Her tormentor has left and Carla's mind is a jumbled mess. Her head hurts, her tits hurt and her ass hurts. But still she has to think about his last words. Could it be true? There were not many guys who watched ballet performances by young girls. But sometimes, especially lately, she had gotten compliments that made her feel uncomfortable, not about her technique but about the length of her legs and the grace with which she moved her body. By older guys and dance moms alike. And her dance teachers had often left their hands on her body for what felt unnecessarily long, when they corrected her position.

But her daddy? She had once, years ago, stumbled upon him in his study, watching a video of her training in short pants and a sports bra, squeezing his lap strangely with his left hand. After that, his study had always been closed when he worked at home. But he had been so supportive of her dancing, always said how proud he was of her becoming an artist. He just couldn't .... could he?