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[i]>>>>>>>Balledir follows the lovely Rosetta out of the dance studio to speak words of kindness to her and try to make friends, but alas! Rosetta has enclosed herself within a stall in the ladies' room and is weeping and praying the Rosary to atone for her blunder, reminding herself that it was the sin of pride—always admiring herself in the mirror to the exclusion of everyone else—that caused this mishap. >>>>>>>Poor dear, she is of a delicate, sensitive temperament—and frankly, a bit high-strung. >>>>>>Balledir waits outside the door, calling to her. >>>>>>"Graceful, raven-haired ballerina," he calls, "I request a favor. I have been trained as a ballet lad, but yearn to undergo some ballerina training. Will an experienced dancer such as yourself train a young protege?" >>>>>Rosetta finally pulls herself together and strides from the ladies' room, holding her head high, swinging her rosary beads nonchalantly, her long lithe legs smoothly rippling their sleek muscles toward the studio, as she brushes past Balledir and pretends not to notice him, hoping her eyes are not too red and puffy to spoil her haughty show (they are, though). Once past him, she deigns to turn her head slightly and murmur softly, "Puoi venire e danzare con me, se vuoi, eh ragazzo..." and re-enters the studio. Walking slowly this time. >>>>Balledir follows, unsure of the what the dancer had just said. He turns to her, staring deeply into her eyes. >>>>"Do you speak English?" >>>Rosetta's large dark eyes, reserved but warm, register the hint of a smile. >>>"Che cosa dici, ragazzo? Non parlo inglese. L'italiano è la lingua della bellezza, sai. E io vivo solamente per la bellezza. Vieni." >>>Rosetta turns again toward the studio and walks in, her off-white-colored Lycra tights showing every svelte subtly shifting curve in the motion of the musculature of her shapely legs. >>>As she comes in view of the mirror, she lifts her arms in graceful arcs above her head and bends back, lifting her face toward Heaven. Her tiny breasts disappear as they flatten out against her chest wall. At the same time, on her bare exposed back, the tips of her shoulder blades begin to protrude. Balledir blinks as he briefly has the mental illusion that her breasts had moved from her front to her back. As she sweeps her arms down and bends slightly at the waist, her little breasts reappear in front, their subtle countours elegantly enhanced and highlighted by the shirred ruche of the leotard fabric between them. >>Balledir, extremely impressed by the gracefullness and beauty of Rosetta, walks by her side. His pathetically common clothes and abilities could not compare with this new dancer's, but he tries anyways. Standing beside her, he plies a bit first, bending his knees as gracefully as he could. Slightly warmed up, he takes a deep breath, performing a little arabesque. Stopping, he turns to her. >>"Could I please borrow some of your dance clothes, fair ballerina? I wish to improve my appearance, comfort, and performance, and feel confined in these peasant clothes." >Rosetta looks at Balledir and smiles. Now that she is streching her body, she feels much better about herself. The stretches always bring her a feeling of greater physical and mental wellbeing. She begins to loosen up and let go of her usual inhibitions. >Rosetta soon begins to feel very warm. Was the studio thermostat set too high? She thinks to herself, "Fa molto caldo qui, mi domando perchè?" She doesn't like it when her figa gets all sweaty as it is now, encased in the nylon of her tights. She feels that it needs to breathe. >Rosetta decides to dance barelegged. >She slips off her ballet shoes. Then she sticks her hands up inside the leg openings of her leotard and hooks her thumbs over the waistband of her tights. She pulls the top of her tights down until stopped by the crotch of her leotard, exposing bare skin of her hips under the upward curving leg openings. Then she bends one leg and pulls the tights down over that leg, stretching the fabric until it just about goes over her knee. With one more careful tug, her knee is freed (thank goodness for the stretchiness of Lycra!) and she slips her leg out of the tights entirely. Then she stretches the crotch of the leotard down away from her with one hand as she pulls the empty tights leg through to the other side. Now she can easily slip the tights off her other leg. She is fond of this pair of tights, their creamlike off-white color chosen carefully as the best possible color to compliment the burgundy of her leotard. She'd had to special-order these hard to find tights, but it was worth it. She feels a bit of pride at having discovered this method of getting out of her tights without having to remove her leotard. >During this procedure, Balledir can't help watching her with incredulous fascination. When she pulls the leotard crotch down to slip the tights out, he observes a flash of her ebony pubic hair. He tries hard not to look like he is staring at Rosetta's figa, glancing sideways as he pretends to do pliés, but he even thinks maybe he briefly sees a hint of her labia. He is sweating too. >She tosses the tights over the barre, feeling more comfortable already. She notices Balledir's gaze following the tights and she says to him: "Ti piace il mio collant, eh ragazzo? Vuoi prenderlo? Vuoi portarlo?" She winks meaningfully.Balledir nods, and moving over to the barre, picks up Rosetta's tights. He rubs them with facination, admiring the sophistication found in the dancewear. As he goes to puts them on, something else flashes in his mind."Prenda in prestito un leotard del ballerina?" he asks her softly.[/i]

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