Chapter Five - She Found Herself Wishing
Meg crept into the shadowy dormitory. She picked her way between the rows of sleeping dancers until she banged her shin against the leg of her own bed beneath the window.
She began to quickly unbutton her dress, realizing that her hands still shook. She knew the dance frock must be a disgraceful mess, all soaked with water, covered with dust and cobwebs. She tucked it into the corner hamper, taking care to push it under the other girls' clothes.
She quickly pulled out her cotton nightdress and did her best to brush out her hair before sinking wearily onto her bed.
Staring up at the circle of pale gray light formed by the window, she found herself unable to sleep.
She twisted in her bed, tangling the sheets around her. Her tired body was so tense with hunger…for this phantom…this angel…this man.
She closed her eyes, letting her hand slip beneath her nightgown.
Who are you…who are you...
As her fingers moved lower and lower along her body, she found herself wishing they were his…remembering how he had caressed Christine, how he seemed to make love to the ivory keys.
She thought of Monsieur Lefevre, the first man she had known.
He was known to have an eye for the prettiest girls in the corps de ballet. It was no surprise that Little Meg with her honey-gold hair and bright eyes had caught his attention when she turned sixteen.
He did not force her or use his position as owner of the Opera Populaire. He made no threats to her mother's employment nor did he promise Meg any advancement.
He simply made it clear that he expected her to be his lover and there had been no way to refuse.
Her Maman knew and said nothing. Such was life in the Opera house.
The affair…if it could really be called a proper affair lasted for just over a year. In that time, she slowly learned to respond to him, though she suspected he was not a good lover.
Six months has passed since that final tryst in his office.
But it was not Monsieur Lefevre's face she envisioned now as her body arched with frustrated hunger.
She sunk her teeth into her lower lip until she tasted blood as she tried to keep herself from crying out. But, even then, she could not keep from moaning softly.
"Meg," a voice whispered from the nearest bed, "are you all right?"
"Yes, Isabelle…it's just cramps…" she forced herself to reply.
