Act II

"27Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: 28But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.

Matthew 5:27-28 KJV

I don't understand. It's not fair. How can such intense beauty be so wrong to look at? This was hopeless.

The week following that first class gave me time to reflect. Time to decompress. Time, in fact, to wonder what this life is all about if one's not allowed to enjoy such simple pleasures as viewing a pretty girl. That was wrong. That I even asked such questions was wrong. I should not have taken pleasure in such things. I was supposed to be about the business. Focus on technique. If you like a girl, ignore her. Pretend you don't.

But why?

The teacher, sorry her name was Ms. Rousseau, it's good to say their names. Anyway, she'd given me some moves to practice and some basic exercises to do. I did them. More than I was allotted to do, in fact; she'd said all I needed to do was half an hour every other day, but I ended up spending over an hour each and every day.

For the wrong reasons.

I was more afraid of embarrassing myself in front of all those girls again than I cared about being a better dancer. And that was wrong. That shouldn't have been the reason. It should have been about the thing I was supposed to be doing which was dancing, and the girls shouldn't have been part of that equation. Which was an odd line of thinking considering the whole reason I was taking dance was because of the girls. Which was the wrong reason to be taking dance lessons.

So when am I allowed to think about girls? Maybe if there were some designated point in life when I could think about girls without feeling like I have to chastise myself for thinking about girls, I wouldn't be thinking about girls ALL THE TIME. I could probably squeeze it in right after brunch, but would have to cut it off at eleven I have to go to a meeting. So let's pencil this in for Tuesday 10-11, thinking-about-girls time.

May need some extra resources on that. Circle back to me on Friday.

Will do.

And while the cloud of whether or not one should take girls under consideration when deciding whether or not to do such-and-such an action floated through my brain raining getting the tracks wet and threatening to derail my train of thought, the more imminent question was approaching me like a similar kind of train, and I was tied to those very same tracks while a little man in a black cape with a pencil mustache rubbed his fingers together and cackled in silence.

That's a fancy way of saying: what was I going to do about this evening?

This evening, I was going to go back to that dance studio and try once again to control myself and not act like an animal. I had it all figured out. All I had to do was simply not look. That should have been easy, right?

If you look at a pretty girl, she will think you a creep and a pervert and you will make her uncomfortable, which is borderline sexual misconduct and is adultery for which you will burn in hell for all eternity. Worse, she won't want to have anything to do with you. So don't look at her.

So simple.

Those girls at the dance class, they weren't all that, anyway, were they?

And when my mom dropped me off, you might guess how far that train got.

"Hey!" That was Rachel.

"Hey," I replied back, far more casually than a guy like me had any right to be addressing this girl. For, Rachel wasn't just hot; she was excruciatingly beautiful. She probably had some pacific islander in her pedigree somewhere as her handsome face held an exotic look with high, flat cheeks and large brown eyes. Her tawny skin glowed like a summer sunset and her body was about as built as one could imagine a seventeen-year-old girl's body could be. A guy like me trying to talk to a girl like her should not have been able to form words. And yet, she tapped the concrete bench right next to where she sat, smiling at me to come over. So I did.

"I'm glad you came back," her eyes smiled at me. I couldn't wrap my head around the sentiment. Surely, I ought to have been kicked out from the way I'd behaved last time. I mean, I did try to keep my eyes to myself but I'm sure you would agree that was an epic fail. Surely the girls there had already seen how weak and pathetic I was, how easily I'd lost control over my appetites, and so surely they would have been eager for me to never come back and make them all uncomfortable again. So then what was Rachel Uberhottie talking about? I needed more information.

"You're glad, huh?"

She shrugged one shoulder and looked away for a moment. "There aren't enough guys who do dance; sometimes it feels like a girls-only club. That's not what I signed up for."

Really? "Well, I thought there'd be free food."

That was a stupid thing to say. It made her laugh, though; her perfect, white teeth opened wide as she lilted in amusement. Just to be perfectly clear, Rachel laughed at my joke. Seriously. Have you seen this girl? This girl. Rachel. She freaking laughed at my freaking joke. I looked around for the hidden camera.

"But seriously though, why wouldn't I?"

"I dunno," she twisted up a lock of coconut brown hair in her finger and let it fall before her shoulder. "I thought that last time kinda kicked your ass."

