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“See you there.”
The drive to the studio feels one hundred hours long, as I remember how good I was getting fucked by Nikolai just two days ago. Now, I have to live with the fact that I won’t anymore, and I don’t know why, but it sends a pang ofpain to my heart. Is it just the fucking? Or is it more? I can’t be this upset about good sex. I need to stop living in the damn past.
It’s actually kind of creepy as I step out of my car and head toward the building. Even the whistling of the wind sounds ominous as I speed walk even faster to escape the eerie feeling crawling down my back. It’s as if I’m being watched, but I choose to push it away and instead lock the studio doors on my way in.
Thankfully, I’m already wearing my outfit, so I only have to change once. I sit on the floor and lace up my pointe shoes, then go to the barre and stretch my body as best as possible. My muscles feel stiff, almost as if I slept like shit, but I’ll have to get through this practice. I have to do it.
Once stretched, my muscles feel better, looser. I take advantage of this and leap and twirl around to warm up, then stand in the middle of the floor. I focus on the fluidity of my movements, keeping them graceful.
I walk a few steps and focus on my arms. Proper arm movement like a wing, looking to the right. Left arm movement like a wing, looking to the left. Leg back and knee bent into the fourth position. Then demi plié, fifth position en face, then développé en pointe.
I take the time to really focus, especially on the graceful movements of my arms. When I’m satisfied, I take two sips of water before preparing for the next part. I’m actually thirsty but don’t want the belly ache that comes from whipping my body with water in my stomach.
This part of the studio has a glass wall that everyone in the parking lot can see through at night, and I can see outside too. I look out because it feels like I’m being watched, and sure enough the infamous black McLaren sits right next to my car, Nikolai dressed to match his vehicle sitting against the hood of it.
The sight makes me tingle, and suddenly I want to show off for him. I don’t look at him again before turning around and going right into fouettés. The Swan Lake performance requires Odile to do thirty-two of them and I finally reached that point two weeks ago.
I get in position and do one pirouette before going into the fouetté. I whip my leg forward and spin, then do it over and over and over again until I finally reach thirty-two whips. When I stop I go back toward the window to get my water and notice the car and Nik are gone. My stomach drops, but I force myself to shake it off and return to practicing.
After an hour, I go to the bathroom and get ready. It’s creepy in here when I’m all alone, even though I’ve been in this very same bathroom countless times. I put my makeup bag on the sink and look at myself in the mirror. All I see is not thin enough. Not pretty enough. Not good enough. A failure. Someone who didn’t protect her brother. Someone who didn’t save him. Maybe I am who Leo says I am, maybe Iama junkie after all.
I shake my head and give my eyeliner some wings, do the rest of my makeup, and put on my short purple dress I’ve been dying to wear with thigh-high black boots. I adjust the halter straps of my dress, making sure they’re not turned or tangled, and make sure my nipples are on full display. There’s a reason I have nipple rings, and it’s for this exact purpose: I love showing them off.
Putting my hair up in a high ponytail, I turn my head each way to spray down stray hairs. I want it clean and big. My dark curls bounce as I move my head, and I smile to myself. Yeah, at least I have nice hair going for me. The big hoop earrings are next, and the final touch is a bright red lipstick because I’m a sucker for praise, and now I can’t get Nikolai telling me he loved it on me out of my head.
It’s completely dark out, pitch black, so I quickly lock the door behind me and half run to my black Mercedes EQS Sedan. I should probably drop it off at home, knowing damn well I’ll be drinking, but I don’t have time for it. It’s getting late, and I told them I’d be there by nine, which I have time, but this place isn’t close to the studio. It is more like a thirty-minute drive.
My main goal tonight is to forget all about Nikolai, which will take a lot of effort because he’s one of a kind and will be next to impossible to ignore. He has been for years. I might have to drown in alcohol and coke to achieve it, maybe even choke on someone else’s cock too. Either way, I can probably ride home with the girls… or not with them at all. Maybe I’ll even call Leo to come and get me. He might just fuck me hard enough to make me forget temporarily. Though he’s probably pissed off I still doubt he’d reject pussy.
I pull up to the downtown area and parallel park, with a lot of effort and almost tears, right in front of the establishment. It’s actually very nice here, and there’s even a VIP line that I use sometimes when I don’t want to stay in line for a long time. The line isn’t that long tonight, probably because it’s still early, so I go through the regular side.
Platte is one of the nicest—if notthenicest—clubs in all of Seaside. Most of the clientele comes from Atlantic University, and they know it, so they cater to us. The mafia families are well known here, and all of us get VIP entrance and tables.
Once I enter Platte, I look around for the table where all my girls are waiting, except it’s empty when I arrive. They must be dancing around. It’s good I didn’t bring a purse since they know me here. I even left my keys with the guy at the front. Just in case I can’t drive, he knows to call someone for me.
“Hey,” Some guy with dark hair and blue eyes comes up to me. Rugged features and full lips tingle my spidey senses, and I think for a moment that he’s Russian. “Want a drink?”
“I want way more than one.” I grin, taking the drink that’s probably laced with some shit. But the difference is I might like the drug in it, and I do want to get fucked tonight so all is well. “Thanks,” I tell him right before I chug it.
“You have pretty eyes.” Wow, he can’t do better than that?
“Is that what you tell everyone?” I smirk. “If so, don’t worry, you won’t even have to try tonight.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes!” I yell when the music gets even louder. “Let’s dance!”
The beat is thumping through the building to the pounding of my heart, and I go to the dance floor between sweaty bodies and the smell of musk to grind on this man I don’t even know the name of. It doesn’t matter though because I lift my hands in the air and dance to the beat of the music like it belongs to me, grinding on him. He’s basically fucking me over our clothes, and I’m loving every second.
“You’re really good at this,” he says against my ear, wrapping an arm around me possessively.
“I’m a ballerina.” I look back and reply against his lips, licking them for the hell of it. He instantly hardens against me, and I love that we don’t even know each other’s names.
“No shit?”
“Yeah, shit.” I grin, then hear my girls right next to me screaming with glee.
Annie, Calypso, Viv, and Gigi all run up to me, jumping up and down to the beat of the music. I look back at the guy apologetically, sad he’s going to be intimidated by all of them, but he just smiles and continues to grind against me.
