the Hex-Master offers to lift the curse in exchange for the mayor's permission to marry his daughter, the whole town laughs at him. The poor guy ends up leaving town with his head hung low, and the whole town mocking him for his foolish offer."

I thanked Christopher and Nari for explaining the plot of this ballet to me, and tried to act as friendly as I possibly could. Darya had said that most of the dancers in the Chandler Theatre were gay, that meant that I probably offended both Christopher and Nari with my anti-gay outburst. I had nothing against Christopher or Nari. They were both great guys and had been very welcoming when I first came to town. I didn't want to lose them as friends.

. . . . .

It actually took a couple of days before I was able to have sex with Darya. We both had too many demands in our schedules to make it work right away, however when it happened I felt like a little boy on Christmas Day. I had had several days to wait, and every day the sexual tension built and became more powerful. My libido had built to critical mass by the time both of our schedules synced up and we could meet together in private.

You have to see Darya to understand just how lucky I was. She is like the culmination of every wet dream I have ever had, gracefully and flawlessly merged into one living, breathing woman. I couldn't manufacture a more aesthetically pleasing woman, if I were God, spending the eighth day, attempting to create the most ravishing woman ever.

When Darya answered the door to her apartment, I announced myself by telling her that I was there for our date.

"Scott, it is not a date," Darya corrected me, "It is sex without the romance. I think the correct phrase is booty-call."

"Ugh, booty call?" I complained, "That just sounds so cold!"

"It is what it is," Darya said, "I promised that I would have sex with you. I did not promise little winged-cherubs, flying around and shooting arrows of love."

"Okay, that's true," I admitted, "I guess I just got so excited about having sex with the most beautiful woman in Southern California, my mind just filled up with romantic fantasies."

"That's cute," Darya conceded, "in a love-sick schoolboy kind of way. I will still not fall in love with you, but it is a nice compliment. You may come in now."

Her apartment was sparsely decorated. There was a framed poster of Vladimir Malakhov in her living room, but no photos of friends or family anywhere. There were no potted plants or unnecessary decorations. The whole place looked very utilitarian.

"Do you have preference for where we do it?" Darya asked, "I prefer in the shower. It is much easier to clean up afterwards, and the hot water heater in this building is excellent. The hot water never seems to run out."

"The shower sounds great," I said, and I followed her deeper into the apartment.

Watching Darya walk was a treat in and of itself. She wore tight jeans that showed the outline of her perfectly-shaped ass very clearly. Her ass was like a work of art. I knew that I would soon see Darya's perfect buttocks utterly naked and would be able to touch them with my hands. I felt as if I was more fortunate than anyone else in the entire dance company.

When we were in her bedroom, she said, "Take your clothes off in here. I will run water and get it hot for us."

I hadn't even seen her naked yet, however I was already permeated with sexual heat and anticipation. My cock was painfully hard and erect, and it seemed that I could feel a throbbing in my ears and my cock, as my heart beat faster with anticipation.

When I was completely naked, I noticed a framed poster of Beatrice Knop hanging over her bed. It seemed that the only personal touches in Darya's apartment were homages to other ballet dancers. It was like ballet was the only thing she cared about. If she had any friends, family or hobbies, there was no evidence of them to be found here.

"You have very nice body," Darya said when she returned to the bedroom, "Do you have condom?"

"Um," I said hesitantly. I probably should have brought condoms, however in my youthful exuberance and libidinous excitement, the idea of bringing condoms totally slipped my mind.

Hearing the elevated stress-levels in my voice, Darya concluded I didn't have any condoms, and sounded somewhat irritated with me.

"You have very nice body, but I will not risk you getting me pregnant," Darya said, "Pregnancy would sideline my career. We can still have sex, but your cock does not get to impale my vaginal sheath. Do you understand?"

"Um, okay," I said. She had taken off most of her clothes at this point, and was wearing nothing more than a pair of thong panties. Her body was perfect. I'm not even being poetic or romantic here. Her body was utterly without flaws. Her body was a landscape of perfect muscles, sheathed in smooth, flawless skin.

