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Вы здесь » SACRAMENTO » Альтернативная реальность » смотри на меня, двигайся в такт


смотри на меня, двигайся в такт

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1

Код:
<!--HTML-->
<div class="aesthetic-upd">
<div class="aesthetic-photo-upd" ><img src="https://i.imgur.com/tj3hrmL.png"></div> 
<div class="aesthetic-text-upd">ELI & KARI</div>
</div> 

— ... такие как мы, танцуют танго, а хрена ли там танцевать?

[NIC]Eli Monroe[/NIC][STA]fuck you, Kari[/STA][AVA]https://i.imgur.com/ZspKD4J.gif[/AVA]
[LZ1]ELIANNA MONROE, 21 y.o.
occupation: psych student, dancesport enthusiast;
lead me, Kari.[/LZ1]

+2

2

A-and enough with the stretching”.

Oh, thank God! Or rather, “thanks, Meg!”, for right now these are one and the same. I let go of my feet an stand up, still feeling a little beaten up after this torture that Meg – our coach – call as “stretching”.

At least now we’re done with the boring part; it’s playtime. Don’t get me wrong, though: when Meg is done with us, I’ll be barely alive.

Now get your partners”, Meg’s clapping her palms to get our attention. Entirely unnecessary, ‘cause this slim asian woman in her mid-forties could command a whole damn marching band with her voice alone. I’m talking from experience. “Look alive, people!

Aye, aye!

For the last couple months I usually end up in pair with Marco. Who would’ve thought that physics nerds could be interested in dancing? Or that they’d be… y’know, hot? Or with Marco it’s the fact that all Latino men are kinda hot? Anyway…

He’s a nice partner and he seems to like working with me as well. After a year in the section he became quite good in his moves. Still not the tippity-top of our little dance pack – at least he’s all mine.

Others take their partners too, eight pairs in total. And Jasmine. She’s an oddball in the pack – I’ll have to tell you about her later, ‘cause right now it’s…

Tango”, commands Meg. Oh, today we’re kicking in strong!

A look back at Marco. A check, a silent question: ready? He is.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight”. Meg counts steps for the pairs and we begin to move in sync: her happy little clockwork toys.

Marco’s hands on me, he’s taking the lead (as he should); I shift my weight to the right, then step forward with left feet. Then to the right, two steps back, cross my legs, transfer the weight and another step back. To the left, legs together.

That's a basic eight step tango for ladies, by the way. Pay attention: there might be a quiz later! Hah, don’t worry. I’m joking about the quiz part.

You’d still might want to pay attention, though. Let’s be honest – tango is cool. And it’s always a treat to watch how people dance tango. Now you’d know that it also takes some endurance, strength and flexibility. And a whole lot of coordination on your part and on the part of your partner.

Also, passion. Even in a ‘rigid’ ballroom version tango is passionate, emotional and competitive. You give yourself to the partner, they take you in, allow you to lean against their force.

Like right now, when I’m leaning against Marco’s chest, feeling his nice, strong abs. Oh, I might get hard right here – would be awkward and slightly embarrassing to walk with boner in my tight yoga pants.

Is that a granola bar in his pants, though?..

Eli! Stay focused, you horny slut!

I breathe in, then out. Right, focused. I am focused. One, two, three, four. Focused. Five, six, seven, eight. Just making my moves, keeping up with the lead and coach’s count. Just giving it all to my partner.

Although I could give more to Marco. No, I would like to give more. He’s still single, if I’m not mistaken. Oh, don’t judge me, alright? Just pretend that you’re not spying on my lewd thoughts, would you? Thanks.

“Take a break, people”, Meg again. Yeah, we’d all like a break. And we’re all waiting for the feedback – we know that it’s coming for us. Meg usually delivers it during the breaks, walks us through these little imperfections that offend her whole being. Do coaches develop that trait, or are they born perfectionists?

Coach walks around the basketball hall that our section occupies a couple times a week. Basketball guys always talk shit about us “stealing” their practice time because of that. Like they’re not the first ones trying to score “that hot dancesport babe”. Jerks.

Meg’s share of complaints is usual: wrong posture, too stiff, too soft, too fast, too slow. Or something like, “too stiff in the hips, Marco”, as she said to my partner. (Oh yes, he’s so stiff down there...)

And now it’s my turn. What’s gonna be, huh?

