Perfection - Kitty Thomas Page 0,15

dreams to dance without the near-poverty that often goes with this career choice.

I thought I was winning—even when he became so possessive and angry all the time. Even when he got violent. I still somehow thought I was lucky.

The stranger continues, “Conall obviously won't be donating anymore, but that's okay. I can match and exceed his donation. I had planned to do that anyway. Prove to me you can be a principal, and I will elevate you.”

I stand in stunned silence. Why is my blackmailer handing me everything I want? There’s a catch. I know there's a catch.

“You want me to fuck you for a promotion?” I ask, a flutter of unwanted excitement in my stomach.

“Language, Ms. Lane. You know dancers don't speak that way in rehearsal or a class environment.”

“I'm sorry, Sir. Is that your price? For a promotion? Sex?” Because honestly, I might happily pay it.

He laughs. “No, Cassia. You will fuck me with or without the promotion. I'll see to it that you're promoted because you're the brightest rising star in this company, and I’ll get zero push back when I insist on it. Now go back to the barre, and put the blindfold on.”

Suddenly the fear is back again because I know the blindfold means he's leaving his hidden perch and coming into my space. My mental bravado about how I would probably happily fuck him is replaced again by anxiety as I tie the blindfold around my eyes.

Then I wait.

I feel him before I hear his footsteps or his voice. His presence is so palpable that I'm not sure this man could sneak up on me if he tried. I can tell he's a few feet away when he speaks again.

“First position, two demi-pliés, one grand plié with the standard arm movements you use in class, then a port de bras forward and back”

I hear a tiny click, and music begins to play. It's beyond strange doing this blindfolded, but my free hand rests on the barre, and I've done this so many thousands of times that I don't need to see anything. I move fluidly through the exercise. When I bend forward in the port de bras my fingertips graze the dance tarp beneath my feet, and I sweep my arm back up.

When I arch my back, my arm going with the movement, that's when he touches me. His large hand encircles my wrist, gently stroking the pulse point, and I gasp. It feels as though something electric passed from him all the way through me from that simple touch.

The music stops.

I feel the strength in his hand even though he isn't gripping me hard. The way he touches me reminds me just how small I am, how tiny my wrists, how absolutely breakable. He could snap any bone in my body in half with no effort at all.

Before I can dwell on this thought, his hand leaves my wrist and skims down my back until he's touching the back of my hips with one hand and the front of my hips with the other. His hands are placed so intimately on my body I can barely breathe.

But it's not a sexual touch. It's a normal touch for correcting a body position. Intimate, yes, but still normal for me. His hand spans my hips completely, his wrist grazing one hip bone, while his fingertips rest against the other.

“Such a beautiful turnout,” he murmurs.

There’s a long beat of silence while he holds me in this position, his hands warming against me while the weight of the absolute imbalance of power between us settles on me in a way it couldn't before. There was no space for it before. No silence. But the way he holds me in place... the subtle way he lets me know my new reality through this gentle touch... tells me everything.

He leans in close. “You want me to fuck you, don't you?” He practically growls these words in my ear.

“Y-yes, Sir.” I whimper. I've never been in such close proximity to someone who could make me feel so much sexual need so easily. I'm getting so wet for him with almost no provocation. It's embarrassing.

I do want him. I don't care how fucked up this is. It isn't the power he has to promote me—if he's not lying about that—or the power he has to destroy me, whether in his physical strength or by a simple call to the police. I viscerally want this man.

I've never wanted someone so completely in