First level, door number two

Ballet dancers in the dark, whipping their heads to spot for their pirouettes. 

 

We climbed into the tall bed in the silent room. Were we playing roulette to the rhythm of the dancers? If anyone is going to catch us loving, let's not let it be the father strolling along who cares and is always going to disapprove. Let him make noise while we pretend to be pure as angels.