First position. A pause.

Second position. A quiet shuffle.

Third position. A sharp intake of air.

Fourth position. Slightly parted lips.

Fifth position. A sigh escaping.

Ever since she lost her virginity, Lidiya could only climax if she thought about the five positions of ballet. Classically trained since the time she could stand upright, her mother had hopes of her being prima ballerina in a Tchaikovsky creation. And through bloody toes and tears, Lidiya worked hard to make her mother's dream a reality.

Her childhood was not an easy one, between school, ballet, and a mother forced to work multiple jobs in order to pay for lessons. Lidiya was home alone most of her life. Ballet was the only constant presence in her life. As a young girl, she wanted badly to please her mother, to wear the pink tutu and laced up pointe shoes. As a teenager, she tried to rebel, but no one was ever home to notice. Her ballet instructor did, however, and the thought of disappointing her was too great so she poured herself even further into dancing.

In high school, Lidiya was no longer among her peers, but rather attended a national school for dance. A rigorous program, they had students practicing in the studio upward of four hours a day, not including the cardio routines they were expected to maintain. Between eating disorders and sleepless nights of perfecting her pirouette or grand jeté, Lidiya would soon find solace in two things: alcohol, and sex. She had been recruited by a dance company by the time she finished school, and she often joined her peers for drinks after practices and performances. Familiar faces from her company would often swirl together those nights, as everyone shared cigarettes and drinks in nondescript cups. In those early days, her small frame lent itself to a low tolerance for alcohol...and an inversely proportional sex drive.

Lidiya took comfort in the one night stands with the knowledge that, if even for a few hours, someone noticed her. Someone wanted to hold her, to feel her. Yet despite the attention from her male peers, she couldn't escape from the grasp ballet had over her life. It started as a release through self-pleasure: she'd touch the soles of her feet together as she caressed herself, eventually making her way between her legs. There was the familiar feeling, of warmth and of pleasure, one she could uniquely bring to herself. And in her mind she'd imagine the five basic positions - the foundation for all movements required in ballet, and in her life.

Her mother passed away one day without much fanfare - Lidiya was touring with her company when the stage manager broke the news. She hardly flinched, though somewhere deep inside she knew she was supposed to feel some sadness. It was that night Lidiya gave the best performance of her life.

At least, that's what the card read, accompanied by flowers in a crystal vase that was waiting for her in her changing room. The card also had the name of a restaurant written on it with a time, and the letter V just below. Lidiya flipped the card between her fingers.

"No name?" she thought, studying the sharp lines of every letter. She didn't recognize the handwriting from any previous secret admirers, few, though persistent they might be. Intrigued, and having the desire to not be alone just yet, she changed into her streets clothes, pocketed the card, and hailed a cab back to her hotel room where she could shower before heading out to the restaurant.

The restaurant was dimly lit, and a low hum carried the many voices of the patrons to Lidiya's ears. Despite trying to pick appropriate attire, she still felt underdressed. She was nervous, but felt a twinge of excitement. As she approached the host's stand, she suddenly released she had no idea what to do or say. A young man stood at the other side of a podium, with finely groomed features, wearing a black suit. Lidiya could feel his eyes as he looked her up and down, an expression on his face she could only describe as indignation.

"Do you have a reservation?" he asked, almost accusatory. Like he knew she didn't belong there. Lidiya opened the small purse she brought with her, and pulled out the card. She handed the card to the host, and she could hear as he sucked the air through his teeth, a small tut as he read the card. He looked up at her, first in disbelief, then he turned the card over. His face paled immediately, and this time when he looked at her, she could feel the fear as if he committed some faux pas.

"R-right this way."

He briskly walked towards the back of the restaurant, weaving between booths and servers carrying trays containing all sorts of culinary delights. Lidiya scarcely could keep up with him. They soon approached a booth tucked away, she would not have known it was there had the host not led her. He muttered some pleasantry as he quickly left her to make his way back to the front. She finally looked at who awaited her in this hidden retreat.

An older man, though not as old as she had expected, with finely chiseled features, pouring two glasses of what looked like champagne.

In her experience with "adoring fans'', most were men in their early fifties, working through mid-life crises, with wives and children waiting back home. The distinct lack of wrinkles was the first thing she noticed. The lack of a wedding band, the second. The man looked up at Lidiya, and even in the low light, she was struck by his blue eyes. He smiled as he stood from his seat.

"Will you join me for dinner?"

Labels: fiction junction, Viktor's Girls

5:42 A.M.

Yuliya squinted at the sideways green numbers, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes once more.

5:55 A.M.

Only thirteen minutes have passed? Yuliya thought, as she lay in her bed. It was still dark out, and she hadn't slept a wink. The digital clock on her bedside table taunting her.

Today was the day Viktor promised to bring her to see Marta. Despite her lack of sleep, she was anxious. Excited. She turned on her back and stared at the ceiling above. Visions of seeing Marta and her father played in her mind. Oh, how she longed to see them. But what would they think of Viktor? What would her father think...? The happy visions dissolved away as the uncertainty slowly creeped in.

Why worry about something that hasn't happened yet...?

She pushed all thoughts of the impending meeting out of her mind. She slowly sat up, and glanced at the bed across the room. Galine's small form, made bulky under layers of covers, lay nearly motionless. The rhythmic rise and fall of the covers reassured Yuliya that she hadn't disturbed her younger roommate.

At least one of us is sleeping...

