I approached where Clara stood near the curtain on stage right wiping the sweat off her face with a towel and grabbed hold of her arm. I was taken aback as a jolt of electricity coursed through me when our skin connected.
“Clara, may I have a word?”
“Yes, of course.” She half smiled at me, causing my blood pressure to spike for a far more pleasant reason than it had earlier. She was so fucking gorgeous even with beads of sweat darkening the blonde curls at her hairline.
We stood away from the rest of the dancers lingering or still waiting to hear their fate from Yuri. Her body was a little too close to mine, and, for a split second, I worried she could see the way my pants were beginning to tent from simply holding her damn arm. If she noticed I was attracted to her, would that put her off? Dropping her arm, I reminded myself nothing could ever happen between us, not while we were working together… if she accepted that was.
“I want to say congratulations. You danced beautifully today.” An all too brief smile appeared before sliding away as she nodded, yet remained silent, not giving me any indication of where her mind was at. “Yuri and I both agreed you’re the best choice for us. So, if you would like to, we would love to offer you a contract to be part of Volkov Ballet. We have no doubt we can train you to become our reigning principal dancer.”
“Really?” She looked at me skeptically. “Are you serious?”
It was then it hit me how deeply scarred by her past she was. She could bluster all she wanted, but she really assumed that because of her mistakes, we wouldn’t sign her despite the fact she’d clearly outdanced every single other person on the stage. That made my heart go out to her. I wanted to reach out and hug her, hold her close to me… but, of course, I couldn’t.
Not only that, but I was not sure how helpful and comforting my huge frame would be compared to her tiny one. I was tall and broad. There was too much of me. I’d likely swallow her whole. The thought of swallowing had me thinking of running my tongue along every inch of her flesh and that had me remembering the impossible spread of the split she’d done midair, which, of course, had me visualizing what lay between those split legs and had my cock twitching.
Stop it, I warned myself. Keep your attention on business, for crying out loud.
“Of course, we would love for you to be part of our theater. We have big plans for you.”
“I don’t think so. I’m not sure my dancing for you is the best choice for anyone.”
“I do,” I countered.
She paused for a moment, looking at me but not really focused. She seemed distracted. “I’m fucked up,” she finally said softly. “Far beyond what you can imagine. All the dark demons inside me oozed out the cracks, and they finally became enough I fucked up my entire life. I couldn’t keep those demons inside any longer. The cracks became too large.”
“And yet you didn’t break completely,” I countered softly. “Did you ever for a second stop and think maybe there’s good that can come from those cracks as well?”
Clara shook her head and sighed. “Go away. You can’t fix me.”
“Hell, I don’t want to fix you. I’m cool with your cracks. In fact, I see something more.”
“There’s nothing more.”
“Like the Golden Buddha,” I began, not giving a fuck if she thought I was insane. I tried hard to not show the nerd, fact-loving, history buff side of me most of the time, but now seemed like a crucial time to reveal it. “Several hundred years ago, Tibetan monks were soon to be under attack by the Burmese army. Their pride and joy was a pure golden Buddha statue, and they wanted to protect it. So, knowing they couldn’t fight off the powerful army that outnumbered them, they covered the Buddha in clay to conceal its value. All the monks died in the attack, but the clay Buddha — worthless in the eyes of the invaders — remained. It wasn’t until 1957 that someone noticed a crack in the old clay Buddha. Golden light emerged from the dirty, dark crack revealing there was so much more beneath the surface. When they chipped away at all the filth, they discovered a pure gold statue — a priceless statue.” I paused to take a breath and to see if I had completely lost Clara in my story. When I saw I still had her full attention, I added, “I think you are that Golden Buddha. I see the golden light in the cracks the demons once seeped from. Beneath all that filth is a priceless prima ballerina.”