Then she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and shoved them down her hips and onto the floor. When she was utterly naked, I noticed that her vulva had been shaved clean, and was utterly devoid of pubic hair.

"You've shaved your pubic hair off," I observed, "It looks nice."

"Most of the dancers here shave," Darya said conversationally, "Some of the costumes we wear onstage are very revealing. In the production of Dionysus and Acoetes, Valdemar had a scene where he performed wearing only a dance belt. In the production of The President's Daughter, Sasha and Ana had a scene where they performed in the nude."

She paused and then added, "Body hair would ruin the aesthetic of such performances."

A thought occurred to me. "Does that mean I should shave, too?"

"If you are serious about performing with the other dancers, I would highly recommend it. If you continue to be a part of the Chandler Theatre, it will eventually become an issue."

She escorted me into the bathroom, where a hot shower was running, and then she added, "And not just your pubic hair. You should really shave your legs, and your underarms too. Any visible body hair would ruin the aesthetic of your performance onstage."

I stepped into the shower first and for a few seconds, I just stood under the spray, acclimating myself to the temperature of the steaming hot water beating down on my bare skin. Darya stepped into the shower just a second or two after I did. She stood behind me, and for a few seconds I just stood there, and allowed the water to get my skin soaking wet, and allowed my skin to acclimate to the water's temperature. And while I was allowing the shower to get my skin soaking wet, I felt Darya's strong, capable arms wrapping around my waist.

"You have nice body, Scott Alexander," She said softly into my ear, "And even though you cannot put your cock into my vagina, I still will make you very happy to be here with me tonight."

Darya had a Russian accent that I was starting to find sexy, especially when she was naked and promising to do things that would make me happy. I moaned softly, and felt her hands move up and down my slick, slender, naked torso, until her hands found my nipples.

Now, obviously men have nipples, but I've often felt that they had absolutely no purpose whatsoever. To me, they've always seemed like some sort of unnecessary decoration, however when Darya's fingers found my nipples and toyed with them, she triggered nerve endings I didn't even know I had. Darya's fingers rubbed, pinched and pulled on my nipples, and caused an exhilarating throbbing, that spread from my chest and roused my cock even more. My whole body was stirred up and my libido responded to the way she played with my nipples, almost as if she were playing with my cock.

I panted and placed my hands over Darya's, surprised at how intense the sensations were.

"I had no idea you could do that," I called out over the sound of the spray of the shower, "You're making my cock twitch and spasm, just by playing with my nipples?"

"A man's cock is not the only place that he has nerve endings," Darya called out enthusiastically, "I can teach you things about a man's body. Would you like to learn?"

An agonizing wave of desire passed through me as she rolled my nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, making my entire body feverishly hot. And then my cock throbbed again with another hungry, eager spasm.

"Hell yes," I replied with youthful enthusiasm.

"Place your hands here and here, please." She said indicated a section of the shower wall, and the uppermost part of the shower door, "And I will teach you something."

I did as she said, and then she asked me to move my legs apart. The narrow confines of her shower limited my ability to spread my legs somewhat, but I did my best.

Using the warm water from the shower, and some scented body-wash, she proceeded to lather me up from the back of my neck, all the way down to my ankles. I might have been in a hurry to make my cock happy, but Darya insisted on making sure I was squeaky-clean before we had sex. She was a woman with priorities, and my desire to have sex with her, wasn't going to cause her to rush, or skip over what was important.

She spent an inordinate amount of time lathering up my bare buttocks, then her hands became more adventurous and her fingers made their way into the tight furrow in between my buttocks. Her fingers worked into the tight seam, and lathered up the groove in between my butt-cheeks. I was utterly unaccustomed to being touched there. It was an unfrequented and private part of my body. I had never expected anyone else's fingers to pry into that hidden, intimate groove between my buttocks, and I shuddered as her fingertips rubbed across the soft, sensitive tissue of my anus.