Yuliya gingerly swung her legs over her bed, and lightly set one foot on the floor, followed by the other. She grabbed her bath robe she kept draped over her closet door, and wrapped herself in it as she quietly left the room. The faint scent of freshly brewed coffee made its way down the hallway, and Yuliya let it guide her to the kitchen. As she neared it, she could hear whispers of conversation.

Yuliya stopped shy of the entryway, and watched as three of the house servants engaged in light conversation, and sipping some of the fresh coffee she sought out, no doubt brewed by one of them. She felt like she an intruder, witnessing the nonchalant behavior of the three men before her. She watched as they laughed at some joke she must have missed, and just as she was about to announce herself, one of them caught her eye.

"Oh!" One of them exclaimed, suddenly straightening up. The other two men became startled at the outburst, setting off a chain reaction of events. Coffee splashed out from one of their mugs, burning the hand holding it. A small shriek of pain escaped the lips of the unfortunate man, who instinctively let go of the mug. In a blink, the mug hit the stone kitchen floor. The shatter echoed in Yuliya's ears, as the three men simultaneously fussed at one another, and moving at once to clean the mess. Yuliya was embarrassed to be the source of the mishap, and she wondered if she should retreat back to her room. As she went to step back, she was interrupted by one of the men.

"Miss...?" he started, a hint of annoyance as he spoke.

"Yuliya," she replied, stopping in her tracks.

"Can I get something for you? You shouldn't step in the kitchen while there's still broken shards on the ground."

Yuliya felt like he wanted to blame her but refrained from doing so, whether out of obedience to Viktor or some other reason she couldn't name. She took a quick glance at each of the three men, one who set to cleaning, one running his hand under water in the faucet, then back to the one addressing her.

"I couldn't sleep... so I got up and could smell the coffee from the hall..." her words started spilling out, voice trailing off at the end. She was now painfully aware of her position, and the fact she was only wearing a bathrobe. A slight flush began to creep up on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry for startling you all."

"He'll live," the man spoke as he jerked his head back towards the man at the sink. "Nothing really surprises us anymore, so I suppose it's a nice reminder that there still remains things to be unexpected. I'll get you a cup."

As he turned around and stepped away from her, Yuliya wrapped the bathrobe a little tighter, to prevent any other potential mishaps. Hardly a minute passed and the floor was clean once again, and she only just noticed the water wasn't running anymore. The other two men had actually completely disappeared from the kitchen, and Yuliya wondered where they might have went.

"Here." A mug filled with coffee was presented to Yuliya from the remaining servant. She carefully grabbed the cup, and took a sip.

"Thank you...?" Yuliya started, realizing she didn't know what to call him.

"Luca." Yuliya nodded and gave him a soft smile. Over the years, many staff came and went, but few had she learned their names. She didn't really know why that was... some of the more tenured staff knew her name. Shouldn't she extend the same courtesy? They all shared one thing in common: life in this strange estate. Though, she knew there was a separate wing entirely for the servants, and wasn't actually sure just how many people kept the house.

"If there's nothing else, we should really get started on breakfast. Wouldn't want to keep someone waiting." Luca stated, and without waiting for a response from Yuliya, he turned around a disappeared from the kitchen.

Thanks for the coffee... she thought, as she walked back down the hallway. She passed her door, still closed, and made her way into the living area. It was Yuliya's turn to be startled, as she hadn't expected to see a figure wrapped in a blanket sitting on one of the couches.

"Morning.." Galine called out mid yawn.

"You're up early too?" Yuliya joined Galine on the couch, and Galine offered her some of the blanket. Yuliya pulled the blanket behind her shoulders, and tucked her legs under her as she sat down. Galine stretched out across the rest of the couch, and laid her head in Yuliya's lap. She looked up with sleepy eyes.

"I was dreaming about eating a large sundae....but as I went to take a bite, the bowl slipped from under me and fell on the ground, shattering into a million tiny pieces, and I jumped awake. The sound seemed so real.."

"Oh is that so...?" Yuliya asked, not alluding to the fact she knew what exactly it was Galine heard. She continued to sip at her coffee. She leaned back, looking up once again at the ceiling.

"Why are you up so early? Are you nervous about today?" Galine asked, stiffling another yawn. Yuliya looked down at the girl laying in her lap, and for a moment she swore she saw Marta staring back at her. She set the coffee cup down on the small end table, and rubbed both her eyes. Galine blinked at Yuliya, and tilted her head slightly.

"Maybe a little bit..." Yuliya admitted, "It's been a while since I've seen my sister. Or my father."

"Hm..." Galine pondered aloud. "If there's one thing I know.... your sister is lucky to have you always thinking of her. I know I feel very lucky that you're here, with me. I always wanted an older sister to watch after me.... and at least I have you."

Yuliya's eyes started to water hearing Galine's confession. Marta was probably around the same age as her. Maybe in a different life they would have been best friends? Maybe in a different life she wouldn't have had to leave her younger sister behind to fend for herself.... but she had to do the best she could for her. It took Yuliya years to forgive her father for leaving, and now she wondered if Marta could ever do the same for her.

Yuliya smiled and leaned forward just to enough to plant a light kiss on Galine's forehead.

"You're too sweet. Let's go get dressed before anyone else comes out here and takes the good seats at the table for breakfast, hm?"

At the mention of food, Galine sprung up from the couch with energy Yuliya didn't know anyone could muster this early. She draped the blanket over the arm holding the coffee, and made her way back to their room, wondering how she would mentally prepare for the day.

Labels: fiction junction, Viktor's Girls

Labels: fiction junction, Viktor's Girls