Danette Clarke had discovered something that surprised her. She loved Ballroom dancing. For six weeks she’d been sneaking off to the studio with Terry one or two evenings a week and practising a couple of dances.
She’d started to notice she was toning up a bit too. She’d never been a girl who tended to the chubby side but working in the library she’d noticed some of the heavier jobs were just a little easier, that she was pulling her belt an extra notch tighter getting dressed in the mornings. She was hungrier too. She’d actually put on just under a pound but in spite of staring at herself in the full length mirror in her bathroom she just couldn’t see any sign of where she’d put it.
The dancing didn’t seem to get any easier though.
Oh the steps were one thing that did come easier, and she was getting to be able to remember longer sequences, but it was always hard work and on those one or two nights a week she always let herself in at her front door exhausted and wanting only a shower before she crashed out for the night.
It didn’t look like it was going to happen tonight though. Unlike every other evening when her parents were already in bed, tonight they were both sitting up in the kitchen and they looked up as she came through the door.
Uh oh…
“Netty, come in here a moment.” That was her dad. He didn’t sound pissed but it was definitely a parental command. She dropped her bag by the door, walked into the kitchen and eased her aching body into the remaining chair at the kitchen table.
“What’s up?”
“Danette, your dad and I are a little concerned about these late nights. They are always in the middle of the week and they could be impacting your studies…” Yeah, of course, Mom. What you really want to know is if I’m spreading my legs for some boy and the “impact on my studies” is you wondering if I’m going to get knocked up and married off before I get a chance to even apply for college, like about a third of the other girls in this shithole town. When her mom stopped talking she looked over at her dad like she was expecting him to pick up but he said nothing for a moment, looking at her with raised eyebrows.
“Girl, you’re a wreck. You look like a happy wreck, but a wreck. You been working out or something?”
“Something like that.” She didn’t need to look to feel her mom’s pursed lips.
“I was having a drink with Billy’s dad after work. He said Billy had seen you leaving school with one of the jocks. You didn’t get home until real late that night. Makes me wonder if you’re spending all these late nights with the same lad.”
“As it happens, I am, but it’s nothing bad.”
“Would you mind letting me be the judge of that, Netty? I do trust you but I do need to know.”
“He’s teaching me to dance.”
“Saw you on the floor at every family get-together the last few years, Netty. Didn’t seem to me like you needed much teaching.”
“Not like this, dad. Ballroom. It’s hard but it’s so much fun. Only twostep and waltz so far but we just started on the foxtrot this evening. He’s won prizes and everything, knows all the details and it’s really difficult, but he’s a really good teacher.”
“Do you like him, Netty?” There was just the tiniest emphasis on “like” in her dad’s mildly voiced question.
“Well, maybe a little…” You just lied to your dad for the first time in your life, girl, “but we’ve not said – or done – anything about that.”
“Your mom and I used to dance like that, when we were younger. I stepped all over her hooves something awful.”
“You did not, Charles. You were always a better dancer than I was.”
“You’re bushed, Girl. Go shower and crash out like you usually do. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get out some of the old records and you can show me.”
Danette grinned. “Deal.”
-----=====-----
Saturday Morning….
“Hey, Netty! I know it’s the weekend but we got an errand this morning. Get yourself down here for some breakfast.”
“Coming, Dad!”
Charles Clarke had always been an early riser and he always made breakfast for the family. This morning Danette was greeted by a stack of pancakes emerging from the oven where they’d been kept warm. As Danette sat herself down at the table and pulled over a plate, her dad sat opposite her and smiled.
“You had us a bit scared this week, you know, Girl.”
“Isn’t that the natural state for the parents of a teenager, Dad?”
“Pretty much. But I was glad to find out it wasn’t what I’d been worrying about. Got me thinking, though. Had it in my mind that if your brother had lived, I’d likely be buying him football kit about now.”
Danette looked up sharply. She’d been only three when her mother had been expecting her little brother. She hadn’t known then what “stillborn” meant, only that her mother had spent a lot of time crying and her dad looking like he’d wanted to.
“Docs told me at the time that your mother carried a bad gene. That we could have all the girls we wanted but any boy wouldn’t develop right, couldn’t survive birth, so we stopped trying. By the time the docs had the means to pick, and make sure we conceived a girl, we were both a bit too old. Before that, there’s no way I was going to risk breaking both our hearts like that a second time. That’s why you’re an only child, lass.”