That made me blush. "It was a bit of a workout."

"Not what you expected?"

"No, it certainly wasn't. I liked it." This much was true; the next day my whole body hurt like hell. In a good way.

"Oh yeah?" And she seemed friendly. Friendly in a nice way. Something about the way she would glance down at my lips as we spoke, my breath froze. This was a problem. It was a problem because as she sat with me, my eyes drifted over her legs, where the muscles on the inside of her bronze thighs were enticing me to keep looking. I tried to lift my eyes to her face, only to be further enticed by her lush lips, cracked open in a sultry smile while her eyes glued themselves to mine. I was losing it. I felt a tingling in my loins just sitting there with her and looking at her. And there I thought it was Sara Temptation I had to worry about; Rachel was exciting. Rachel was dangerous.

Remember the rule. If you like a girl, ignore her. Keep your eyes to yourself. Don't look so much. If you look at a girl too much she'll get uncomfortable and the next thing you know, you'll wind up in jail as some pervert.

Avoid looking at Rachel.

Luckily, Lauren walked by just then and headed inside. She was already dressed, in a purple leotard and white stockings that clung to her shapely legs, and her glorious ass looked ripe like I could just sink my teeth into her.

Avoid looking at Lauren. What was wrong with me?

The next car to pull up was an old, faded and beat-up Buick that was missing a rear bumper, and from the passenger side emerged Sara Temptation in snug blue jeans with an oversized Yale sweater from which her fingertips peeked out at the end of the sleeves. My eyes caught sight of those long, lean legs and I had to swallow my breath, desperate to keep my heart from leaping out my chest. Unsure what to do, I turned my attention back to Rachel.

"Yeah," I said, "It's really something, you know, learning about the way your body moves, about lines, so many things I never thought about before." And the girls. Don't forget the girls.

No, do forget the girls. Be about the business. Dance. Don't ogle. Geez, I had to stop thinking about this.

"It's a lot," she said. "Don't worry though. Everyone has a rough first day; you'll get used to it. I did, and then just a few months later I was looking in the mirror and I started to see what this kind of routine was doing to my body, and I liked it."

Yes, I liked it too. I liked very much what dance did for Rachel's body. I also liked what it did for Kelly's body, and for Cassie's body, and Corey's, too. My eyes were to be gorged on sweet, female perfection everywhere I turned. I was doomed. I was a pervert and I needed to stop. Stop acting like an animal. Focus.

That's when my savior walked up. Isaiah. Of all the people in that dance class, Isaiah was the one person I could feel safe with, the one person I could talk to and look at without turning into an idiot. We could discuss technique and say words like arabesque without my mind feeling his legs in my cheeks. I felt safe with him. So, when he walked up towards the entrance I called out.

"Hey Isaiah!"

He smiled and waved back. Rachel looked at me, then she looked at him, then she looked at me again while I was paying attention to what dance was doing for his body and wondering if maybe it could do the same for mine. With that, she stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. "You coming in? It's about time to start."

"Yeah." Oh, how it felt good to follow her in.

Stop it! Stop it! Stop looking!

As for class, we began with some stretching. I stood directly behind Lauren as she spread her legs apart and bent over to reach for her toes. I was supposed to do the same. And I could feel Rachel's eyes on me, so I resolved to try and watch the floor instead, not wanting to fall into the trap. I focused on my toes. I could reach them if I but tried hard enough, right?

"Hello there!" Lauren spoke to me, peeking upside-down through her legs.

I looked up, still straining to get into the requisite position, and managed to grunt back a "hi!" before returning my weary, covetous gaze back to the floor.

And back up. And back down. The practice helped, to be sure. Throughout the warm-up, my limbs more or less cooperated, and I was able to keep a few crumbs of what little dignity I had left. I still couldn't match Isaiah; I watched as this guy, same age as me, commanded his body to do whatever he wanted, and it obeyed. I resolved to catch up with him later on and pick his brain some.

After the warm-ups, Ms. Rousseau remarked at how much I'd improved since the last time and insinuated that I must have been practicing hard. To which, all the girls turned to face me, "I know, right?"

I wasn't used to being the center of attention like that. Sara smiled at me. I loved the way she smiled; her cheeks perked up and her whole face transformed from solemn and serious to spritely and playful. Oh, she was beautiful.

Stop looking. Stop looking.

