Disclaimer: Whatever sugars your cookies love. They're not mine.
A/N: Well hello hello! Nice to "see" you all again. Maybe I should say nice to "write" you all again. Thanks for the reviews y'all left, and for those who left their "characters" for me. I'll do my best to accommodate as many of you as I see fit, though it'll be some time before we meet the other competitors. Those who won't be in the competition, I might still use your ideas- maybe other couples that Greg and Sara meet at the dance lessons or something, sound good? Anyways, glad you all liked it, and now onto the chapter!
Dancing With the Law
Chapter Two: In Which Feet and Pride are Bruised
"Dance is bigger than the physical body. ...When you extend your arm, it doesn't stop at the end of your fingers, because you're dancing bigger than that; you're dancing spirit." Judith Jamison.
"Goody, you're here," Greg gave a sigh of relief as he saw Sara walk up to where he was sitting outside the small, hole-in-the-wall, dance studio.
"Worried?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Well, a little," he admitted, opening the door for her. "I was afraid you'd changed your mind."
"Greg, I may not be thrilled about this, but I wouldn't do that to you."
"I know, sorry," he gave her a sheepish grin.
"Hi, can I help you?" A perky blonde greeted them as they walked up to the desk.
"We're here for our four o'clock lesson with Madame Parajanov," Sara answered.
"Oh how lucky you are!" the blonde sighed. "She's the best! And she's expecting you. Just go on in to the main room there."
"Thanks," they chimed, and walked into the room.
"Miss Sara Sidle," a tall, gray-haired woman with a Russian accent greeted them. Dressed in a loose, flowing, black skirt and red leotard, she exuded grace and poise in every move she made, from her feet to her fingertips. Her carriage was also obviously that of a dancer's; the chin parallel to the floor, head held high, shoulders back, and her back straight, even though she walked with the help of an elegant ebony cane. "I would remember that horrid walk anywhere."
"Madame Esfir Parajanov," Sara gave a half smile as the woman began to slowly walk around them.
"Tsk," her tone was disapproving. "You have forgotten my teachings. Well, we shall have to remedy that. Who is your young man?"
"I'm a co-worker and friend. Greg Sanders," Greg held his hand out.
"Stand up straight," she smacked his hand with the end of her cane. "Both of you. Heads high and shoulders back. Be proud, though you have no reason yet to be. You will once I'm done with you though. Feet together, and stand up straight."
"This doesn't feel right," Greg muttered.
"Quiet," Esfir barked, jabbing his back with her cane to get him to straighten up. "And it won't feel right because you have the posture of a sloth. Any time you have nothing to do, stand and hold this position for a count of ten. The trick is to make it feel natural. And you, young man, will address me as Madame, or Madame Parajanov."
"Yes Madame," Sara fought a grin at the look on Greg's face. She remembered this much from her lessons when she was sixteen.
"And you…com with me," Esfir turned and headed to a door in the side of the room. "You can not dance in that, as you should have remembered from your ballet days."
"I didn't have time to go buy anything," Sara replied, doing her best to keep her irritation out of her voice.
"Well go put this on."
"Yes Madame," Sara sighed, reluctantly heading for the bathroom Esfir pointed out across the room.
"Now, what dance shall we start with?" Esfir mused aloud, walking around Greg. "Take a step forward, then bring your foot back to your other one. Several times please Mr. Sanders."
Greg did so, wondering what exactly she was looking for.
"Hmm. Now, stomp lightly in place please."
Greg once again did as she instructed, hoping Sara would get back soon. This woman reminded him of his grandmother; a very formidable woman.
"Hmm," was once again her only acknowledgement. "Now, if you please, take a walk up and down the length of the room."
Greg walked down to the other end of the room, just as Sara came out of the bathroom. She was wearing a blue halter-top paired with a wrap-around knee-length black skirt, her feet bare.
"Perfect timing Miss Sidle," Esfir clapped her hands briskly. "Take his hand and walk towards me please."
"Why are we doing this?" Greg asked Sara quietly as he awkwardly took her hand and walked her towards Madame Parajanov.
