Message-ID: <6410eli$9712151627@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: cmndr@nym.alias.net (Commander Jameson) X-Good-Line-Length: yes Subject: {ASS} RP by RQ: "The Ballet Student" by Randi (Ff, seduct) <*> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii X-Email: Don't send me e-mail as BCC - it will bounce. Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <349e967d.22933383@207.14.113.10XCJ> From: yeahright@whatever.com (Randi) Date: Sat, 13 Dec 1997 11:27:39 -0700 -------- *** Standard Disclaimer *** The following contains a textual depiction of consentual sex between two young girls. 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. * * * The Ballet Student by Randi Pattersen 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 silly American idea that sex with a minor must 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 Pattersen. 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?" The teen looked 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. Currently, 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 a way 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 all the 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. 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 to 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 her self 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 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, 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, 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. I 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 Randi's 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 them 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. She was flushed, and still 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. I 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 slipped out from under her and rose to my feet. Randi lay 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 her labia. It was all I could do to keep from ravishing her right then and there. Instead, I forced myself to walk 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 free 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 me 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 under the berrette. "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. -- CJ I don't write any stories. I'm just a reader, and sometimes a reposter. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |