His Dance Lessons Read online

  HIS DANCE LESSONS

  An Ellora’s Cave publication written by

  MLYN HURN

  MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-531-7

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  © Copyright Mlyn Hurn, 2003.

  All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave.

  Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. USA

  Ellora's Cave Ltd, UK

  This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by email forwarding, copying, fax, or any other mode of communication without author/publisher permission.

  Edited by Kari Berton

  Cover Art by Scott Carpenter

  Certain images contained within this e-book have been digitally marked by Digimarc Corp. If you purchased this e-book from a source other than Ellora's Cave or one of its known affiliates, contact [email protected] immediately. Please note that reading this e-book without first purchasing it through legitimate means is illegal and can result in heavy fines. As always, our authors thank-you for your support and patronage.

  Warning:

  The following material contains strong sexual content meant for mature readers. HIS DANCE LESSONS has been rated HARD R, erotic, by three individual reviewers. We strongly suggest storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view this ebook are unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy…

  Chapter 1

  “Don’t be afraid!”

  Mac McDonald entered the classroom slowly. The only reason he had the last position in this class was due to his good friend, the dean of the fine arts department, who called the instructor to allow one extra student. After glancing around the room, he moved to take one of the desks farthest from the door and halfway back.

  "Don’t be afraid! Come on in, everyone. Good afternoon! I need you all to complete this form, and then come up here for me to take an instant photo of you for identification purposes."

  Mac watched as the rotund, gray-haired woman, who had told the students to “not be afraid,” was now passing out the forms. Looking around as the room began to fill with students, it quickly became obvious that there were more men than he had expected. In fact, as the clock drew nearer to the scheduled start time, there were at least twice as many men as women in the class.

  Mac shifted uneasily in his chair as he waited. Around him he could hear other students calling out friendly greetings, expressing surprise or gladness to someone from previous classes together or through extra-curricular activities. And while he couldn't be sure, he would guess the average age was twenty or so. At thirty-two, he definitely felt like the old man of the class.

  “Remember to come up here and let me take your photo as soon as you have your forms completed.”

  Mac found himself eyeing the older woman and wondering how the hell she could be teaching this class! He doubted she did any exercise at all, much less dancing. She looked more like his mother than a svelte dancer.

  The room quieted somewhat as everyone began completing the forms, and Mac heard one of the students refer to the woman as Marty. After she had dispensed a form to each student, Marty sat behind the desk. Mac had his form completed, but he sat waiting, not wanting to be the first to go up. A few moments later, a young, and very pretty coed, Mac noted, stood and walked to the desk. Mac heard the older woman greet the younger woman by name.

  "Hello, Katie. It's nice to see you again."

  The young woman smiled. "Thanks, Marty. Rumor has it that Opie agreed to teach the class again."

  Marty grinned. "You must have insider information. The official memo only came out this morning."

  At least he now had an answer to his question. Someone called Opie would be the instructor for the class, not Marty. Mac couldn’t help the image that came to mind of a famous child star with red hair and freckles that went by the same name. Hiding his grin, he delayed until almost everyone else was done before he went up to turn his form in. He stood while Marty took his picture.

  She was writing across the bottom when all of a sudden she looked up at Mac. He was sure that she recognized him, but then she shook her head, as if telling herself not to be foolish. After all, what would a famous actor be doing in a dance class? Mac had just returned to his seat when he heard a commotion near the door. Turning his head, he froze.

  Standing in the doorway was a college man's dream coed. A tanned woman, with her golden blonde hair pulled into a high and perky ponytail, was standing just inside the doorway. She was average height, with a lithe, lean and muscular body. The skintight dance leotard she was wearing flattened her breasts. Her skin was flushed with a light sweat, and she had obviously been working out. Mac shrugged as he thought it was rather rude of her to show up to class this way. But he also doubted that any red-blooded man would really object if the sexy woman took the next seat.

  Mac was surprised to find that he was watching the young woman and her bouncing ponytail as she stopped to talk to several of the students. He was even more surprised to realize he was becoming aroused as he looked at her slender, fit body. When she turned her back towards him, his eyes were drawn to her pert, heart-shaped butt. She propped her hand on one hip, which only made her ass look even more delectable. He suddenly had an intense desire to cup his hands around those perky cheeks and squeeze.

  “Sorry I’m late, everyone. Thanks, Marty, for getting everything started for me.”

  Mac shook his head as he realized the beautiful woman was now speaking as she perched herself atop the desk at the front of the room. No way could this sexy blonde be the instructor for this class! She didn’t even look like she should be out of high school, let alone college!

  * * * * *

  “As some of you know, my name is Ophelia Landis. Please feel free to call me Ophelia.”

  Ophelia paused and glanced around the room. Her gaze landed on the man in the farthest row once again. His rugged face and reddish brown hair had caught her attention because he looked so different from the other much younger people in the class. It wasn’t easy, but she forced her gaze straight ahead. Surprised, she realized that her breathing was rapid and uneven. Forcing a deep breath into her lungs, she continued.