"So that I can see which dance you will be best suited for in regards to your freestyle dance," Esfir answered, her ears picking up on his question. "You will have to compete in the rumba for the technical part of the competition, as will all the other couples, but the freestyle artistic is up to you. And of course there will be the cha cha for fun, where all teams are out on the floor at the same time. Hmm…Yes, I think that will do quite nicely."
"Which one are we going to start with?" Sara asked.
"I think the waltz," she answered. "You both have horrible presence. The waltz is the most difficult, and thus once you conquer it, you will have the grace and poise needed to the do the other with ease. Besides, you both have the look of elegance for a waltz, or you will once I'm done with you."
"Yes Madame Parajanov," they said simultaneously, sharing a small smile.
"Now, listen to the rhythm of the music," she called, turning on a small stereo system, classical music filling the room. "Notice the distinct 3/4 rhythm. This is the primary way to identify a waltz. If you hear this, your mind should begin to automatically isolate the beat by counting the music off as boom-tick-tick...boom-tick-tick-and lean, which will bring you into the actual dance pattern. However, for now, let's start you off learning to hold one another, shall we?"
Greg and Sara just nodded, turning to face one another, and waited for her instructions.
"Wonderful, you're close in height," she looked them over critically. Greg stood about two inches taller than Sara's five foot eight. "Now, for the basic closed position. Mr. Sanders, you should place your right hand slightly beneath her left shoulder blade, your fingers together, and your hand slightly cupped. Make sure to keep your right arm held at a 90 degree angle to your body."
As Madame Parajanov explained this, she pushed them closer to each other, positioning their limbs and bodies to her satisfaction.
"Now, your left arm should be raised so that Miss Sidle's hand can rest lightly in it…lightly Miss Sidle! You do not want to be stiff or tense!" She used her cane head to rap Sara's hand. "And your arms should be held at just below your eye level. Now Miss Sidle, you in turn should rest your left hand on his arm, near his shoulder."
"Ha, if only I could tell the guys I got to hold you in my arms," Greg whispered with a laugh.
"Well you can," Sara retorted. "But if it's any consolation, they'll see you holding me at the competition."
"If only you two make it that far," Esfir interrupted. "Which of course you will, under my tutelage, and with plenty of extra practice outside of class. Now, Miss Sidle, you need to position your body so your right breast is across from his right breast, and you're looking over his right shoulder. Do you know why this is so important?"
"No."
"Well take a few steps standing toe to toe," she directed, then smirked as Sara promptly stepped on Greg's toes. "Now do you see why?"
"Because as we walk, she would step on my feet if we were toe to toe," Greg answered, moving back so they were boob to boob.
"Precisely! This way, as you walk, your feet will step next to one another, and not on top," she smiled slightly. "Keep your shoulder, wrist, and elbow firm- no spaghetti arms! If your arms are limp, then the body is limp, and if the body is limp, it won't be able to sense which direction is should be moving, thus delaying the response time!"
"Well we wouldn't want that," Greg whispered sarcastically.
"Now, what is this step called again?" Esfir tapped each of them on the chin with her cane, causing them to raise their heads back up so they were parallel to the ground.
"Closed position," Sara answered.
"Good, and don't forget it," she nodded, satisfied. "And for your first step. The box step. Now, this step is the basic step for many steps, so you'll need to remember it."
She directed them through the six steps that made up a complete box step. And then putting on music, made them continue doing it for the two hours remaining in the lesson. Of course, she would stop them every few minutes to correct posture, or hand position, or just basic carriage. By the end of the lesson, Sara and Greg were feeling completely drained and nursing bruises from where her cane had hit and poked in a reminder to fix their carriage. She had also given them homework; to practice their posture, and to begin to think of some music choices for the waltz.
"I told you it was worse than pulling a triple," Sara smirked at the look of utter exhaustion on Greg's face.
"I feel like I've just run a gauntlet," he moaned, falling into a booth at the diner next to the studio. They had decided to grab a cup of coffee before heading in to work to get the evidence results on their floater.
"Well, if it's any consolation, after a week or two, you'll start to adjust to her strict methods," Sara patted his hand. "Just down a couple cups of coffee and eat a good meal later, and that'll help. We've got work in an hour, don't forget."
