Chapter 6
The next day, Sunday, Sally Ann didn't have to work at the restaurant, thank God, so rather than go back to the carriage house (where she was almost positive she'd find Freddy waiting for her), she decided to take a dance class. Her only problem was that she didn't have any dancewear with her. She went to a nearby discount store and bought a pair of tights, a loose-fitting top and nothing for her feet. She'd always preferred taking class barefoot.
It was the first class she'd had in New York since she'd arrived, and, since that had been the premise she'd used in Ohio, the weeks that passed without her taking a dance class only increased her guilt. It would be interesting to see just how different New York City dance classes would be from those in Miss Farrell's studio back in Ohio. Sally Ann didn't know anything about Manhattan dance studios, but she'd recalled Josette mentioning one near their home called "Dance to Die For," and called them from a pay phone to see what their schedule was and the price of the classes.
"We have a beginner's ballet class in about forty-five minutes," the voice on the other end informed her. "And after that, it's modern, jazz, tap and folkloric for the rest of the day."
"I'm a ballet student," Sally Ann told her. "I've never been to your studio before, but I'd like to take the beginner's class. Can you tell me your exact address and how much a class costs?"
She quickly wrote down the address. The class was far more expensive than she'd hoped, but, she reasoned, this is New York.
The class was not at all what she'd expected. The studio was small and cramped. Sally Ann felt she hardly had room to move. And, even though it was only a beginner's class, Sally Ann's fear that she wouldn't be able to keep up with the good New York City dancers proved groundless. She was-as any observer could tell-the best student in the class.
When it was over, Sally Ann toweled herself off and was preparing to leave when the instructor, a pretty woman of about twenty-three with short red hair, touched her arm. It was a friendly touch, but Sally Ann, surprised, flinched.
"Oh, I'm sorry if I frightened you. You didn't know this was a beginner's class, did you?"
Sally Ann told her she desperately needed to take a class; it didn't matter to her that it was a beginner's class.
"My name is Vicky. Would you like to go out to a nearby coffee bar? I need some caffeine to rejuvenate me. And the place has terrific homemade pastries."
Normally, Sally Ann would have declined, but she was procrastinating shamelessly about seeing Freddy. "Okay," Sally Ann said.
"My treat," the dance teacher said.
"Don't be ridiculous," Sally balked. "You don't even know me."
"But we will get to know each other better," Vicky retorted.
The two women got their iced cappuccinos and shared their histories. It turned out Vicky was from the Midwest, too-Chicago. But a bad relationship and lack of steady employment as a dancer led her to New York.
"I've been fortunate," Vicky told Sally Ann. "I've been in this city about a year now, and between teaching and dancing for Please Plie, I'm able to support myself in my tiny little Village studio with my cat, Isadora. Named after Isadora Duncan, of course."
"I don't mean to sound stupid, Sally Ann said, but what is "Please Plie"?
Vicky explained it was a dance company that got regular bookings in the New York, New Jersey, Connecticut areas. "Our claim to fame is that, while our technique is strictly traditional ballet, we set our dances to really bizarre music with even more weird choreography. like, we have this one number the audience goes crazy for, where the piece starts out with all of us at the ballet barre, as if we were taking class, and then one by one, the dancers break out and do their own thing to music ranging from Nirvana to Hole. The critics hate us, but the audiences love it. So we get booked a lot."
Sally Ann was impressed. Not even her roommate had had such success dancing in a company. "Are you looking for any dancers right now?" she inquired.
"Sorry. Every dancer I know is looking for work right now," Vicky said. "But we're a small company and intend to keep it that way. Just hang in there, Sally Ann. Things will get better."
They 'd better, Sally Ann thought. They can't get much worse.
"Well," Sally Ann said, finishing her beverage, "I guess I'd better get going. I have a friend from out of town coming in."
"You don't sound very excited about it," Vicky noted.
Sally Ann sighed wearily. "It's just a guy I dated back in Ohio. Actually, we're engaged. But I'm not happy with him anymore. I want my freedom. I'm sure you've been in the same position."