  “I have a nickname that some of you may have heard as well, and don’t worry that I will get upset if you use that by accident. With a name like mine, I’ve heard about all the practical jokes possible.”

  Ophelia crossed her legs and leaned forward with her hands flat on the desk. “Now we’ll get down to brass tacks. A lot of people like to take this class because they think it will be an easy ‘A’.” She stopped while there were some soft chuckles and laughs. “I don’t have a lot of requirements for this class. First, I’m not going to dock your grade if you miss a class or two. We are all adults here, or at least most of the time we are. Second, no quizzes or tests. You come to class and we dance. Our final exam, if you want to call it that, is our performance in the Christmas show.”

  Ophelia slid off the desk and started walking back and forth across the front of the room. “Dance is art, but unlike a lot of the other forms of artistic expression, dance is very physical. So, for you men thinking dance is for wimps, I’ll remind you of this after our third class.”

  Ophelia moved back to the desk and leaned against it. “We’ll meet in studio B, which is on the third floor, from now on for our classes. Also, barring an emergency, we start on time. So if you need to change clothes, please allow plenty of time for that before class time.”

  “What if you are late?” The question originated from somewhere in the back of the room.

  “I’m late, you all get an ‘A.’” Ophelia listened to the scattered chuckles and good-natured laughter. “I should warn yo
u that you can thank my mother for teaching me to always be at least fifteen minutes early. Other than today, which I can blame on the students in the class right before this one.”

  Ophelia found that she was pausing entirely too long in front of the last row of desks. She told herself she was being foolish, and redirected her pre-class speech. ”Because tap dancing creates sounds as well as movement through space, the instruments used to create these sounds are very important. And for us, our shoes are our instruments. If you ask a guitarist about the strings he uses, or a pianist about his piano, you will get vastly different and vigorous responses on which is best. And so it is for tap dancers.”

  “The class list—which is on the desk, so please grab one on your way out—has information about shoes, and suggestions on where to get appropriate ones. In order to tap with comfort and feel well balanced, I prefer the Capezios shoes. They are flatter, lighter and more flexible than the Dansky. Also the Dansky has the half-inch heel, which will affect your balance and center of gravity. You feel a need to lean forward to achieve your balance, and since we will be doing more wings and grab-offs, all of which require balanced take-offs and landings, I find it easier with the flatter shoe. Try them both on though, and decide which suits you best.”

  Ophelia reseated herself on the desk. “Don’t feel rushed to get the shoes, because for the first two weeks we are going to be conditioning and learning some general moves and the like. And just a word about the different type of taps available. There are three major types: Supertone, Duotone and Teletone. Some people still use wooden taps. Metal taps didn’t come into use until 1926. Before then, shoes with wood soles were used. Some people have actually gotten industrious enough to make their own wooden taps.

  “Now, I hope I haven’t bored you all to death, but that wraps up everything I needed to say. You can leave if you wish. I remember how I always enjoyed getting out of class early, and this will probably be your only chance, for my class, anyway.” Ophelia smiled and let her gaze pass over the students. She didn’t plan it, but her gaze was snagged and held by the attractive man in the last row. She had to force her eyes away and continue to move them over the other students.

  “I will hang around for a while if any of you have any questions. So, take off while the opportunity is knocking!”

  Half the class slowly filed out, while a few started making their way towards Ophelia. Mac sat in his chair and waited until only one student remained. Standing, Mac walked toward the desk Ophelia was still sitting on. He stopped a few feet to the side, and the young man talking to Ophelia obviously got the message because he quickly excused himself and walked out.

  Ophelia turned to look at the attractive man. He was six foot, lithe, muscular and looked quite fit. She guessed his age to be in his early thirties perhaps. His face was ruggedly handsome, tanned with a white smile, but it was his blue eyes that really seemed to take her breath away each time their gazes met. She took a deep breath. “Hello!”

  Mac moved to stand in front of his teacher. “I feel I should apologize first.”

  Ophelia frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr.?”

  Mac offered his hand. “Mac McDonald. I’m the last minute addition to your class, compliments of Dean Jansen’s strong arm techniques.”

  Ophelia released his hand, hoping the frissons of desire she had just felt were a fluke. She had wondered why Michael Jansen had pleaded so hard for her to allow “just one more” student. It gave her an uneven number of students, but perhaps someone would drop the class, she had rationalized. “I am a little confused as to why you are so interested in tap.”

  Mac grinned and crossed his arms across his chest. “You left off ‘at your age’.”

  Ophelia flushed. “That was rude of me. And it is none of my business.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Landis. Now I have another appointment, so I will see you in class tomorrow.”

  Ophelia stared at the door Mac had just walked out of. Between Michael Jansen refusing to say why this one student was so important, and now meeting him, Ophelia was completely confused. Sliding off the desk, she admitted reluctantly that she was also more attracted to him than she had been to any man for a very long time. And she wasn’t sure that she had time for this now.

  Shaking her head ruefully, Ophelia reminded herself that just because she was attracted to him didn’t mean her feelings were returned.

