" A Night at the Ballet" by Nepenthe

[esercito sconfitto]

A Night at the Ballet

by Nepenthe

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Sophie sighed as she entered the stage door of the theatre. If you had asked her, right at that moment, about her choice in career, her answer might have been a little depressing. When she had been a little girl, ballet had been all she had wanted to do. But now, at twenty, making her way to a theatre in the knowledge that she was stuck there as an understudy, whose services would almost certainly not be needed, she was starting to wonder if all the years of practice and self denial had been worth it.
She entered the dressing room, which was already full. Young women, going through the nightly routine of getting themselves ready for the show, bustled everywhere. Clothes lay in heaps, costumes hung from the rack, and almost anywhere that they could be placed in readiness. She made her way to her place in the dressing room, and began to get ready herself.
“You’re late.”
That was Miranda. The star of the show, and very aware of it. Miranda would have hated her, if she could have been bothered with the effort. Miranda had turned up out of nowhere at the auditions, and had swept everyone else in the troupe aside. Sophie had to admit that she was pretty, and that she was a great dancer; graceful, with perfect timing, poise, and grace. It was just that she had way too high an opinion of herself, and way too low an opinion of everyone else. She simply nodded at her, and murmured “The train was running late. Still, I am here in plenty of time.”
Miranda nodded and smirked. “Yes, and you won’t be needed...again. I am here, and I am ready to shine, as always!” Sophie shrugged. She was long past the point of wishing that Miranda would fall ill, or have an accident in rehearsal. Now, she was simply hoping that she could get through the night in peace, so that she could get home to bed. Miranda, sensing that she was going to get no other response, snorted, tossed her long dark hair, turned and walked away, demanding that another girl come and see to her hair without delay.
Sophie retrieved her costume from the rack. As understudy, her costume was identical to the other performers’; A pale blue leotard, studded with costume gems and lace, with a ruffled gauzy tutu, pure white ballet tights, and matching pale blue slippers, with ribbons that would wind their way around her calves. She undressed, long since used to stripping off in the company of the other dancers, and began to dress herself. One of the other girls, a pretty blonde named Amelia, began helping her get ready. “God, I wish she’d fall and break one of her ankles someday...” She muttered under her breath. Sophie smiled at her, but said nothing.
As she was putting the finishing touches to her costume, the first warm up call went out, and the other dancers, with Miranda leading the way, began to file out of the room. Within seconds, Sophie was on her own.
She was so intent on fixing her makeup, putting up her dark chestnut hair, making herself look just right, that she didn’t react as the dressing room door opened quietly. She assumed that one of the other girls had forgotten something, and returned to retrieve it. So she was more than a little surprised when, after a split second flash of black in the mirror, a strong arm wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She opened her mouth to protest, her big blue eyes widening, and another hand, sheathed in a black leather glove, clamped over her nose and mouth, holding a wadded cloth. The moment it was pressed to her face, Sophie’s nose was assaulted by the smell of a strong, almost sickly scent. Sophie squealed into the cloth as she was pulled backwards on her stool, pressed tightly against her unseen assailant. She struggled as best she could, but to no avail. Her head began to swim, her vision began to darken, and within a few moments more, she had fallen into blackness. Just as her eyes fluttered closed, she heard a soft whisper in her ear.
“Sorry honey, nothing personal...”


