Ballerina's Embrace

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint scent of polished wood at the Anytime Brew. Located in the busy city center district, under the Poite dance studio, it was the best place Mark could think of for a blind date with a young ballerina. He didn’t know much else about her, his triathlon buddy who set them up had been coy about revealing too much. At forty-two, Mark wasn’t sure what to expect from a date with someone in their mid-twenties, but he was determined to keep an open mind.

Mark sat at his favorite corner table, fingers tapping nervously against the ceramic mug in front of him. He glanced at his watch. 6:01pm. She should be here any minute.

The door chimed softly, and his head snapped up.

There she was.

She seemed to glide into the room, stepping softly and smoothly in high heels. She moved with a mesmerizing kind of grace. More than one head turned to regard her commanding presence. She was tall and lithe, with a straight backed posture that pushed her firm chest out and front in her stylish black top. The color was a theme for her, raven black hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Her lips and nails were painted a striking black, standing out starkly on snow white skin.

Her gaze swept across the coffee shop, landing on Mark. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief as she came over, standing by the empty chair across from him.

Mark straightened in his seat, suddenly hyper-aware of his own posture.

“Mark, right? I’m Elena.” She extended her hand with a bright, dazzling smile. It made her look younger, somehow girlish.

“That’s me,” he said, standing to shake her hand. Her grip was firm, her skin warm against his. “Its really nice to meet you.”

They sat and the conversion flowed effortlessly. Elena was animated, her hands gesturing as she talked. Mark smiled, feeling enthralled by her energy. He asked her about ballet and she lit up with another bright smile.

“I’ve been dancing since I was three, practically grew up in a studio. Gosh, it's all I really wanted to do my whole life. I’d keep doing it forever if I could.”

Mark nodded along as she described the joys of performing, training, practicing. “I’m impressed by your passion. Makes me want to see a ballet performance sometime.”

Elena’s jaw dropped in mock horror, “Have you never seen ballet?”

“Never had,” Mark smiled. “I’m sure I caught it on TV for a moment at some time, but I never sat down to watch it.”

“Oh Mark, we have to fix that. Right now!”

“Right now?” he laughed, taken aback.

“Yes!” Elena pulled out her cell. “I know the owner of Poite, I’ll get him to let us in, for your private showing.” The way Elena’s full lips up-turned into a smirk at the word private, made Mark’s heart beat faster. He was really looking forward to it now.

Only ten minutes later, Mark stood in the spacious studio, looking at his reflection in floor to ceiling mirrors. The polished wood floor gleamed under the soft lighting that Elena turned on, before disappearing to change. She hardly made him wait, emerging only moments later in a sleek black leotard and tights. The outfit clung to her like a second skin, accentuating every curve and muscle in her body.

Mark’s eyes grew big as he watched her toned muscles tense and relax as she flowed toward him.

“Ready?” she asked in a teasing tone.

He nodded, still standing in the middle of the studio, not sure what to expect.

Elena plugged her musing into the speaker system, and a hauntingly beautiful melody filled the room. As the music grew in intensity, she began to move.

Mark was mesmerized by her dance. Elena’s body flowed like water, each movement precise and delicate. There was so much elegance in how she spun, leaped and landed in pace with the music. Mark was struck by how much sensuality she displayed in her movements. Each pose seemed to accentuate her sleek form, narrow waist, and firm, muscular thighs. Mark smiled at the daring glances she gave him when their eyes locked between her spins.

Before he knew it, Elena spun in front of him, almost touching. As if testing the water, and finding it pleasant, she stepped closer, her body mere inches from his. She guided his hands to her waist. “Hold me here,” she instructed.

He obeyed, enjoying the smooth feel of her leotard beneath his fingers. He felt the muscles in her core contract, firm ridges standing out, as she lifted her leg into an aerial split. She balanced effortlessly, keeping him close for enjoyment rather than support.

When her thigh brushed against his chest, he couldn’t help but admire her strength and definition. His hand glided to the concave dip that separated her bulging quads from the rounded, protruding glutes. Every muscle felt hard and defined against his exploring hands, the fabric of her tights did little to hide her warmth and power.

Elena let him explore, enjoying the rough feel of his hands. Her movements became more playful. She twisted and turned in ways that let his hands roam over her toned form. At one point she used him as a prop, holding on to his shoulders as she leaned back into a dramatic arch.

“You’re doing great,” her rapid movement adding an airy quality to her voice, her breath hot against his neck.

Mark’s heart was pounding with excitement when she pulled away, only to leap right back. She landed with her legs wrapped around his waist, her ankles crossed behind him. Her blue eyes gleamed with mischief as she used her position to tangle her hands in his hair. “How’s that for your first ballet lesson?”

“Incredible,” he replied without exaggeration.

She smiled, light and carefree. Her thighs tightened around him, and he marveled at how effortlessly she held onto him.

