Читать книгу Dark Awakenings: Volume 2 of the Little Girl Lost Trilogy - Cindy Hanna - Страница 15

C HAPTER T EN

Flaunt It!

Several of the students look intrigued. One looks indifferent and Molly, as expected, looks downright terrified. “Now?” she asks. “We’re going to start dancing now?”

I offer her a reassuring smile. “No better time….”

“Ah, geez,” she mumbles under her breath.

Rather than get frustrated, I decide to soothe her. “It’ll be okay. First, let’s go over a few basics.” I survey each of my students’ outfits. Each took into consideration my wardrobe guidelines. “Let’s have each of you take off your shoes.”

“Why?” questions Trish.

“So you’ll be able to move easily without having to think about staying steady on your feet.” I note her heels. They match my own— the ones I suggested each woman get.

“I’d prefer keeping mine on,” Trish counters. “Make me feel sexier when I work the pole.”

Yeah, and probably superior. “That’s fine,” I tell Trish. As I speak, the remaining women remove their heels. Heading to the stage, I pass the bookshelf and start the music. Slinky rhythm-and-blues resonates from the speakers. I caress the pole. Mmmm…. Love its cold feeling. Always have. When I used to strip at Luigi’s Gentleman’s Club, some of the girls used to complain about the poles. Not me.

I grip the pole above my head with one hand. The other, I place on my thrust-out hip. “It’s important to connect with your audience when you dance.” Seductively, I circle the pole, locking eyes with each woman. I sense unease from a few of them. They wanna look away but are curious about what I might do next. I could string this along…. Make them squirm…. Done it before, at the club. But I won’t. Not this time. Instead, I allow my moves to become one with the music, and continue with the lesson.

“Maintain eye contact,” I say. “Use your eyes to tease. Seduce. Draw the audience into your world. You’re in control. Make them feel that from the way you look at them.”

Still holding onto the pole, I run my free hand across one of my breasts, and then travel the contours of my curves, mesmerizing the women with my movements. I can tell from the looks on their faces that I have them. They’re hooked, fascinated and a little appalled. Yes! Right where I want them. I close my eyes and roll my head in a seductive circle. As it returns to the center, I open my eyes—slowly, as if coming out of an amazing dream.

Hooking my knee around the pole, I spin around it. “The trick is in finding moves that accentuate the best attributes of your body,” I say. “I happen to like my legs.” Turning, I lean my back against the pole, welcome its coldness through my top and reach above my head to grab it with both hands, while thrusting out my chest. With purpose, I hike up my left leg and, pointing my toe, extend it, as I slide down the length of the pole. Throughout my demonstration, I don’t think a single woman has blinked. Excellent! Got them. Even Molly’s looking more relaxed.

Grinning, I stand up and look at my expectant students. “Before we get started, there’re a few things I need to mention. Guess they’re my rules. First and foremost, you need to be in the right frame of mind to be an effective pole dancer.”

“What does that mean?” Carol asks.

“That you check your modesty, inhibitions and worldly baggage at the door. Here, we’re all the same—beautiful, sexy, uninhibited.”

“Not me,” Molly mumbles.

“Don’t say that. Here, if you’ll allow me, I’ll make you feel beautiful. Size and shape are not viewed the same in this class as in the rest of the world. Here you’ll learn to embrace your appearance and who you are.”

Molly makes shy eye contact and asks, “How?”

I can’t help but smirk. “Practice makes sexy.”

“What?”

“In this class, we’ll spend a lot of time practicing in front of mirrors as we learn contemporary moves and explore new seductive ways to carry ourselves. We will scrutinize ourselves to determine who we are. Pole dancing is an art form of self-expression. Having the mirrors present allows each of you to view what is being expressed from within. The more time you spend practicing in front of them, the more confident you’ll become, allowing you to seamlessly flow from one move to another. By doing so, you’ll experience a sense of accomplishment and through that, your self-confidence will evolve.”

