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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} Charlotte's Niece by Pamela Chap 17B TG femdom
Date: Sat,  9 Feb 2002 17:10:06 -0500
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{ASSM} Charlotte's Niece by Pamela, Chapter 17B

All preceding chapters of Charlotte's Niece can be found under 
"Pamela" in the "Author" listings of www.Fictionmania.com



*************************

Shortly past 10 in the morning, I went with Ethel to the ballet school to 
see if there was a suitable class for me.  It was a small studio with a tiny 
front office, really just a desk, with a door opening on one side leading to 
a bright room lined with mirrors.  Behind the desk was a middle aged woman 
smoking a cigarette and wearing a black leotard. Her face was creased by a 
few wrinkles and her hair had streaks of grey and was tied in a bun behind 
her head. Some piano music was coming out of the studio and a lone woman 
dancer occasionally came into view through the doorway as she danced.

Ethel introduced us to the woman,  Mrs. Williamson who ran the school.

"I'm looking for a beginning class for my niece Vickie. She's had no ballet 
training at all, and she's a little afraid of starting. But I think it'll be 
good for her."

Mrs. Williamson looked me over. My dress was pale blue, sleeveless and of a 
soft silky material, and with the padded bra I felt that I looked pretty 
good. "She's a nice height, we don't see so many tall ones.  And a nice trim 
body. You look to be very graceful my dear."

I blushed at the complement. "Graceful she is," Ethel interjected, "and we 
hope that dancing will instill even more grace in her."

Mrs. Williamson got up from the desk and stood in front of me. "Put your 
ankles together, and spread  your feet out to the sides."

I tried to do as she said. "Here let me help you." She bent down and put my 
feet further out to the sides and then pushed in slightly on my stomach  and 
put a finger under my chin to lift my head. "That's first position.  In 
ballet we always think up, up," she said.  "Imagine you are being held up by 
a string coming out of your head.  There, thats much better! Good, now hold 
out your arms." She showed me a position to hold my arms in,  like I was 
holding a large barrel against my chest. "Very good. Think up. Remember!"  I 
stood holding the position as Mrs. Williamson inspected.  "Don't sag."  I 
stood up taller. "Very good."  Turning to Ethel she said, "Vickie has an 
easy grace about her. Good instincts. And nice delicate shoulders. I think 
she'll develop rapidly in ballet class. In fact, she can come back this 
evening for a beginners class. It has only been meeting since the beginning 
of the month. I am sure that Vickie will get the hang of it and be caught up 
in no time."

"I'm sorry, I should have made it clear, but she can't come in the 
evenings," Ethel said, "it has to be during the day."

"The beginning class is in the evenings, at 8PM," Mrs. Williamson said. "Its 
mainly adults, but a few kids in there are Vickie's age.  We don't get many 
kids just starting out her age, or I'd have a daytime class for her."

"Oh, that's really too bad." Ethel said with great disappointment.

"Well we could put her in the three o'clock beginners class. Its mainly for 
younger girls just starting out.  Probably most of them are eight years old 
but there are a few older girls in there."

"What do you think Vickie?" Ethel said.

"I don't know. Eight years olds? I'm kinda old for that, aren't I?"

Turning to Mrs. Williamson, Ethel said, "she won't be the only older girl, 
will she?"

"No, as I say some go there when they can't be in the evening class. I can 
understand her shyness, but the reason why we all are here is to dance. Its 
the love of dance and it doesn't really matter all that much who we study 
with, so long as the level is appropriate.  I bet you'll learn quickly and 
then we can move you out of that class to one for older girls in a few 
weeks."

"That sounds pretty good, doesn't it?" Ethel said.

"Yea, I guess so," I said.

So it was arranged. I didn't know if I should really believe what Mrs. 
Williamson said about me, but it was nice to hear it anyway. With mixed fear 
and excitement, I went back to the apartment to wait until the afternoon 
class.

***************************

Back in the apartment I tried on the tights and leotard. It was clear that 
no matter how I tried to tuck my little member out of the way, it was still 
visible.  I called Ethel in to my bedroom to look at the problem. "How can I 
possibly dance with the girls?" I said. "Its so obvious!"