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She had no idea how long she had been asleep for when she slowly came to. But she very quickly became aware that she was in a small, cramped space, lying on top of layers of soft material. She tried to move, but couldn’t. Her hands were tied tightly behind her, and her ankles were bound too. In the dim light available, she also realised that she was no longer in her leotard, tutu and slippers. Glancing down, she saw the layers of slim white cord that bound her ankles. She was also very aware that her mouth was packed with something that muffled any attempt she made to make herself heard, and that something was wound tightly around her lower face, preventing her from spitting it out. She began to struggle as best she could, trying to cry out through the wadding that filled her mouth.
She hadn’t been struggling for very long, when she heard the door opening again. She was about to try and scream for help again, when she heard voices. Male voices. Her desire to be found suddenly died, as did her muffled attempts to be heard. She wanted to be discovered, but not like this! So she focused on trying to get loose, and listened to the voices.
“All clear?”
“Yes, this room is empty. We’d better hurry. We don’t have many rooms left to search before the ambassador arrives. Be quick, but be thorough. That tip off about an assassination attempt was serious. We have to make sure that everything in this theatre is secure...”
Abruptly, the door closed again. Sophie lay still for a moment, trying to digest what she had just heard. An assassin! Here, at the ballet! Her blood ran cold. She had no doubt now that it must have been the assassin who had stolen her costume and tied her up like this. She had to warn someone! She began struggling with renewed vigour, and was eventually rewarded, feeling the rope around her wrists begin to loosen. A few minutes more, and her arms were free. She rubbed her wrists, and began to push herself up. The ceiling over her head lifted, and she realised that she had been dumped in one of the costume hampers in the dressing room. Light streamed in on her again, and she sighed with relief, beginning to untie her ankles. Having finally freed herself, she climbed out of the hamper. She blushed as she saw herself in the mirror, realising that she was dressed only in her white ballet tights. She looked around for something to wear, and quickly grabbed one of the white dressing gown robes that hung from one of the racks.
As she pulled the robe on, she began to wonder who the assassin might be. It would have to be a newcomer to the theatre, and someone who was after a costume, which meant it could only be a woman. There was only one woman who fit the bill... Miranda. But why would she want to steal a costume when she was already wearing her own? And then it struck her – She meant to pin the crime on Sophie! She had to act fast. Quickly leaving the dressing room, she began to make her way toward the backstage area. As she padded silently along in stocking feet, she became more and more certain. Miranda was the only newcomer to the troupe. She was not local. She didn’t socialise with the other dancers, or talk about her background, or her life outside performing. It had to be her, and she was going to commit the assassination in Sophie’s costume, pinning the crime on her in the confusion that would surely break out. Sophie was fuming at the sheer nastiness of it all...
The backstage area was dark, shadows looming everywhere. She could hear the music from the final rehearsal onstage. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted a familiar costume in the darkness...
She crept up behind Miranda, who was standing near the curtain. Sophie suddenly realised that she was about to confront a possibly well-trained and lethal assassin, and she looked around for a weapon to defend herself. She picked up a screwdriver from the backstage workbench, long and heavy, and snuck up on the woman. Miranda was completely unaware of Sophie’s presence, and the music muffled her silent approach. She brought her arm up, almost dizzy with a mixture of fear and adrenaline, and brought the handle of the screwdriver down on the back of Miranda’s head.
Miranda swayed for a second, and Sophie had a heart-stopping moment, thinking that she hadn’t hit the woman hard enough. But then, with a soft moan, Miranda toppled over backward. Sophie caught her, dropping the screwdriver. She quickly dragged the unconscious brunette backward into the darkness, wondering what to do with her. A quick glance around provided the answer – the maze of corridors and utility rooms that ran under the stage and auditorium of the old theatre.
Quickly, she dragged Miranda down the stairs, and into one of the utility rooms. This room contained cleaning equipment, and industrial-sized clothes dryer, out of use since it had broken down months ago. Perfect, thought Sophie. “Steal my costume, will you?” She whispered to the unconscious Miranda. “Well, two can play at that game!”