"Darya, what are you doing?" I asked, somewhat taken aback by her actions, but she just told me to be quiet.

"Hush, Scott," she said, "School is in session. I am attempting to teach you something."

When she finished rinsing off my buttocks, and the tight, hidden furrow in between them, her fingers continued to play in that hidden area of my anatomy. I felt her fingertips at my anus, rubbing at my tender, innocent flesh, and then she said, "Relax your sphincter muscle. I need to insert my fingers inside of you."

"What?" I said, sounding far more panicky than I had intended, "Inside my ass?"

"Don't be crybaby," she said, somehow managing to sound admonishing and sexy at the same time, "You will like this, I promise."

I was apprehensive and somewhat confused, but when a woman as stunningly beautiful as Darya tells a guy to do something, he does it. It's a universal law or something. I just couldn't resist. So, when she told me to relax my sphincter muscle, I did what she told me to do.

"There is woman in town named Catherine," Darya told me, conversationally as her fingers slid inside of me and opened me up, "She and her husband have taught me many things about sex. I now know more about how to make a man moan with pleasure, than most men do."

I was too shocked by what her fingers were doing to respond. Her fingers had plunged into my anus, and I could feel them inside of me, probing, exploring, making me feel helpless and violated. My legs trembled, and I held my breath, as Darya took ownership of my tight, intimate orifice.

Then, I gasped, and tingles shot through my whole body, as Darya's fingertips seemed to locate a secret nerve cluster deep inside of me. My cock twitched and became even more swollen, as it was suffused with a potent, shocking, agonizing wave of desire.

My whole body tensed up when Darya's fingertips found that spot, and my body temperature became feverish. If I wasn't already soaking wet from the spray of the shower, I probably would have broken out in a hot, libidinous sweat.

"What was that?" I asked, as Darya's fingertips wickedly rubbed the secret spot she had just discovered.

"That was your prostate gland," Darya calmly informed me, "It is a very important part of the male anatomy. With this, I can make sex with men far more delicious."

"Oh, God," I exclaimed. My brain was scrambled, and I couldn't think of anything else to say. I was barely capable of forming words at all.

I could feel the tip of her finger rubbing across my prostate gland in a slow, sure, circular motion. My whole cock twitched in response, and I could feel shivery waves of wanton desire resonating from that tiny spot, and radiating all across my body. A moan came up from deep within my throat, and it sounded far more passionate and wanton than any sound I had ever made while masturbating. Then I gasped as Darya removed her fingers from my ass, without warning.

"There is more that I can teach you," Darya informed me. I silently nodded my head in agreement. If this was the sort of stuff she wished to teach, I definitely wanted to be her student.

"First there is more washing," Darya said, "I wish for you to be clean before I teach you anything else."

I groaned at that. I was impatient to see what other erotic secrets this hot, Russian ballet dancer could teach me, but I decided to bide my time, and not beg or plead for her to speed things up.

Much to my surprise, the first thing she did was kneel down and wash my feet. I've never given much thought to feet before. They're basically the platforms that that my ankles grow out of. I plant them on the ground, so I have something to balance my legs upon. They're necessary for walking, running and dancing, but I never gave them much thought.

Apparently, Darya had given them some thought.

She got out the body-wash again, and had me lift my foot up, like a horse about to be shod. She washed my feet, paying special attention to the soles. Apparently, there are a multitude of never endings in the soles of a person's foot that are really responsive, and if they're stroked, rubbed and massaged the right way, can feel incredible and delicious. It wasn't exactly sex, but I think it counted as foreplay. Erotic shivers ran up from the sole of my foot, as Darya worked her magic on it, and traveled all the way up to my cock. Apparently, there were important and impressive nerve-endings in the soles of the feet that I had spent years ignoring.

"Remember what I do here today," Darya advised me, "Someday you may wish to impress a lover with foot rub like this."