Ed Edd Eddy Dance Novels & Stories

Especially when the drink was in an open container, but Eddie didn’t qualify as a stranger, did he? Eddie was staring at me expectantly, so I took a long sip. He was right. It didn’t taste terrible. “How about we dance now?” he asked after I finished my drink. I was nervous again. I wasn’t a very good dancer, and I didn’t feel like making a fool of myself tonight. “I don’t know about that…” I said and giggled. “Oh, come on, Marina. We are already here, so let’s have a good time,” he said.

After a while, seeing that I didn’t lower my gaze like the rest of the candidates had, he smiled and moved on to look at the others. When he finished looking at us, he introduced himself as Eduardo. Just that—no last name, no nickname. He added that he was the owner of a chain of cabarets and casinos. He said he only needed five new dancers, so not all of us would get to perform that night. He would start by watching five of us, and if he was satisfied, the rest would be considered for a future opportunity.

The next thing she heard was the mic man's voice, and then after some minutes, he showed up on the stage and welcomed everybody. As he was talking, Eduardo tapped her and said, "Cindy, I'll be right back." Say that, he walked away from her and after five minutes he left, the show started. "Wow," Cindy uttered seeing how the guys were dancing just like those dancers in Bollywood movies. Eduardo has once seen her enjoying Bollywood actors dancing in a movie while she was still in Dean's house. But she didn't know that one of those guys that covered their faces was Eduardo. The entrance they followed was for the workers and the owner of the show business centre.

When I look at the owner, I saw a man who looked unfamiliar at all, whose looking at me without any emotion. "Care to have a dance with me?" He asked. His voice is deep, yet it sounds gentle in my ears. I just cannot believe why he's offering me a hand, not minding how I awfully looked right now since I am crying hard. I don't even know if he know my name or me at all. "Let's dance away your heavy feeling," He said before holding my hand and put it above his shoulders, then he guided me towards the center, and we slowly danced together with the soft music.

But wait don't you think this needs a dance yeah i think so. I played " No more sad song by Little Mix" and i kept dancing yeah apart from food the thing i love most in this world is dancing sometimes i do go for competitions done in the streets and i always come as the winner well you know what my mum knows about my obesity with music and dancing but she doesn't know i go for competitions why because she hates it she doesn't want me to go to music line. She get furious anytime she sees me doing it but i don't care why because I am me. I danced for like two hours but i kept feeling I am forgetting something i wonder what that is. Oh my God my job! its past an hour already what am I gonna do

Mrs Eze, the oldest, was fanning herself with a silk handkerchief that probably cost more than Zara's rent. "Sorry," Zara said, the smile snapping back into place like a mask she had worn so long it had become her face. "I was thinking about choreography. Shall we try again?" They tried again. The waltz was simple, elegant, safe. Three steps forward, three steps back. A box. A cage with music. Zara had spent five years teaching wealthy widows how to move inside boxes because it was easier than explaining why she could not leave her own. The music swelled, a tinny recording of Strauss from a speaker that had seen better decades. She counted under her breath—one two three, one two three—and gu

I mimicked pulling off my clothes. Beside him, the rest of them started catcalling and cheering. “Sexy?” I shook my head and proceeded to mimic twirling around a pole. “Pole dancing?” Another head shake and I bit my lips trying hard not to laugh. I mimicked adjusting my boobs and counting cash. The hooting and cheering got louder. “Stripper?!” I continued strutting as I shook my head. “Thirty seconds remaining,” Eddie reminded, his voice shaking as he tried not to laugh.

the dancer whimpered, scrambling to her feet, her body still trembling from their touches. “Get lost,” Eddy snapped, her brows knitting tight. The dancer fled backstage, her silhouette vanishing behind the velvet curtain. Eddy’s gaze swept the stage, landing briefly on Nero, who stood alone, his broad frame a still shadow amid the chaos. She dismissed him with a flick of her eyes and zeroed in on Natasha, who swayed under the neon glow, her movements mechanical. “Natasha, come here,” Eddy called, her voice sharp but controlled.

“Having fun, baby doll?” “Yes.” She grinned at him, “Don’t you want to dance with me?” Edgar shook his head, “I can’t dance, baby doll. Daddy’s got… I mean…” He frowned at the slight change in her eyes. “Sorry, babe, I forgot you don’t like that nickname. I can’t dance and I would hate to step all over your tiny feet with my big cowboy boots.” Milli looked at him adoringly, “You’re so good to me.”

The ball just officially began. “Hey…Natalia?” I turn around to see Eddie staring at me nervously. He licks his dry, cracked lips and finally after a few seconds asks hoarsely, “maybe, maybe you want to dance with me?” I almost roll my eyes at him. “No. Not really. And that’s a clear no.” “Oh come on! I’m sorry, ok? I shouldn’t treat you that way when we first met. But we can still go out there now and dance as a sign of protest. How does that sound?”