Linda's Circus Arts Studio

"I was digging through some of my... her old crap yesterday, just trying to clean up because somebody, not naming names (cough Huntsman cough) had three months of her mail forwarded to them after she died. Like, I get mementos and stuff, but political ads and makeup catalogs are trash. But anyways, I saw that someone had sent her a generic "We're thinking of you, miss you" kind of card with puppies on it, and it was signed by a "Linda" and a whole bunch of other people, and it had a photo of her and the entire Tuesday-Thursday "Level 9 Pole" class. Huntsman had always made her seem like a lonely person, but she'd had friends, people she danced with on a regular basis and actually reached out when she vanished.
I did some research; apparently Linda, the owner, is a kind-of-famous retired acrobat, a mint-green devilkin who got hybrid procedures done to give her blue mermaid scales and glittery hair. When I stopped in to check the place out and ask about beginner classes, she seemed super sweet and friendly and welcoming and all that. The kind of person who it's hard to shut out and not be friends with.
Her studio is on a pretty busy street right on the edge of the financial district, and you can see in pretty well when you walk past because it's got giant storefront windows that let you watch the dancers as you walk by. It's about as pink as you'd expect a pole studio to be: the waiting area wall is hot pink with cheetah spots and has a whole bunch of awards and photos hanging in silver frames.
Classes don't seem too expensive. I don't know how I feel about getting back into pole, but I signed up for an intro session or two. It's hard to say no when Linda somehow makes all your fears and concerns evaporate."