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Lowering Miranda to the floor, Sophie began removing her costume, pulling off her tutu, and stretching her leotard down over her slim, well toned body. She looked around for some way of restraining the woman. Her eyes fell on some coils of spare rope, hanging on hooks on the wall. Grabbing one, she uncoiled it, pulled Miranda into a sitting position, and began to almost mummify Miranda’s body, trapping her arms against her sides with coil after coil of the long rope. Miranda’s bare breasts hung slightly over the top of the rope, and her head hung forward, a few strands of loose hair hanging over her face. Grabbing a pack of clean washcloths, Sophie took one from the pack, and carefully stuffed it into the helpless woman’s mouth. A second cloth, twisted into a tight coil, was tied around her face, trapping the improvised gag in place. Another cloth was tied over her eyes, effectively blindfolding her. Finally, Sophie untied Miranda’s ballet slippers, and then began using the pale pink ribbons on the slippers to tie her ankles together. Just as she was finishing the job, Miranda began to stir, a low moan filtering through the gag. Sophie opened the door to the big dryer, and hauled Miranda to her bound feet. Miranda, realising that she was well and truly tied up, began to squirm, and to try and scream for help, but Sophie had done a very thorough job of securing her.
“You were going to commit a horrible crime, and what’s more, you were going to ruin tonight for everybody...” She hissed in the helpless woman’s ear. “I am going to do the performance, and then I am going to turn you over to the police!”
Miranda began to protest feebly, her body twisting and squirming. Sophie pushed her headfirst into the dryer, lifting her legs to bundle the woman into the large metal drum. “I hope you are really uncomfortable in there!” And with that, Sophie shut the dryer door, dusting her hands together in satisfaction. This was like a movie, she thought to herself. The plucky understudy saves the day!


Quickly, she put on Miranda’s costume, and then began to make her way back to the dressing room, needing to get a spare pair of slippers if she was going to take Miranda’s place.
As she made her way back up the stairs, she got a nasty shock. The figure of a woman, leaning forward to peer intently through the curtains... in her understudy costume! Sophie suddenly realised that she had just hit, stripped, tied up, and locked up the wrong woman. She felt a huge pang of guilt, but it was quickly replaced by determination. If she had been able to do it once, she could do it again. There would be time for a not-so-heartfelt apology to Miranda later.
She snuck up on the woman, who was still peering through the curtain. She didn’t have the screwdriver now, but she thought that she would be able to jump the woman, maybe knock her out somehow... Just as she was reaching for the woman to grab her, the woman turned, and stopped dead as she saw her. She was very attractive, Sophie thought. Dark hair, dark eyes, lovely figure... not how she expected an assassin to look at all. The woman stared at her for a second, and then frowned. “What the hell are you doing here?” She whispered. “I left you out of the way...”
“I’m here to stop you...before you kill that ambassador!” Sophie glowered, trying to sound braver than she felt. At this, the woman looked surprised, and then gave a soft chuckle. “Ten out of ten for guts honey...but you got the wrong woman. I’m here to stop the assassination. I took your costume because it was the best way to be able to be back here without being noticed!”
Sophie frowned. That seemed to make some sense at least, even though she was far from happy about having been the unwilling donor of the disguise. “Well, in that case, I think that I may have done your job for you... There was only one person here that could fit the bill as the assassin, and I have her safely tied up downstairs!”
The woman smiled at Sophie, and nodded. “Oh really? You’d better show me then, hadn’t you...?”
A few minutes later, Sophie opened the door to the dryer. Immediately, there was a burst of muffled moaning and crying from the still-helpless Miranda. The stranger reached into the dryer, grabbed hold of her in a business-like fashion, and pulled her out of the drum, turned her around, and removed her makeshift blindfold. Miranda looked from one woman to the other. Seeing Sophie, her gagged protests took on a far more angry and demanding tone. The woman looked her over, and turned to Sophie.
“Very nice! Good rope work there...but not the right woman, I’m afraid.” Sophie’s heart sank. She really had incapacitated the wrong suspect. Miranda’s tone took on a positively accusatory note. Sophie un-gagged her, already beginning to apologise. “Miranda...I am really sorry. I thought you were a criminal! There is a murderer loose in the theatre...”
Miranda cut her off angrily. “There’ll be two murderers, after I get loose, you stupid *****! I am personally going to see to it that you spend the rest of your life in jail for this!” Sophie looked embarrassed, and was about to begin another round of apology, when to her surprise, the strange woman took the makeshift gag from her hands, and began to firmly re-gag Miranda. The lead ballerina uttered a short shriek of shock at this treatment, which was quickly silenced. Having gagged her, the woman lifted her up, with far more ease than Sophie had earlier, and bundled the squirming and half naked dancer back into the dryer, shutting the door behind her. “Good riddance,” she said, leaning against the door. “She might not be an assassin, but I know a real ***** when I see one. What is your name, hon?” She asked Sophie with a grin. Sophie, still feeling downcast about her forecast future, gave her name meekly.
“Sophie, huh? Well Sophie, my name is Laura. Laura Stern. I’m a private security contractor, I guess you could say.” Laura took hold of Sophie’s hand, and gave it a shake and a little squeeze. “I can see I got lucky running into you. You know the theatre, and you know the people. Time is running short, and we have got work to do.”
Sophie blinked. “What kind of work?” she asked with trepidation. Laura grinned.
“Simple. I have seen enough to know that the assassin isn’t one of the dancers, and isn’t a member of the orchestra. So now, we have to have a look at the staff in the front of the house.”
The two of them made their way back up to the backstage area. Sophie stole a glance at the LED clock that stood by the stage door. She shook her head. “There’s no way we can get front of house now...the audience will be arriving.” Laura shrugged, and gave Sophie a little nudge in the ribs. “In that case, Sophie, a change of outfit is called for. Show me the nearest way to the front of the house...”