"Don't get so upset," Ethel laughed. "Lets think about it!"

"I don't have any ideas," I said.

"Well, we could try and hide it. You know, wear a leotard which hid it."

"How can that be?" I said.

"A leotard with a skirt that came down a little bit. Another possibility is 
to wear a tutu."

"Vickie has a tutu!" I said.  "That's a  great idea!"

"Where is it?" Ethel said.

"I saw it in the closet!"

I went to the far end of the closet where there was tutu hanging on a 
hanger. It was made of pink satin, silky to the touch, and had a short 
stiff, pink skirt underneath which were several layers of ruffly pink 
petticoats.  "Wow," Ethel said, "that will hide everything! But I don't 
think you should wear it too often. We'll have to get you a regular leotard 
with a skirt."

"You don't think it would be too ridiculous to wear today, do you?" I said.

"It might be a bit much to show up at your first ballet class with a prima 
ballerina outfit. But it seems like its that or else feel worried about your 
little bulge problem.  If you want my vote, I think you're better off with 
the tutu. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, Aunt Ethel, I was thinking the same thing!"

"Good, then that's all settled!"

"That's a relief," I said.

"You're going to have so much fun, I'm jealous!" Ethel said.

***************************

At quarter to two, I left the apartment for the studio holding a canvas bag 
into which I had stuffed the tutu and the ballet slippers. I wore the 
tights. Just before I left the  apartment Ethel handed me a check which I 
was to give to Mrs. Williamson.

The lobby of the studio was crowded with girls when I arrived. I had 
expected to see some girls my age or close to it, but the only other girl 
who wasn't about eight years old was a thin, reedy girl who was probably 
about 13.  There was also three boys standing together in a corner. They 
must have been about eight or nine also.  Glancing around the room at the 
girls, they were wearing leotards of every imaginable color, and a few of 
them even had skirts. None of them were wearing tutus.

Mrs. Williamson saw me and told me to go to the girls dressing room to 
change.

"Where's that?" I said.

"Its that door behind the desk," she said, pointing to a doorway which I had 
thought before must be a closet. "You better hurry. The previous class is 
just ending."

"All I could find to wear is a tutu. I hope that's OK, Mrs. Williamson. My 
aunt will buy me a leotard for my next class!"

"I'm sure it will be fine. But hurry on then, you'll be late!"

I remembered the check in my hand, "and here's my check!"

She took it from me and I ran into the dressing room. It was a very small 
room, with just a few cubby holes to place things. These were entirely 
filled with shoes, jeans and other clothing. Girls clothes were lying all 
over the floor except for the center of the room.  I didn't know where I'd 
be able to put my things.  I put down my bag and reached behind my back to 
unzip the dress. I pulled it up over my head and folded it as best as I 
could. I thought of stuffing it into my bag, but I didn't want to ruin the 
dress. So I looked for a spot in the corner and moved away the other clothes 
there and made space for my dress. I took off my shoes and put them under 
the dress. Standing in my tights and bra, I took out the tutu and stepped 
into it and then pulled it up until the little skirt was around my waist. I 
then put my arms through the arm holes and arranged it over my bra.  The top 
was sleeveless, like a tank top and  hid my bra straps.  I was just putting 
on my pink ballet slippers when  several older girls came in. They were 
talking about some dance moves and after taking a quick glance at them I 
could see circles of moisture ringing their leotards under their arms and on 
their backs. They must be from the class which had just ended.

"Oh how pretty!" one of the girls said.

"If it isn't the fairy princess!" another one said.

"Right out of swan lake. How adorable! Mrs. Williamson is going to love 
that!" a third girl said and they laughed.

I gingerly walked past them, holding  down my little stiff skirt so it 
wouldn't bump into them.  I concentrated on looking at the ground in front 
of me and half mumbled a "thank you" as I passed them.  Outside, in the 
foyer was a lone man. He must have also been in the last class, and I 
wondered where men changed. He was  handsome and  blonde and wore black 
tights and a black sleeveless top. He seemed self-possessed, graceful and 
confident.  He looked up and glanced at me, and I saw his face change into a 
smile. "A new ballerina?" he said in what sounded like a Russian accent.

