A text: Come dressed for class. And a smiley face.
The hot Arizona sun was rising across the desert. Stretching languidly in bed, I smiled at how well I had slept as I stared out at the rugged landscape of my parent’s backyard.
Paxton must have told Solara I was here. I was curious to find out how that conversation happened, and I was hoping she would finish his story for me.
Yesterday had been an unexpected—yet pleasant—surprise. The layers of the man were slowly being pulled back, and I didn’t have much time to figure out… figure out, what? I shoved that question away and got myself out of bed.
My parents were on the covered back deck, drinking their morning coffee before the heat became unbearable. I joined them with my own mug. A palm frond fan whirred softly above them, stirring the heavy air with a light breeze.
I tucked my feet underneath me on the lounge chair, sipping my coffee and enjoying their companionable silence. My mother was on her iPhone; my father was old school and still read the newspaper.
“What are you guys doing today?”
My dad lowered the newspaper, peeking at me over the top rim of his readers. “I have a tee time at eleven, and your mother and I have an art show to attend tonight. You’re welcome to join us if you like.”
“That sounds fun. I’d like that. Mom, what are you doing?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” She smiled at my dad, and he chuckled as he picked up the paper and started to read again. Their inside joke was that she never did ‘absolutely nothing.’
Turning her attention to me, she asked, “What do you have planned for the day?”
“Remember that thing I told you about yesterday? That dance studio?”
She smiled and shot a covert glance at my dad before responding, “The friend from Houston?”
“Yes. She texted me this morning, so I think I’ll go meet her.”
“Sounds like an interesting day.” She gave her attention back to her phone, a small knowing smile on her lips. It wasn’t that I was trying to hide it from my dad; it was that he was a need-to-know kind of guy. Knowing how much he loved my mother, I wasn’t remotely worried that he would judge me for the dancing.
I texted Solara: What time? No clothes. Can I buy something there?
Her response: Noon–come early, I’ll show you around, yes
Invigorated with a sense of purpose for the day, I quickly showered, dressed, and grabbed some breakfast. My dad had left for his golf game, and since my mom wasn’t going anywhere, I took her car.
The drive to the studio was shorter than I’d thought it would be. Located on the north side of Phoenix in a more suburban area, it didn’t take me long to get there.
Following the directions from Google Maps, I pulled into an elegantly landscaped suburban shopping area. Tall palm trees lined the entrance and, colorful desert flowers were planted strategically along the sidewalk.
Standing apart from the strip of shops was a two-story stucco building. On the front was the L.O.V.E. logo. I was struck speechless by its size and opulence.
Awe kept me in my seat, staring at the front of the building. The building’s size was intimidating, but curiosity, and my desire to see Solara, forced me from my car.
Hitching my bag over my shoulder, I pulled open the double doors and entered a lavish lobby. The front area was carpeted in white, and the black and chrome counter was emblazoned with the L.O.V.E. logo.
On the back wall was a waterfall. The water ran down clear glass through multi-colored lights. On the other side of the fall, I could see a long hallway that led to the back of the building.
A young girl with feathered, strawberry-blonde hair greeted me enthusiastically. “Hi, welcome to LOVE. Can I help you?”
Her eagerness reminded me of Erin, but they had completely different looks.
“I’m here to see Solara.”
“Solara Crown?”
I wanted to snap, “Who else?” but held my tongue, remembering that she had no idea who I was. My thoughts of self-importance caused me to chuckle when I responded. “Yes, Solara Crown.”
“She’s just finishing a class. I’ll send her a message. Who should I tell her is here?”
“Charlotte.”
She raised her eyebrows at me questioningly.
“Chase. Charlotte Chase.”
She pulled a phone from her hip and sent off a quick text.
She pointed to a white leather couch, similar to the ones at the studio back home, and said, “You can wait over there if you like. She should be finished in about five minutes. Can I get you a bottle of water?”
I looked at my watch. It was almost eleven thirty. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
As I waited, I looked through the clothes that were tastefully displayed in one corner of the lobby: bikini tops, short shorts, leggings, shoes, and knee-pads. Everything a dancer needed to ensure she—or he—was free to do what they needed to do.
A few girls entered the building and scanned a card over a black box on the counter. The strawberry-blonde greeted most of them by name before they disappeared down the hallway.
Covertly, I watched them enter, trying to disguise my anxiety (and excitement) at seeing the rest of the studio.
Settling on a pair of black, wet-look leggings and a so-called pole position cross-back tank, I took the items to the counter to purchase.
As the girl was placing the clothes in a paper bag with tissue, Solara descended the circular stairs.
“Charlotte, you made it!” She leaped off the bottom step and enveloped me in a huge hug.
I held up my bag. “I did. And I bought clothes.”
“Excellent! I can show you around, and then you can take my noon class.”
Stuttering a bit, I looked at her in awe. “I didn’t know you taught as well.”