“Where’s this going, Dad?”
“Well, seems to me that if I’m not buying football kit for a boy, maybe I ought to see that my daughter has proper dance gear. You’ve been learning what, six weeks? Seven? You’re already a better dancer than your mother, lass, and I thought when I was younger that she was amazing. ‘Course we never had any proper teaching or anything. Just picked it up as we went along. So we’ve a little errand to town today.”
“But…” she broke off what she was about to say as her dad raised a finger.
“I’m not hearing it, lass. Either you come with me or I’ll go on my own and likely come home with all the wrong stuff. You’re not going to make me embarrass myself like that in front of your mother, are you?”
-----=====-----
Danette had no idea how many places in town sold dance gear. Turns out there was only one, and it was attached to Ostrakov’s studio. It felt a bit odd walking in through the front door for the first time, particularly so to be doing it following after her dad.
As they stepped in, a tall and buxom Samoyed girl looked up from the counter.
“Welcome to Ostrakov’s. Is there anything particular I can help you find?”
“My little girl here, she’s started learning Ballroom from another kid at her school… I’m thinking she might need some stuff, but you’d better be talking to her to find out what.”
“At school? You’re not at St. Margaret’s, you’d be in my class and I’d know you… Oh! Are you Danette?”
“Yeah, I…” Danette could feel a monstrous blush starting. She absolutely hated that sensation. It made her feel awkward and clumsy. The other girl didn’t seem to notice.
“After Tom told us about you we’ve been dying to meet you! Dad and Tom are both teaching classes at the moment, but Mom’s in back… Mom! You need to come out here!”
“What’s all the fuss about, Irina? I’m a little busy…”
“Mother, this is Danette – and her dad.”
“Then you are forgiven for being noisy and a little overexcited, child. Mr. Clarke…”
“Charles, please, dear lady.”
“So. Charles. I am Natalia. My over-loud daughter here is, as you may have gathered, Irina. I have heard about you, Danette. Terrence says you are a natural dancer. I wonder if he is right?”
“I don’t know. He’s just been teaching me basic dances Madame Ostrakova.”
“You are not enrolled in my class. In class I must be Madame Ostrakova, you understand. Here, I am Natalia. Walk for me, girl. Just up and down here… Ah. I see.” She made a dismissive gesture at Danette’s sneakers. “You cannot ever dance properly in those. Shoes are a must, at least three pairs. One set of flats and two of heels. You have not as much bosom as Irina but you must have a top with proper support. If you do not, you will hurt yourself.” She made shoo-ing gestures towards the shelves at Irina and the girl scampered off to gather the items she’d named.
“Natalia, I’ve never worn heels in my life. I think I’m more likely to hurt myself with those than anything else.”
“Nonsense. You must learn. The heel makes the line of your leg more elegant. Every man watching you dance must be a drooling mindless idiot at the sight of you, or you are doing it wrong. Charles, is your dear wife a skilled seamstress?”
Charles grinned, as much at the thunderstruck look on his daughter’s face as at Natalia’s question.
“Natalia, I first met Clara at the county fair. We were both seventeen and had each taken a first prize. Mine was for blacksmithing, but hers was for needlework.”
“Good. We have dance skirts premade here but they are so much better properly fitted. I will find you the patterns. She will need two, one full length and the other three quarters. They must flow. Your wife will know. We can worry about anything shorter later, if Danette chooses to study Latin dance as well.” She turned and almost glared at Danette. “Always practice in heels. Always practice in a skirt once you have learned the steps and no longer need to watch your own feet in the mirror. I have seen young ladies break their legs if they do not and then catch a heel in their hem. Your legs are too pretty to break, no?”
Irina had been gathering the items her mother named as they were mentioned and placing them on the counter.
“Danette? You want to come back to the fitting room and try some of these for size? You’re going to want to try on the shoes too.”
Danette was glad of the escape and fled to the back of the shop with the younger Ostrakova.
Watching them leave, Natalia’s stern expression softened, and then the older Samoyed turned to the grinning man and smiled.
