There are provincial ballet schools, were we learn the basics, but there are also National Ballet schools too, the Royal Ballet being the best.
From the start, I loved ballet. I used to practice a lot which is not usual for dancers when they start out. I got noticed at competitions and exams and found myself at a Ballet School. I started there when I was 9 and I had NO idea how hard it would be. Academic lessons as well as an iron-hard training regime. This is not for weaklings or quitters.
When my cohort entered puberty, several girls had to leave. (Too 'big', if you know what I mean.) That left us worried that we would be next. It was usual for us to look at our own and each others breasts under the leotards, (and sometimes in the showers.) We envied the girls who had little more than bee stings and every day we were convinced that we would wake up the next day with huge breasts and thunder thighs which would spell the end of our prospects as dancers.
At 14, I was tall and willowy with still (thank God) AA breasts. There was also something else. We worked so hard that anything sexual just didnt get noticed. Sure, some days we would be more sweaty than others, and I used to notice that my panties were really wet some days after training. One day, I was late and I had stuffed my dancing kit into my bag in one hell of a hurry. When I got to the changing room, I realised I had not packed the panties I wear under my leotard. I had worn a thong all day and trust me, you don't want to wear a thong in ballet. (It bloody hurts). So there was nothing for it but to just wear the leotard and that was where the trouble started. For a start, it felt 'naughty'. For another, I could feel myself getting very wet and after only a short time, I could smell my pussy.
Claire, my dance partner started giving me funny looks and from time to time her gaze went to my crotch which made me blush but also made my clit tingle. We did the training session which was full of moans and complaints from Madam, then we hit the changing room. I peeled my loetard off and, OH, the crotch was totally soaked with a white, creamy looking discharge. Claire glanced over and said 'Hmm. Seems to me you need to sort yourself out.' Then we went into the showers. The water felt great. I felt alive all over and the spatters of the shower and rivulets of water running over me felt exquisite. Claire moved over next to me and I realised we were alone in there. 'Well? Are you going to sort yourself out?' Now, I really did not know what she meant. She seemed to think I was a bit of a prude. 'Like this'. she said and touched my pussy! It was like an electric shock and I leaned back against the shower wall while by best friend touched me where I had not yet touched myself. It felt so good, she seemed to know exactly what I wanted and soon I felt something building deep in between my legs. I thought I was going to pee and told her to stop. Instead she leaned forward and sucked my right nipple really hard and BANG! Suddenly, I was in the grip of my first ever orgasm and it seemed to go on forever. I spread my legs wide and pushed myself against her hand. As I was coming down from it I noticed Claire had her hand between her legs and seemed to have a couple of fingers inside herself.
Needless to say it lead to a lot of experimentation between us and now, five years after that, we are lovers in every sense of the word. We live together, although neither of us made the grade into professional ballet. Still, we learned something far more valuable I think.