Dance Sans Novels & Stories

His eyes sparkled with mischief, and that familiar smirk was just as charming as I remembered. “Damon,” I breathed, a mix of surprise and nostalgia washing over me. “It’s been...what? Seventeen years?” “Something like that,” he replied, leaning casually against the table. “You look amazing, by the way. That dress? It’s definitely a showstopper.” I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Flattery will get you nowhere, you know.” “Still showing off that strong side i see,” he teased, making my heart flutter.“But I’ve always had a weakness for strong women.”

"Get me another shirt… the gray one." With practiced ease, he stripped off the white shirt he had just put on and raised his hand toward me, waiting, as he always did, for me to hand him the freshly pressed one. The phone screen still glowed. I caught sight of Janine’s message: "Mr. Quinn, tonight’s event requires a gray suit." The professional tone was undercut by a playful cat emoji that followed right after. "What are you staring at? Where’s the shirt?" When I didn’t respond, irritation hardened his features.

The man paused briefly, then nodded and smiled, saying, “Yes, You’re right. My name is Cassian Blackwood.” I shook hands with him, “Hello, I’m Seraphina Vance. I accompanied my sister to study fine arts here for two years, but it’s been so long since I’ve painted.” I laughed at myself, “I’ve probably almost forgotten everything.” Cassian just held up a hand slightly, as if to say no.‌

I have to keep this distance. The dance between Fuschia and Dylan began under the moonlight whose color resembles the golden color of Dylan's eyes. Actually, it can't be called a dance because Dylan only swings his body front and back, or right and left using his sword steps. But still, it was a beautiful thing that she allowed to intoxicate her. The faint sound of music playing from inside the hall washed away the two of them. Dylan drew Fuschia's waist closer to him, and he whispered in her ear. “I know nothing about etiquette, so if you want to dance, tell me. Don't tell other men or…”

That was better than sitting here knowing the man was twenty yards away and probably still smiling like someone who had already read the ending. I stood. If Zach wanted to watch, he could watch. I liked dancing because no one asked you for answers when the music was too loud. No spreadsheets. No vendor questions. No small child asking whether marrying a pancake had legal implications. No blue-eyed man paying attention to my coffee order, how many seconds I stopped writing, or how much water I drank after cake. Just music. >>> Ivy danced like a surgeon who had already used up every ounce of patience at the hospital and had no professional reputation left to protect. Dianna was worse. She drag

So I hear her voice behind the wall before she entries. Suddenly, the lights explode in front of me, giving me a glimpse of the woman who suddenly appears on the other side of the glass. Mitchell... it really is her. I just can't see her face because she's wearing a pink mask. She's dressed in a different outfit to the one I see her wearing every day. Different from her navy blue suit. She's wearing a dark leather vest. A skirt that comes down to her knees and black tights that cover them. A pink gala mask covers his face and all I can see are his beautiful lips, thin nose and brown hair. Holding a pole dance pole, she begins her elegant performance. Daisy, as she is called here, wraps hers

This feeling was not routine for me, but that city made me apprehensive. But I decided to put that feeling aside, I needed to focus on my dance. Everything would be fine. I walked in circles, taking long strides, kicking the hem of my skirt so that it fluttered, giving a glimpse of my bare feet and calves. I gently shook the tambourine to catch the attention of everyone present. I allowed myself to be enveloped by the melody, swaying my hips to the engaging rhythm as I raised the small instrument above my head, occasionally kicking it high in the air, exposing my legs to the delight of the men present, and the scandal of the women.

Declan added. “Okay, what type of dances should I know?” “Ballroom and the instructor will teach you how to do a unique Afrikaans dance, the Sokkie.” He replied and excused himself, then left for work. “Do you know how to dance, Aaron?” Sienna asked. “I am fairly decent.” The investigator shrugged. “I love dancing, but I’m probably going to screw up and embarrass myself.” “You’ll be fine. The worst that can happen is that you trip and fall.” Aaron laughed, which made Sienna glare at him. The dance instructor arrived soon after breakfast, and Sienna changed into an athletic outfit.

All other dancers who were well trained in Bollywood style dance were already performing 4 to 5 dances at least. Namrata Di requested me to replace Archana in the couple dance because I was the only one who was going to perform only two Bollywood style dance last day and according to the schedule both my dances were in the first hour of our slot. So, I would get a lot of time before couple dance performance and another reason for choosing me was I loved belly dance though I was not as good as Archana or Namarata Di in that style but still I improved a lot because I was learning belly dance since I joined the dance troupe.

I was struck by the reality that these weren’t ballet dancers at all. Judging by their clothes these dancers practiced all different styles: hip-hop, tango, tap, flamenco… In short, Black Moon wasn’t a pack that revered ballet. They didn’t even have their own theater which must have been why they had ventured into the center of Blue Moon territory. I sighed at the scene in front of me then turned my back to the group to whisper in Nadia’s ear.