Paquita. The final moments. Paquita and Lucien are to wed. The harps tinkle and that is my cue. As I make my entrance across the stage, I glance across at my Master in the wings and a sadness I almost cannot bear crosses my heart, for at the end of this performance I will be free. A dancer since I was six, a slave since I was twenty nine and a retiree at thirty four. Retired as a dancer and retired from Matthieu. I daren’t change my expression in front of the audience but he locks his eyes dead onto mine and a glow fills me. I can see he is pleased, though he rarely smiles and his pleasure fills me with pride. The vibrator strapped to me underneath my long gypsy skirt suddenly bursts into life as I throw myself into the most technical section of the dance and just for an instance, I am overwhelmed with fear that I will stumble or... compromise myself in front of him and the audience. Somehow I manage to stay composed, even as I want to buck against it. The pulse between my thighs grows stronger and my sex is throbbing, twitching and crying with need.
