South Norwood Seduction

Marcus's therapist suggested dance—something about embodiment and releasing trauma. The South Norwood community center had affordable classes. Adaeze ran them like religion.

She was Nigerian-British, built for movement, thick curves that defied gravity when she danced. Watching her was like watching water flow—natural, necessary, beautiful.

"You're the stiff one," she said after his first class. "The accountant."

"That obvious?"

"Your body holds spreadsheets." She smiled. "Stay late tonight. Let me loosen them."

The studio at night was different—intimate, private, filled with the music she chose rather than the class playlist.

"Dance is conversation between body and soul," she said, guiding him through basic movements. "Right now, you're not speaking. You're mumbling."

"How do I speak clearly?"

"You let go." She pressed against his back. "Like this."

Her body guided his through movements he'd never imagined making. Her thick curves showed him how to use his hips, his shoulders, his entire self.

"Better. Now speak louder."

They danced together, and somehow the dancing became kissing, the kissing became more.

"This is conversation," she breathed. "Our bodies talking to each other."

She took him on the studio floor, surrounded by mirrors that showed them from every angle. Her thick body moved above him like the dance continued.

"Yes... feel the rhythm... let your body lead..."

She came with a dancer's grace, and he followed, his body finally speaking the language she'd been teaching.

"You'll come back," she said afterward, stretching like a cat. "Every week. We have a lot of work to do."

"On dancing?"

"On you. Dancing is just the medium." She kissed him softly. "By the time I'm done, your body will say everything you've been too scared to speak."

His South Norwood seduction had set him in motion. And Marcus discovered he'd been waiting to dance all his life.