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The novel opens on a battlefield: trudging back from the front through a ravaged and icy wasteland, their horses dying around them, their own hunger rendering them almost savage, the Russian soldiers are exhausted, desperate for food and shelter. They find both, and then music and dance. And there, spinning unafraid among them, dancing for the soldiers and anyone else who'll watch him, is one small pale boy, Rudolf. Rudolf, a prodigy at six years old, who became the greatest dancer of the century, who redefined dance, rewrote his own life and died of AIDS before anyone knew he had it.

Technically, I'm not a stripper. As a cage dancer, I don't take all my clothes off, and no one gets to touch me. I'm just the eye candy. And I can feel their eyes on me. I know they're watching, but I don't do this for them. This is my time. My life may not have turned out the way I thought it would, but I'm not complaining. From 9 p.m. to 1 a.m. several days a week, I get paid to feel sexy, to feel desired, to do what I love. I always knew I wanted to be a dancer - I just didn't realize I'd be doing it in a cage.