"I wish!"
"Yeah well, don't stress about it. We'll just finish up the case, and hope for no new ones."
"I know, and I wouldn't care usually if we did. You're a good teacher, and I like working with you," Greg complimented, stirring some cream into the coffee the waitress brought over. "It's just this dancing thing took a lot out of me- and we hardly did anything! I mean, all I did was learn how to stand and hold you."
"And that's half the battle," Sara pointed out. "Madame Parajanov once told me something in ballet that I've never quite been able to forget. Dancing is the most challenging sport you could ever hope to learn in the sense you have to forget everything you've ever learned in regards to standing, walking, and moving. Dancing involves relearning all of that musically."
"Yeah, I can definitely see how that's true," Greg rubbed a hand over his stiff shoulder. "I never though standing could be so painful."
"Well, like I said before, you'll start to adjust. But take her advice; anytime you're not doing anything, just get into position and hold it for a count of ten. I had to do the same thing in ballet to help my feet and legs adjust to some of the positions. It helps."
"Yeah yeah, I know the old adage- practice makes perfect," Greg nodded, finishing up his cup of coffee, motioning to the waitress for a refill.
"Exactly, which is why before shift tomorrow we're gonna meet up at the gym near my house. They've got a couple of rooms where they hold aerobics class. You know, with the hardwood floors, and a mirror on one wall? Well, there's always at least one without a class in it, and though other people use it for various things, we can use it too to practice."
"You're kidding me," Greg stared at her incredulously, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth.
"No, I'm not. Hey, you asked for my help, you're getting it," she reminded him pointedly. "I'm extremely competitive, so I'm determined to give this all I've got. Besides, it'll help you get used to using your muscles a new way a lot quicker than just three times a week. And don't worry, I won't make you practice weekends."
"Fine, I'll do it," he agreed reluctantly, really cursing Ecklie out in his mind. "I guess this means I'll have to get a gym membership?"
"Nah," Sara shook her head. "The owner's an old friend from Harvard, so she lets me use it for free. When I tell her what we're going to be practicing for, I'm sure you'll be able to also."
"All right. Man, I wish I had known what I'd be getting into when I was begging you to be my partner," Greg sighed, throwing a five down on the table, paying for both of them. Coffee was 1.50$ with free refills, and a two dollar tip for the waitress.
"You know you'd still ask me anyways," Sara elbowed him lightly as they got up.
"Yeah, but at least I wouldn't feel so blindsided."
"Well now you know. Besides, it'll be fun. Really. I mean, yeah, it's going to be hard work, but in the end, it's all going to be worth it. Just keep thinking of the women and children this is going to help."
"I am. That's the only reason I haven't gone to Ecklie and cursed him out for tricking me into doing it."
"Well don't do that, you'll end up fired," Sara laughed.
"I know, and besides, I've also got ulterior motives."
"And what might those be?"
"Seeing you in the skimpy dance costumes," he waggled his eyebrows, darting out of the way of her hand.
"Very funny," Sara sneered slightly.
"No, very sexy! At least I hope so…Ow!" Greg wasn't quick enough to dodge her fist a second time. "Hey, I know I'm hot, but hands off. I'm already bruised enough as it is thanks to that demon."
"If you think she's bad, just wait till tomorrow," Sara called teasingly as she climbed into her car.
"You're joking, right!" Greg called after her, though she was already driving off. Talking to himself he said, "She is joking, isn't she?"
OooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooO
A/N: Okay that's it for chapter two. Lots of fun conversing between the two, and the first dance lesson. Madame Parajanov is modeled after a dance instructor I once had the honor of working with for a short time. Except she only used the cane to tap us lightly- never with any force. But I thought it'd be funny for Greg to get beaten up lol. I'm so mean. Ooh, a quick poll for anyone who wants to answer. Greg and Sara will be dancing a technical dance same as all the other couples, as well as a freestyle. Should there be a third dance that all the couples perform at the same time on the floor, just for kicks? If so, leave your idea of which dance you think it should be. Thanks, and hope you enjoyed it!