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Shortly after, Sophie stood peering through a crack in the door that led from the backstage area to the corridor leading to the theatre’s lobby and bar. Laura crouched next to her, watching the comings and goings like a hawk. Various bar staff, stewards, and waiters passed to and fro. Finally, Laura gave Sophie a nudge. “That waitress...Get her to come over here...”
Sophie nodded, and opened the door a little further. She hissed at the passing waitress, a pretty blonde girl, in a white blouse, dark red waistcoat, tight-fitting black skirt, black pantyhose, and shiny heeled pumps. The girl stopped, turned toward her, and pointed to herself. Sophie nodded, and beckoned to her. “Over here...” She whispered. “I need your help...”
The waitress looked around again, slightly puzzled, and then walked quickly over to Sophie. “What’s the problem?” She whispered back. Just then, two pairs of hands reached out, grabbed the girl, and pulled her sharply through the door before she could utter a sound...
A very short time later, Sophie found herself stripping the clothes from an unconscious woman for the second time in her life. She was removing the waitress’s uniform, and passing it to Laura, who had returned from a hunt backstage, coming back with a thick roll of black duct-tape.
“Should I leave her underwear?” She asked. “She hasn’t done anything wrong, and I feel kind of sorry for her...” Laura shook her head. “Sweet of you, Sophie, but we are gonna need her panties to make a gag. And if the panties go, the bra might as well go too, right?” Sophie realised that there was a sort of twisted logic to this, and finished stripping the waitress naked. Laura stepped forward with the roll of tape. “Now then, let’s get this lady safely under wraps...”
Sophie stood back, looking up. There was no doubt that the waitress was out of harm’s way. She wondered if she should have pointed out the “flying” harness to Laura, who was looking up with a huge grin on her pretty face. The naked waitress, securely taped at the wrists, thighs, and ankles, panty-gagged, with layers of tape to cover the wadding, and with her own bra being used as a form of blindfold, along with more tape, swung slowly to and fro, about twenty feet over their heads.
“Okay... That’s taken care of her. I’ll go in as a waitress. Thanks for all the help Sophie, you’ve been great. You’d better get back to the other dancers... with that ***** in the dryer; I guess you will be needed...” Laura finished buttoning up the dark red waistcoat, and smoothed the tight black skirt, which came to about halfway down her thighs. Sophie sighed wistfully, and nodded. “Might as well make the best of it. After all, this is probably my last performance ever...”
Laura gave her a wink. “Chin up, kiddo. The fat lady hasn’t sung yet... Now, off you go, and have a great night. I’ll handle things from here.” Sophie turned to leave, and Laura, unable to resist, gave her a little pat on the rear. “Knock ‘em dead, Sophie...” And with that, she slipped out of the side door, heading for the now crowded lobby. Sophie watched her go. She half turned, about to head back to the dressing room. Suddenly she stopped. She thought for a moment, and then sighed to herself. “****. I’ve come this far....might as well see it through to the end.” She quietly slipped through the side door, following Laura, who was already out of sight. A passing waiter gave Sophie a stare of disbelief as she padded her way up the corridor, the sounds of people chatting and drinking, the light orchestral music on the speakers, and the clink of glasses getting gradually louder.
She paused at the corner, peering into the lobby. She caught sight of Laura, making her way slowly around the lobby, collecting empty glasses, and casting an eye over everyone in the room. No one had noticed the young ballerina, pressed up against the wall, and peering around the corner furtively.
Laura completed her circuit of the lobby, and Sophie ducked back slightly, so that she wouldn’t be seen. As Laura passed her, she leaned back out. She saw Laura suddenly tense, put down an empty wine glass, and walk slowly up to another waitress, a dark-haired, statuesque woman, making her way around the edge of the crowd. Laura reached out a hand, and tapped the woman on the shoulder, leaning in to say something to her...
The reaction was instant. Before Laura could act, the woman threw the tray of drinks into her face, sending her staggering back. A man in a black suit reacted next, reaching quickly into his jacket, as the crowd parted in surprise. Laura, half-blinded by alcohol in her eyes, was grabbed by the arm, swung rapidly round, and sent careening into the man, knocking them both over. There was a scream, as the waitress pulled a revolver, and raised it. She had her back to Sophie, who could already see the grey-haired, bespectacled, distinguished-looking man who stared in surprise, as the gun was raised in his direction. Sophie, fighting a sudden wave of sickening panic, knew that she had to do something now...