There was a long pause. "Sally Ann," Vicky said, "I'm gay. Always have been, always will be. So engagements, dating-all those heterosexual rituals-they're not part of my life. I wish I could help you, but I can't."
Sally Ann was immediately curious. Since her own bisexual encounters with Josette and Miss Farrell, lesbianism intrigued her. Could she be with another woman exclusively? Sally Ann didn't think so. She enjoyed dick too much. Then again, there were always dildos. It was the personalities of so many of the men she'd met that turned her off. They wanted what they wanted when they wanted it. Her thoughts flashed to Freddy, impetuously coming to New York without the consideration of giving her advance notice.
"Is this Mr. Right waiting for you now?"
Vicky asked.
"Yeah. But I'm going out of my way not to go back to my apartment, since he's probably waiting for me there."
"I see. So you're killing time. Look, I'm teaching in a couple of hours, but you'd be more than welcome to 'kill time' at my apartment, Sally Ann. I live just around the corner, on Perry Street, but, like I said, it's a tiny little studio. Are you allergic to cats?"
"Oh, no. I love cats. But, coming from Ohio, it seems cruel to me to keep a pet pent up in some little room all day."
Vicky insisted on paying for the iced cappuccinos, and the two women left the coffee bar. Vicky's place, as she'd said, was indeed right around the corner. It was an old ramshackle walk-up.
"I live on the second floor, thank God," Vicky said. "I can't imagine those poor tenants who have to lug their laundry and groceries up to the sixth floor."
Once inside, Sally Ann couldn't help laughing. "What's so funny?" Vicky demanded, a little indignant.
"I'm sorry. It has nothing to do with your apartment. I love the way you've fixed it up. I was just imagining if I lived in a place like this and Freddy came to visit me here. That would really make him think twice about moving to New York."
Isadora, the tabby, rubbed up against Sally Ann's leg, and she bent down to stroke it.
"Wow, that's amazing. She never comes on to strangers," Vicky said.
Boldly, Sally Ann looked Vicky in the eye. "And you? Do you ever come on to strangers?"
In her reply, Vicky kissed Sally Ann on the lips. Their bodies pressed together-two leanly muscular women dancers-the blonde and the redhead. A futon similar to the one Sally Ann slept on every night in the carriage house, was in the center of room. Otherwise, it was sparsely furnished. For a brief moment, Sally Ann reflected on the extravagant penthouses and townhouses she'd been in with wealthy businessmen in contrast with the tiny abode rented by a woman who lived to dance. Life just wasn't fair.
Vicky broke their kiss. "You seem distracted. Is this something you don't want to continue?"
"Oh, not at all," Sally Ann replied. "I find you very sexy. I'd love to suck your breasts."
"Then let's get down to business," Vicky responded. As she removed her clothes, Sally Ann recalled Miss Farrell, who was an older version of Vicky-red hair, blue eyes, leanly muscled body-and how attracted Sally Ann had been to her. Vicky, naked now, leaned back on the futon. Sally Ann snuggled next to her.
"This feels so good," Sally Ann said. "I'd never have imagined I'd be having sex with my dance instructor."
"Well, that's what keeps life interesting, isn't it?" Vicky said.
"Especially in New York."
Sally Ann's body rolled over so she could do a lip-lock around Vicky's pink nipple. As she sucked it, feeling it harden in her mouth, Vicky ran a hand down Sally Ann's flat stomach until she arrived at the blonde's bush. Her middle finger, then another, felt the warm juices flowing.
"Ahhh," Sally Ann moaned. "Play with my pussy."
Vicky did as she was told. She located Sally Ann's clitoris and diddled it expertly, rolling it around her fingers, flicking at it lightly, then pinching it provocatively.
"Isn't this heaven?" Vicky asked.
Sally Ann was so caught up in the sensation of this lovely lesbian's finger on her pussy that she could only murmur an affirmation. Vicky's lips descended into her student's honey pot, extracting the sweet nectar.
"Ohhhh. More!"