"I'm just starting, and I'm late!" I said.

"Hurry along. Miss Williamson will kill you. But I love your outfit. You are 
dressed like a star!"

I gingerly opened the studio door and went in. I heard piano music coming 
from a small record player in one corner.  Whatever Mrs. Williamson had been 
doing, she stopped when I entered.  Her face also broke into a smile, and 
she said, "take a place at the barre, Odette."

The reference to the princess swan of Swan Lake was not lost on me. Around 
the room the girls were arrayed standing next to the barre lining the room 
in front of the mirrors.  On a short barre on one wall, the three boys were 
together. Everyone was starring at me, and some of the girls tittered with 
comments about my tutu.

I didn't know where I should go. I was afraid of squeezing the other girls, 
and I stood in the center of the room with my arms resting on the skirt 
turning this way and that trying to figure out where I should go. Finally, I 
said very quietly to Mrs. Williamson, in practically a whisper,  "Where 
should I go?"

Mrs. Williamson said, "Sandy and Jessica, move up and back a little and give 
a space to Odette."

Two girls in the center of the long barre moved to create an opening and 
taking tiny little steps across the floor I slunk into the space  between 
them.  Sandy was in front of me. She was young, red headed, girl, wearing a 
green leotard and her hair was up in a bun. Jessica was behind me. She was 
perhaps nine, though she was tall for her age and had long black hair.

"OK, as we were before our interruption, which will not be happening again?" 
Mrs. Williamson directed the question at me and I shook my head to indicate 
"no."

Mrs. Williamson, picked up the arm of the record player and put it back to 
the beginning of the record and the music started again.  "Plie, first," 
Mrs. Williamson commanded, and I watched Sandy in front of me bend her knees 
out to the side as if she was taking a little curtsey. Her right hand was 
holding the barre.

"If you do not know what to do, watch me," Mrs. Williamson said, obviously 
for my benefit.

I turned my head towards her and watched.  She said, "plie from first 
position," and she bent down and up and I imitated her movement.  "Ten 
more," Mrs. Williamson said, "now, one, two,.." she counted slowly.  While 
she did this she came over to me, and bent down to  place my feet in the 
correct first position and then put her hand on my shoulder to direct my 
plie.

"Very good, Odette, seven...."  she said.

When we were done, she said, "Demi plie, in 2nd."  I watched as Mrs. 
Williamson changed her feet to second position. Then she began counting, 
"one, two,..."

I followed along. Mrs. Williamson walked around the room, correcting posture 
here and there. When she came by me, she took my left hand and extended it 
outwards, and said to the class, "remember to extend your free arm, and 
relax your fingers, keep it graceful. We never neglect our hands in ballet."

"Good, now plie in fourth position."  She continued on through a sequence of 
exercises: sous-sous, demi-detourne, grand port de bras and backbend. Then 
tendu - plie, jete, releve and degage - cloche, battement sutenu, releve, 
tendu fouette, detourne.  Throughout, she masterfully corrected positions 
and offered encouragement.

"Think up," she said at one point. "You have a wire coming out of the top of 
  your heads. It holds you up. It gives you balance."

I was starting to perspire a little, and I felt like my muscles were being 
engaged like they had never been before. I watched Sandy doing the moves and 
the other girls in front of me. When we switched arms on the barre, I was 
able to see the three boys on the far side of the room. Two of them looked 
awkward, like they had not been listening to anything that Mrs. Williamson 
had been saying, but one of them truly had a stylish way of moving and he 
looked to be serious.

I particularly liked the graceful movements of Jessica in front of me. She 
was clearly one of the most accomplished of the girls. I did my best to 
emulate little details I could make out from her hand and leg positions.  
When we had finished the barre exercises, Mrs. Williamson stood at the 
center of the long side of the room, with a large mirror behind her and 
called  us to take positions around the room facing frontwards towards her. 
I found myself surrounded by several girls who were admiring my tutu.

