High Pointe

High Pointe - Episode 12

Victor

My hand tightened around her waist as she stared up at me with big, pleading eyes.

I had spent the past twenty four hours planning for every eventuality, including a second escape attempt.

If I was a smarter man, a kinder man, or perhaps even a weaker man, I might have set her free. But I had done none of those things. Instead, I'd made a meal for her and had eaten beside her, assuring her that it was not drugged and that I was not a threat to her.

And yet, here she was, playing the part of the perfect submissive in an attempt to use her body and her willingness to lure me into a false sense of security. Unfortunately for her I'd seen this ploy coming a mile away. It wasn't the first time a dancer tried to initiate something intimate with me simply to use it against me later, after all.

"A pique turn is not so difficult, Miss Hawkins," I said, stepping back and releasing her hips. "You know how to perform the movement, but your foot placement is sloppy and you struggle to move in a straight line."

Her mouth opened, and then closed again, her brow furrowed in a confused scowl. Whether it was due to my abrupt lack of interest or because she disagreed with my assessment, I couldn't tell. It didn't matter either way. Sophia Hawkins was not going to get what she wanted out of me until I'd gotten what I wanted first.

"Here," I said, turning to the duffle bag I'd brought with me once more. I'd left it near the door, just out of range of where she could reach, which made it that much easier for me to turn my focus away from her as I rummaged through the many tools I'd brought. Once I'd found what I was looking for I turned back to her and lifted a single eyebrow at the anxious expression on her face, the way her fingers twisted together as she watched me with untrusting eyes.

Ah.

The last time I'd pulled something out of this bag it had been the crop.

"You clearly need practice visualizing straight lines," I said, lifting the roll of silk into view. Her shoulders visibly relaxed at the sight. This wasn't an uncommon method of teaching, after all, and I had to wonder if she'd expected nothing but brutality from me.

I supposed I hadn't given her much else to expect, so far.

The silk was a bright red color, and cut into a long, wide strip. I laid it down in the center of the room, smoothing it down and making sure that it was perfectly flat before stepping away. Sophia moved to the far end of the silk guide without being told, and I smiled to myself before forcing my expression to become stern once more.

She moved into the correct starting position once more and raised her eyebrow at me. The moment I nodded, she was off, turning and turning and turning right along the edge of the silk. It guided her in a straight line, a much improved effort than her first. By the end of the silk she was breathing hard, but looked satisfied with herself all the same.

Which made what I had to do next all the more unfortunate.

"Now, we count," I said, and tilted my head to indicate she join me in inspecting the silk. She furrowed her brows.

"Count what?" She asked, even as she stepped up beside me and stared down at the rumpled silk on the floor.

"Mistakes," I told her, pointing to the raw edge of the silk where it had twisted beneath her feet during the last turn. "The point of the silk guide is to maintain a straight line without upsetting the silk itself."

"But-" she protested, and I could already hear the various cries of indignation from the dozens of dancers that came before her.

You didn't tell me I needed to leave the silk untouched.