“But each of us is so different,” Carol says. “Some are more outgoing than others. How can we all benefit?”

“Glad you asked. We’ll take things slow in the beginning. Experiment with music, for example. Some will be inspired by heavy rock, while others may prefer slower, more soulful music. What you wear and how your day has gone will also affect how you dance.”

“You said we were supposed to check our baggage at the door,” Trish says.

“I did. And you should. But despite our best efforts, some of it will seep into the studio. I’ll show you how to use those feelings to enhance your pole dancing. For example, if you’re more emotional one day, express that in the way you move—slower, more controlled. If you’re frustrated, then you’ll probably prefer a stronger song that you can match beat for angry beat.”

“How long does each dance last?” Pam asks.

“The length of one song—about three minutes. Long enough, but not so long as to exhaust you. During that time, you’ll string together a collection of anywhere from five to ten moves.”

“You mentioned that you have a list of rules,” Pam says. “Are there any more?”

“Just one—the most important. Whatever you’ve got, flaunt it in a way that’s fun, sexy and empowering.”

Several of the women smile at the concept, seeming to be excited. I like that. Their questions are good, demonstrating that they are eager to delve into the unknown. The new. The unlikely. The more I’m around them, the more I like this group of broken women. They’re full of potential. Lumps of clay, ready to be molded…. And by helping them find themselves, I’ll make myself stronger. That’s what I need—to heal them.

Guess it’s time to get this party started. “Each of you needs to stand next to a pole.” The women fan out around the room, each connecting with the pole that calls to her. Standing on the stage next to my own shiny pole, I take them through a series of warm-up stretches, watching each out of the corner of my eye, to see if any have difficulty with flexibility or if any get winded. To my surprise, all are rather limber and well conditioned. Good. Like that. Nothing worse than a bunch of women pulling muscles right and left because they’re out of shape. We’re off to a good start.

“We’ll begin with several basic moves. Nothing too complex, but when coupled with others, watch out! I want you to think of the pole as your own personal tall, gleaming, slender dance partner. Be as naughty as you dare with it. Fill your mind with seductive erotic thoughts and let them guide you as you familiarize yourself with the pole.” Another slinky rhythm-and-blues piece begins playing. Perfect get-to-know-your-pole-better music. Glad I decided to stick with these tracks for today’s class. “Whenever you approach the pole, don’t be shy about it. Take control. Be decisive in your moves. This first time, you might wanna mimic what I do.”

Wrapping my left arm high on the pole, I extend my left leg, place my other hand on my raised right hip and thrust my chest out. Everything about this position cries out confidence. I see a look of apprehension on Molly’s and Carol’s faces. Can almost hear the thoughts pass through their minds. Ignoring them, I dance around my stationary partner, hugging it to me. Loving it. Stroking it. All the while, I maintain eye contact with the students as I gently sway my hips from side to side. Feeling the music, I arch my back, push my chest out farther and let my seductiveness flow free as I strut my way around the pole. “Okay, now each of you try.”

Trish jumps at the opportunity without hesitating. Had a feeling she would. Head thrown back, eyes closed, she gets lost in the music as she spins and shakes to the beat. Her moves are advanced and improvised. Again, not unexpected. I sense she’s a showoff. A standalone. The longer I’m around her, the more I begin to understand why she’s here. She’s so engrossed with her routine that I doubt she would hear if any of us cried, “fire.” She’s a natural in her element.

Carol begins, spasmodically seducing her pole, or possibly threatening to hurt it. Her moves are stiff and intense—not in a good way. “That’s very good, Carol,” I lie. “But you might want to tone it down just a tad. Don’t want to wear your pole out on the very first move.” A couple of the other women chuckle. Eager to please and get it right, Carol slows her moves as she learns to “lead” the pole where she wants it to go.

