Ballet, a Love Story

They danced stage right, in three, long, lifts. Lift, two, three. Hold, two, three, four, five. Lower, two three. Lift, two, three, four, five. Richard held Angela’s hips, and lofted her above his head. She went up in a white diaphanous cloud, like an angel. Arms reaching forward, head held high, legs bent back, like Diana shot from a bow. He gently lowered her. They hugged. It was just so lovely.

At stage right, before the music brought them back, he whispered; “You smell like a bunny rabbit in heat.” Angela whispered, “Oh God.” Then, it was back to stage left. Everyone knows that ballet is a sweaty business. Antiperspirants, and deodorants, rubbed under the arms, or in the crotch, only lasted so long. It was an occupational hazard.  He whispered, “One more act.”

The Ballet was Romeo and Juliet, but with a happy ending. The Rival Duchies forbade the marriage. But faced by a common enemy, they joined forces. The wedding in the last act allowed the costumers to go wild with pageantry. The Corps de Ballet was brought out to rounds of applause, and did a grand reprise of their numbers. Then, the bride and groom appeared.

The audience  gasped. The scene was so beautiful, everyone held their breath. Richard lofted her, and carried her across to stage right, then let go. He caught her, and held her in his arms, her face pressed against his cheek. There were sobs, and tears from the audience. He carried her in an arc, down stage, then back up, to receive their parent’s blessings. Richard did his Bravura Performance. Then Angela did her Bravura Performance.  There was general rejoicing, giving them time to recover. Then they did a romantic pas de deux, ending with Richard, his face filled with love, cuddling Angela in his arms like a kitten, face buried in his neck, walking off stage to their wedding night. It was so romantic.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

The curtain closed to shouts, cheers, and open weeping. Another successful  evening of Ballet. The Management was used to this, and gave the audience five minutes, to come to their senses, then opened the curtain to the full company. They brought forward the Corps de Ballet, then individual Ballerinas and  Danseurs, then Richard and Angela, and the house went wild. She received her bouquet of roses, with a curtsy and a blown kiss to the audience. Six encores, then to her dressing room. They locked the door, and made love for  an hour.

All male dancers are gay. A fact of life. The Dancing Masters are gay. The trainers are gay. The boys are gay. It’s a gay world. Not so with the girls. They start out very young, with visions of sugar plums. Their parents send them to ballet classes for a few years, till some of it wears off. Those that hang in there, are faced with, “The Look .”  A prominent Ballet Teacher may accept all comers, and milk her parents for a while. But they have a reputation to maintain. They want to graduate girls who can go out to small regional companies, if not the big time, and not embarrass the school, or themselves. There’s a lot of subtle weeding out to do. Besides, there will always be more hopefuls coming up.

With the men, it’s different. You should be tall, strong, good looking, with an haughty demeanor, and gay. Or at least, well on your way. Richard was an exception. His parents were wealthy. They took him to sports events, car racing, the opera, and the ballet. He liked ballet the best. He saw all those White Swans, floating across the stage, and fell in love. He wanted to eat them up. He saw only one way to do it. He told his parents, he wanted to become a ballet dancer. They were shocked, but willing. He never explained the reason, because he thought it was so obvious. They sent him to a top Ballet School.

At the school, the  Master told him that he started years late. If he was going to  to succeed, he needed to work three times harder than other classmates. He was willing. Then the Master asked, why he was willing to do this?  Richard said; “For the girls.”

The Master was as shocked as his parents, but for a different reason. The Master thought, ‘It takes all kinds. But the boys will  change him, soon enough.”

It never happened. Richard wasn’t interested. They all joked, that he was straight. Richard worked three times harder. Practiced, three times longer, and could leap farther, then any of his classmates. Richard grew to be handsome, talented and strong. He could lift 140 pounds in the air, as if it were a feather. When others tried it, their mouth fell open, and their eyes bugged out. The Master took notice. He had a problem on his hands. Richard, was the best student, that the School ever had. No doubt about it. He had to get rid of him to save his reputation. He shopped Richard to the Cleveland area as an up and coming talent, at a bargain price, because he was straight.

