Slow Dancing Novels & Stories

“I’m not a particularly good dancer, even when I’m sober.” Beside me, Rob flashes that drop-dead gorgeous smile. “Neither am I, but I bet we can get through a two-step.” Sliding out of the booth, he offers me his hand. Behind us, our raucous table is remarkably subdued as Rob leads me to the dancefloor. I’m still a bit worried about even a two-step, but by the time we get there and Rob pulls me into a closed dance position, the song has ended. I’m just hoping the next song has a slower tempo when it begins, then shake my head at the irony. It’s a slow dance. Be careful what you wish for, I think as the music swells and Rob leads.

But it should be my turn now, right?', I said. Sarah nodded shyly and waited for my request. 'Uhm. This should be easy for you. Can you do a lap dance for me?', I asked as I faced her beside me. She replied with a bashful smile but she still complied. She got up and dragged me to sit up on the edge of her bed. Taking her phone, she searched for a music to set the atmosphere and then - 'Slow motion We can take, we can take, we can take our time, baby

He announced. “Careless Whispers” by George Michael plays. As soon as I heard the saxophone gracing my ears, I wanted him to put me down so that we can slow dance. Our hands lock on to each other and we take our time feeling the rhythm. Stepping in and out, moving and sliding gracefully. Never looking at our feet if we’re messing up or not. Keeping our eyes connected and not focusing on anything else but each other. The DJ change the song to a more modern sound.

A slow dance that the two of them know, their tongues dancing with their bodies. Their naked bodies intertwined with another with sweat trickling their backs and forehead. Their hair is a mess but they still see each other as the greatest art they have ever encountered. dancing a slow dance that they created with their sweaty bodies. Their moans and groans were suppressed by each other's kisses, trapping them by their throats. They didn't know how long they were so immersed in each other's bodies that the night seemed to just pass by till the both of them felt like the dance ended with each other satisfied. But their legs and arms were still around each other afraid of letting the other go.

Soft, slow music filled the room. Couples began pairing up for a slow dance, holding each other close and swaying to the rhythm. Calla followed Rico quietly as he pulled her, her heart thumping harder now. Everyone was choosing someone. Everyone was reaching for a hand or a waist. She looked down at her dress, at the slit along her leg, suddenly aware of everything she was wearing and everything she was feeling. She couldn’t help wondering how Rico would act now, in a room full of dancing couples, with the music slowing down… and her heart running wild.

He walked over and changed it. I giggled, “Anything you want.” He poured himself another cup of wine and then handed me one. “Anything?” he whispered. “Dance with me.” He took my cup and extending his hand to me. I looked at him, smiled and reached for his hand. The radio played an old song, Slow Dancing, by Johnny Rivers. Jason held my hand in his and put the other gently on my waist. I heard him softly singing the words, “and we’re slow dancing swaying to the music, slow dancing, just me and my girl…” I closed my eyes and leaned in close to him. I felt his broad chest against my face, as I had o

he said while laughing too. We just danced to the lively music like we were crazy and we didn’t really care about the people surrounding us. Damien and Sandy are right, I should be happy. I should enjoy this night! *** The lights suddenly turned dimmer and the lively music a while ago turned into a slow one. Everyone looked for their partner and prepared themselves to do the slow dancing. [ CHAPTER THEME SONG: I don't want to be you anymore By Billie Eillish] “May I?” I smiled at Damien as he lay his hand in front of me again. “Just don’t get mad at me if I step on your foot, okay?”

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

“Dance with me.” “To this? But it’s a slow song. You don’t do slow songs.” “With you, right now, I want to.”

“And so are you, my darling Danshak.” She began to ride him slowly at first, gyrating her hips in deliberate slow motions that sent ripples of enjoyment from her groin to the rest of her body. Danshak held her hips and lifted his to meet her, matching her rhythm until they were both moving in opposite unison, joining and coming apart and then joining again. Their slow dance of ecstasy soon gave way to speed when Erin took the lead again and began to ride him hard like a stallion running away from a fire.