Pulp Fiction John Travolta Dance Novels & Stories

Rebel POV. I stand from my bar stool; I begin to dance as I make my way through the crowd. Esmee Denters Outta Here is playing. Whoever requested this is a fucking legend. I twirl, taking out the concealed blade that is strapped to the inside of my thigh. As I twirl again, I flick my wrist and it hits its target. Raising my arms in the air, I move my hips as I dance towards James. I smirk, seeing he is dead. I walk away, still dancing. I don’t need to worry about my prints being on anything, as I have the latest tech on my fingertips that conceals them.

Her free hand was in his so fast that she barely remembered moving it. Trevor took the champagne glass out of her other hand and shoved it so fast at Malcolm’s chest that he had no choice but to take it. “Thanks,” Trevor said with a smirk and wink and whisked Joanna away from the flock of men. He escorted her to the dance floor like she was fine porcelain. Then he wrapped one arm around her waist and held her other hand outward. They were dancing to the strings and piano like they were in an old Victorian British style movie. Everyone twirled around each other with skirts of gowns whishing around their partners.

He motions wearing sunglasses, a big frown on his face. “Men in Black !” I yell, hoping maybe the ‘in’ is considered a silent word. He shakes his head and my stomach plummets. He raises an imaginary cigarette to his lips, but I just gape at him, still clueless. He then starts moving his head back and forth in a dance, raising a hand to his face and forming a horizontal V-shape with his fingers. “Pulp Fiction !” I yell and almost burst with joy when his face lights up and he gives me the thumbs up sign. One down.

Carter said and sipped his beer. Patty and Lawrence greeted him as well. “Hey, guys,” Nick said. “Patty, may I have this dance? You don’t mind do you, Jackie.” “No,” she said happily. “Sure,” Patty said and placed her shawl and purse on the bar next to the pink beverage she was drinking. “Carter, do you mind watching my stuff?” “Not at all,” Carter said. Dalton escorted Patty to the dance floor. He put his hands on her waist and she laid her hands on his shoulders. They swayed to the music.

“Go on.” Quinn’s already off her stool, grabbing for my hand. She pulls me toward the dance floor and I offer no resistance, buzzed off of the vodka and practically humming with energy, excited to get out there and burn some of it off. The two of us thread through the crowd to find a space to dance right as the song changes to one of my favorites, and I let out a cheer and start dancing opposite Quinn. I sway my hips to the music, throwing my head back and my hands in the air. I let myself get lost in the beat, eyes sliding closed as my body moves to the music.

In one of my strip clubs, in a private room while three of my most expensive dancers walk in half naked and smile when they see it’s us. Jagger sits with his legs spread wide as one of the girls walks to him and seductively bends, shoving her ass almost on his face while Dash licks his lips and watches the girl walking towards him. She grabs his hands and places it on her hips. I shake my head as he gives me a pleading smile. He knows no touching, but hey, if she put his hands there, it’s her funeral.

Which is more vodka than anything. “Business.” Is all he says and I nod my head, not really interested, as I want to dance some more. I stand up, and Lola follows as we go back to the dance floor. Dancing with her to DNA Loving You by Billie Gillies. I get lost in the music once more when I feel hands move to my waist. I stiffen slightly, but for some reason, I relax as I dance back into who it is. I turn my head and see the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.

She wasn't dancing for Roman, or for the Frenchmen; she was dancing to outrun the image of her father’s hand coming toward her face. ​"You dance like a woman who has finally found her soul," Mario murmured, leaning against the bar as he watched her. ​"I dance like a woman who just realized her soul doesn't have a bank account," Vivienne laughed, throwing her head back and draining her glass. ​Across the room, Chloe had found her own distraction. Jean-Pierre, the youngest of the French associates, was captivated. He had discarded his suit jacket, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal scars that rivaled Roman’s.

And it hurt him more than he cared to admit. "Tristan, do you want to dance?" Viviana, asked him, pulling him away from his thoughts. "No, let's just... enjoy our drinks." Tristan replied, taking another sip of his wine. "Well, that doesn't show your expression, babe. You keep looking on the dance floor. So, come on! Stand up there and dance with me!" She grabbed Tristan's arm and pulled him out onto the dancefloor. Tristan sighed and let just Viviana drag him out onto the dancefloor.

Povetta said to him and dragged me on the centre of the dance floor. Alessandro joined us a moment later.Povetta,being the most notorious De Niro indeed shouted her lungs and we swayed our bodies on thy rhythms of fast pop music.Alessandro left no stone unturned to get closer to me and I,under the effect of five shots of tequila that I grabbed from the bartender enjoyed the sweaty masculine cologne from his muscular body.My back was grinding on his chest,while his hands squeezed my waist,his face rested on my shoulder hollow.