The driving force behind the National in Cleveland was Geoffrey Temple. A tall, good looking, mid 40’s Ballet Impresario. He was knowledgeable, witty, likable, and gay as a bedbug. But you would never know it. He kept his private life hidden. It was bad PR, if you’re asking for money, and he was. Running a major Ballet Company was a cat and mouse game.

He was helped out, by his wife, Cynthia, an expat, with a posh British accent. She was a stunner, with a body that just wouldn’t quit. She looked like a young Ann Margaret, and knew it. Red-gold hair, green eyes. Tits you dream about, on a body that dropped your jaw. When it came, ‘Fund raising time’, they worked the room like a tag team. When  Alfred  D’Long  said Business was poor, and he wouldn’t be able to match, last years One-fifty,  Cynthia handed the news off to Geoffrey, who slid over to Alfred’s wife, Lydia. Geoffrey expressed his deepest condolences, on D’Longs coming bankruptcy, and the loss of the One-fifty contribution.

Lydia said; “That old skinflint. I’ll put in the one-fifty, but I want him to suffer. We are good for a quarter of a mil.” So alerted, Cynthia returned to Alfred, with pouty lips and green eyes. She rubbed against him, and says; “Lydia wants you to put in a quarter of a million.” Alfred was looking down at those breasts, and getting an erection in the middle of the room. It was a done deal. Besides, It was Lydia’s money.

The principal Ballerina, was Patricia Colleen, a dark haired beauty, with great form . The Danseur Noble was Nathan  Monterey. Tall, haughty, and imperious as shit.

Nate lived with Billy Wayne, a second string dancer. Billy was only brought in to fill out crowd and festival scenes. This galled the hell out of him. Billy was not the  best dancer, but he was a great fucker.

He complained that everybody stepped on his feet. That was true. The Corps de Ballet are not kind to second-stringers, who may someday take their place. They make their lives a hell on stage. Nate’s answer was for Billy to be more assertive, and show more guts. All these arguments wound up as screaming fights.

After a really bad two days in a crowd scene, Billy couldn’t take it any more. He raged, “Show more guts? Show more guts? I’ll show you guts!” He grabbed his steak knife, and rammed it into Nathan’s stomach.

Only the handle protrudes. Nate grabs the handle, and starts to pull it out, like in the movies, but pain shoots through him. He thinks he better not, he’ll bleed like a pig. Billy is white as a sheet, all anger drained away. Nate looks at Billy, then at the knife, and his eyes and mouth go wide. He says, “911,” and falls to the floor. Instead, Billy calls Geoffrey Temple, and tells him he just stabbed the lead dancer. Geoffrey says “Shit, I’ll be right over.”

Geoffrey is there in 3 minutes. (He’s been there dozens of times.) He knocks on the bottom of the door, with the edge of his shoe. A white-faced Billy answers.

Geoffrey enters, without touching anything. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I just stabbed Nate.”

“No, you didn’t. Where is he?”

In the dining room, Nate is flat on his back, looking at the ceiling.

“What happened?” asks Geoffrey.

“Billy tried to kill me,” whispers Nate.

“No, he didn’t. You had an accident.”

“He tried to KILL me.”

“He DIDN’T try to kill you. That’s ’Attempted Murder’. He’ll get 12 years in state prison. Those big ugly, lifers, will ream his tweety-bird asshole, to the size of a basket ball hoop. Do you want that to happen?”

“I guess not.”

“That’s damn right. You had an accident. Think of the publicity.” Geoffrey looks at the table. There are two half eaten steaks, and salads. “Where’s the dressing?”

“In the fridge.”

“Go get it. Billy, take Nate’s knife. Rub your hands on the handle. Come here. Stick the fork in your steak, and start to cut off a piece.”

“STOP! leave the knife in the cut. That’s when the accident happened. Take the top off the dressing and tip it over . That’s it. All over the table and the floor. Now, take off Nate’s shoes, and smear them around. Put put them back on.”

Nate groaned.

