Read Online A negotiated surrender by Jayne Castle - Free Book Online
Authors: Jayne Castle
Tags: futuristic romance
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into a proper ballet style bun, bobbed in time as she again clapped her hands for the required jumps and leg beats.
"Enough!" she exclaimed finally, turning back to the rest of the class. "You will do better at this when you come for your evening lesson next week, yes?"
"Yes, ma'am," Calla agreed submissively, trying to get her breath without being obvious about it. Her legs were trembling from the physical effort and she stole a look at the clock. Another fifteen minutes left in the lesson. Fifteen minutes under Miss Marsden could be a very long time.
Eventually, to Calla's vast relief, the group of twelve women in black tights and leotards moved together in the traditional ending of the lesson, the classical bow to Miss Marsden. She clapped her hands once more and the women, for the first time in an hour and a half, were allowed to relax.
"Good grief! Miss Marsden certainly was on your case this morning." Angie Connors grinned as the two women walked side by side to the dressing area and began removing their soft black leather slippers. All of the dancing clothes were of a uniform color. Black. Miss Marsden did not encourage creativity in the uniform. All creativity must be channeled into the dance.
"I got to bed late last night," Calla admitted ruefully, stuffing her shoes into her bag and reaching for a pair of jeans to pull on over her tights and leotard. She was soaking wet with perspiration but she decided to save the shower until she got home. A glance in the mirror showed the knot of her hair was still in place, but other than that she looked as if she'd been through the proverbial wringer.
"What sort of excuse is that!" Angie exclaimed in Marsden accents. "A dancer's first duty is to her body!"
"Only so that she won't disgrace herself when she is dancing," Calla concluded with a wry chuckle. "I don't think Miss Marsden cares about our bodies, only about the dance itself. As if it were something tangible that must be treated with utmost respect!"
"Which is precisely the case!" said a laughing male voice as the two women emerged from the dressing room. A man stood waiting out in the hall, his Byronic dark eyes and black hair giving him a theatrical look that he wore very well. His body was the compact, well-developed one of the professional male dancer although he was approaching forty.
"Gary!" Calla admonished with a grin as Angie smiled and waved good-bye. "No fair listening in on students' comments!"
"The dancing master sees all and knows all," he intoned dramatically.
"Including my home address," she concluded, nodding. "I got the flowers. They were lovely, Gary.
Thanks!"
He watched her run a small terry towel around her exposed neck and shoulders. "I'm glad you liked them. How did the celebration go at the country club?"
"Very well," Calla affirmed noncommittally. "Perhaps a little too well. I had trouble maintaining Miss Marsden's standards of concentration this morning!" she added with a grimace.
"She is a taskmaster, isn't she?" He smiled in satisfaction. "I was lucky to get her for an instructor."
"Does she handle the little kids the same way she handles the adults?"
"Oh, yes. Absolute and unswerving concentration and discipline," he said seriously. "Miss Marsden's goal is perfection!"
Calla smiled. "It's nice of you to give your adult exercise class the benefit of one of your best instructors, Gary. She conducts a lesson as if we really were potential ballerinas instead of a bunch of career women trying to stay in shape!"
He shrugged. "The ballet has something to teach everyone. Why should I withhold the best from any of my students? But you're dripping wet. You should get into a shower," he went on, frowning emphatically.
"Exactly where I'm headed." Calla stepped forward quickly and put a hand briefly on his arm. "Thanks again for the flowers, Gary. It was very thoughtful of you."
"I knew you were expending a great deal of energy on those negotiations," he said gently. "Miss Marsden's
"Enough!" she exclaimed finally, turning back to the rest of the class. "You will do better at this when you come for your evening lesson next week, yes?"
"Yes, ma'am," Calla agreed submissively, trying to get her breath without being obvious about it. Her legs were trembling from the physical effort and she stole a look at the clock. Another fifteen minutes left in the lesson. Fifteen minutes under Miss Marsden could be a very long time.
Eventually, to Calla's vast relief, the group of twelve women in black tights and leotards moved together in the traditional ending of the lesson, the classical bow to Miss Marsden. She clapped her hands once more and the women, for the first time in an hour and a half, were allowed to relax.
"Good grief! Miss Marsden certainly was on your case this morning." Angie Connors grinned as the two women walked side by side to the dressing area and began removing their soft black leather slippers. All of the dancing clothes were of a uniform color. Black. Miss Marsden did not encourage creativity in the uniform. All creativity must be channeled into the dance.
"I got to bed late last night," Calla admitted ruefully, stuffing her shoes into her bag and reaching for a pair of jeans to pull on over her tights and leotard. She was soaking wet with perspiration but she decided to save the shower until she got home. A glance in the mirror showed the knot of her hair was still in place, but other than that she looked as if she'd been through the proverbial wringer.
"What sort of excuse is that!" Angie exclaimed in Marsden accents. "A dancer's first duty is to her body!"
"Only so that she won't disgrace herself when she is dancing," Calla concluded with a wry chuckle. "I don't think Miss Marsden cares about our bodies, only about the dance itself. As if it were something tangible that must be treated with utmost respect!"
"Which is precisely the case!" said a laughing male voice as the two women emerged from the dressing room. A man stood waiting out in the hall, his Byronic dark eyes and black hair giving him a theatrical look that he wore very well. His body was the compact, well-developed one of the professional male dancer although he was approaching forty.
"Gary!" Calla admonished with a grin as Angie smiled and waved good-bye. "No fair listening in on students' comments!"
"The dancing master sees all and knows all," he intoned dramatically.
"Including my home address," she concluded, nodding. "I got the flowers. They were lovely, Gary.
Thanks!"
He watched her run a small terry towel around her exposed neck and shoulders. "I'm glad you liked them. How did the celebration go at the country club?"
"Very well," Calla affirmed noncommittally. "Perhaps a little too well. I had trouble maintaining Miss Marsden's standards of concentration this morning!" she added with a grimace.
"She is a taskmaster, isn't she?" He smiled in satisfaction. "I was lucky to get her for an instructor."
"Does she handle the little kids the same way she handles the adults?"
"Oh, yes. Absolute and unswerving concentration and discipline," he said seriously. "Miss Marsden's goal is perfection!"
Calla smiled. "It's nice of you to give your adult exercise class the benefit of one of your best instructors, Gary. She conducts a lesson as if we really were potential ballerinas instead of a bunch of career women trying to stay in shape!"
He shrugged. "The ballet has something to teach everyone. Why should I withhold the best from any of my students? But you're dripping wet. You should get into a shower," he went on, frowning emphatically.
"Exactly where I'm headed." Calla stepped forward quickly and put a hand briefly on his arm. "Thanks again for the flowers, Gary. It was very thoughtful of you."
"I knew you were expending a great deal of energy on those negotiations," he said gently. "Miss Marsden's
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