Thread: All the Right Moves | ockeroid and colada

It was interesting to hear dance from a guys perspective. Charlotte had grown up listening to the experiences of her mother, her female dance teachers, her female friends, her female friends mothers . . . but never a man. The most experience she had was her father, but he was in the business of telling dancers how to dance, not performing the moves himself. She continued to listen to him while she stared out of the passenger side window, watching the sky as the colorful hues became nothing more than darkness. She could spot a few stars in the sky. Its the yellow house right there, she said, pointing to the third house on the left as he drove down Canis Heights. It was a modest house one floor, surrounded by trees and shrubbery, nestled in what many of the residents considered to be a safe neighborhood. The lights were still on in the house and her mothers van was sitting in the driveway. Charlotte knew the moment she stepped inside her mother would go off on a tangent, so when Kirov continued to talk she smiled widely at him. How could her mother get mad at her for talking with her teacher? It was an odd subject, of course. Her teachers had never taken an interest in her likes and dislikes. She liked the fact that he did. It made her feel more sociable and comfortable around him. I wish I had time to myself, she responded with a grin, shaking her head. My mother thinks Im abnormal if Im sitting still for any length of time. Needless to say, she did not spent every waking minute of her life dancing. Hmm, lets see. Well, if it werent for my mom Id have a part-time job at the bakery down the street. I guess you could say Im good at cooking. Charlotte shrugged her shoulders to herself. I always liked baking birthday cakes for my friends. Culinary arts had been one of her favorite elective classes in high school. She continued to prattle on with things she likes going to the beach, reading classical literature, watching horror movies at ungodly hours with her friends just so they could stay awake all night and things she dislikes how her friends swore in excess, her mother and her lectures, how she was still treated like a child even though she was legally an adult but when she got to the subject of boys she became speechless. This is going to sound silly, but I never dated much in high school because I thought I looked like a boy. Her insecurities still plagued her to this day watching the way she fidgeted around was enough of an indicator. I mean, I know I have a very feminine face, but . . . thats it. When I was younger I thought I would grow out of being a stick, but that never happened. She slumped back in the seat, frowning. My only long-term relationship, if you count seven months as being long-term, was with this kid who was a flaming homosexual. It only dawned on her that such a conversation was more than inappropriate. Feeling the warmth of her cheeks return, she slumped down even further. But Im sure you didnt give me a ride home just to hear the woes of a teenage girl. I really do appreciate the ride. Youll have to tell me when your birthday is so I can make a cake as a proper thank you.