“That’s how he slipped. The more mess, the better. They will take photos”  Geoffrey looked around. It would work. “It was an accident. Stick to your story, or you’ll never work again. Billy, delete your call  to me. I’ll clear my phone. I wasn’t here. Call me from the ER. Now dial  911, tell them to hurry. Open the door and let me out.” Geoffrey hadn’t touched a thing in the room.

Cynthia was still on the couch. Only 14 minutes had passed. He was shaking with rage “What happen?”

“Those faggots will be the death of me,” he said.

“Oh Honey, come here.” Cynthia pulled him over and put her arms around his neck, and held him, while he quieted down. “There, there, I’ll protect you.”

This simple act of love and tenderness did what no woman had done before. It got him horny. He couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it. But they took  full advantage of it and screwed on the couch, and wound up on the floor.

Geoffrey told her what happened. That little shit, had put their Danseur Nobel, out for  months, maybe forever. How were they going to make THAT up? They went up stairs, and made love again. He was going to show those fuckers.

There was no call from Billy. When he deleted Geoffrey’s call, he also managed to delete Geoffrey’s number. They called the hospital, in the morning. Yes, they could talk to the doctor. Dr. Braun, head of the surgical team, explained the wound was narrow, but deep. They had to open the area, to stitch from the bottom up.

Like most dancers, Nate had stomach muscles, like iron. How to hold the cut ends together?  They did loops of sutures, to butt them end to end. Plus drugs to relax his stomach. He will be flab, by the time he’s out. Billy was all weepy.

The company was in a bind. They needed a replacement right away. Someone from outside. A dancer that could be let go when Nathan returns, and not ruffle any feathers. Suggestions, anyone? Any major dancer was already under a tight contract, to keep them from shopping themselves to the next highest bidder.  Whoever they picked, they would have to pay off his contract.

The name most mentioned was Richard Benedict. He was young, tall, strong, handsome, and talented. He could lift 140 pounds, an impressive feat. Except he was straight.  Geoffrey said, “God, what’s the world coming to.” But they needed  him now, so they called him in for an interview. They told him to bring dance clothing.

The audition was in the big practice room at 9, with Geoffrey, Cynthia, Patricia, the Ballerina, The dancing masters, an accompanist, and Bernie, the accountant. The rest of the Company were arranged around the room, ready to witness a disaster.
Richard gave his background. Starting out late, schooling, and moving up to better groups, till the present time.

Geoffrey asked him; “Why he had gone into Ballet?”

Richard said; “For the girls.”

“For the girls?”

“Yes, for the girls.”

There was general eye-rolling from the men. But all the women and girls, along with Cynthia and Patricia, melted in their seats. Richard changed into dance leotards, ready to warm up. Patricia looked at him and decided that she should warm up, also.

The first thing everybody looks at, is the crotch. Male dancers have this pissing contest, about stuffing rolls of socks in their crotch to make their ‘basket’ look bigger. Some overdo it to a ridiculous degree.  Not Richard. As far as anyone could make out, it was just him. A new standard.

They both spent 15 minutes at the barre, doing the standard warm-ups. Then to limber up, Richard did a small solo. Then he did a major solo routine, and without a rest did a second, major solo routine, with everything thrown in. Two solos back to back, was amazing. He asked Patricia to do a small solo, while he recovered. After her solo he whispered, “Follow my lead.” They did a freeform Pas de deux. Patricia, hardly touched the floor. She lived in the air. The finale was a carry, all around the room in his outstretched arms. The audience was dumbstruck and clapped its hands off. They pulled on leggings and warm-up sweaters. Richard threw a towel around his neck and sat down at the table.

The usual routine at any audition was to say; “Thank you. We’ll be in touch.” Not this time. Richard was their man, and they knew it.

They asked for his terms.

First: Buy out his contract. That was a given. Second: Principal dancer, plus 10 per cent. Eyes went up. Third: A furnished apartment near by. Jaws dropped open. No one had ever heard of such a thing.

Geoffrey looked over at Cynthia. Cynthia gave him her brilliant  “Give him anything he wants” smile. He looked at Bernie, who had seen the same smile. Bernie shrugged his shoulders, and nods.

