Masquerade Dancer Novels & Stories

I could hear the self gratification and I looked in the mirror one final time. Every part of me looked different. The point of a masquerade was to not be seen as yourself and I hoped it was going to work far beyond the allure of a costume if only to save me from having to see his entire family once again. “You’re almost done.” I turned to see Dimitris, his costume a near compliment to mine. A black suit that shined with silver stars with a mask that was pure black dotted with gems. He was the night sky and I was those stars and moon that we were admiring tonight. Crossing the room Yvet moved to allow him to reach around me and fasten a silver chain woven as a net that started as a choker. Th

Sinclair must have told Scott to put it in my locker. “Darcy!” Lydia greeted me as I entered the waiting room. “Look what the coach gave us!” She showed me a mask similar to mine. “Oh.” I looked around. The other dancers also had the same masks. “Enzo asked the dancers to wear masks this weekend,” Kirsten explained. “It’s practical because you don’t have to waste time preparing. But don’t get too comfortable. He could change the rules next week.” “It’s like we’re attending a masquerade carnival in Venice,” one dancer remarked.

The dance floor showcased stunningly stained and lacquered wood, featuring a uniform arrangement of tiny glass mirrors embedded throughout. The dance floor sparkled and shone as the elegantly dressed nobles twirled across it. It was like entering a mystical fairy haven nestled within a forest. Enchanting, beautiful, exotic... Feral. A bottle girl approached me and gestured mutely towards my coat. She, too, wore a mask. In fact, everyone was in a mask. It was impossible to figure out who was who.

It was the only life I had ever known. And honestly? I liked it. The Respect. The Control. The Unlimited wealth. And the ability to have any woman I wanted. “Draco, your dancer will be out shortly.” Dan’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I nodded slightly. Moments later, the lights dimmed. A small smile formed on my face. My dancer had arrived. She walked into the room wearing the traditional red mask. My favourite. But something was different about her. She was slender. Petite.

He looked back, smirking like he knew exactly what was happening. “It’s the right thing to do, you know. He tipped you well.” “I’m just thanking him,” I muttered. I wasn’t dressed for a dance, long tight jeans, a vintage blouse, my bag over my shoulder. No glitter. No legs. No cleavage. Just… me. When I reached for the mask and slipped it on, Dante blinked like he couldn’t believe it. “You’re going like that?” “Yes,” I said. “I’m not dancing and I’m not staying. I’m just thanking him.”

He didn’t feign smile like others who displayed their dentures like they owe the Actor and the Tv host an honorarium smile. They were merely doing their best to go viral; I could relate to their plight. They announced the next activity, another dance with a better eighteenth-century mask. The next note popped up as they left the space, and boom, a new group emerged from the crowd. Amongst them was someone spectacular. Someone that seemed to be the lead dancer, a lady in mask. I took keen interest in her—her height, her skin color and her hair were something similar to mine—but unlike me, she’s a great dancer.

Anna's POV As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the city, I stood before the mirror, carefully adjusting the delicate mask that concealed my features. The anticipation coursed through my veins, mingling with a sense of excitement and apprehension. Tonight, Victor and I were invited to a masquerade ball, an event shrouded in mystery and whispered tales of a secret society. Dressed in an elegant gown that hugged my curves and cascaded in layers of midnight blue silk, I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach. The air crackled with a palpable energy as Victor approached, his eyes widening with awe at the sight before him.

Her fingers, fine and pale, seem ready to shatter the crystal. — What is the real purpose of this masquerade, Dimitri? To humiliate me by demonstrating that I can be dressed, perfumed, and presented like a prize animal? I already knew that. — The purpose, dear Diane, is to make you feel the power that emanates from you, even—especially—in this role. Look closer.

" When I asked, he smirked. He looked like someone who could kill her in the next second. TWO YEARS LATER I smiled as I slowly stepped out of the car; there were a slew of directors waiting for her, including the CEOs of small businesses who all wanted to collaborate with me. The powerful Miss Eleanor, the image I made for myself solely to exact revenge on him. Only a few people have seen my face, but all have felt my wealth. Only a few people will see my face before I exact my revenge. I was wearing a mask on my face and an umbrella over my head. At the time, I was the wealthiest person in town, and only a few people had seen my face.

I bit my lip to stop the tears from gushing out of my eye sockets; something I’d been wanting to do from the moment we walked onto the dance floor. “I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?” he asked me lowly, his no doubt anxious contorted face hidden behind his mask. Not a figurative mask but an actual mask since this was a masquerade charity ball being thrown by one of his superiors at work. I hung my head in dismay. “I’m tired. M-maybe you should dance with someone else,” I murmured and he nodded at me.