"Its so pretty," one little girl said, who was wearing a light blue leotard 
and white tights.

"Thank you," I said.

"Space yourself out!" Mrs. Williamson said, "give Odette some room," and my 
fan club moved a bit away from me.

"Now we do some arm positions.  First, second, third right and left, third 
right and left en avant, third right and left en bas, fourth right and left, 
fifth en haut, fifth en bas, fifth right and left."  As she called out each 
of these she demonstrated what they looked like. "Now follow me,  first, 
second,..."  she repeated them and had everyone imitate her. She called out 
the names of various girls to point out how to improve their posture.  I saw 
her look at me while doing third position and she smiled. "Very good, 
Odette, everyone look at her. Come up here and show the class," Mrs. 
Williamson said.

Embarrassed, I hesitated and she said, "ballerinas are never shy. Come 
forward." I walked up to her and stood next to her.  "Put your arms in third 
as you just did." I obeyed her, keeping my back upright and my head raised 
and brought my arms to the position and held my breath.  "You can breathe, 
Odette," Mrs. Williamson said. "Very good, very good. Girls look at her 
extension, the line up from her waist through her arms. See how fluid her 
arms are, just one sweet line. Not angular. You all have arms as pretty as 
Odette's you should look as pretty."

One of the boys let out a snort and Mrs. Williamson turned to the boys, and 
said, "you can do it also, my manly young men. Scott, come up here and we 
can show what the man's part would look like."

Scott was the serious boy I had observed before. He came up to the front and 
stood next to me. He had short butch cut brown hair and a round face. I was 
about half a foot taller than him. Mrs. Williamson guided me into a position 
she called a third arabesque, allonge. Then she directed Scott to stand next 
to me, and then to put his hands on my waist. I felt him push up against my 
skirt, and it slid up toward his chest. His hands held me firmly, like he 
was ready to lead me across the room. Mrs. Williamson discussed our hand and 
leg positions and had us tilt our heads. When she had the positions perfect 
she stepped back and told the class to remember the image, for it was one 
that we should all strive to achieve.

After that Scott walked back to the guys and I went back to my previous 
spot.  "Today we'll learn pas de bourree, en tournant en dehors et en 
dedans." She demonstrated the steps and then had us follow along imitating 
her. It felt good to finally be moving, after all the barre and fixed 
exercises.  It was hard to keep up with Mrs. Williamson. I rarely had my 
legs and arms moving the same as her.  My skirt bounced around my waist and 
more than once I just stopped what I was doing and tried to concentrate on 
Mrs. Williamson's movements. It was fun, but it was very hard work.  We went 
through a number of other routines and then she had us do some jumps: grand 
changement, and grand eschappe and the most fun were some turns: the tour de 
Basque - releve and pique.  I felt like a flower during the turns as the 
tutu swirled up and around me. I was exhausted and thought it was definitely 
time to leave, when Mrs. Williamson said, "we'll end by practicing our 
skipping. She changed the record which had been playing on the turntable to 
one with polka music, and I watched as the girls began traveling around the 
room skipping.  "You too, Odette," Mrs. Williamson said, and I ran to get 
into the throng of girls traveling counter clockwise around the room.  As I 
came around toward the back of the room for the first time, I noticed that 
some older girls had quietly entered the room and had begun to use the barre 
to do warm up stretches. I was thinking that they must be from the next 
class.  I flew past them skipping alongside Sandy. It was as if we were in a 
race and we looked at each other and laughed. I had a sudden feeling of 
misgiving as I rounded the turn and was heading back across the front of the 
room. I could see in the mirror in front of me that one of the girls who had 
come in, who was stooped down adjusting her tights, was familiar.  When I 
came around again and was heading toward her, I looked directly at her.  She 
looked up suddenly and into my eyes. It was Linda.


End Chapter 17
(c) 2002 by Pamela, all rights reserved


VickieTern@AOL.COM

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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