Dancing Sans Novels & Stories

I'm the daughter of a poor couple who make a living selling fish at a market. We're so broke that every penny counts. Even so, my parents scrape together everything they have to support my dream of becoming a professional dancer. They pay for my training and even spend their life savings on my scoliosis surgery without a second thought. However, when Sylvie Putnam throws me to the ground, leaving me on the verge of paralysis, and then beats me until my face is a bloody mess, Mom barely spares me a glance. Instead, she gently strokes Sylvie's head. "Good girl. You did the right thing after she upset you. Remember, never let anyone bully you." Dad even picks up a stick and strikes it again

Minx had been slow to calm, but when she had, a sheepish look had stolen across her features, and she'd exclaimed, “Bit rash, huh?” “Mm, mayhap, a teeny, tiny, bit,” I'd teased, as I'd held up my thumb and forefinger—a minute space separating the two pads. ~~ Time passed, and the alcohol flowed, and I was out on the dance floor again, dancing with a man who was drop-dead gorgeous, when suddenly he released me and my arm was grabbed from behind, and swinging me around until I was facing him, Nathan snarled, “He had his goddamn hands all over you.”

“But never mind. You’ll see soon enough.” He snapped his fingers, and the room dimmed as the tv from before flickered to life. At first, it was Alex, standing in a village I didn’t recognize. The camera zoomed over terrified faces—civilians, children, all watching as Alex spoke with a group of armed men. There were no words, just the sound of the wind, but the image was clear: Alex raised his hand, glowing with solar energy, and in the next moment, an entire burst into flames. People screamed, fleeing as the fire consumed their homes.

Clark clapped his hands, interrupting everyone's bad jokes and jokes. One two three four. There were still a few dozen left to buy the used notebook seen on sale. Yes, Sarah was counting coins and depositing them at the local bank to swipe the notebook on the card. It was essential to complete her studies, and that was something that made her very nervous. He was always made fun of and humiliated at university because of his almost always modest style. But that was better than putting up with her controlling, narcissistic parents. Fleeing from the far north of the country, Sarah survived on a commercial minimum wage from her part-time job at the cafeteria near the university, it was enough f

I didn't expect him to say that at all. "How?" My voice suddenly became small. Valentin smiled deviously and I knew immediately that I had entered a tiny pickle. "You will dance for me, my personal dancer." He said, his deep voice lingering with amusement and and bit of anticipation. "Your mate and your dancer?" I asked and scoffed shaking my head in disbelief. "It's like dancing for the devil." "Whatever you say noisemaker," Valentin chuckled deeply. His chuckle made my heart skip several beats and I almost winced in pain.

The lights go out so I get into my position, on my back and squatting. I take a deep breath to calm down. I can do this. I have seen many of these shows and I am sure that sensual dancing is very easy. Plus most of the men are drunk. When a small light illuminates Anne and me and sensual music begins to play, I knew then that it was time to act. The music was Earned it by The Weeknd (instrumental) and it was perfect for the occasion. While the music played and the lights illuminated us, we moved to the rhythm. It was the same choreography that we had rehearsed years before, but this time we had made it sensual.

I don't know if it was my soreness or my inability to understand why that made me blurt out, "Why am I doing a workout routine instead of dancing?" "What are the five elements that all forms of dance and creative movement have in common?" he answered my question with one of his own. Utterly confused I started listing: "body, action, space, time and energy." "Good. We're working on the body element first." He said, looking at me like I should've known this already. And I should've. It was after all part of my early days junior year theory. I didn't know what it was that had put me in such a horrible mood. I couldn't tell if it was my insufficient sleep, the email from my mother or the dream a

I couldn't stop trembling from the pleasure. Henry pulled out a pair of scissors and quickly cut my thong away. The cool air only made my sex feel even hotter. I stared at Henry in shock. Wasn't this too revealing? No matter what, I was still his client. How could he be so rude? Sensing my confusion, he said, "Relax. This allows better circulation, and the negative energy within your body can be released." I felt a mix of shyness and fear. Henry gently rested his hand on me to reassure me as the tingling sensation kept surging through me.

EVELESSA There’s something about dance that strips everything away. No titles. No war. No expectations. Just movement and the quiet rhythm of something that belongs only to me. I stand in the center of the rehearsal studio. Mirrors stretch across the walls. Reflecting every angle. Every flaw. Every strength. Music plays low through the speakers. My body moves before I think. Step. Turn. Breathe. Again. Faster. Sharper. Because this isn’t just practice.

He would start by watching five of us, and if he was satisfied, the rest would be considered for a future opportunity. The first name he called was mine. Of course, I hadn’t registered with my real name—I used the pseudonym Almendra. I smiled like a little girl, grinning from ear to ear, just because I’d been chosen first. Then he called four more women. We would dance in the order we were selected, so I went first. I chose a very sensual version of the song “Feeling Good” and started moving like a cat trying to catch the attention of the alpha male. I put into practice everything I’d learned in dance class and added a sensuality that had been repressed for far too long.