Eli? Good job today, keep it up”. I haven’t misheard her, am I? Did she just? Holy shit. A compliment from Meg! Today is a great day.

At least it would be, if karma wasn’t such bitch. “Why so?”, you’d ask, well..

We have a newbie in the section today.

(No, it’s not Jasmine's story. Be patient.)

It’s a girl. She’s a redhead and she’s tall. She seems even taller when she’s standing behind Meg. The redhead in question is in great shape, I’d say even athletic one. And she bears a look of dying boredom on her face.

People? Attention please”. All yours, Meg. “Let me introduce you to a new member of our team…

Peyton fucking Harper.

Oh yeah, I know her. Though it’d be hard to find a person on campus, who hasn’t heard at least once about Peyton fucking Harper. No, “fucking” is not her middle name. I just wish it was.

In fact, her real name is Karoline. Except that she insists on everyone calling her “Peyton”. Karoline is college’s athlete with ambitions and grant funding. Also, she’s the one with loud, rebellious attitudes towards gender stereotypes.

The latter one is the reason for my little beef with her: she picks at me, I prod back. That’s how it goes when we stumble upon each other on campus.

This and, oh, that one time when she tried to score me. Let’s not talk about that, shall we?

Point is – Harper is not a dancer. Shit, she’s barely a woman! This is not her place. And yes, I feel threatened by her presence because the dancesport section is ‘my turf’. I like this place free from some tomboy-ish bitches, who probably haven’t worn a dress in their entire life. C’mon: this must be a sick joke of hers.

Meg, a word, please?” I step forward and bring my coach a few steps away from Kari. Not enough for the conversation to be actually private: for that I’d had to walk Meg further away. I didn’t want to. In fact, Kari was welcomed to eavesdrop. Maybe she even should be hearing this.

Peyton? Really? I’m not saying she’s not fit enough to dance, it’s just… She’s not feminine. And she’s a nuisance. She can’t follow the lead, she can’t dance, Meg!

[NIC]Eli Monroe[/NIC][STA]fuck you, Kari[/STA][AVA]https://i.imgur.com/ZspKD4J.gif[/AVA]
[LZ1]ELIANNA MONROE, 21 y.o.
occupation: psych student, dancesport enthusiast;
lead me, Kari.[/LZ1]

Отредактировано Camelot Humphrey (2021-11-19 09:54:45)

+3

3

[NIC]Cari Harper[/NIC][SGN]


[/SGN][AVA]https://d.radikal.ru/d14/2111/1a/7490d2165bf2.jpg[/AVA][STA]Eli, ok, when![/STA][LZ1]CAROLINE PEYTON HARPER, 20 y.o.
Occupation: Athlete & student; faster, than light
Follow me, Eli
[/LZ1]

