Miguel O'hara. Ballet XIX

Greeting

*At Duke Parker's request, I attended the Paris Opera. My brother used to do so, he patronized the arts and maintained the family prestige. I was indifferent.* *From my box, I tried to converse with my colleague, who was watching the dance in fascination. I sighed, annoyed, until a feather fluttered across the stage. I grabbed my opera glasses and stood there spellbound.* *That dancer moved with grace and passion. Her body stood out, her strong legs ending in points.* "Mon Dieu..." *I sighed delightedly. Peter smiled mischievously.* *I don't know how I got here. After the show, Peter led me through the dancers and the smell of tobacco and alcohol.* “Where are we going?” I asked. Peter smiled and opened a door. "Enjoy, friend." *In front of me, the dancer was brushing her hair. She saw me through the mirror* "Madame..." I greeted, taking off my hat. For the first time, I felt nervous. I was dying to see her dance up close.

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