Creative Writing: Pale Dances

The female dancer re-enters the stage sans the blue shirt/shorts and repeats the gestures with a bit more feeling, and the male does the same thing after the female exits. The next time the female enters the stage, she is only in the colorful bra and black briefs. The male enters the stage in a black bra and colorful underwear. The color in the costumes sends a message of the differences between males and females, but the black undergarments lean towards blurring the lines of gender. The lights get brighter as clothing is shed. The two performers fully embody the gestures now, and seem to have more of an intimate connection with one another. The music constantly seems to be an underscore of the dance, but does not add much to it. The dancers share weigh and partner with more sensuality, and eventually are silhouetted with blue light as they return to gesture and awkward ballroom partnering. The lights fade as they continue to move.

They'd told you to stay away from him. The tea kettle began to boil in the background and your ears were quick to drown it out as Hibari grabbed your thighs and hiked them up around his hips. You pulled away from his lips and took a breath of fresh air, your nails raking down his back as he pulled you impossibly close. His dark eyes bored into yours for a brief second and you were suddenly subjected to the torrid emotions swimming in them.

“You look so beautiful shorty.” He whispers in my ear as he sent a shiver down my back. Shorty? Hmm, I think I’m starting to really like the nickname he calls me. Eli leans down kissing my forehead, I rest my head on his chest as we rock back and forth to one of the old songs back in the days. I look to my side to see the grown up and young adults looking lost in their world dancing with the person they care about. I glance back up to Eli as he gives a little pat on my ass, which I lightly hit he's

Sid, Foxx, and the 1990's Prolog. When I stepped outside the wind pushed up the emerald green skirt of my heinous school uniform. "I hate it" I say to my friend Lorna, whom stands next to me. She looks so uncomfortable, "she always looks like that" I quietly tell myself

1.1.1 Before starting this chapter it might be useful for you to write out your definition of dance. Let’s pretend for a moment that aliens landed on earth looking for intelligent life. Obviously they ended up at your apartment and

Lust drummed through our systems. Kylar’s body hovered over mine as his lips set on mine, hungrily demanding with such a fierce passion as I withered under him, his knees had been placed either side of me caging me under him, his lips left mine to close on the skin

Alex holds you to him as your head is pressed against his chest, your groaning from the warmness that seemed to cascade over you as he leans down to press you against the mattress, arms still tightly wrapped around you as his face nuzzles into your neck, kisses being pressed to the skin of your neck and you're not sure how Alex can tolerate being pressed this close to your sweaty body.

Chip was back in town for the occasion, nostalgia brought me to the day I applied. However, this time I dragged everyone to seats around the stage. Again, the night was for making memories, and embarrassing the birthday boy was on the agenda. We paid two dancers to restrain Zack on stage in order to publicly haze and dance on him. Eagerly I had an idea, asked the DJ, my old friend, if I could jump on stage and contribute to the act. Still laughing, about to jump off stage, the DJ announces I was the next dancer. Between confusion, and all my friends encouragement to dance, I gave in. Nerves had me shaking in my skin as I tried recreating what I’ve seen the strippers do, then got down to my underwear while my friends and customers

Alex Summers x Reader Prompt: collarbone, throat, and inner thigh kiss. Words: Alex Summers made you fucking weak in the knees, every goddamn part of him made your whole body weak, from his hair, to those blue eyes, to his voice. There wasn’t a part of Alex Summers that

First Dance Normally when a dancer starts at a club, she meets with the DJ to tell him what kind of music she wants to dance to. Throughout the shift, most DJs will take song requests, and the music tends to get more intense as the night goes on. Since I was whisked into the scene without any time for preparation, I’m not sure what type of music Steven is going to pick for me. I hear Angel’s second song start, and the flutters in my stomach threaten to break through my skin and leave dusted bits of flesh all over the carpet. Yes, I’m that nervous.

He rights himself and we just cling to each other while the audience goes insane. He’s kissing me an all

My fingers with his hair. My lips moving against his. “You’re pulling things out of me that I’m not so sure I want pulled out,” he whispers over my lips. “Straddle my lap,” he says.

“I didn’t know you were here.” Bennett said in her happy go lucky drunk voice. Cole and she started dancing to a slow song that was playing.

His body tensed up at the mere idea of having her in such an intimate way. Adam knew it would be something of dreams, or so it would seem to him as he had been dreaming of her all his life. "I've been told its quiet...pleasurable." he explained as gentlemanly as he could. "I like that, we are each other’s savior." he spoke as his hands gently stroked over her warm curves. He kept them on her and side, but the urge to explore further was still there. Thankfully he had enough control to not spoil the moment, "Then let us spend the rest our time together feeling what we can. I admit I may be slow in that regard. I have not felt anything in such a long time; it is hard to remember what these feelings are. Hard to explain them, but I don't want them to stop." he admitted as his lips brushed over the curve of her ear as his sense took in all they could, if only to keep him from forgetting anything about

The music is soft as we dance the time away. Dance the pain away. Dance all of the outside world away. He becomes me, as I become him. Our faces seem to become more beautiful, or least his face does. he tells me that my face does the same, I