“Of course, I do.” She smirked at me.
“It’s just… well, you’re so…” I faltered. She had struck me as the back-office type.
“Fat?”
I just about choked. She was curvy but by no means overweight. “Oh, my God, Solara, no! That’s not what I meant. I just thought you were the office type. I’m sorry, I should stop.” I pulled myself together and said, “I’m excited to take your class, Solara.”
She laughed and pulled me along beside her. “C’mon, let me show you where you can put your things.
Hooking her elbow in mine, she took me down the hall I’d watched the others disappear down.
“The men’s and women’s dressing rooms are on the left, and there are four entrances to the gym—one from outside that can be accessed by key code, one from the hall at the end, and one from each dressing room.”
“You have a gym?” My eyes darted around, trying to take everything in.
“We’re the training center for the Phoenix ballet. They like to workout at odd hours, so we have an outside entrance for them.” She smiled at me.
“I had no idea.”
“It’s okay. Why would you?”
She walked me into the women’s dressing room and showed me to a row of lockers. “The ballerinas all have their own lockers, and they are marked. You can take any of the others that are open. Do you know how to use the combination locks?
I nodded and told her I did.
“Great. Leave your stuff here while I show you around. Then you can come back and change.
She waited while I got settled and then briefly showed me the gym. It was equipped with all the standard cardio equipment and free weights. Nothing special or out of the ordinary. Then she took me up a set of stairs in the back that led to a loft that looked down into the lobby.
Crossing the open area, she opened a door and took me into a string of offices. “This is where Paxton and I work. Max has an office, too, but he lives in California.” She looked at me knowingly. “You remember, my brother you met yesterday?”
I blushed slightly. “Can we talk about that later?”
She laughed and ushered me into the larger of the two. “This is Paxton’s office.”
“Huh.” I tried to hide my curiosity.
Her phone beeped at her side, and she glanced at the incoming number. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
She left me standing in the middle of his unoccupied office. It was very sterile with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out toward the mountains.
My feet settled into expensive, gray carpet, and I glanced around at the black and chrome office furniture, thinking that the coldness of it suited him. An oversized black leather chair sat on the other side of the desk, but what caught my attention was a hand-carved, wooden train that held a number of pens and highlighters in the smokestack.
I gently picked it up and admired the craftsmanship. It was small but solid, and there was an engraving on the side—Charlie. I sucked in my breath.
“Find what you were looking for?”
I dropped the train on the desk, pens spilling everywhere. “Christ, Paxton! What are you doing here?”
“That’s a question for you, really, since this is my office.”
He crossed the room efficiently, placing his messenger bag on his desk, scooping up the pens, and putting them back in the train.
“Solara left me here. She had a call. She’ll be right back.”
He was back in his usual black jeans and T-shirt, and he was putting his laptop and files into his bag.
When he was finished, he came back around the desk and gently grabbed my arm. “Huh. Well, how about if I take you to her office and you can wait for her there?”
He tried to usher me out. I shook his hand off my elbow. “Who’s Charlie?”
“None of your business.” His eyes sharpened on me.
I stood my ground, not backing away from his stare.
He looked away from me and turned to leave his office. “Fine. Stay here. I have a plane to catch.”
I followed after him. “Who’s Charlie? And where are you going?” I sounded desperate and was slightly embarrassed by my behavior. I could feel pain washing off of him. I wanted him to let me in.
When he turned back to me, his laugh was almost cruel. Slowly stalking toward me, he palmed my cheek, brushing my lower lip with his thumb. “Oh, Charlotte, you do want me. Shame I have to leave. I’ve dreamt of nothing but turning you inside out and upside down. You haunt me, but I don’t have time for games.”
He looked me up and down, the top of his head almost hitting my forehead, and he growled. “Maybe one for the road.” And he bent his head and kissed me, taking everything from me. Pulling my tongue into his mouth and devouring me. I fought for control of my emotions, but I was losing. My knees weakened, and I let go.
Reaching out to him, I tucked my fingers into the waistband of his jeans so I could pull him closer. As soon as I did, he abruptly released me and stepped back.
Confusion crossed his face for an instant and was gone just as quickly. He dismissed me and headed toward the circular stairs that led back into the lobby, saying over his shoulder, “Have a safe flight home, Charlotte.”
I walked over to the railing to watch him leave. Solara stopped him on her way back up, and he handed her the folder from his bag. She took it from him, gave him a hug, and a pinch on his cheek before continuing her way back to me.
“I’m so sorry. We have an event in Denver next weekend, and I have to do all the coordinating. It’s making me crazy. Let me finish showing you upstairs, and then I’ll show you the downstairs pole room. You can change for class.”
She walked toward a studio that spanned the length of the building with windows looking outside. “This is where we do hip-hop and pole class. The poles unscrew from the ceiling and floor, and we store them in the back room over there.”