Then Ms. Rousseau had another idea, that I should let the girls practice on me for a bit. And in the mirror, I could see my face turn into a radish. Isaiah smiled at me, and I had to close my eyes for a moment.

Get it together, fool. It's dance. Nothing more. Behave yourself and don't do anything stupid. Obey the routine but otherwise keep your hands to yourself. Keep your eyes to yourself. Control yourself.

Maybe it wouldn't be too involved.

"Very simple. Step, step, step, then turn here, he's going to take your hand, go up, do one pirouette, then fall backwards and he's going to catch you."

Ok, so just don't drop her, then. I could do that. Isaiah and I split the room in half and the girls made two separate lines. Corey was first. She step, step, stepped, then placed her soft hand in mine, and I tried not to admit she felt good. Her hand felt good. Delicate. Her doe eyes looked up at me through thick glasses and she spun around on one toe before dropping down beside me. I put my arms out and she fell into me, looking up with a broad, metal smile across her full lips. Damn, this girl was pretty. Dark black skin and light as a feather. Her body felt real nice in my arms.

No, it didn't. Didn't feel nice. It felt like dance. Innocuous, innocent, strictly platonic dance.

"Try not to let her down so low," the teacher instructed.

Then Lauren step, stepped my way. I felt Ms. Rousseau move my feet some, which thankfully distracted my attention away from the girl's gorgeous rack. She spun around and dropped into my arms like an anvil. I had to bend down to lift her back to her feet. And that should have been an opportunity to show off how strong I was. What a let-down.

"Not like that," Ms. Rousseau corrected her. "You know how to fall. Try it again."

And so Lauren smirked and allowed her fingers to trail all the way down my chest as she stood.

I swallowed my breath trying to not let that excite me while she stepped towards me again. She fell properly that time and I caught her easy, but my broken ego couldn't let go of how I'd almost dropped her the first time. Still, it did feel good when, as I lifted her up, she draped an arm around my shoulders, only to lower it down the length of my back as she left. Lauren peeked over her shoulder one more time as she walked off, which I almost missed because I'd forced myself to look at Isaiah, ostensibly to see how he was doing.

That was close. I almost leered at her ass; she would have caught me and that would have made her uncomfortable.

Sara was in Isaiah's line. I wanted her to be in mine, even knowing that was a bad thought to have. It was just dance class, so what did it matter who was in whose line? It wasn't as though touching these girls so incidentally meant anything. It wasn't supposed to mean anything. So why did I think it meant something?

I just wanted to feel her fall into my arms.

Cassie was next for me though, and she was cute as hell. Her legs had the perfect little bulge at the back of her thighs, coupled with her tight little tummy and her face, damn she was adorable. She stepped up to me and I think I may have leaned forward too much, or she came too close or something because when she went into her pirouette and lifted one knee high, she nailed me right in the center of my pants as she spun around.

Luckily she didn't hit anything important, but the shock of it did grab my attention. She doubled over with her face turning red and apologized profusely, covering up her mouth and reaching out to hold my arm. Everyone else crowded around over the spectacle. I was fine. From my perspective it was more of a surprise than anything else, but poor Cassie was rather shaken. She inched her hand up some and wrapped her fingers around the back of my upper arm, squeezing tight and gently stroking up and over my shoulder to make sure I was OK.

"You alright?" I said to her.

"Are YOU alright?" She said back to me.

"I'm fine. You want to try again?"

And with a deep breath, she nodded, shook off the experience, and came at me one more time. She stepped up, took my hand, and her hand felt nice, real nice, twirled around without kneeing me in the groin, then fell into my waiting arms. And this girl, let me tell you, she was like a little pillow. Her lithe form in my arms felt like I wanted to lift her up and do some more dance moves with her. Yes, dance moves.

And when I lifted her back up, she took both of my hands and gazed up at me with the biggest smile on her face before turning back to the line.

And I really liked her butt, too.

Damnit, stop! Look at the floor! Quick!

She peeked around over her shoulder as she walked back to the line just as I was trying to unglue my attention from her posterior. She almost caught me. No, I didn't like butts; I liked being about the business and focusing on technique, not looking at cute girls' butts like Cassie's.