“Welcome to the Company, Mr. Benedict,” says Geoffrey. “When can you  start?”

“Right now,” said Richard. “I want to see the dance book, for the current ballet. Look at dvds of the production. Go over details with Patricia, and talk with the cast. Make some dance changes. If everything goes well, we should be able to light the house tomorrow night. It will be packed. Everybody will want to see Nathan’s  replacement. I will make a speech, saying; ‘I hope to measure up to Mr. Monterey’s stellar performance.’ And away we go.”

Everyone sits in their seats, slack jawed. They’ve never heard anything like it. The male dancers are looking at everyone in wonder. Are they all going crazy? Make changes? He walks in off the street, and is going to make changes? The girls are wetting their pants at this new ‘Take charge man’. They want to be taken charge of, in the worst way.

A  bewildered Geoffrey looks over to Cynthia. She gives him a beautiful, “See what happens, when you do what I tell you,” smile. Geoffrey gets up, and says to Richard; “Do whatever you want, but I’m going home,” and stalks out.

It’s Noon. Someone yells, “Lunch,” People start to get up, but Richard yells, “Hold it. I need the Dance Book and dvds. Patricia and I can go over it during lunch. I want the cast to come over and introduce themselves to me while we eat.”

The men are reluctant, but the girls are eager to be noticed. They introduce themselves, and even curtsy. Richard has a photographic memory, and is able able to remember every name and every face.

The afternoon is a madhouse. The Company, is trying to get their heads around the new leadership. And, new leadership, it is. The Dance Director is pissed. It seems that the Principal Male Dancer, has become the new leader of the Group, without any effort. People are doing what he asks, and coming to him for advice. Richard and Patricia are huddled together, over the routines.

The next day, at morning rehearsal, Richard and Patricia, try out some changes. There are a few kinks, but they work them out, till everything flows. The rest of the cast just keeps doing the same things they did with Nathan, except allow more room for the Principals to manoeuvre.

That evening, the lights go up to a packed house. Everyone is there to observe a newcomer, brought in on a day’s notice to dance a major ballet. Richard goes before the curtain, to make his little obligatory speech. The house lights dim and  the curtain rises, to the grandest two and a half hours in the history of ballet. At the finale, they are screaming. A dozen curtain calls won’t shut them up. The cast comes out again and again. Geoffrey and Cynthia, are able to pull in an extra two million, on that performance alone. The next day, every ticket for the season is sold out.

The audience for ballet is small. Nothing like Basketball, the Super Bowl, or Soccer. It’s even smaller than opera. But they’re a fierce and dedicated bunch. They have their Gods and Goddesses. They found a new God, in Richard. He can do no wrong, because he has done no wrong. He’s perfection, and they know it. Bootleg tickets are going at $ 3,000, and up.

Representatives from every major Ballet Company, world-wide, flocked to the American midwest, for a look-see. They return home, cursing the fates. “Why couldn’t WE have found him?” The reason was, that he was a local phenomena. Home grown, so to speak. He was the top dancer in every ballet group. The top, but not spectacular. He was saving that for the best when he found it. He found it with the National.

Nobody would have guessed, that his goal wasn’t to be the best ballet dancer in the world. His goal was all those beautiful White Swans he saw as a boy. If he had to become the best dancer in the world, to love them all, so be it. Of course, he had no idea what the girls were actually like. The years of dedication, training, and hard work, that transformed them from little girls with dreams of sugar plums into finished ballerinas, was brutal. They had to reject almost everything except the dance, and  that usually included men. Being surrounded by a corps of handsome men who ignored them gave them a warped view of the species.

The Corps de Ballet didn’t know what to do with Richard, young and fresh in the business, so to speak.  He was a  great dancer. No doubt about it. Routines, without a hitch. Hit his marks every time. But he looked at them with cow eyes, and longing. They gossiped  about  him.

A virgin? Probably. Nobody wanted to take him on, for fear  that he would fall in love with them. An albatross around their neck. He was finally able to make them understand, that he was in love with ALL of them. This softened things up a bit. He started out as an eager, clumsy, 18 year old, who came, just by rolling on a condom. The experienced ladies turned him into a consummate lover. A veteran member took him to bed, and taught him everything she knew. He remembered it all, and added his own experience. He was so tender and loving she wondered why it took her so long.