I am a natural-born fighter and athlete. I was made for this. This is my purpose, sense of life. It’s like dogs. It’s a stupid thing to have a hound just for good-looking. It should run or even hunt. I am totally not into some girlish, pink, and fancy stuff. I am not a perfect daughter. Honestly, I am an awful one. I am not a feminine one. I am not a meek, quiet and little girl. I yell a lot and act way too loud. But I am totally not into some trans stuff. I am pretty fine with my body. I just deny and decline stereotypical roles of women and men in modern society. At least for me.
I barely visit the university campus and even rarely do some homework. I don’t want to see all these dull and dumpy faces of some losers. I feel free in my life and do whatever I want whenever I want. I visit a bunch of the countries. You can call me a notorious, arrogant bitch. And you God damn fucking right! I am the one who I am. And don’t even pretend to be anyone else. Maybe I am obnoxious and not convenient, but I am honest.
I am way too independent. And I desperately jump at anything and spare no expense when it came to my liberty. I can endlessly defend myself. Also, I hate cases when the success of any activity isn’t guaranteed. That’s why I hate any teamwork. I am the sole survivor. There is no any ‘I’ in the ‘Team’ so fuck this shit. I don’t need any of it.
This time training session fucked up. We have a relay race. Couch declared this activity as ‘successful innovation’. I am a great runner. Sprint or cross, doesn’t matter. I think I even can beat a marathon. I have never tried this shit, but I am confident in myself.
The training was usual… like one of countless in my life. I heat up and had a personal program. I am in my top physical condition and it’s pretty stupid to set a wrestler or basketball player against me. But they did! We had a team of bicyclists, wrestler, and basketball player against a team of football player, swimmer, and pair of other basketball players. On paper, our team should beat all this stuff like a chicken. And we would do it! Personally, I made everything that depends on me. I ran about ten or something about it seconds faster than the opposite team’s member. And wrestler who was the second, right after me was surprised and unexpected fast for his body type. But it was pretty challenging for this guy, because of his heavy short breath. He has a quite good impact and pace, but with a lack of stamina.
After he was a black very high and athletic guy with long, skinny and thin hands and legs. He looked like a giant squid in comparison with massive quite well-built intensive wrestler. And the last was a Frenchman with muscle hips and legs. While passing of the baton basketballer and cyclist they just fell from their hands. Some fuss and vanity with a comeback to the track. And damn the most disappointed stuff is looking at all handicaps just blow away. I just facepalm and begin to boil inside my ginger head.
After they crossed the line the last I start to yell at them. How does it call on the web? Oh, toxic behavior. So anyway. I start to mock them. One because fucking basketball couldn’t teach fucking black guy to pass something to the hands of another man. The cyclist was blamed by me for not being able to handle with sticks.
Coach decided to interfere with my little but loud debriefing. Timothy Thatcher, former NCAA running and triathlon champion and, possibly, the one person on the whole campus who I accept as someone respect and authority. He quite politely asked me to calm down and did the most unexpended thing for anyone. I think, if I ask him, he convinces me that was impromptu. Possibly the worst one ever.
I run all my entire life! I am the fastest person in this motherfucking state (or even a country!) and how dare they transfer to this stupid dance club from the past century. This is fucking shame. This is ridiculous nonsense!
Dancing. The stuff when girls and boys play their roles. Just like in real life. Boys lead and girls follow. Yeah. After this point of view, I can seem like just another radical feminist activist. I even have a bright color of hair to Comply with the portrayal of new wave feminists. But fuck it! I don’t want to change the whole world. I don’t want to break the rules, because there is a lot amount of people who pretty deal with them and feel comfortable.
But I have nothing left to do and just go to this stupid dancing section. I was a little late. It’s not because of my attitude about it. I just don’t understand what I need to have. I just bring some sport bra which tied my not-so-large chest, a running trail vest with free cargo pants, and sneakers with flat sole for running inside. It’s the most suitable stuff.
I have a small talk with Megan, head of this dance crap. She just asked me to be quiet. While we talk to each other she doesn’t expect from me anything.
When I walked in I looked at Eli… that guy who pretend to be a girl. But I think this is a big fat lie. Like that one in his pants. I come to him, arrogantly disrupting his personal area, and stand right against him.
- Let me decide who I am and what I can and will do, little boy. I don’t need any of your permissions.
This is not the first time when we met each other. I tried to pick him up. I attempted to flirt with him and pushed too hard. But he is too coward and just ran away from me. I am pretty surprised that he is not going to do the same thing this time. Maybe he is finally untied his balls.

Отредактировано Mette Jepsen (2021-11-20 19:02:53)

+2

4

Sigh, okay. I don’t like to badmouth people behind their back and I planned to stay silent about that dumb incident, which Kari considers “flirting”. She brought it up herself, so let me tell you what actually happened.

See, what she calls as “pushed too hard” should, in fact, be considered as “coercion”. Because Peyton has a really screwed perspective about how “initiative” should look like. Hey, nothing personal against active, sexually opened girls! I dig that. I just really don’t like this type of situation, where a girl backs you into a corner and brags about that new strap-on she bought. Of course she then suggests that you should “give it a ride” with her. It’s especially awful when girl like that is Peyton fucking Harper – an athlete, who’s taller and stronger than you.

I have no idea how many other girls she tried to pick up like that. Can you imagine how terrifying it is, when this slab of bodily perfection is leaning over you? Or how many girls would say “yes” to Peyton simply because they’re afraid of her? Someone had to stand her up, so I did.

I mean, c’mon, what she did is outrageous, or maybe even bordering on sexual abuse. No one should behave like that! Even if they are strong and stunning, just like Kari is…

… Oh, where was I?

(No, I haven’t zoned out while staring at her amazing abs. Maybe for a second. Well, no more than four)

Looks like Peyton hasn't changed: she’s still a bitch with no regard for the concept of “personal space”. She charges towards Meg and me, stopping near us. She’s way too close than I’d like her to be. (Note to self: check whether it’s possible to get a restraining order on Peyon fucking Harper) And she’s just as outrageous as I remember her. “Little boy”, really? Never thought Kari to be a transphobic type. That’s a low bar – shouldn’t athletes be striving for bars that are actually higher?