Mark’s hands supported her by her glutes, appreciating the rounded form of her protruding muscle through her tights. “You’re really strong,” he finally spoke, his tone full of admiration.

“I am,” Elena grinned, tightening her legs further. “I don’t even need you to hold me up.”

He felt her thighs flex, and the pressure around his body increase. He tensed against her, but didn’t pull away.

“Are you doing okay?” Elena teased.

“Yeah,” he forced out, strain evident in his voice, “It’s just that your legs… they’re really strong, and squeezing kinda hard.”

Elena smiled at the praise, her thighs clamping down even harder. “What do you mean? I’m so small, and you’re a big, strong man. Surely, I can’t hurt you.”

Mark’s breathing became labored as the pressure became more intense. His stomach muscles tightened to their limit and he felt his ribs begin to ache. Yet through the discomfort, unbelievably caused by this thin girl, he felt a rising arousal.

But the pressure was starting to get to him. “Elena…” he gasped, not sure how to continue.

She tilted her head, looking at him with feigned innocence. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle a little hug?”

“It’s not that,” he managed. His voice was strained, but filled with desire. “I’m enjoying your touch… just your thighs… they are crushing me,” he admitted, his body starting to shake.

Elena’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “If my lady legs are too much, just separate them. Show me you want to see them spread for you.” She kept his attention, keeping him hot and bothered for her game.

Mark tried using one arm to pry her legs apart, but they didn’t budge. He added his other arm, his face turning red with effort.

Elena giggled, her thighs tightening impossibly further. “Having trouble? Blood going to the wrong head?” She guided her arm down to his leg, sliding her hand up his inner thigh. “Don’t you still want me?”

Mark’s vision began to blur, the edges of the room fading into a hazy fog from the lack of oxygen. Elena’s thighs kept constricting his body, not letting him have a full breath. He was swallowing air in shallow, desperate gasps. “Elena…” his voice sounded unnaturally quiet, “I want you, but… I can’t… breathe…”

Elena gave him a playful look, full of nonchalance and amusement. “Oh, Mark,” her tone dripped with mock concern, “You sure? You’re such a strong man. Surely a hug from a little ballerina like me can’t be too much for you.”

Mark’s hands clawed frantically at her legs, his fingers sinking into the taut fabric of her tights. He couldn’t budge the muscles beneath, that felt like coiled steel against his hands. “Please…,” he choked out, his voice strained and hoarse. “You’re… crushing me…”

“Crushing you? Oh, come on,” Elena giggled, but her voice held a sharp edge. “You’re making such a big deal out of this. I’m just a tiny dancer, Mark. You’re the one who’s supposed to be strong, remember?”

His chest felt like it was caving in, each breath more shallow than the last. Somehow, the lack of oxygen only added to his arousal and his want of her. “Elena… please…” He was using his last breath to plead with her. “I want this, but my ribs… they’re… ugh… hurting…”.

Elena leaned closer, her face hovering just above his, letting him feel her hot breath on his skin. “Nnnghhaaah,” she moaned loudly, “Oh, your poor little ribs,” she mocked him, even as her arousal grew. “Show me you want this, fight me through the pain.”

Mark’s face turned a deep red, veins bulging on his forehead as he gasped for air. “Elena, I… can’t fight… such pressure…” His words were barely audible, each syllable was a struggle.

“Aaaahhh… haaah… mmmh!” Elena moaned again, longer and louder. “I love watching you struggle,” her hand pet his cheek almost gently, “Last a little longer for me, and I’ll…” She leaned in and kissed his hypoxic lips. “I’ll bring your dreams to life. Everything you want.”

His vision darkened further, spots dancing in front of his eyes. Her kiss brought his arousal to a new level, but his painfully crushed stomach muscles were on their last leg. He left like his ribs wouldn’t hold much longer, something had to give under such a pressure from this thin dancer’s thighs. “I… I’m going to pass out…” his voice was a weak wheeze, gasping into her mouth while she continued to kiss him.

Elena smirked as she looked deep into his unfocused eyes. “You’re going to be such a cute sleeper,” she whispered. Her voice didn’t have any notes of struggle as her thighs tightened one more time, squeezing the air from his lungs with a merciless grip. “Go to sleep.”

Mark’s body went rigid for a moment, then with a desperate gasp his eye rolled back and fell, totally unconscious. Elena’s legs loosened and she slid gracefully off of him, her feet landing softly on the polished floor at the same time as his body. She leaned down, affectionately brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You are cute when you’re out. Sleep well, Mark,” she told him softly, like she didn’t want to wake him.

Elena glanced over her shoulder at his slumped form, noticing his chest rise and fall in a slow rhythm. She walked out of the studio with a satisfied look on her face, leaving only her lingering smell and a note on the console table: “Loved our date, but I have to run. Maybe next time I’ll take care of you fully. - Elena.”