Pulp Fiction John Travolta Dance Novels & Stories

Luke and Carla burst into laughter, leaving John looking around, thoroughly embarrassed. Following Carla onto the dance floor, John found himself at the centre of Carla's exuberant antics. She playfully rubbed herself all over him, reveling in the embarrassment etched on the young man's face. "You are too easy, John!" she exclaimed between laughs, her contagious joy spreading to those around them. "More drinks!" she shouted, leaving the two men on the dance floor as she manoeuvred through the crowded club to the bar.

I know she is only joking around cause Shawn is the love of her life. "Now, girls, I am not trying to get beat up by your beta cause I am hot," Travis says, and we all three laugh until we can't breathe. "Come on, let's dance before we are too tired from standing to," Juliana says, grabbing my hand and pulling me. I manage to set my drink down before she has me on the dance floor. It is a pop song, so I swing to the music trying to forget everything. I lift my hands and let my body follow the beat. I feel someone's hands go around my waist, and I snap back to the present. I look, and some older man I have never seen before has his hands on my hips. I slid away from his hands. I don't want hi

Rita pours the liquor into the glasses. "Drink up, time to turn up." She says in a demanding tone. I take the small glass and throw the burning liquor down my throat. My throat burns slightly as the liquid goes down. I breathe a sigh. Davina drags me to the dance floor. She starts to dance and does it gracefully and I join her. The tequila must be kicking in now. We dance so hard that we forget whose watching. I look to my right and see Rita grinding on a guy. I chuckle deeply.

His demeanor and aura were too much on the domineering side than someone with a carefree jovial spirit “Are you calling me a bad dancer,” he asked with a small frown, both were moving slowly accompanying the music, Pedro's hands rested on Olivia's hips while hers were on his shoulders. She smiled warmly and twirled, only for him to hug her from behind and moved rhythmically together. Their show of affection entertained the crowd, but far in a corner, Luciano was gulping down one shot of tequila after the other. His eyes were groping with rage as he slammed the small glasses on the table and took another. Watching Olivia dancing with Pedro angered him,

We snap our fingers in front of their shocked faces and they were now blabbering about how we both look so sexy, hot and beautiful. After arriving at the club, the guards quickly welcomed us with a nod towards the two mafia men, and we entered. Olivia took my hand and drag me towards the bar area and ordered two tequila sunrise shots. We both gulp the liquid and it burn my throat, the boys chuckle at the back, while Olivia took my hand and we move towards the dance floor. We start dancing crazily with the beats of the music, laughing to no end. Dancing for some time we went to drink some thing, thus time she order tequila shots with lime on the side.

She could hear laughter on the other side—bright and light and full of joy. "I can give her that," she said. "I can give her the dance. But I can't promise she won't see through me." "She won't." Dante opened the door. "Because you're going to be the best dance instructor she has ever had. And for one month, you're going to pretend you're just a woman who loves to dance." He stepped aside, and Zara walked through the door. --- Amara Nwosu was even more beautiful than her photograph.

Or if he did, he doesn't show it. Not knowing exactly how to feel about that, Troy heads back downstairs to the dance floor. Trish has come and gone again with some guy who bought her a drink, so Troy ends up dancing alone. The music wraps around her completely. She forces her body into the provocative, fluid movements she spent hundreds of hours practicing alone in front of her cheap bedroom mirror. She loses herself in the rhythm, letting years of anger and pain melt away beneath the pounding bass. For a few beautiful moments, she stops thinking about orphanages, revenge, and Dorian Vanderbilt. She just moves.

“Then I’m asking. Come dance with your favorite teacher.” His face lit up. We hit the dance floor and Douglas could actually move. After a few songs I backed my fat ass right up against him and felt it — a massive, thick bulge pressing against me. Holy shit. That cock felt enormous. My pussy clenched hard. We danced through three more songs until I was thirsty and dripping. “Be a dear and grab me some punch with lots of ice, Douglas.” He rushed off like an eager puppy. On his way back some asshole tripped him. Punch flew everywhere, completely soaking the front of my dress. The cold liquid made the thin fabric cling to my hard nipples and curves like a second skin.

My pulse stumbles. Nola dances with a group of guys. I spin, losing myself in the music—until I turn and slam straight into Giovanni’s chest. His hands find my waist before either of us thinks. Heat shoots through me. “Careful,” he says, voice low, barely audible over the beat. “I’m dancing,” I snap, too breathless. “You’re the one standing in the middle of the crowd like a statue.” His mouth twitches. “I’m working.” “You’re always working.”

I didn’t need that tonight. Just as I was about to turn away, something caught my eye, and I froze. There, across the dance floor, was none other than Vincenzo De Luca. At first, I thought I was imagining things, but no. It was him. The notorious mafia boss, infamous for his cold, calculating nature, was dancing wildly on the floor like a man possessed. The sight was both amusing and perplexing. I had never seen him like this, and it made me chuckle.