The ladies of the Corps de Ballet slowly opened up to him. He danced and learned to make love. It was heaven. There was no jealousy. They all shared in his love and affection. Each experience was unique. He didn’t wear them out to exhaustion, just fulfillment. He was very discreet. No public display, no kisses, behind the flats. Very professional at all times. But the girls began to change. The ballerinas, who wore prim and proper expressions, became doe-eyed. Their eyes began to sparkle, their glances more knowing, their touch more gentle. The dancing took on more flair and lightness. Richard, who had been holding back on ‘Spectacular’, let himself go. Ticket prices raised, along with morale.

The management couldn’t figure out what was going on, but raised prices and packed houses.

In four years, he had brought improvements to three different groups. Nathan’s  ‘accident’ opened up a place at the National. The girls of each preceding group informed the new ones, about Richard. “He’s a dream. Deny him nothing. You will be better for it.”

Each new group accepted him more openly. So it was, with the National.

Geoffrey and the Management thought all the praise was about his dancing. True enough. But they couldn’t understand all the excitement among the ballerinas. Richard was straight, maybe that was it. They didn’t know how right they were. The ladies were all in love with Richard, and wanted to protect him. They didn’t want to lose the only straight male in the trade.

When he was 19, Richard had done a remarkable thing. He got a vasectomy. He asked five Urologists, before one agreed. They said; “He will want children later.” He finally told them that he was a “Professional Gigolo, and his clients demanded it” He found a doctor who did it, at twice the going rate.

Patricia found out he was the best lover of them all. As with the other women, discretion was everything. No giggles, squeezes or secret hugs and kisses. At night in Richard’s apartment or her place, it was a sea of delicious sex. But never so much that it affected the next day’s performance.

Cynthia, with her green eyes and movie star body, had been left out. That hurt. She cornered him, and point blank said; “Richard. You’re fucking all the girls, why not me?”

He said; “I don’t screw married women, or the ones with boy friends. You’re married to Geoffrey.”

She grabbed his hand. Pulled him over to where Geoffrey was, grabbed his hand, and pulled them both into an other room, then closed the door. She said; “Geoffrey, Richard won’t fuck me, because I’m married to you.”

Geoffrey let out a laugh; “Oh God, you straights. Go on my boy, fuck her. I’ve done it a few times. She’s very good. Cums like gangbusters. Enjoy.” Cynthia’s eyes begin to glow.

Richard and Cynthia were in bed. He said; “How did you two get together?”

“We are both Balletomanes. Dedicated enthusiasts. We live and breath ballet. Geoffrey’s gay, and wanted to be a dancer. But he is too big, and didn’t look like a dancer. He looks like an adventurer, or a man about town. Charm, with a great personality. Inspires confidence. Perfect for rising money.

‘I started with dreams of being a great ballerina. I was stick thin, till I was 17. Then I started to fill out and develop these big tits. I was worried that if I did a pirouette, they would fly out, and knock someone over. No one was willing to work with me. Nobody said; I was becoming beautiful. My partners were gay, and disgusted.  I was a wreck for two years. Then men started to notice me. Told me I looked like Ann Margaret. I watched her movies, and said; ‘I can do that. I can use this to raise money.’ It’s a marriage of convenience. We’re both still in the thick of things. Lights, action, camera. We get what we want from it. It’s just like sex.

‘Keeping a large ballet company like this, going, takes a lot of money. Grants, pledge drives and ticket sales, can’t do it,” said Cynthia. “It takes some serious gifts. We get them, any way we can.”

“What do you mean, any way we can?” said Richard.

“We fuck for it. Both Geoffrey and myself. We are whores for our Ballet. Geoffrey, for the women, me for the men.”

“But Geoffrey is gay, how can he take care of the women?”