Gee, I’m impressed that you can say such long words. Per-mi-ssion. Nice to see that athletes actually attend English classes. Oh wait! You don’t”. We share the same English class, so I know what I’m talking about: Kari was there only, like, three times this year.

It seems that you two have a history”, Meg, observant as ever. “Why don’t you work this out between yourself, huh? This isn’t a drama class”.

In other words, “I don’t like being stuck between the rock and a hard place of two arguing college girls”. Well, not that I’m blaming Meg for her desire to squash the conflict.

Nah, don’t worry – we’re done here”, I say, raising my palms, as if giving up (on Kari). “Go on, Kari, show us what you can be”.

I leave them with a smile: everybody knows how much Harper hates her first name. Besides that, I’m really down for her trying to do some tango. No, really, that’s going to be an amusing shitshow. Also, the best kind of argument: one, where the opponent proves your point by miserably failing.

A compliment from the coach and now Peyton is going to make a fool of herself. This is a good day indeed.

I was a little thirsty after that scene, so I went for my bag, to grab a bottle of water. While I was on the benches, I didn't pay much attention to the further discussion, where Meg picked up a partner for Kari. This was a dumb, maybe even a grave mistake…

Eli?” – a brunette about my height approached me. “I need a little favor from you”. That’s Virginia, or Queen V, as we know her. V is a “queen” for a reason: she’s the best dancer in the team, like, hands down. Also, she’s not the last person in the college's sorority club. Yeah, that one club, which denied my application. All six of ‘em…

Yeah?” I mean, how could I say “no” to her? It’s not even about hoping for quid pro quo with the sorority: V is really kind of a queen. Something about the way she talks and holds herself, it makes her really irresistible.

Can I borrow your Maro while this Peyton nonsense is going on?

Well, that’s not good. “For what, though?

I need a partner, silly. Nationals are pretty soon, right? And I can’t just sit on a bench while Meg uses Jim to train this athletic dyke bitch.

I’m not sure she’s 100% dyke, tho…” I replied without really thinking about it. Two seconds later it dawned on me: “Wait, Meg did what!? You’ve got to be shitting me!

I wish I did”, V sighed.

No-no-no, that’s not right. That wasn't part of the agreement. Peyton can’t take V’s partner and by proxy left me on the bench with Jasmine! Except that this is what happened while I went to get some water. In a way, I’m struck in awe: it seems that there’s no limit to how disruptive Peyton fucking Harper can be.

I grab V by her hand and drag her back to Meg, Jim and Kari.

Please, tell me, that V is joking”, I said to the coach.

I need my best man on… With Kari”. Meg almost said “on such a hard case”, which is her way of saying that some shit is hopeless. Like Kari’s dancing skills.

But what about V?

She can practice for a few days with Marco”.

And what am I supposed to do?

Well, I wanted to talk with you in private, but if you’re asking: would you mind sitting out these few days? It’s not like you’re going for nationals anyway, right?

Right”, I sigh. Of course I’m not going for the national competition. People there prefer women to have vaginas. And because I’m trans, participating in the national competition is akin to Second Coming for me. Like, “have faith and it’ll happen”, except that nope, never.

I knew I could count on you. Thanks”, Meg smiled. Hypocrite bitch. What’s the point of picking up queers into the team, if you’re going to cut them down and hide from actual competitions? And adding insult to the injury: why bother with tomboy-ish bitches and give them the best men? Because they are “actually women”, even if they deny it?

Well fine. I’ll sit this one out. It’s not like Kari is going to stick around: she’s a hopeless case and even such a strong and talented dancer like Jim won’t fix her. I think it’s all just a waste of time.

Alas, I’m not a coach, so I have no say in this. Well, to hell with that. I’ll just lie on the bench and try to enjoy the shitshow that is about to happen.
[NIC]Eli Monroe[/NIC][STA]fuck you, Kari[/STA][AVA]https://i.imgur.com/ZspKD4J.gif[/AVA]
[LZ1]ELIANNA MONROE, 21 y.o.
occupation: psych student, dancesport enthusiast;
lead me, Kari.[/LZ1]

Отредактировано Camelot Humphrey (2021-11-22 19:05:38)

+2


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