I like this, Depon. Would you care to see a bit that I wrote?

***

Mark moves his fingers along nervously as he walks around. He had not danced for years, and was starting to wonder if signing up for another ballet class was the best idea.

He shakes his head. Of course it was. He was a college student, away from home, and he didn't know many people. He had always found something alluring about dance, but was never able to put his finger on it. He resisted ballet for his high school years, but now living away from home, he decided that an open fall Adult ballet class might do him well.

He arrived at the studio. The wooden door lay open, and clutching his gym bag, he entered.

A woman, about five or six years older than him and dressed in a black longsleeved leotard with white tights smiles to him.

"Hello," she says, smiling.

"Hi..." Mark mumbles.

"Please get changed," she says, "Class will begin shortly."

The woman points to the dressing room, and, looking around, Mark only notices two other girls, both dressed in black camisole leotards with pink tights, chatting amongst themselves as they stretch.

Mark walks, shaking a little, into the dressing room. He spots a young man, about his age, wearing a pair of white tights with a creased white T-shirt. Mark doesn't say anything to him and he places his bag on the bench and rummages through.

He picks up a pair of gray sweatpants and a black turtleneck. He slips out of his jeans and sweater, placing the "dancewear" on his body.

"Uh uh!" says a voice behind him. Mark turns and notices that the boy has stood up, and is now examining him.

"Those won't do at all," he says, smirking.

"I don't have anything else," Mark answers, lowering his head. The boy's smug expression changes as he moves over to his own dance bag.

"Here we go!" says the boy, pulling out a pair of thick pink tights from his bag. Mark's eyes widen.

"Pink?" he asks apprehensively.

"Relax," says the other dancer, "It's an open class. Nobody cares what you wear, as long as it helps you move. And trust me, these will work wonders."

Mark nods reluctantly, grasping the tights in his clammy hands. He walks away for a moment, slipping into the skintight material. It clings to his body perfectly.

Mark turns, and the boy smiles to him.

"That's better," he says, pausing. "My name's Seth, by the way."

"Mark..."

There is a slight pause, and suddenly, Mark smirks.

"That shirt..." laughs Mark, pointing at Seth.

Seth smirks too. "You got a better idea?"

Mark reaches into his gym bag, pulling out a gray turtleneck. "Put this on." he says. "It'll work better."

Seth slips off his t-shirt and squirms into the turtleneck.

"Perfect," Seth says. "You wanna get to class?"

"Yeah," says Mark, heading out. He steps out of the dressing room proudly. Expecting a snicker from the other girls but getting nothing, Mark assumes his place at the barre.

"Now," says the teacher, "Let's begin with some stretching."

Mark, trying to remember his past training, clutches the barre and stretches his back leg out. He shakes a bit, and hears approaching footsteps next to him.

***

Well, what do you think? Keep up the good work, Depon.