"Yes ... no ... I appreciate that, Hugh, really I do, but ..." Mataya sighed, pacing up and down the length of her apartment as her agent protested wildly on the other end of the phone. "Will you just let me get a word in edgewise here?"

"Edgewise? Mataya, you're talking about professional suicide! I refuse to let you pass up perfectly good roles just because you want to make a go of this RhyDin place. You have a successful career right here, you've been working since you were a kid -"

"Yeah, and that's exactly why I'm taking a long sabbatical," Mataya cut in impatiently. "I'm just ... tired, you know? I've been at this for more than ten years, and yeah, I'm successful, but there's just no let up, you know? I just - I need time to find myself, I need to do what I want to do, for once."

"You need a break, that's fine, do this audition for Broadway, and then we can talk about it -"

"No, Hugh." Mataya was firm, frowning down at her bare feet. "I'm taking my break now, and there's nothing you can do or say that will change my mind. I'll see you 'round, dude."

She flipped her cell closed, cutting off the insistent whine of her agent's voice, and sighed wearily, turning to lean against the back of her couch. Money, that's what it came down to. Never mind that she was tired of playing the game, she brought in money and that's why Hugh wasn't going to let up for a long time coming.

But she had told him the truth. She wanted to get out there and do something for herself for once, get back to her roots. She had talent and skill that she'd like to pass on, if that was possible, and she had a vague idea as to how to do that. Hopefully, a certain landlady would be interested.

Speaking of landlady ... Mataya pushed herself to her feet and wandered to her closet in search of shoes. The ballet class should be finishing up in a few minutes, and from what she'd observed, it would be the perfect time to catch one Riley O'Rourke before she rushed off elsewhere to do lord knew what.

Grabbing her keys, she slipped out through the front door and headed for the stairs, clattering down to the main floor of the Zen Building just as the file of little ballerinas came filing out of the Studio. Smiling at the collection of frilly pink tutus and excitable chattering, Mataya made her way to the doorway of the Studio, leaning in to knock her knuckles gently against the mirrored wall to get the attention of the teacher.

"Knock, knock?"

The wince that appeared on Mataya's face as Riley squealed and jumped was apologetic, to say the least, turning to a slightly more relaxed smile as she stepped fully into the studio, meeting Riley half-way.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she admitted wryly, slipping her hand into the taller woman's and shaking it gently. "Yeah, I'm Mataya De Luca in 2B. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

She glanced around the empty studio, smiling as the strains of classical strings came to her ears, as well as the muted chatter from outside of parents meeting their little ones after a successful lesson.

"Actually ... I think maybe there's something I can do for you." Her head tilted as an enquiring grin lit up her face. "I hear tell you might be looking for an instructor to help out with the jazz and hip-hop classes. I'm a dancer, I'm pretty capable. Just wondering if maybe you'd like to employ me?"

Her expression was just this side of pleading as she bit her lip in a nervous habit, her other hand coming up with her resume to offer it to her landlady.

Mataya laughed delightedly at this sudden direction of events. Put on the spot, she quickly dropped her bag and jacket, kicking her shoes into the same corner of the room, and moved barefoot to the centre of the studio, glancing at Riley in the mirror.

"I know you're warmed up, I was this morning, but a little more won't hurt," she grinned, settling herself into second position as the bass beat thumped rhythmically through the room.

A warm up was never the most fun thing to do, nor the most dignified in a dress, but it had to be done, and Mataya was determined to prove that she could lead a warm up as well as a dance class. Stretches that touched on every part of the body were done, to the beat and double time, and she did a few isolation warm ups as well, the type not found in ballet or classical dance classes - rib cage, wrists and ankles, and neck, for example.

All the while, she was frantically working through in her mind what she could possibly teach this obviously highly competent woman beside her. Advanced was out of the question - any professional dancer could pull an advanced routine out of the bag easily, likewise an intermediate one. So that left a basic routine to teach, with a little showing off afterward just to prove she could dance to a high standard.

As the warm up ended, she clapped her hands as though she were teaching a full class, rather than one rather amused woman, and smiled, gesturing for her imaginary students to back up. "Feeling good? Ready to prod buttock? Cool, this is what you're up for -"

And without further ado, Mataya threw herself into the basic jazz routine she had in her head, barely more than eight bars or so, but enough to show what she was capable of teaching. A slow start, a speedy middle, and an energetic end - perfect for any beginner. Admittedly, hip hop was not a style she was familiar with, nor was she going to pretend that she could teach it, but jazz and modern was definitely her thing.

"Okay," she announced with a grin, moving backwards toward the far wall and gesturing for Riley to come with her, "we're going to start with a cat walk for eight counts - just walk toward the mirror in time with the beat, remember to flick your trailing leg upwards behind you like a sexy kitten."

Little did she know she was actually talking to a cat, but even if she had, it was doubtful Mataya would have been intimidated. She snapped her fingers, counting the movement in, and repeated the first movement, a walk of four steps to eight beats, complete with sexy flicks, to end in a wide stance, watching all the while in the mirror.

"Now from here, we're going to contract and release," she explained, "so pull your stomach in, hunch over your shoulders and bend from the waist - keep your knees bent when you bring your legs together. That's a contraction; from there, we're going to release ... so relax your body and roll out all of that tension, letting your head fall back and your arms and legs loosen." Again, she demonstrated, then watched as Riley copied, exactly as she would if she was teaching a group.

"Now, this -" she flicked her right foot forward, stepped back on the ball of the same foot and stepped forward on her left "- is a flick, and a ball change. Very simple, we'll be doing a lot of it, I can promise you that. And that movement will bring us to here."

She held the position in the mirror for her imaginary class to see - her left foot stepped forward diagonally, and her torso facing the left-hand corner of the room. "Don't worry about your hands, we'll work on them in a moment. Let's put all that together so far, shall we?"

And so it went on, each movement explained, demonstrated, perfected and repeated, until she had put together a small, very basic modern jazz routine for Riley to mark her on. By which time, Mataya was sweating freely, grinning from ear to ear, and eager to do more.

With the basic routine done and dusted, performed twice to the music before it switched, Mataya shook her limbs out, waiting for the next song to burst forth from the speakers.

"You probably noticed there wasn't any hip hop in there," she told Riley with a smile, slightly out of breath but not overly so. "I was going to say it's not any area of expertise that I would be confident to teach in, but jazz and modern are definitely where I am most comfortable. I've taught before - never basic, which is what we just did, but intermediate and advanced, and, uh, this is the sort of thing we did."

For the CD player was evidently on repeat - Ray of Light reverberated around the studio once more. And this time, Mataya did not hold back. The improvised routine from here on in contained everything from barrel jumps, moonwalking, and figure 8's, to the worm, drags, stag and straddle jumps, and ended in a slide down into forward-facing splits.

Now thoroughly warmed up and her pulse racing, Mataya rose to her feet and turned to Riley, again shaking her limbs out to loosen any tension remaining.

"Well?" she asked with a grin. "Should I get my shoes and go?"