“I do promise that I am not truly an ogress, Charles. I think you have seen through my little act, have you not?”
“Natalia, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” Both of them stifled a laugh. “I think you can teach my little girl a lot more than just dance.”
“Ah, but I will not be teaching her. Not yet, at least. Teaching her will make Terrence a better dancer, and he is already very good. In two or three months I will be ‘Madame Ostrakova’ in all my terrifying glory and Danette will dance for me. I will critique both her performance and her teacher. Irina will help, she has been Terrence’s partner in competition for five years. By fall I will know if your daughter is simply a natural dancer or a potential champion. If the latter, I am afraid she will wonder where the truck came from that hit her.”
“So long as she’s still enjoying herself I think I can live with that.”
“If there is no joy in dance, it is merely badly performed gymnastics. I promise you I will never crush that joy from her. Her talent is too precious for that.”
-----=====-----
In the fitting room, Danette felt even more awkward next to the shapely Irina. She shook her head, as if clearing something from her ears.
“What the actual holy fuck?”
“When mom goes into dance mistress mode, she gets real intense and very Ukrainian. She’s not always like that, honest. Here, try this. I think the color will look gorgeous on you and I’m pretty sure I guessed right on the size…”
“Don’t think I’ll ever have much of a bust, I’ve seen pictures of mom when she was younger and she never had much until she had me.”
“You’re better proportioned than I am, Danette. These things…” Irina hefted her ample breasts for emphasis” are sometimes a pain in the tail. Or, more accurately a pain in the back, even with proper support. You could go braless or even topless and look stunning. I just look like a top-heavy cow if I let ‘em hang out and it aint comfortable. Oh, I’m not saying I’m ugly but some days I’d kill for a figure like yours.”
Danette was blushing again.
“You’ve seriously never worn heels before?”
“Nope.”
“We’ll get you another set as well then, more comfortable ones to get used to by wearing ‘em for the whole day. It will help when you put the dance ones on. Does your school have the same stuffy dress code about heels as St Margaret’s?”
“Inch, maybe inch and a half max, I think, and nothing pointy.”
“Lucky. Maggie’s insists on flats only. If you’re going to get serious about dance, Danette, then mom was right. You really need to be comfortable in heels.”
“I think I am. Serious, I mean. I’ve enjoyed every lesson with Tom so much, even when it’s hard.”
“Cool! There’s nobody else even close to my age in the advanced classes here. I can’t wait. Let’s get you properly kitted out!”
-----=====-----
“So, Terrence. We met your lovely Danette today.” Natalia smiled, as the family sat down for dinner.
“What? How?”
It was Irina who provided the answer.
“While you were teaching beginners Latin, her dad brought her into the shop for dance supplies. I think Mom almost broke her though. Why’s she so shy?”
“Irina, she doesn’t believe she’s pretty.”
“She isn’t. She’s beautiful. Dress her up for prom and she’d beating off the guys with a stick, and probably half the girls too!”
“Yeah. Well, Prom’s months away. What did you think, Natalia? Was I right and when does she join regular classes?”
“I think you were right. She’s got talent, moves like a dancer even after only a few lessons. But she won’t be joining regular classes.”
“Huh? I’d have thought she’s just the kind of student you’d want.”
“She is, but another teacher got there first and I don’t like poaching.”
“What?”
“You will finish what you started. Show me her progress in a couple of months.”
“Oh shit…”
“Terrence, mind your language at the table.”
“I’m sorry, Natalia.”
Irina was laughing, until Natalia looked at her.
“And you, Irina Mikhalovna, will be sure to assist him. You are both excellent dancers. Passing on that skill to others is an important part of your own growth.” Returning her attention to the Arabian stallion on the far side of the table, she continued. “I’ve watched you teach in classes here. Seen you choose when to push, when to back off and let the student feel their own way. Let’s see how you manage when you are obviously smitten with the girl. If you are too soft, she will not progress. Too hard and you will drive her away.”
Mikhail cleared his throat before joining the conversation.
“Natasha that is a hard test for a man so young. Are you sure?”
“Misha, dear, you managed well enough at a similar age, did you not? The boy dug it, he can fill it.”
That seemed to be the last word on the subject. Terry turned his attention back to his plate with only one thought running through his head.
I am so fucking dead.