She pointed to a closet long enough to keep the poles stacked. Similar to the ballet room, the pole studio had floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one wall. Because of the windows, it was bright and cheery.
I only slightly heard her words, my lips still tingling from Paxton’s kiss. I tried to act engaged and asked, “Who teaches hip-hop?”
In a self-deprecating tone, she said, “Not me.”
“Paxton?” I asked hesitantly.
“Oh, my God, you are not serious.” She laughed out loud. “He could—but it would be under threat of cutting off his penis.” She laughed again. “No. We have a few instructors who have been with us for years. Most of them have full-time jobs or are students at Arizona State University.”
She turned off the lights, and we headed down via the back stair. She pointed toward the dressing rooms, told me to get changed, and then meet her in the pole studio across the hall.
“Do I need shoes? I didn’t bring any.”
“I have extra. What size?”
“Nine.”
She nodded and disappeared through the studio room door. The girls I’d seen arrive earlier were in the changing room, stretching and pulling on their leg warmers.
I changed as quickly as I could, noticing the time on the clock tick toward noon. Walking across the hall from the changing rooms to the studio, I was struck with surprise as I stepped into the room.
This was not the hip-hop room from upstairs. This was magnificence, and sexiness, and all things shiny.
The wood floors shone, polished and glossy. There were no windows in this room, and mirrors lined the front wall from corner to corner.
Red and purple paint swirled decoratively between the mirrors and the ceiling. The back wall was painted purple with flecks of gold that sparkled under the mirror ball spinning from the ceiling. The ceilings were painted black. Low, recessed lights shone down on the floor.
This room was sin and seduction; I was almost brought to my knees in wonder.
I noticed that the other girls had pulled mats from the sidewall and set themselves up next to individual poles. I followed their lead and sat myself down at a pole near the back corner. Spaced six feet apart, there was enough room between the poles for almost full leg extension.
Solara was standing near a stereo system, poking at her iPhone. When the music started, she strutted over to the front of the room, gave me a big grin, and introduced me to the girls in the room.
“Everyone, this is Charlotte. She’s from our studio in Houston. Charlotte, everyone. Take a minute after class to say hi to her.”
She sat herself down on her mat cross-legged, put her hands on her knees, and started to roll her head around on her shoulders. Eyes closed, she looked ethereal. I found myself closing my own eyes and following her verbal instructions.
The sexy techno beat had me swaying and stretching, rolling my shoulders and extending my hands down to my feet. When she instructed us to spread our legs in a “V” and slide down on our left leg, I opened my eyes. She and the other girls were seductively sliding their hands down their legs to their feet, resting their chests on their thighs. To the music’s tune, they slid themselves back up and repeated it on the other leg.
When the warm-up was finished, Solara told everyone they could get their shoes if they wanted.
“Charlotte, I have a pair for you.” She handed me the six-inch platforms and then put hers on.
“This is a floor class, so no pole today. Charlotte, you okay with that?”
I nodded dumbly and then sat with my ankles crossed, hands back as instructed.
For the next 30 minutes, Solara walked us through the elements of a floor routine. She talked us through the mechanics of each move, showing us the transitions.
“The transitions are just as important as each move. Make the viewer follow your fluidity. Entrance them.”
She walked the room every now and then, helping us get our legs and butts into position. I struggled a little with one move that required me to keep my shoulders on the ground while lifting my butt and pivoting myself in the opposite direction.
I laughed when I rolled over like an egg, and Solara said, “You’ll get it. Use your hands to propel your lower back off the ground.”
I followed along better than I thought I would and found myself actually sweating.
When she was finished with the instruction, she said, “We’re going to run through the full routine. If you want to record yourself, now is the time to set up your phones.”
A couple of the girls set their phones on yoga blocks up against the mirror. The music started, and Solara got herself back into position on the floor, ankles crossed, her platform heels shining in the mirror. Her hands were braced behind her, her chest was pushed out, and a small smile was on her face.
“Ready?” She looked around the room, and the music began.
Sliding my right leg out, my left knee fell to the floor of its own accord, and I found it easy to follow the routine. I closed my eyes. My knowledge and training with Dani took over from there, and I simply followed the music’s beat. Hips, thrust. Legs, extend. Chest, undulate. Hair, flip. Lips, part. The music was lulling me, erotic and wanton.
I was lost in the routine and forgot all about the other girls in the room. At one point, I opened my eyes to make sure I was doing the right move and saw Solara lost in her own world. I was captivated. She was a master. Eyes closed, she rolled her head, and her body undulated. A goddess; completely confident with her sexual power. My chest felt tight. She was love incarnate and unabashedly unashamed. I would have never called her fat, but I would never have imagined that her stout and sturdy body was capable of this level of exquisite movement.
I was momentarily frightened. I had stepped so far out of my real life… I didn’t know how I could go back. Feelings of sorrow welled up in me, and I pushed them back down. I didn’t need to think about that today. I needed to be here—in this moment, in this world.