"Your so beautiful when you dance for me, baby." Armani said, cupping his large hands on the side of her waist. Odette looked up at him, her eyes widened. Nobody's ever called her that before.
Odette is a 19 year old ballerina. In fact, rumor has it...
Armani spread his legs apart as he inhaled all the vile toxins of his cigarette. He exhaled and sighed.
" Where are you when I need you, Marty." His jaw clenched.
He was a little angry at Marty's lack of attendance. Marty was his assistant, which is a very important role. And one of the rules is always show up on time-which Marty couldn't seem to grasp.
Just then 3 rhythmic knocks were heard at the door to Armani's office.
"Come in, Marty."
"Sorry I'm late sir, traffic was crazy." Marty shook his head.
"Do me a favor, yeah? When I call, you come. So stick to it." Armani spat.
He was tired of this. He leaned back in his black leather arm chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"So...what did you need me for?" Marty asked, occasionally darting towards some files on his desk.
"Well, lately it's been quite...boring around here. I am in need of some entertainment." Marty gulped.
"What kind of entertainment sir?"
"Maybe a dancer. A talented one, not some rookie." Armani said, rubbing the light stubble on his chin.
The light shown down on his veiny hands.
"Why a dancer?" Marty asked, confused as what a dancer could possibly accomplish.
"I want to see something beautiful, elegant. Something I know I can't accomplish myself. I need something to distract me from what I have to do." Marty nodded his head as he placed a folder on Armanis desk.
"What's this?" Armani asked, leaning forward.
"Oh well it's uh.." Marty looked back at the door before leaning in close. "The files." Marty cleared his throat and got up, fixing his burgundy tie.
"Alright, thank you Marty. Now, I want you to look at the best dancers in Manhattan for me, can you do that?" Marty agreed and swiftly walked out the door, leaving Armani to his own silence.
~~~
Odette skipped up the stairs as she carefully opened the door to her class.
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Everyone stared at her as she just politely smiled and waved. She made her way to the corner closest to the door. She unloaded her bag and took out her toe pads, pointe shoes and other necessities. She warmed up by doing some simple stretches. Odette fixed her tight bun and tucked away any stray baby hairs. The class instructor, Marcus and his assistant Alejandra walked in the room. As the door closed, she noticed a man with a tie, wearing a black suit and black dress pants staring at her. Howstrange. Maybe he's here for his daughter. She thought. She felt a weird feeling in her tummy. She rubbed it and then looked over at the two instructors.
