Hell Is A Dance Floor Novels & Stories

“Now the celebrant would opened up the dancing floor, thus the DJ would play for us, and the celebrant would picked up any lady to dance with.” Every person all clapped their hands as music from Wiz Khalifa began to play, some whom are addicted to dancing were already on their feet shaking to the rhythm of the beat, and before the next seconds, everybody all stand up dancing, because the track from Wiz Khalifa was a party type. Meanwhile everybody was going crazy from dancing and shaking to the beat, Lucy alone didn't stand up nor moved to the beat.

Anger flares inside of my body and i quickly stand. "I'm going to dance too." I divert my eyes from Brandon and walk away without waiting for anyone else to speak. Well. Fuck him. And fuck her. And fuck whatever they have. I'm not letting anyone make me feel like shit and ruin my night. No way. I find myself in the middle of the dance floor while Or Nah by Ty Dollar sign ft The Weeknd starts playing in the club. The dirty lyrics wrap all around me. I sway and grind against air, sweat beads on my nape and my skin tingles. Perfect, everything is perfect. Except the fact that i want to be touched, everywhere, by someone so close yet far away.

It just all in our head messing it up, it's useless to hate a masterpiece just because of some asshole who betrayed me. What to do our humans are like that, always waiting to blame something over someone. I click on the play button while increasing the volume all the while stepping down the stairs cautiously. Whispers in the background, behind closed doors I got myself in a mess and without you, I'm in more Oh, I'm a little drunk now, that's why I went to war Oh, yeah, you are my sober when I'm on the floor Can't see when I'm fallin', losing myself

"Shall we dance?" I reluctantly took his hand and let him lead me to the dance floor. I still hated being touched. Mostly. Okay, Clive holding my hand, and it didn't bother me at all. Actually, it doesn't matter. The thing is, I could handle it. Intimidating, not intimidated. Dark, atmospheric music had a powerful bass that invigorated the horde. Bodies bounced and darted across the dance floor. Hollis ignored the crowd around us, pulled me into a tight hug, and then started the salsa. Mouth dry, I followed suit, taking him turn after turn.

The room, with its opulent décor, seemed to shimmer with the anticipation of a dance that defied expectations. She struggled to free herself from his grasp, but he held on, determined to convince her. Laughter and music intertwined, filling the air with a festive vibe. The dance floor beckoned, a space where stories unfolded in the rhythm of shared steps. When her attempts to escape proved futile, Eleanor decided to employ a different tactic. She feigned pain, her eyes narrowing as she bent down to clutch her foot. The room, with its subtle lighting and swirling patterns on the dance floor, bore witness to this orchestrated drama.

She let the music wash over her, moving her body to the rhythm, trying to forget the weight of the world for just a little while. As the night wore on, Abeni found herself growing more and more reckless. She danced on tables, sang along to songs at the top of her lungs, and even flirted with a few of the club's patrons. It felt good to let loose, to forget about the past and all the problems that came with it.

“I’ll call you later.” I hurried home for a quick shower and change, then picked up Jean-Jacques. The service had already begun when we arrived, and we ducked into the social hall and made sure that the decorations were going up, and that the caterer was preparing. We reconfirmed with Flo Rida’s people, as well as the dancers and the guy delivering the wooden dance floor. The DJ, a local rapper/graffiti artist named Kool Kelly, set up in the corner. “Sorry, dude, I forgot my CD of Jewish music,” he said, his headphones around his neck and his jeans hanging down off his ass.

What the hell? I shoved my stool back and stood up too quickly. The floor shifted beneath me, and the room spun. Damn. I hadn’t realized how much I’d drunk. I took a step forward and stumbled into the dance floor, colliding with someone hard. We both went down. “Get the hell off me!” he barked. “Get the hell out of my way!” I snapped, shoving him aside. My head throbbed. My temple burned where it had hit the floor, but I didn’t stop. I pushed through the crowd, trying to ignore the pounding in my skull, my heart, everywhere. Where the hell was Gregory?

One will be giving us a dance from Hall of Hell academy, and the other from Imperio Pecaminoso Academy. Alanjadro smiled proudly as they called his clan first... The light turned off, and blue light emerged. The crowd screamed as a girl on a mask held the pole and started twerking... The light turned on, and Alan's eyes met Vincenzo's evil eyes... Imperio Pecaminoso are around... Alan mumbled.

She said as she increased the tempo of her riding that it seemed like she dancing and grinding on my dick now. “Hell’s Hall has a lot of unoccupied rooms,” she continued, mouth hovering inches away from mine as she continued with the riding, her body slick with sweat, “so why don’t I just move into one of the rooms? That way, I’ll be at your disposal more and you can have me anytime you want.”