“That’s his strength. He doesn’t look, or act gay. Puts on a perfect image. The women love him. He’s like Max Bialystock, in the ‘Producers.’ He screws money out of them. Makes them feel that they are an important part of the the Ballet. They are good for a Hundred Thou, minimum. They think of it as a naughty game. Geoff, is able to get it up, and perform with flying colors. No one thinks of him as anything, except a Bon Vivant, enjoying himself with the patrons.”

“But, what about you?”

“With me, it’s different. I can’t afford to be seen as a whore. I’m beautiful, and with makeup, and the right dress, I’m stunning. Men can’t take their eyes off me, much less, their hands. I’m always getting propositioned. We do research, and know who might pan out, or who just wants a piece of ass. Everyone knows  we are always looking for funding. It’s no secret. I have dinner with someone, and it’s a cat and mouse game. He’s looking at my tits, and saying how he wants to help the Ballet. I’m looking at my food, and saying, we would like to see, a million dollar contribution. That quiets him down for a bit. He says, that a million, is kind of steep. I tell him, his business is booming, right now, and he could do it. Then I look him in the eye, and say; ‘We could work out the details, during  a weekend in Nassau. Strictly business, of course.” I don’t take my eyes off him. It’s put up, or shut up. In his head, he’s already buying plane tickets. We leave, when the check is deposited. For three days, I give him the time of his life. I Just wear him out. He will never forget, what that million bought him. He’s already thinking that next year it might two million, and a whole week.”

“Do you like doing that?”

“Richard, I love it. It’s about all the sex I got. These little pleasure trips. The rest of the time, I’m Geoffrey’s Ballet Wife. Glamorous, and vacuuming the floor for news and bits of gossip. Other times, I choose the men carefully. Besides, being wealthy, they have to be presentable. Someone you would go to bed with anyway. It might take me a year of small talk. Telling him we’re looking for money, brushing against him with my tits, saying he’s the most attractive man in the room. He begins to bubble. Say things like, “Maybe we can  get away for a weekend.” I tell him; ”Silly boy. You know, I’m trying to raise a million, for the ballet. I don’t have time for weekends.” Maybe he could help. He has money. We could go somewhere and talk about it. He thinks the whole thing is his idea.

‘He talks me into it. Reluctantly, of course. We must be very discreet. No hand holding, or loving glances. He has to think of it as a business deal. Money spent, value received. ‘I know, it’s hard to do darling, but we must.’ We go where we won’t be recognised. A tiny island, perhaps? There are hundreds of them set up, for just this thing. I start out, seeing what he likes. Then give him plenty. Then tell him what I want, and show him. It’s a revelation. He’s never done anything  like that before. Then it’s solid sex. Everything you can think of, and more. He can do anything he wants to me, as long as it doesn’t leave marks the next day. When we‘re exhausted, we fall into bed. I lay on my side, and put a nipple in his mouth, and call him; ‘My Sweet Baby.’  He nurses me, till we fall asleep. He’ll never forget that.”

“How much do you bring in, doing that?”

“Between three and five million a year. To Geoffrey it’s a chore, screwing the women. But I love sex. I do what ever I like. The men like the wild attitude too. Great for sex. I’m one step below a nymphomaniac. I’m proper all year. Geoffrey is sweet, but no help, so I take it out on my boy friends. I don’t know what else to call them. Geoffrey doesn’t mind a bit. He’s got his boys. Together we make the place hum. True patrons of the arts. Of course, I don’t wear you out. You have to dance the next day. Besides, you’re use to your little White Swans. But I bet, you’ve found a lot of rampant sexuality and perversion, in those girls. I know, I started out as one.

‘I told you I was planning to be a great ballerina. I was perfect. Then I grew up and out. I was off balance. I ate like a horse. I couldn’t do my leaps. They put me in full costumes, in the back. It was ballet hell. But in two years, I looked like a movie star. The chorus boys wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I was poison. The only attention I got was at the after-show parties.  Men couldn’t keep their eyes, much less their dicks off me. I got propositioned all  the time. I decided that I was not going to be an easy lay. If they wanted to screw a lovely ballerina it was $1,000. Take it or leave it. They took it. I learned the power of  beauty. I could get what I wanted, and they couldn’t shop me around. If one of the men thought a friend would like me, he took us to dinner, and I would look him over. If he met with my approval, then he would be told I was available, and the price. I loved getting fucked. I would have done it for free. But no one knew.