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The little ballerina broke into a sudden sprint, and then took a flying leap at the woman’s back. The would-be assassin was so intent on her quarry that she had no idea what was coming. Sophie barrelled into her back with all of her strength, and a little scream that might almost have been a war-cry. The woman staggered and fell, the revolver falling from her grasp to the carpeted floor, and Sophie landed full length on top of her, grabbing a handful of her hair, and the back of her waistcoat, and hanging on for dear life. The woman, much stronger than the dancer, uttered a loud curse, and rolled over, trapping Sophie beneath her as the two of them struggled on the floor. The woman pulled away, screaming with rage as she left a handful of hair in Sophie’s fist. Sophie saw her turn, saw her snarling face, and then she saw stars, as a fist cracked into her delicate jaw. She gave a groan, and the world abruptly turned black...
She awoke to find herself lying on a table, surrounded by a crowd of anxious onlookers. A waiter was holding a damp cloth to her forehead, and an elderly woman was holding a bottle of smelling salts under her nose. She could hear cursing in the background. She slowly sat up, helped by a small forest of willing hands. Looking around, she could see a large number of policemen, some of whom were dragging away an angry and dishevelled woman in a waitress uniform. The man who Sophie could only assume was the target ambassador stood off to one side, surrounded by his bodyguards. As Sophie sat up, and looked around, there was a sudden pause – and then the whole lobby burst into applause, and it took the dazed woman a few moments to realise that she was the object of the admiration. She looked around for Laura, but there was no sign of her. As she was helped to her feet, a journalist took her photograph, and the night was a blur after that...


Laura Stern relaxed back on her bed, dressed in a silk dressing gown, and some rather daring red lingerie. She couldn’t help chuckling to herself as she read the newspaper. “Heroine Ballerina Steals the Show!” The headline trumpeted. After a few days recuperation, Sophie had gone on to be an astounding success in the lead role of the Ballet, and the critics were promising a great future for her. A side note simply stated that she had stepped in to fill the part, after the lead Ballerina had mysteriously left the theatre on the night of the attempted assassination. Laura had sent Sophie a card and a cheque for a handsome amount of money. She had been well paid herself, and had decided that Sophie deserved a share of it for the night’s work. After all, she had possibly saved her life.
“You’ll be glad to hear that Sophie is doing very well...” She announced. “Looks like you aren’t going to be needed for a while, honey...”
Lying bound and gagged at her side, body squirming slowly from the attentions of the vibrator that was strapped against her crotch, Miranda merely whimpered. She could only hope that this engagement wasn’t going to be a very long one...




The End.

[FemaleSpy]

Incredible story, you're great writer!