Then there’s Alicia. Her cropped black hair sways as she flaunts her sexiness to the max. Well, damn! You go, girl! For someone who looks so used up, so expired, you sure resurrect when working a pole. There’s a glint of sheer unadulterated mischief in her eyes. I sense a little temptress in her. What’s her whole story?

Molly hasn’t moved. Not one step. She’s looking at the pole as if it’s the enemy—rather complex, better left undiscovered. What am I gonna do with her? How am I supposed to make any progress, if she can’t even look at the pole without getting threatened? How am I gonna get her to touch it? I sense there’s another, more adventuresome Molly. Hiding below the surface. Or maybe further down. She’s there, yearning to be born. I know it. It’s okay, Molly, I’ll figure out how to help you.

Pam is stationed on the pole to Molly’s right and is getting to know it with great enthusiasm. Noticing Molly’s frozen stance, she offers, “Try this,” as she circles her pole, shaking and shimmying her hips. Molly looks over and then approaches her own pole with determination. With a stiffness resembling that of the Tin Man left out in the rain, she robotically encircles her pole.

God! That’s not seductive. It’s more like preparing for the kill. Damn, I’ve got a lot of work to do with her. But…at least she’s interacting with the pole. That’s an improvement. She walks around her pole once and looks at Pam, who gives her an encouraging smile. For the second time, I see something that, in the loosest of terms, might just be considered the beginnings of a smile. Cool!

“That was great.” I say. “You all did a wonderful job. Now let’s up the ante a little.” The minute the words leave my mouth, I regret them, for Molly’s evolving almost-smile morphs into a fallen frown. Oh, well, maybe this move will be less of a challenge for her. Yeah, right, and the temperature is falling in Hell.

“This one doesn’t require much movement,” I say. “But its visual impression packs a wallop.” Standing with the pole directly in front of me, I place both hands on it just above my head. I hold that pose for a few beats before dropping my left hand to my hip. Still holding onto the pole, I gyrate my hips, envisioning them as a slow-moving top, spinning on an erotic axis. Wow! My mind comes up with the strangest images. Didn’t have sexy tops like that when I was a kid. As expected, Trish’s already fully engaged in advanced hip gyration before I instruct the class to try. Damn! She’s got moves. Fluid and flawless. Wonder if she gyrates in her sleep like that? Or at any other time….

Pam’s left her own pole and is standing behind Molly. With her hands on Molly’s hips, she walks her through the motions. Molly’s movements are stiff and unyielding. Instead of swinging her hips to and fro in one fluid motion, she progresses through a series of jerky convulsions. Might be better if she signed up for a tribal war dance class.

I relieve Pam so she can return to her own pole. There, her enthusiastic energy shines through her moves. I give Molly a few pointers on how to loosen up. She incorporates several, and her movements become somewhat less of a train wreck in appearance.

Carol, too, has managed to slow herself down a bit and is letting the beat of the music guide her nether regions from side to side, as is Alicia. At least the majority of my students are showing promise. The jury’s still out on Molly. Honestly, the woman has three left feet and a stick up her rear at least a mile long. Okay, that was mean—true, but mean.

I leave Molly with her pole and return to my own. “Since that last move had you wiggling,” I say, “I’m going to introduce another that promises to shake things up.” The women watch as I position myself with my back a few inches from the pole. Reaching behind me, I grab it with both hands just above shoulder height. I bend my legs a little and thrust my chest in and out in rapid succession.

Was that a small gasp I heard from Molly? Really, her reactions are becoming a bit of a bore. What’s her story? She signed up for this. And it was clearly advertised as an interactive pole-dancing class. Shaking off her prudish reaction, I taunt my audience a bit more. Making eye contact with each, I pose and pout as I transfer my hands from the pole and tease my hair with slow and purposeful motions. I run my fingers through its silky softness as if I’ve never felt anything so divine. In the subtlest way, I slide my hands down, landing each upon a breast, where they stroke and grope as I continue to sashay my hips from side to sexy side.

