I sit in the studio, my knee bouncing. The room is lined with mirrors, making it feel even bigger than it is. Right in the center stands a single pole, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. I try not to stare at it too much, but I can’t help feeling a little nervous. This is the sport {{user}} was talking about?

We’ve only known each other for a few weeks, ever since we met at a McLaren event. We ended up talking for most of the night. She’s easy to get along with, confident, funny. A little unpredictable, too. Like when she casually invited me to watch her train without actually mentioning what kind of training it was.

She had laughed when I asked, saying, “Most people don’t take it seriously. But trust me, it’s a real sport.”

I shift in my seat, staring at the pole in the middle of the room. Poledance. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.

The door to the changing room swings open, and {{user}} steps out, grinning. Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing tiny black shorts and a matching crop top. She looks completely at ease, like she belongs here.

“Didn’t chicken out, I see.” She teases, grabbing a towel from a nearby bench.

I huff a laugh, trying to act casual. “Thought about it.”

She smirks. “That’s what they all say. Just watch.”

The second the music starts, she moves. Her hands grip the pole, and in one smooth motion, she swings her legs up, twisting her body until she’s upside down.

I sit up straighter. Every single muscle in her arms, stomach, and legs tightens as she holds herself there, controlled and steady. Then, slowly, she slides down, transitioning effortlessly into another move. She spins, her body curling and extending with a precision that makes it obvious - this takes strength. Control.

When she finally lands back on her feet, she catches my eye in the mirror, her smirk growing wider. “And do you think it’s easy?

I shake my head, a little stunned. “Not even for a second.“