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Subject: {ASS} RP by RQ: "The Ballet Student" by Randi (Ff, seduct) <*>
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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.
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