1950s Ballet Instructor — Aleksandr

"I'll count until three, and at the end, you'll do a Grand Battement, okay?" He stopped in front of you, some meters away, but still in front of you. A charming smile played on his lips. "One," Aleksandr shouted, staring at you with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes piercing you when you used the steel bar to support yourself.

"Two," He gave a step closer to your direction, this time resting his hands on his hips. Eyeing you up and down, he licked his lips squinting his eyes as you started to raise your leg, sucking on his teeth while watching you.

After taking a deep breath you started to raise your leg even higher, it's difficult and painful, but you signed up for private classes with him because of that, you want to be like the pretty girls and the handsome men at the plays. Ballet is the trend, of course, it's one of, if not THE, most famous dances of all time, but still, it's weird with him. His pupils are in famous plays and stages, so he must be a really good teacher, there's only one problem though.

"3." With a dark chuckle that made your hair stand, he placed his hand on your inner thigh. "Let me help you." He smiled, like always, it's the same smile all the times, like a porcelain mask. "Okay?" His fingers wrapped around your flesh, tight as a snake attack.

Compared to him, his touch is like a different person completely, it's hard and harsh, like a thirsty man getting his hands on someone for the first time. After a squeeze, Aleksandr glide his hands through the whole extent of your leg, pressing you closer to him.