AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Fun,” I say unconvincingly.
She pauses to look up at me more pointedly.
“No, really, it was fun for the most part. It was nice to spend some time with people my own age, dancers nonetheless, who are more familiar with Rosehill’s program. I had a good time.” I smile to show my sincerity.
“But…?” my aunt presses with a knowing tone.
I hesitate and drop my gaze, my fingers twining together as I try to find a way to keep my body busy. “I guess I don’t quite know if I… belong. I’m surrounded by rich people who don’t have to think twice about bills or scholarships or how they’re going to afford their dreams once they finish school. There was just so much… extravagance at the club, and no one seemed to think twice about it. Meanwhile, I didn’t even consider trying to buy a drink.”
Aunt Patritsiya smiles kindly. “Money’s not what matters when it comes to how we live our lives.”
I nod appreciatively. “I know. And honestly, I’m grateful that I even get this opportunity. I just… even at school, I feel a bit like an imposter. You know?”
Stepping close to me, my aunt gently cups my cheek. “Does it matter, when attending Rosehill will help your dream of being a ballerina come true?”
“No,” I say. “In the end, it’s the program that matters. It’s far more intensive than anything else I would find, and the talent around me is incredible. It will definitely drive me to be a better dancer.”
“Good.” My aunt pats my face lightly. “Clara drew something for you, by the way.” She shuffles toward the kitchen table and picks up a crayon drawing.
My heart melts at the image of two stick figures dressed in pink tutus, one tall and blonde, the other short with black hair. They smile out at me as they hold each other’s hands. Tears brim in my eyes as I smile, and an emotion-filled sob escapes my lips.
“She’s a good girl,” Aunt Patritsiya says, her Russian accent growing thicker with her own emotion. “She loves her mama.”
I nod, pressing my fingers to my lips as I look down at the adorable drawing.
“She said she would only go to sleep if I promised you would tuck her in once you got home.”
I pull my aunt into a hug, wrapping my arms around her short frame. “Goodnight, Auntie,” I breathe. Then I tiptoe toward my little girl’s room and crack the door open just enough so I can slide inside.
Carefully easing the door closed, I wait until I hear its gentle click. Then I turn to feel my way across the dim room only lit by the tiny ballerina night light that spins upon its post. Clara sleeps with her little fist resting by her cheek. Her lips form a perfect O as she breathes from her mouth, disturbing her black curls that fall across her face.
Kneeling at the base of her bed, I comb her hair back from her face and press a soft kiss to her forehead. She’s so deeply asleep she doesn’t stir. I feel as though my heart might burst with the unconditional love I have for my little girl. Think what I might about Nicolo, I could never be angry that he blessed me with such a sweet, loving little girl. She might be a mischief maker, but she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, and I thank God for her every day.
She’ll be four in a few short months, and it amazes me to think of how quickly she’s growing. My little baby. She once was tiny enough to fit in the crook of my arm.
“Good night, my love,” I whisper, kissing the crown of her head before I rise and carefully tiptoe back toward the door.
In the main room of the apartment, the lights are already out with a single hall light toward my room shining to guide my way. My aunt must have gone straight to bed when I went to tuck Clara in. I can’t say I blame her. Bed sounds really good right about now. But first, I feel inclined to wash off all the sweat and grime from the nightclub.
Slipping into the bathroom, I turn on the shower and strip as I wait for the water to get warm. As soon as it’s hot enough, I step into the tub and slide the curtain closed. It feels good to wash away the sweat and body odor left from all those bodies pressing close around me. While it was certainly overwhelming, I did end up enjoying myself a decent amount. The blatant sexuality intrigued me, and now that I’m alone in the quiet of my own home, I start to process everything I saw.
The dancers performing high above in the glass cages were truly something to behold, their bodies twisting and contorting in beautiful displays of erotic poses. Once I got past the initial horror of what might happen to them should they fall, I was able to appreciate their athletic abilities.
But more than that, I found myself intrigued by the public displays of affection, the couple making out at a table just past the edge of the dance floor, their hands exploring each other so freely. My life has been so structured and disciplined, I’ve never known that sense of liberation. Not beyond my one night with Nicolo.
Just thinking his name brings back the image of him sprawled across the couch in the top-most VIP lounge area, his arms draped around two beautiful women. At one point in the night, though I tried to keep my eyes on anyone but him, I noticed him and the girls slip away. In my mind’s eye, I picture what I’m sure they were doing–Nicolo fucking two girls at the same time. He’s clearly stepped up his game since high school, moving on from wooing virgins to having sex with multiple women simultaneously. The thought both mortifies and arouses me.
Watching the women dash down the club steps with their clothes in hand a short while later vaguely reminds me of my own experience with Nicolo, how abruptly he excused me after we were done. The girls’ expressions were a blend of afraid and aroused, and I wonder just what took place in that room. When Nicolo rejoined his brothers a short while later, he was as cool as a cucumber, his face a cold, emotionless mask.
I can only imagine how experienced he must be sexually by now. Even in high school, he managed to make me come despite the initial pain of losing my virginity. The fact that he could make me feel pleasure, to give me the impression of our intimate connection even when he was using me, cuts me to the quick. I was so stupid.
And still, even knowing what an asshole he is, my insides start to quiver with the thought of Nicolo. My mind recalls with perfect clarity images of his gorgeously toned body hovering naked over me. The feel of his adamant lips caressing my flesh. As I stand beneath the steamy water pouring down from the shower head, I run my hand across my hip bone and down between my thighs.
I’m already slick with arousal, and I don’t know if that’s from all the lewd dancing I witnessed at the club or thoughts of the night Nicolo and I shared together. I shudder with the intense wave of guilt that washes through me. I shouldn’t be thinking that way about a man who seems dead set on torturing me, a man who only fucked me because I was a virgin, and taking that from me somehow got him off.
Pushing the image of Nicolo’s playful hazel eyes from my mind, I jerk my fingers out from between my legs and grab the bar of soap from its cradle. Scrubbing my body furiously, I wash tonight’s grime from my body and mind. No matter how hard I’ve tried to learn and grow from my experience in high school, it seems I’m still the same naive girl I used to be. And I loathe myself for being so weak. I deserve better. Clara deserves better. And I need to keep my eye on the prize if I’m going to make my sacrifice matter. I don’t need a man in my life, especially not some selfish prick like Nicolo Marchetti. I need to focus on my dream.
8