Eventually we took a break for some water. I was terrified because by that point I'd already looked extensively at each of the girls in there and was only waiting to be told to sit outside for the rest of the time and not be invited back. I absolutely, absolutely, absolutely didn't want to not get invited back.

Because of the girls. So that was the wrong reason.

I don't think I had a calm moment that whole two hours.

After the break Ms. Rousseau, who herself had an amazing set of stop looking, reminded everyone about the recital coming up at State University in two weeks.

"What recital?" I asked.

Lauren answered me. "Every semester we all go to State for a dance recital. Everyone's going to be there."

"I admire students who practice hard," the teacher addressed me. "If you're willing, I'd like to feature you in a pas de deux."

"Me?" Yes, a pas de deux. That dance. This woman was asking me if I wanted to do that dance with one of these girls. My mind started rubbing my face in Sara Temptation's legs already. I had to stop; I was getting an erection again. WTF?

"I won't give you anything difficult. The only thing is we usually drive up the night before, spend the night, and come back down the next day after the recital, so you'd have to talk it over with your parents."

Ok, I thought. No problem, I thought. Talk it over with my mom and dad, it's just a dance recital. Totally innocuous and platonic way of pressing her body into mine, that's all. I could handle that, right?

Eventually, class was over, and it was time to get changed back into normal clothes. Now, the studio was just one room with a bathroom that was almost big enough to get changed in. Some resolved the situation by wearing their dance outfit to and from the place, and simply changed at home. For the rest of us, we had to take turns.

I was waiting my turn. Isaiah had already left, and Cassie was getting changed.

It was at that moment Rachel decided, well I guess she was comfortable around me to where she didn't mind me witnessing, because she started peeling off her black leotard right in front of me, proudly displaying a black sports bra and a spectacular bronze six-pack.

I looked. I didn't want to look. I should have looked away. I tried to act indifferent and check my phone for something. Maybe someone sent me a telegram.

Her outerwear dropped to the floor in a black mass of fabric, and she began the process of peeling down her stockings, gracing me with a clean view of white, lace boyshorts painted over the most amazing set of hips I'd ever seen.

"Uh… Rachel? He's kinda, you know, sitting right here, and you're…"

And she was staring right at me the whole time. I looked at Kelly, who'd reminded her of this fact, and then tried to casually look at Rachel, standing before me in her underwear knowing full well that I shouldn't have looked, as if looking at such a female in such a state of undress casually were even possible, and went back to my phone to see if maybe someone had sent me a carrier pigeon. That's when the girl explained her lack of modesty with alarming candor.

"He's gay; I'm sure he doesn't mind."

Wait, what?

"You're gay?" Corey asked me.

"You didn't notice?" Lauren answered her.

"Of course I noticed," Corey replied. "I wasn't sure…"

"Notice what?" Cassie came out of the changing room wanting to be part of the conversation.

"That he's gay," Rachel filled her in. Then she did the unthinkable. Well, for me it was unthinkable. She grasped the bottom hem of her sports bra and lifted it up, allowing her bare breasts to pop out and shine upon me before hoisting the remainder of the garment over her head and tossing it into her bag.

I could feel a room full of eyes on me in that moment. I was so frozen I didn't know what to think or do, with Rachel the bronze exotic goddess bathing my eyes in serene beauty, her supple, bare breasts calling me by the name God gave me and the rest of her body fully exposed but for her lace panties. I wanted so desperately to looketh at her lustfully. To bask in the experience. But I knew that if I did, I'd have been outed as a pervert, been accused of misconduct, made her uncomfortable, gotten kicked out, and stuck into the iron maiden. And so, I looked around the room at all the audience of this exchange, took one quick glance at Rachel, and torturously drew my vision back to my phone, unable to choose an app to pretend to use.

"Um…" was the only word I could get out. I don't know why I didn't bother to correct everyone. I should have. It didn't make sense to me at the time to let everyone think I was gay, but rather I was in such a state of shock that I couldn't think of anything at all, really. And so I remained quiet. I wanted so badly to cry out, 'no, Rachel, I am straight. Now stand there and let me bask in your sublime, bare-breasted glory for I wish only to die to the sin of gazing upon you. I rescind my earlier statement, Rachel, for thy beauty is not painful; it is lethal.'

No one asked me for confirmation long enough to answer, and I didn't bother to correct anyone.

"Oh, that?" Cassie replied. "Of course. Didn't everyone?"