10 Ways To Cope When Your Mom's a Milf

Slowly, he inspected me. Circling me in an intimidating way.

“What were you doing?” He asked. So the questions begin.

“Um, I was watching?” My answer came out as more of a question.

“Are you a spy?” He asked looking me in the eye. Wow, he had really pretty eyes. Cobalt blue, just like the eyes of the street dancer dude. It seemed unnatural for his eyes to be that color. Then my eyes moved down. Is it possible to say that this guy had the lips of an angel? Well he did.

I just stared at his lips for awhile. When I saw them moving, I realized that he said something.

“What?” I asked trying to cool my burning cheeks. Did he see me staring? By the smirk on his face, I'm guessing he did. Dammit, that smirk brought my attention back down to his lips. Yummm. Scrumptious, like... Cap n' Crunch.

I heard laughter all around the spacious room.

“Okay I know my lips are very scrumptious, as you put it, but I need you to focus.” He replied easily.

Oh no, did I say that out out loud. Cheeks. Turning. Pink.

I slapped my chilled hands to my cheeks to cool them down. Ahhh, it worked. Slowly I removed my hands and asked, “What was the question?”

“Are you spying on us?” Well, he didn't have to say it that slow. I understand English.

“No, I was just watching,” I gave a timid smile.

“This is a closed rehearsal.”At this, I frowned.

“But I always come here Saturday mornings, Miss Ashley always lets me use the Dance Room.” Miss Ashley was a sweet woman in her late twenties who helps out her dad up here at the Center. He was getting too old so she decided to help him out.

“Well we need this dance room to rehearse for our upcoming Dance Battle.” He told me in a suave voice. Hmmm. That voice came from his lips. Maybe if I just take one last look.

No! Mustn't. Look. At. Lips.

Wait did he just say Dance Battle?

“Ohhh! A Dance Battle?” I asked excitedly. He gave me a weird look but nodded his head.

“That's so cool! I've always wanted to dance in one.” My mom would never let me dance in one of those types of competitions. It was either dance recitals or The Floetry Of Poetry. That's sort of like a poetry in motion type thing. It's down at the Lodge. I didn't like it very much, because there wasn't really much competition. And nobody ever won those things. So it was basically pointless.

He raised an eyebrow. Well now he's starting to grate on my nerves.

“Well, that's great, but we need to continue practicing so if you could..?” He trailed off. If he was insinuating that I should leave, he was sadly mistaken.

Pushing my way past him, I put my dance bag on the small table in the far corner. The place had so much room, it was perfect for practicing. Not to mention the windows on each wall. There was also a skylight, which brought in a natural glow making the room shine with beauty.

“You guys won't even notice I'm here.” With that being said I started to dance in a small area. Warming up with simple moves. It felt great to loosen my tight muscles.

I noticed that their music started again. I just used their music to dance to. It had a nice beat and I wouldn't disturb them by putting mine on.

Soon I lost in the mesmerizing beat. My movements were wild with energy. Each of my limbs doing what they were told. The music filling my ears, running through my veins. Each move was sexy, yet it was done with such flawlessness that I couldn't believe it was me dancing. Lately all I've been doing is dancing. Putting my emotions into it.