Chapter 2

The alarm goes off.

“It’s three already? Where did the time go?”

Jane gets dressed and packs her bag with ballet shoes, a new pair of tights, a tank top, and her toiletries. She pats powder on her face and puts on a peach tone of lipstick. Pulling her hair up into a pony tail, she takes one last look in the mirror to make sure everything looks put together. Pushing down a few stray hairs, she sighs, satisfied.

“Ah, perfect!”

She grabs her coat and keys, then opens the door. Looking both ways to make sure the landlord isn’t out in the hallway waiting for her, she makes a quick dash to the stairwell and runs out the back door whistling for a taxi to take her to the ballet studio.

She arrives late. All the other ladies have started warming up by stretching their legs on the railing. When Jane walks in, they all turn to look at her with surprise and disgust.

The teacher looks to her and says smugly, “Well, Miss Jane, it looks like you decided to join us after all. You’ve got five minutes to get changed, otherwise I’ll send you home.”

The teacher goes back to giving orders to the other dancers for their warm-up.

Jane feels embarrassed and wishes she could just crawl back out the door. Yet another bad experience. When will it end?

She changes quickly and joins the rest of the group, taking the end position on the railing.

An hour later, they take a break, and everyone goes to the changing room to get their water and veggie snacks.

Valerie, the oldest and most experienced ballerina in the crowd, starts asking all the girls who got laid over the weekend.

She goads Britney on.

“Come on, you must have. I saw how George was looking at your ass! Seriously, something must have happened when the two of you left the gig that night.”

Britney smiles and says, “Wouldn’t you like to know? Let’s just say I’m feeling a bit perkier than usual today.” Then she points at her tits.

All the other girls laugh in unison, except for Jane, who drops her eyes while eating her carrots. She has no idea what to say, and doesn’t want them to find out she’s a virgin. She doesn’t like how they talk because she doesn’t have any stories to tell them. Valerie notices Jane isn’t laughing.

“What’s wrong, Jane? Are you just embarrassed, or maybe you have a secret to tell us about your weekend?”

Valerie goes up to Jane and puts her arm around her.

“Come on, Jane, what were you up to on Saturday night?”

She nudges Jane, trying to get her to spill some kind of beans.

Jane is trying hard not to reveal to Valerie anything that will show she is completely inexperienced when it comes to sex.

“Leave me alone, Valerie, I’m not in the mood for this,” she mutters.

“Whoa, that’s not the Jane we know! Someone’s a Miss Grumpy Pants,” Valerie exclaims. “Come on, Jane. Tell us about your most exciting, sexual adventure. That’ll cheer you up. A wild ride in the car, sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend, or sucking the football star’s cock? Come on, Jane, tell us!”

“Just stop, Valerie, I don’t want to play this game,” Jane says, wishing she could come up with a witty line to divert the attention away from herself.

“Oh, you’re so silly, Jane. Next thing you’re gonna do is tell us you’re a virgin or something,” Valerie chides.

Jane is horrified. She goes totally pale and is stunned, not knowing what to say.

“Why would you say that?” Jane asks nervously.

Valerie looks at Jane and widens her eyes.

“Oh my God! It’s true! Jane is a virgin! Hey, everyone, Jane is a virgin!”

All the others laugh in disbelief.

“Oh, sweetheart, we are going to fix you right up! You are the prize possession of all male fantasy! How the hell have you gotten away with not getting fucked with that tight ass of yours?”

Valerie slaps Jane’s butt.

Jane despises Valerie’s crassness and wonders how she was able to get into ballet school with the way she talks. She is so harsh and humiliating, always needing to be the center of attention.

Jane blushes but also flushes with anger.

Why won’t she just leave me alone?

Jane bites her bottom lip. She gets up and walks over to the bathroom, tears welling up in her eyes. She goes into one of the stalls and bursts into tears.

Why won’t people just leave me alone? Why do they always have to pick on me?

She hears the girls leave the room to go back to the studio, the room now echoing in silence. She opens the bathroom door and looks at herself in the mirror, her eyes still dewy and puffy.

Splashing cold water on her face, she is refreshed by the coolness. She stands up straight and looks at herself in the mirror. She turns around to look at her ass.

Hmmm… I have a tight ass? Someone might want this ass?

She looks at her face and sees a part of her that wishes she wasn’t so innocent, that wishes she had stories to tell about hot and sexy nights where guys were desiring her body, making all the women envy her.

Instead, she is stuck in a stupid, pink, ballerina tutu that makes her look like a 12-year-old, just like her mother liked her to look. Innocent, pure, untouched.

Jane decides to hold her head up high and join the troupe in the studio. She is not going to let them get the best of her. The teacher glares at her, shaking her head and clearly wondering what has gotten into Jane today.

“One-two-spin-spin, one-two-spin-spin, one-two-spin-spin,” instructs the teacher. “Posture straight, head high, on your toes.”

Jane tunes out the other girls and focuses on doing a good job.

No one is going to get the best of her.