Have You Seen Diana Naked?

3

9 a.m., August 22
Cherbourg's Maritime Station, France

Anna Pavlova, seated on a bench in the passenger lobby, sighed deeply and closed her eyes. Her long ballet tour of Europe was finally over, and she was about to board the steamship George Washington to sail to New York city with her partner Michael Mordkin and her manager Victor Dandre for her Metropolitan Opera debut. The voyage promised her exhausted body eight days of rest. Not only her body, but also her mind badly needed a good break to rest. Her poor mind, which had felt so disturbed after that silly accident that had occurred during her last performance at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris. The accident that forced her to find a new partner at the very last moment before she left France. The accident that led the press to call her Anna the Nutcracker.

She heard her manager's voice overhead.

"Anna, the boarding starts in half an hour. I just saw her at the pier, what a beauty. I mean our steamer, George Washington. Built last year, she performed her maiden voyage only a few months ago. Eight decks, first-class cabins with baths, comfortable second and third-class cabins, nice steerage compartments for immigrants. Dining and smoking rooms, lounges, solarium and gymnasium. We, of course, have two first-class cabins, one for me and Mordkin, and a separate one for you."

Her eyes still closed, she wasn't listening to him. Her thoughts were still on that episode at the Châtelet. She was dancing the pas de deux of Diana and Actaeon with Wlaslav Nizhinsky, and while executing one of her arabesques, she accidentally kicked her partner right in the groin. The dancer at once shrieked and collapsed on the stage, holding his bulging crotch, writhing on the floor and hissing painfully:

"My balls, balls, balls... Bitch, you destroyed them, you fucking bitch, my fucking balls..."

Half of the audience erupted in loud laughter, while the other half watched in awe as he suffered. Her kick was so hard and dangerous to Nizhinsky's genitals that he was immediately taken to the hospital, while she continued dancing with his understudy. All the next day reporters hounded her, making a fuss about the accident. She quickly got tired of answering their silly questions about the condition of Nizhinsky's testicles and what she thought of the incident. The dumbest of all, and most frequently asked, was the question about how soon she would be dancing in the Nutcracker ballet and whether her potential partners would be forced to wear groin guards henceforth. Oh, how exhausted she was by all this unnecessary publicity.

"Well, Anna," said Victor Dandre, 'I must take care of the luggage and find Michael. He must be having coffee at one of the cafes."

She heard his retreating footsteps, then the voice of another man:

"Excuse me, Miss Pavlova, could I have a word with you?"

She opened her eyes and saw a tall man in his forties standing in front of her.

"Allow me to introduce myself, Arthur Marvin, filmmaker and one of the the founders of Biograph Studios, based in New York City. I'm on my way home and must confess that I'm extremely happy to spend the next few days aboard the same ship with you. I saw your dance in Paris. It was phenomenal, your magical Dying Swan dance to the great music of Tchaikovsky. I've never been so enchanted in my life. You're a dancing genius. A ballet goddess."

"Thanks for the compliment, Mr. Marvin."

"And your rendition of Diana! That kick of yours! I saw it! I mean that kick in Nizhinsky's privates. It was magnificent!"

"Please stop it. It really annoys me when people mention it."

"I understand. I'd like to let you know that we are going to start shooting our new film very soon. Don't be surprised, but it will be called Diana and Actaeon. Surely you know this old myth about the young hunter Actaeon, and Diana, goddess of the moon and the hunt. Actaeon, on his way to hunt, stumbles upon Diana bathing at a spring. The goddess, angered that he saw her naked, punishes the poor young man by turning him into a deer, and his own hunting dogs tear him to pieces. It's a horrible story! Erotically horrible or horribly erotic, I would say."

"I know the story," Anna let out an indifferent sigh. - I'm the one who dances it on stage."

"I think you might be interested in my interpretation of this ancient legend. In my version, Diana, before turning poor Actaeon into a deer, kicks him right in the groin, standing in front of him completely naked! She kicks him right in the balls! Then, while he is squirming painfully on the ground, she turns him into a deer, letting his own hounds rip him apart. How do you find this twist on the old story?"

"Quite original," replied the ballerina languidly.

"And here's what I'd like to tell you now - I'd be very much delighted if you agreed to star in this motion picture. I see no one but you playing Diana's part. And that kick of yours! It really will be the crowning glory of our picture!"

"No, no, no, no, no," Anna Pavlova shook her head irritably. "I have no intentions of becoming a film star. Even if I did, my touring schedule is too busy for me to have any spare time."

"I think the time problem might be solved," Marvin said. "Just think of the opportunities that would open up for you after you do this picture."

"Let's leave the subject," said the ballerina sternly. "First, all proposals relating to my career should first come to my manager, Victor Dandre. Secondly, I have no desire to kick anyone in the groin, neither on stage, nor on screen. I hope you understand me. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Marvin. Have a good day."

"Okay, see you later, Miss Pavlova," Arthur Marvin reluctantly turned around and walked slowly down the hall. Well, nothing had been decided yet. There were eight days of sailing ahead, and he would have plenty of time to convince the stubborn dancer. He would do anything to get this woman into kicking Acteon's balls.