Dirty Dancing: A Diana Story

Hungry Eyes

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I looked down at my shorts and loosely tucked in button up shirt.

"It's a matter of perspective." She explained patiently. "Of putting your head in the right mindset. How are you supposed to pretend to be sexy if you don't actually feel it? You have to look the part."

I just stared at her. She couldn't possibly think this would make me feel more confident? If anything I was about to die of embarrassment. If it was anything like hers then it would cover most of my body, but it was also skin tight. I'd feel naked.

"It's all apart of the illusion, Baby." She assured me lightly. "Just like Michael always says, dancing is a feeling. You have to be well acquainted with your body so that feeling relates to the crowd watching you. Besides, this way you'll be able see every turn, bend, and move you make and work on anything that has to be fine tuned. It'll help with visuals."

Oh, I'm sure it would...

I looked at Michael who stood behind her by the corner of the room, listening with a relaxed expression. He shrugged breezily, nodding towards Tatiana. It looked like he was only a spectator today, and she had the floor.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I turned towards the bathroom and got dressed.

***

I had to keep from pulling the tight material away from my body and stretching it to gain some level of comfort— and when I did, Tatiana would gently slap my hands away.

I hardly recognized the woman in full length body of mirrors when I came out, and there were some lines and crevices of my body that I didn't even know I had. I looked like a... woman. Someone I'd never seen before.

Michael dragged a pillow to the floor, crossing his legs as he took a seat, and placed his forearms on his knees. He was letting her control the lesson today, and would only be here to help her and make suggestions.

It was intimidating standing infront of someone who was so comfortable in her skin — which was understandable why she was. To simply put it, she had the body of dancer; long and slim, made for quick and precise movements that elegantly flowed and turned to the naked eye.

And I didn't even like wearing swimsuits so I tried to stay away from the water.

She was just so confident, which emulated from her in heaps.

Music was playing through the studio, which wasn't our usual mambo song, so I knew today wasn't about that specific dance.

"Hold out your palms." She told me, doing the same as she pressed ours together in between us, "Now start stepping in time with me."

The soft click of our heels tapped with each step; She'd take one back and I'd go forward, and then vice versa. We stayed standing in our same spots though as we moved with a sultry grace.

Placing one hand on my hip, she helped me nudge it out as I steps forward and back, and then repeating the move with the other leg.

"Good." She said lightly, "Very smooth."

"Thanks." I mumbled, as she put our palms flat against each other again.