There’s a knowing grin on Trish’s face. She flaunts her own style with the pole. Using every bit of her five-inch stilettos to her advantage, she pushes her chest out and ruffles her hair as if her very existence depends on it. And perhaps it does. I’m sensing that about her. Her need to one-up.

Molly, having gone rigid, is attempting her own rendition. It doesn’t come close. Instead, she resembles a fish writhing out of water, gasping its last breath of air. But I must admit, I’m impressed that she took it upon herself to attempt this one without any additional promptings from Pam or me. Maybe there’s hope….

Carol soon masters this move, allowing her ample chest to take center stage and lead her through. She even takes it a step farther by cupping each of her breasts and sighs as she pushes them together. Well, who knew?

Alicia mimics Carol’s moves, and then improvises some of her own. After shaking her own chest, she playfully glides the middle finger of one hand along her outer thigh upward while holding onto and circling the pole. She caresses her hips, the lengths of her sides and then her breasts, tracing little circles around each nipple. I don’t miss her suggestive moves. The others do, absorbed in their own dances. Not me. I catch her slight intake of air and the manner in which she rolls her head back, lost in pleasure. Sensed there was naughtiness in her. I’ll bet we have a lot in common…. For someone so tight-lipped about why she’s here, she’s certainly expressive with the pole.

Pam, attempting her own interpretation of the moves, pauses every now and again to circle her pole, holding on with first one and then the other hand, eyeing it as if it’s a piece of raw meat and she a hungry lioness. Her spirit is contagious. I see several of the other women looking at her as she tousles her hair and uses her chest to entice.

Pam’s got a great nurturing personality that shines through in her moves. Funny how pole dancing does that. It takes what’s buried within you—your essence—and brings it to the surface. Already I’m detecting things about each woman that they thought they could keep concealed from me. They don’t know. Can’t see it. Their self-expressive dance—their comfort level, or awkwardness, reveals parts of themselves they thought were hidden. They’ll learn. We all will.

Since we’re on a roll, with several of the ladies already inventing some of their own creative moves, think I’ll make this last step a deal breaker. It’ll be the one that shows me what each of my students is all about. What they’re willing to reveal. What they intend to keep hidden. And how much work I have to do with each.

I position myself with my back against the pole, grabbing it with one hand near the small of my back. With my legs stationary, I playfully twist my upper body to look at my students from over my shoulder. I use my most sultry voice and say, “Okay, ladies, let’s bring it home with this last move.” I rotate, look over my other shoulder and, winking, add, “Really make it count.”

Turning slowly, I face the pole and, as if greeting it, bow deeply at the waist. I grab the pole with one hand down by my knees, and rest my other hand on my rear, which is turned up high in the air. Continuing downward, I slide my hand effortlessly from my rear down the length of my straight leg, tracing each defined muscle. When my hand reaches my ankle, I reverse the movement of my fingers and, reaching farther behind me, trace up and down the back of my legs as if feeling along the exposed seam of a pair of stockings. Deciding it’s time to finish, I begin rising—slow and graceful, letting my hand explore my thighs, breasts and finally the side of my face.

I notice that Trish and Pam are already duplicating my moves, while throwing in a few of their own for good measure. Alicia’s enjoying the seductiveness of these moves and, if possible, is making them even more so. Carol’s struggling to maintain perfect form and have fun while doing so. And Molly…she’s actually embracing this move. Strange. I would have thought it would have thrown her. Perhaps she’s softening. Becoming less inhibited. Feeling more comfortable. Good for her.

I smile at the women, tell them they’ve done a great job and lead them through a series of cool-down exercises. In closing, I say, “Be sure to practice what we covered today in front of a mirror, if possible. And if you’re feeling bold, you may want to try some of the moves in your heels so you can get used to them.”

I dismiss my students and, as each puts her shoes back on, say that I look forward to the following week when I’ll really heat things up. Most look intrigued. Trish looks indifferent and Molly, as expected, looks frightened. Hope she’ll be back. There’s so much potential with her….