Vicky responded upon command. Her lips locked into a vise-like grip around the pink labia as her amazing long, determined tongue searched for Sally Ann's magic G-spot.
She couldn't help it. No one had ever treated her pussy like this. Sally Ann came, her entire body bouncing on and bucking off of the futon.
"I'm cumming!" she screamed. "Oh, Vicky, I cumming. I'm so sorry. I never get off that quickly."
Vicky laughed. "The pleasure is mine. When you're always with women, you learn little tricks of the trade that straight men and women can't even imagine."
"I'd love to know what they are," Sally Ann said, smiling.
"Well, since we live near each other, and the dance studio's right around the corner, I don't see any reason why that couldn't happen.
"But, let me honest with you, Sally Ann, I'm not interested in being with a woman who just uses me because I'm good sex. I'm not in a relationship right now, and I would like to be, I haven't found the right woman. I guess what I'm saying is, if you choose to remain bisexual, don't come here to talk about your boyfriends. It turns me off."
"Turning you off is the last thing I'd ever want to do," Sally Ann replied.
Vicky kissed her again, deeply, passionately. Sally Ann's blonde mane moved slowly down to the dance teacher's crotch. The smell was intoxicating-partly of sweat, partly of soap. Sally Ann's tongue swept the insides as the redhead groaned.
"Oh my God! Don't stop, Sally Ann. Play with my clit again. Please!"
The blonde found her clit with no problem whatsoever. It was huge; she'd never seen one as large. It looked like a tiny penis, pink and with a little head. Sally Ann found it easy to suck Vicky's clit into her mouth.
"Aaaaahhhhhh!" Vicky screamed in ecstasy. "This is heaven. You really are a good cunt lapper."
Getting better all the time, she thought.
Now, it was Sally Ann's turn for her lips to be locked tightly around Vicky's huge clitoris. She sucked at it equally hard as Vicky had done to her, tasting the heady juices it released.
With her fingers, she spread Vicky's labia lips as far apart as they would go, so she'd have easy access to the treasures within. The cunt aroma drove her wild. As Sally Ann had done a moment before, Vicky, too, began to thrash and buck on the futon.
"I'm cumming! Oh, God, I'm cumming!"
Sally Ann placed her hand under Vicky's ass and stuck a finger up her butt hole for good measure. When she came, Vicky's orgasm was so powerful, she was breathing as if she had just run the 100-yard dash.
"You have potential," Vicky said. "But it's up to you. As I said, I'm not looking for another confused bisexual woman who will ultimately leave me for a man."
"I understand. It's only fair."
They exchanged numbers. "I really hope we can see each other again," Vicky said sincerely. "I don't really know what you're like as a person, but there's a sweetness about you. I can see why this guy you're engaged to doesn't want to give you up. And.. .since he's waiting for you.. . . "
Sally Ann decided to take a shower at home, since she was so close. Her "afternoon delight" encounter made her feel even less excited about seeing Freddy. And she didn't want to fight on Freddy's first evening in the city. She had to be at work tomorrow; her fling with Vicky had exhausted her. If Freddy had any ideas about fucking her tonight, he was in for a big disappointment.
Deliberately, slowly, Sally Ann walked back to the carriage house. She reflected on all the men she'd met while in New York for a short time. Billy, who claimed he loved her and had more money than he knew what to do with. James, with his starlit terrace and Oriental rugs; he was so handsome with his salt-and-pepper hair, so well-groomed, as if he'd just stepped out of the pages of GQ. Jean-Claude, owner of one of New York's most fashionable restaurants. But he was so preoccupied with Lilac now, he'd already forgotten her. And then there was Freddy-no real skills, handsome, but not breathtakingly so, and definitely no Einstein. Down-to-earth and dependable, though. That counted for something, Sally Ann reasoned.
Before she knew it, she was standing in front of her apartment. She put the key in the lock and began ascending the steps. He wasn't sitting outside the door, so he must be waiting inside. Deliberately, Sally Ann climbed the steps to the second floor. She wasn't sure what she'd find when she opened the door, but she prayed the man she was engaged to wouldn't be there.