Dance To The Distortion Novels & Stories

I'm about to tell Dimitri to check his own drink, but he's already slugged it back in a gulp. The lights lower again, and the DJ introduces Roxy Rotten. Roxy performs her striptease in zombie makeup, under black lights that give the illusion that she loses several limbs over the course of her routine. Then, finally, her head seems to fall off. The lights go up again and Roxy stands center-stage, miraculously whole again, and displaying her lovely green-painted figure to the crowd. "Should we go?" I say to Dimitri. It's getting wild here.

Music thundered through my bones, drowning thought, and that was what I needed, to be drowned. I slid onto a barstool and whispered hoarsely, “Vodka. Strong.” The glass came. I downed it. Another. And another. The burn dulled the betrayal lodged in my chest. By the fourth, the edges of my pain blurred, replaced by dizziness that almost felt like freedom. I left the stool and threw myself into the crowd. My body swayed, my arms flung loosely, hair sticking to my damp face. I danced until I forgot the Dawsons’ words. I danced until I forgot Draven’s cruel eyes. I danced until I wasn’t me anymore.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s go have fun.” ‘Only if for a night.’ The night unfolded into hazy flashes of light and neon, each beat of the music vibrating deep inside Jackie’s chest, and the strobing lights feeling as if they were dancing along her skin, encouraging her to move. Jackie slammed back a few shots and glided her way to the center of the dance floor. Beneath the pulsating lights, the music began to consume her. The beat vibrated through her body, grounding her inner chaos. Her arms swayed, fingertips reaching for something just beyond her grasp. The rhythm of the crowd, the bass that thudded in her chest, the hypnotizing lights, they all wrapped around her, urging her to let g

A gesture too gentlemanly for someone who kissed like sin. Inside, the place was alive with music thundering, bodies moving, lights slicing through the dark. For once, I wanted to drown in it. To forget Raymond existed. To forget I’d ever cared. I wasn’t going to cry for him. I’d rather drown in tequila and bass vibrations. Before I knew it, the stranger’s hand was on my waist, guiding me to the center of the dance floor. The air was thick with heat and sweat and rhythm. He was too damn smooth, and dangerously irresistible. His hand slid behind my waist as the crowd swallowed us whole, and just like that, we melted into the pulse of the music.

Henry gently rested his hand on me to reassure me as the tingling sensation kept surging through me. In a split second, Henry reached for a large toy. It was almost as thick as my thigh. As I looked at it, fear crept up my spine. Seeing that he was about to push it in, I quickly pressed my legs together to stop him. But Henry seemed almost possessed. He forcefully pushed my legs apart and tried to shove the toy into my sex. I struggled hard, refusing to give in.

He continued, "Claire, I only agreed to the engagement because I didn't have anyone I liked at the time. That's why I got engaged to you for the sake of my family. But this is the first time I've truly wanted to fight for something. I hope you can understand." He didn't even glance at me. His eyes were fixed on the dancer the whole time. I clicked my tongue, exasperated by his stupidity. The dancer, Lila Hart, had a veil over her eyes. Her lips trembled slightly as she said, "Mr. Anthony, thank you for your affection, but our social standing is too different. Your family won't approve, and neither will your fiancee." Although her words made it sound like she was refusing him, they carried an

The bass beneath my feet thumped louder than before, or maybe that was my heart. The chatters became increasingly louder as well. And my whole body was vibrating with a new kind of energy. The lights smeared colors across my vision. Violet, gold, then blue, like the whole room was underwater. Laughter and shouts blurred into the music. A third sip, and suddenly… I didn’t care who was watching. I let the music overcome me, as Marcus led me up. My hands were raised, my body swinging to the side, dancing to the music. I could smell the air, thick with smoke and sweat, but the moment the song "Despacito" came on, the energy in the club changed.

She clung to the wall while the boss stood up from the bed majestically, his eyes dainted at Elena who was already in tears. The boss tapped on his phone, and suddenly, hip hop music began to fill the room. Elena’s eyes widened in surprise as she tried to comprehend what was happening. “Dance, Puppy, Dance,” the boss smirked, a command laced with authority. “Dance?” Elena whispered, her hands still instinctively clasped around herself, taken aback by the unexpected demand. “Yes. You embarrassed me by refusing to dance with me at the club. Now, you’ll dance until your legs can't carry you anymore,” the boss declared, stepping closer to Elena. She recoiled against the wall, as if attempting to

Avila wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand as she slid down the stripper pole for the fifth time that night. It was exhausting! The club was packed, and she could feel the eyes of the customers on her as she danced to the beat of the music. She tried to ignore the lewd comments and catcalls, focusing instead on the money that was being thrown at her feet. It was the only thing that made the job bearable and worth it. It was the only thing still pushing her to grind and rock her body on the tall pole - the money.