I guess I had seen pictures somewhere of men dressed as French maids,but as cheerleaders?Somehow being dressed as a cheerleader carrying pompoms seeme... even morefeminine than being dressed as a French maid. This was despite the factthat I was now wearing trainers instead of stilettoes.At the end of the night Kate called out "Girls!" and I found myselfresponding as if I was one of the girls."Tonight has been a good night. We have a new dancer. For those whohave yet to meet her, this is. I have a huge crush on her and she is so damn hot. She is an emo type with black and white hair, medium size boobs and a perfect ass! The other day between classes I asked Ann if she wanted to step out for a smoke. Sure she said and we started walking down the street to my car. It is a sick Honda tuner and is very fast. I couldn't take mt eyes off her. Her legs were covered in fishnets with holes all over them. She had on a black vinyl skirt and a little black tank top. Damn she is hot I. ” Then she left, closing the bedroom door behind her.I yawned, cleaned myself up and even brushed my teeth, then put on the pajamas – they felt odd against my skin, but I was used to my Jockey boxers. I’d thank them in the morning, but right now the pillows were calling out for my head.It’s a funny thing about sleeping in a different bed – your dreams can get awfully strange. Somewhere in the middle of the night I was convinced I was relaxing in a hot tub, with the warm water roiling thickly. She was so talented, she had her own picture exhibition at just fourteen years of age. Right now however, she was modeling in the nude and she looked miserable. It made my blood boil with rage.I'd spoken to her a few time as we lived on the same block and sometimes went home together. Franka was fourteen, but she definitely didn't look it. She was badly behind the curve in body development. It was clear that she didn't need to shave her nether region – she didn't even have any hair to shave off.