Also by Arika Lee
From EroticExcursions publications
Twice in a Blue Moon - Cream of the Crop
The Bridge Club - A Taste of Tears
LoveBites - Camille’s Captive
© 2009 By Arika Lee
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. This material is presented as adult entertainment and is not intended for any person under the age of eighteen years. While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the author assumes no responsibilities for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein. All characters and descriptions contained herein are purely fictitious.
It was only a short walk from the Covent Garden tube. When the young woman with the backpack turned onto Bow Street, the gleaming Greek portico of the Royal Opera House seemed to beckon her. Arriving across the street from its six tall, white columns, she halted, gazing up in awe. By chance, she stood beside Enzo Plazzotta’s sculpture ‘Young Dancer’. Had anyone noticed her there and compared its bronze features to hers, they might easily have concluded that she had been the model for it.
Lucinda Palm-Erslit took a deep breath and crossed the street. She ascended the steps to what she hoped would be her new home. This was the residence of the prestigious Royal Court Ballet. Sir Frederick Long, the company’s choreographer had sent for her. An invitation to audition was a great honour in itself but Lucinda had stars in her eyes.
Since her young hands had first grasped the barre some ten years before, she’d felt destined for greatness. Her parents had been well off and she had been started under a well regarded dance mistress. When they had both perished in an auto smash up, Lucinda had been left alone in the world. Having no close relatives, she had been placed in one of the nicer Catholic orphan’s homes. Her Mother and father had been devout Catholics and their will had named the church as trustee of Lucinda’s estate. Certain of the funds allotted to the church had carried the proviso that her dance instruction continue. Almost as therapy for her loss, she totally immersed herself in her lessons. The focus she had applied to her art had brought her stamina and natural grace to blossom. It had also caused her to be noticed by those with an eye for a rare talent.
Any other eighteen year old dancer would have sold her soul just to be in the corps de ballet of this distinguished troupe. Lucinda, however, saw herself following in the footsteps of the immortal Margot Fonteyn, footsteps that would lead her to center stage and the spotlight that followed a Prima Ballerina.
Inside the great doors of the lobby an attendant stopped her. Lucinda identified herself and asked for Sir Frederick Long. The reply, while polite, let her know that the exalted choreographer had no time for aspiring little chits from some backwater of the arts. She was instructed to wait until one of Sir Frederick’s assistants arrived to take her in hand. Lucinda forced back her eager impatience and composed herself on the edge of a settee.
Upon being informed of the new arrival, I made my way to the lobby. I stopped just inside and appraised the girl. She was slight and solitary looking under the vast vaulted ceiling. She looked up at my approach and my pulse quickened with instant desire. Dark, luminous eyes in the face of an angel was my first thought. My second was a silent thank you to the gods for having delivered such a succulent gift into my grasp.