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The bare feet did not help. He did the only thing he could do: Move away from the door, and take a seat in the waiting area. As soon as he sat down, he felt how utterly different girls were, down there. Up until then, most of his attention had been focused on those damned annoying breasts(!). But it was below the waist that was really, and truly non-male: Alien! (In his case, literally). Starting with that wide, bowl shaped pelvis, and, of course, those jutting hips that made the legs go-- "What are you?! A paleontologist!? Why are you thinking about bone structure ?!" he told himself, trying to bring some sense back into his messed up life. "What about this bubble butt and these thick thighs that plump out just by sitting! What about the--" He was getting the attention of the secretaries (mostly women), and four students (all guys). Again he pulled at the hem. "How do girls sit in these?" he muttered, the answer having gone missing at the moment. "It's you!!" a girl yelled. "You!!". "Is this meant to be some sort of exercise in long-distance romance?" We need to make use of the entire stage," Karpathian, who seemed to be a glutton for punishment, piped up. "It's a vista I'm trying to present. One who is merely a musician"—he seemed to inject a good deal of scorn into the word—"might miss that concept."Oliver looked over his shoulder at Lawrence. "One who is merely a member of the audience might miss it as well, and instead consider it a pretty asshole way for two lovers to behave," he snapped. "And I seem to recall asking you to shut your face. Please do so."He turned back to the stage. "Keep close to each other. If one of you walks to one side the other follows. Use the whole stage by all means, but use it together. We're trying to demonstrate the throes of a passionate relationship, darlings, not whether your voices will carry adequately across a vista. Now, pick it up again from..."It went on that way for the rest of the day. Oliver seemed to have an uncanny.
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