‘I had an IUD put in, when I was 18. All the girls did. No one wants a pregnant dancer. That, and  getting your under arm and pubic hair removed. Girls used to have to shave all the time. Then it was painful bikini waxes. Now, with laser hair removal, all your problems are solved. And it looks so good. Drives men wild.
‘A lot of men have told me about their fantasy of screwing a ballerina, doing the splits. Well, ballerinas have the same fantasy. You are at the barre, or the pole.  Then slowly raise your left leg up, to the side your face, and hold it with your arm. If you didn’t have panties or a tutu on, you would be as open as the Holland Tunnel. Any man could walk up, and stick it in all the way. You dream about it. Well, I was able to do that. I kept in shape, as much as I could, and could do the splits, while being fucked silly. I loved it, and they loved it.

‘I still danced with the company, because the men wanted the fantasy of fucking  a ballerina. I lived a double life for two years, till I met David. He wanted all my time. I said that it was worth  a quarter of a million, a year. No problem. I went from a $1,000 whore, to a rich mans mistress. Quite a change of status.

If anything, the sex was even better. David had a lot of stamina. Just kept at it. I couldn’t get enough. I told you, I’m almost an nymphomaniac. Sometimes he brought another man in. and they would tag-team me for hours. He had an ex-girlfriend, Jen. A stunning blond. We would eat each other, while he watched. Then he would fuck us, both. It was a great life, while it lasted.”

“What happened?”

“He bought a new mistress. A beautiful woman. Both Jen, and I loved her. I decided to return to the ballet. I met Geoffrey, and saw an opportunity to be in a different role. Geoffrey need a trophy wife. We married, with an understanding of what we expected, of each other. It’s like theatre. He fucks his boys and some women. I fuck for the ballet, and the fun of it. I fuck you, because you’re so talented and beautiful. I don’t mind sharing you with your White Swans.”


While Richard Benedict’s star was rising, Nathan Monterey’s, was falling in the toilet. Nate, was in Intensive Care, for three days, then a private room, with a drain coming out of his belly. He was full of antibiotics and pain killers. He was fed through an IV, because of cut intestines. He couldn’t cough, sneeze. or roll over, because of the stitches. He was a wreck. Billy hovered over him, filled with well deserved guilt.

15 days in the hospital, then back to their apartment, and  two weeks on baby food. His muscle tone shot. He tried to exercise, but it was painful as hell. It was four months after Billy shived him, that they returned to the Company. Things were different. He couldn’t do big leaps. A lift made him grunt. The audience could hear it. They put him in the back, with Billy.  Shit!

Nate and Billy told Geoffrey they couldn’t take it anymore. He had to do something.
Geoffrey, got together with the Dancing Masters, and beat the bushes for  a venue. It was Cynthia, who found the answer. They gave Nate and Billy, a ‘Take it, or leave it’, proposition. They took it. They went to Hawaii. They started to bulk up on poi, breadfruit, bananas, eggs and meat. They stuffed it in. They took steroids, worked out with weights. They got dark tans. Let their hair grow long and shaggy. Learned some Hawaiian songs and dances. Geoffrey financed a Dance Troupe. 6 men, 9 girls, a Hawaiian band, a fat Hilo Hattie type ukulele singer, along with costumes and props. The dancing was easy. No leaps or lifts. Just stamp your feet and grunt. They played for luaus, hotels, docked cruise ships, and private parties. At ‘Special Parties’, for the Japanese, and an extra $ 100 each, the girls danced nude. Like they did before the Missionaries came to Hawaii. They were a hit. Since all the boy dancers were ‘Mahu’s’, (Gay) dancing with nude girls didn’t bother them. Geoffrey and Cynthia each owned  7 1/2 %, and could write off trips to Hawaii as business expenses.

