The Dance Instructor

"You know Harry," Bridgette hummed, walking around the 19 year old boy in circles, "Tango isn't just a dance. Its seduction. You seduce people when you tango."
"Oh really?" Harry smirked, pulling her closer, "Well then, would you ever be honored on being my dance partner?"


| Mature Content, 13+ | Read at own risked.
Copyright 2013. Do not steal.

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1. One.

  "That's rubbish, Zayn Malik." Bridgette judged, watching as the 20 year old trip over his own legs. Zayn glared at the blonde, his eyes narrowing at her. 

 

  "Just because your a dancer, doesn't mean you can judge me, Bridgette. I'm the boss of you." Zayn glowered. 

 

  "That does give me the right to judge you," she walked in a full circle around him, lightly tapping her fingers on her thighs, ignoring the rest of the boys, "I'm your dance instructor, and I instruct you to do the moves correctly." 

 

  "Screw this, can we just take a break." Liam ordered from the other side of the room. Bridgette rolled her eyes, turning to him. 

 

  "The signs of a quitter," she commented, "Whatever. Out of my studio." 

 

  The boys were obviously relieved. Bridgette was one of the most toughest instructors, but they were definitely getting better in dancing. The 20 year old woman ran a hand through her dirty blonde locks, walking to pack her bags. 

 

  "You seemed pretty harsh on Zayn there," Harry said from behind her. Bridgette sighed, annoyed, "The tango is a tough dance." Harry defended his friend. 

 

  Bridgette turned on her heel, seeing eye to eye with the green eyed boy, "That's what I'm here for." 

 

  "Your not doing anything but beating us up." 

 

  "That's what a choreographer has to do for her students to learn." Bridgette flicked the back of his head, earning a hiss. 

 

  "Well-" 

 

  "You don't get it do you," Bridgette interrupted, "If you can't handle me picking on you, how can you handle reality. Yeah, you got here from the judges, the contestants, but this is the real word, honey. You wont make it if you can't handle a bit judgement. I'm from Broadway. And all there is, is judging, honesty, and the cold. hard. truth." by now, their noses were touching. 

 

  "No wonder your like this." Harry joked. 

 

  Bridgette grinned naughtily, thinking of an idea. "You know Harry," she hummed, walking around the 19 year old boy, "Tango isn't just a dance. Its seduction. You seduce people when you tango." 

 

  "Oh really?" Harry smirked, pulling her closer, "Well then, would you ever be honored to be my dance partner?" 

 

  "Mm, I'll take you up on that offer." Bridgette grinned a devilish grin, her back hitting her wall as she felt Harry's breaths on her lips. Her arm reached out, pressing the 'play' button on the nearby radio. The soft hum of a sultry Spanish song echoed through the walls. 

 

  "Shall we get started then?" And Harry did just that. Wrapping an arm tightly around her thin waist, he lead her to the middle of the room, their gazes connecting. Honestly, Harry didn't need lessons. He knew exactly how to dance the tango. 

 

  And when their eyes locked, it started. The rush of adrenaline crawling up their veins as they twirled together, dips, and Bridgette wrapping her unbelievable thighs around his waist as he dipped her once more for a big finish. Their lips connected at that moment, molding together. Harry moved his position, laying her on the floor, him hovering on top of her. 

 

  "You know," she panted as they pulled away, "Your pretty skilled to me." 

 

  "Let's say I had dancing lessons." Harry responded with a cheeky wink. Bridgette grinned, pulling him into her once more, continuing their little heated session. 

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