Move (Club Kitten Dancers #1)(2)

“There’s a second form,” the receptionist points. “This one says you’ll let us know if you get hurt or injured during class and that you won’t sue us if you accidentally break an arm.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“It’s never happened in the time I’ve been here.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Thirteen months.”

“Thirteen months…” I tap my chin dramatically. “Sounds okay to me.” I think that if someone was going to break their arm, it would have already happened. Then again, I’m Bailey. I basically have the worst luck in the world. If anyone is going to break their arm, it’s definitely going to be me.

I sign my name with a flourish and hand the forms back, pay for my class, and head back to the classroom with Kasey.

We enter a hallway behind the main room that has a large locker room on the right with showers, sofas, and lockers. On the left, a closed door says “OFFICE.”

“That’s Sassy’s office,” Kasey says. “She’s the owner.”

“Sassy?”

“Yeah, Professor Sassy McMittens.”

I raise an eyebrow, but Kasey ignores me and we move on down the hall. That’s definitely a story for another day. I will not be letting her forget that. What kind of name is that? Is that the owner’s real name? It can’t be.

Surely there’s a story behind this.

I take a look around as we walk. There are doors on the right and left and a large spiral staircase directly in front of us. It looks like something out of a made-for-TV movie or a cartoon. Instantly, images of castles and secrets and adventures run through my mind, and I want to see what’s up that staircase. I take a step forward, but Kasey grabs my arm.

“The stairs lead to an apartment. That’s off-limits.” She points at a little sign hanging across the staircase on a chain that says as much. “The room on the left is for dance classes and yoga-type stuff, and the one on the right is for pole.”

“We want pole.”

“We want pole,” Kasey repeats, and pushes the door open.

We walk inside and I try not to gasp. There are nine poles in three tidy rows. The walls are covered in floor-to-ceiling mirrors. At the front of the room, there’s a 10th pole set off by itself. I assume that’s where the instructor teaches.

“Yoga mats are back there,” Kasey points to a corner where there are several rolled mats. “You can bring your own if you prefer. Those are for stretching and stuff like that. Sometimes the floor is too hard to just want to plop down on it. Shoes go in the cubbies.” She points to a set of cubbies and we deposit our shoes, then pick a pole.

“Wait,” I say, realizing something. “Why do we dance barefoot? Aren’t we supposed to wear stilettos?”

“Not today. You can wear them once you’re more comfortable with dancing, but your shoes have to have an ankle strap for safety. Some clubs make you have a wide heel, too.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you can’t actually wear stilettos. You can wear really high heels, but the heel part of the shoe has to be wider than a quarter so you maintain your balance while dancing.”

“This studio doesn’t have that requirement, though?”

“Nope. Just the strap thing. Like I said, though, that’s something to think about later. Some girls like to dance in heels or boots because it gives you more of a burn when you’re stretching or doing squats. Some people think the heels make them look better when they’re dancing. I don’t care about that, though. I’m just here to have fun, and you’re a beginner, so you don’t get shoes.”

Being told I don’t get to wear shoes makes me want to cross my arms and pout like a little brat, but I know she’s right, so I just take a deep breath and chill out. I’m here to have fun. I’m here to get over my crappy past. I’m here to move forward with my life. I might be a freshman in college, but I’ve spent so much time with Dominic and trying to please my mother that I haven’t really lived.

Maybe Club Kitten can change all that. Kasey shows me some stretches and she helps me get comfortable touching the pole as we wait for the class to begin.

The room fills up quickly with several other women of all ages and sizes. Suddenly, I feel a lot more comfortable in my booty shorts. Everyone here seems to be at ease with their bodies and that, in turn, makes me feel more relaxed. There are a couple of girls who look around my age, but there are also older women. One with white hair smiles at me.

“First class?”

I nod.

“Don’t you worry, hon. Haley is the best.” She pats my hand as she walks by and takes a pole in the front row. I’m a little confused because she reminds me of my grandmother in some ways, but of one of my girlfriends in others. Strange. Kasey told me that women of all ages like to dance, but I guess I never really expected to see anyone over 30 or 40 in the class. It’s kind of cool that there are older women, though.

A few minutes later, music starts pounding through the speakers and a petite woman with short dark hair dances into the room on five-inch heels. She’s wearing booty shorts, a sports bra, and a smile. I like her immediately.

“Hey everyone! Welcome to all the newbies. I’m Haley! Let’s get started!” I can already tell that Haley has a crazy amount of energy, but instead of feeling like it’s silly, I like it. I’m eating it up. I was so nervous to come, but now I feel like I can really do this.