At the National, three of the Corps were lesbians. Cynthia, sometimes spent the night with them, for a change of pace. They wore each other out. They called themselves, ‘The Three Witches”, after the ones in Mac Beth. Their plan was to retire, and become Dominatrices, at $ 1,000, for a two hour session. The  research showed that the clientele were usually men who had a lot of power. Bankers, politicians, lawyers, judges, doctors, and business men. They needed to reverse roles, and get rid of some of their guilt. Cynthia said;  “When the time came, she could make some discrete referrals, to start them in business.”

Patricia was looking ahead. She had been dancing as, a Prima Ballerina,for eight years. She used to be able to do 20, twirling, Fouette en Tournants on one leg, but she reduced it by two . She cut down on the number of Grand Pirouettes. Age was creeping up, on little cat feet, and she knew it. She was still beautiful and exotic looking, and never at a loss for suitors. She settled on an English Earl, Lord Framton, Earl of Duningham. He had 20,000 acres, in sheep and cattle. Two manor houses, great wealth, and a love of ballet. They were married in the Church of England. She said, she would finish the season, then it was off to Great Britain. This gave the Company, only four months, to find a replacement. There was panic in the air.

Patricia was now, Lady Frampton, Countess of Duningham. It didn’t improve her dancing, but looked great on the Playbills. Richard and Patricia, still worked well together. It was Richard, ever sensitive to the lifts, who discovered a slight weight gain, and told her that she was pregnant. She was shocked to have goofed so badly. They scrambled to find a suitable replacement. Word went out, that the National, was looking for a Prima Ballerina. A flood of applications came in. Geoffrey and Cynthia, spent all their time, interviewing, and watching mini-performances. They were all good. No doubt about it. But only one in five, were excellent. But, they were looking for outstanding. They came up with four.

Geoffrey, Cynthia, Richard, the Dance Instructors, and everyone else, studied the dvds, over and over. They narrowed it down to two Ballerinas. A lovely,  blue eyed blond, and a imperial looking brunette. They flew them to Cleveland, and put them up in a 5 star hotel. They auditioned with Richard, on separate days. Both were great, but the blond seemed to lift easier, and had B cup tits, a fact noted by both Richard and Cynthia, but lost on the others. They told the brunette they would be in touch.

Angela, was a dream, an exceptional talent. Both Richard and Cynthia salivated over her. They worked closely with Patricia, on the dancing, staging, and pacing.

Two months in, Patricia started to have morning sickness, and shortness of breath. She couldn’t give a ‘Farewell Performance’. They pulled out all stops, on a big publicity campaign. “Countess Patricia Frampton, was retiring at the peak of her career, to direct a new ballet company in England.” It sounded great. Nobless obligè, and all that. Actually, the new Company would be directed by professionals, under the patronage of the Framptons. Patricia would spend her time being a Countess. Attending functions, outings, teas, and trying to stay thin. A Countess got as much adulation as a Ballerina, but with out the work.

Angela’s debut, was like Richard’s, years before. Everyone wanted to see Patricia’s replacement. She gave the same speech. “Hoping to live up to the high standard, of the Countess Patricia.” They danced like newlyweds. The audience was glued to their seats. The finale, was Angela doing an Arabesque. Standing on her left leg, right leg back and straight up. Body and arms, reaching to the audience. She then went,’On Pointe’, and stayed balanced. Unheard of! Richard came from behind, bent low, and swooped her into the air, and lifting her, still in Arabesque, over head, holding only her toe shoe and thigh. In perfect balance, they toured the stage. He returned to center stage, and lowered her to the floor. They took a bow. The audience screamed. It was Ballet History.

Richard loved Angela. He also loved Cynthia, and the White Swans. But he was IN love with Angela. Cynthia, took Angela aside, and  explained the situation at the National. Angela laughed. She had fallen in love with Richard. But she had years of experience, loving the rest of the girls, because that was the only love available. She could spread herself around, and it would include Cynthia, with her luscious face and body. She could share him, without jealousy. A new energy filled the National. Everyone, simply everyone, danced better. The Trades were filled with photos of Richard and Angela, their arms around each other, standing next to Cynthia and Geoffrey. Cynthia had her arm through Geoffrey’s, and was looking up at him with her patented, “I adore you,” smile. It was  great PR.

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