  Damn it all, Opie! How did you manage to jump from meeting a student to wondering if you had time for a relationship of any kind? Gathering her leftover papers, Ophelia made her way to her office. On the way she decided to blame this brief moment of insanity on hormones and abstinence.

  Chapter 2

  Mac arrived early for class the next time, dressed in sweat pants and a T-shirt. He wasn’t too sure about the leotard thing just yet. As he walked in, he saw Ophelia was already there. She was dressed again in a close-fitting leotard, this time a blue one. She had several pairs of thick, knitted-style leggings covering her lower legs and just over her knees. She was stretching at a ballet barre, doing moves that he had thought were strictly ballet moves. As she sank into a deep knee bend, Mac couldn’t stop the comment that sprang to mind. “I don’t think my body will bend like that.”

  Ophelia rose slowly and met his gaze through the mirror directly behind the barre. “You will be surprised at what you will be able to do, if you give it enough time, of course.”

  Mac grinned and shrugged. “I should imagine bribery to get a passing grade is out of the question?”

  * * * * *

  Ophelia didn’t move for a moment, and then she laughed out loud. She turned slowly to look at this man she had spent most of the night lusting after in her dreams and in her early waking hours. She purposely kept her gaze on his face while she quickly told herself that she wasn’t disappointed that he had not come to class wearing tights, leotards or even a pair of shorts. She would have been more than happy with just shorts, she realized with a start of surprise. There was no doubt that his thigh muscles would be impressive.

  Slowly, Ophelia turned away from the barre. What surprised her most was this fascination she had with a man she barely knew. She rarely had trouble focusing, but with Mac McDonald around it was becoming an ever-increasing challenge. Before she could formulate a scintillating reply, other students began filing into the room.

  Ophelia started the class by greeting them, and then without pause, performed the five basic ballet steps. She stopped and smiled at the class. “Now, gentlemen don’t go tensing up on me. Ballet strengthens the entire body and it substantially increases flexibility. Besides the obvious workout for the legs, it helps develop muscle tone in the abdominal area, arms, back and hips.”

  Ophelia paused and looked around the class. “I know some of you are here at the suggestion of your coach. There have been some studies conducted showing the benefit to athletes by developing a wider range of muscles than just those required by the individual sports activity.” She moved in between the students.

  “Some of you guys are probably doing a mental replay of that commercial with the athletes in leotards who look like pro football players, all doing ballet.” She paused as they chuckled and laughed softly. “Well, no one has to be a mighty oak or a sapling here. But proper body alignment is as essential to successful athletics, as it is to dance. You’ll also find yourself with better posture.”

  Ophelia smiled at the doubtful expressions. “Just trust me for now. All right, let’s have everyone take a position at the barre, and I’ll show you the best stretching moves to use before you begin any kind of dance movement. You’ll also find they are great moves to get you going in the morning, and before exercise of any kind.”

  For the next thirty minutes, Ophelia moved from person to person, making sure they were getting the proper alignment for maximum stretch and not risking any injury. When she came to Mac, she was hesitant to touch him as she had the other students. Somehow she sensed that in touching him, s
he was going to feel something that she was not altogether sure she wanted to feel at this point in her life.

  But it was soon obvious that she had to press her hand flat against his washboard abdominal muscles for a moment while he stretched backwards. Ophelia argued silently that it was perfectly normal for her eyes to move down…it was the fact that her gaze lingered which disturbed her. And when she told him it was important to keep his buttocks tight during any backwards movements, Mac looked down at her and asked her if she would mind checking while he did the stretch again.

  Ophelia flushed at his words, even though he had spoken without any trace of suggestive innuendo. She found herself moving her hand forward to rest on his nearest butt cheek. She felt it tense and then Mac performed the stretch. Her hand, though, seemed to be glued to his tensed muscles, even as they relaxed. Mac turned to look at her and slowly one corner of his mouth tilted upwards. He didn’t say anything, just held Ophelia’s gaze while her hand was still on his ass, almost cupping it.

  Across the room, Ophelia heard someone call out with a question. Abruptly, she jerked her hand away and hastily moved across the room. Her face was flushed and she knew she was sweating, but she hoped the other students would assume it was due to the class and not the student. She spent the rest of the class assiduously avoiding coming anywhere within touching distance of her tempting student.

  * * * * *

  The next week passed uneventfully in the class. Ophelia was seated at the desk in her office on Friday afternoon. The university required all instructors to have regular office hours where they would be available to students. For Ophelia, the only time in her day appeared to be between four and five. She had already showered and was dressed for home.

  Ophelia made no effort to stop her thoughts from returning to her erotic dreams. Every single night, sometimes even twice in one night, her dreams had featured Mac performing some truly impressive acts upon her naked body. Each morning she would awake, feeling restless, despite the full night’s sleep she’d supposedly just had. Unable to resist, she glanced at the clock for what had to be the one-hundredth time, when there was a light tap on the door. Since she kept the door open, her visitor was already standing in the doorway.