Let’s Dance!
~Laura Sheehan
One of the things that most excited me about writing DANCING WITH DANGER was that it offered me the perfect opportunity to combine two of my loves: romance and dancing.
In historical romances (particularly those set in the Regency era) , it’s not unusual for the hero and heroine to meet, fall in love, or experience some other climactic plot moment while dancing. In fact, a Regency romance without a ball is like a Scottish romance without kilts.
But in contemporary romances, dancing is far less common. In fact, I can only think of a handful of contemporary romances that include dance in any significant manner (such as Nora Robert’s pair of novellas, Dreams and Reflections, which are both about ballerinas).
As a dancer, this baffles me.
For me, dance is an inextricable part of life. And I’m not just referring to the classes I teach or take, or the shows in which I periodically perform. I’m the kind of person who will, quite literally, dance down the aisle of a grocery store when I’m in a particularly cheery mood, or tap dance while waiting impatiently for an elevator, or coerce my (often reluctant) husband into waltzing with me in the street when a particularly romantic song is played from the speakers of a nearby restaurant.
Perhaps I grew up watching too many musicals, but to me, dance is a perfectly acceptable way of communicating. In fact, I believe that sometimes dance can communicate even more than words.
So, dagnabit, why isn’t there more dancing in contemporary romance novels? Or every-day life, for that matter?
The truth is, in the Regency era, dances played a central role in courting. Whether it was a casual country dance or a high-brow London ball, these get-togethers were the primary way (in both real life and in romance novels) for boy to meet girl.
But nowadays, dance clubs are just one of dozens of ways to meet new people. Not to mention – and this is a huge pet peeve of mine – you can’t hear a damn thing in most modern dance clubs! The music is cranked up so loud, it’s impossible to carry on a conversation, let alone properly introduce yourself to someone. This is not the ideal environment for meeting people, let alone falling in love.
And then there’s the fact that, in current times, it simply isn’t standard procedure to learn how to dance. There’s no dance master instructing all of the young teens how to properly execute dance moves to “Drop It Low.” Today, most social dancing is improv; we’re expected to just “know” how to move to the music, and hopefully look good while doing it. For someone for whom dancing doesn’t come naturally, that can be incredibly intimidating.
So, I suppose I’ve answered my own question… but I wish it weren’t so.
I wish dancing was not only more common in romance novels, but in real life, too.
Maybe the success of TV shows like “Dancing with the Stars,” “Glee,” and “So You Think You Can Dance,” is an indicator that times are a-changin’. Maybe the fact that Moulin Rouge and Chicago and Billy Elliot and Step Up were all box-office successes will encourage people to view dance as more acceptable in everyday life.
Maybe it’ll help us remember that a little music and dancing in our lives can be a wonderful thing.
Want to bring some dancing into your life? Check out DANCING WITH DANGER (Red Sage Publishing), on sale now at Amazon and B&N.com!
ADD IT ON GOODREADS
BUY IT AT AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | RED SAGE PRESS
Lily Brookstone, the daughter of a workaholic United States Senator, defies her father’s wishes by moving to Los Angeles in pursuit of a dancing career. But the tough town hasn’t been easy on her, and after two years she finds herself disowned by her father, dropped by her agent, and recovering from a dance injury. Determined to live her life independently without relying on others, Lily refuses to give up her dream of making it as a dancer and instead works herself ragged at three different jobs to make ends meet. Serving coffee and teaching dance classes to pre-schoolers are ordinary enough day jobs, but Lily dons a disguise when she works the late shift as an exotic dancer at a topless strip club.
Raised to be fiercely independent and hesitant to trust, at first she keeps her “”night job”" a secret from her new beau, Marc Sloane, a tough L.A.P.D. Officer with an uncanny knack for reading people. But her cover is blown when Marc attends a bachelor party at Lily’s strip club and recognizes her.
Realizing that she has a chance at true love and knowing that her life is in danger from the threat of her stalker, Lily must not only trust Marc to keep her exotic dancing job a secret, but she must also trust him to protect both her life and her heart.
Keep reading for a sultry sneak peek at DANCING WITH DANGER:
Marc set down his empty glass and glanced around. He hadn’t been to a strip club in years. The present company was great, and the dancers were beautiful, but it wasn’t really his scene. Sure, the ladies were hot, he couldn’t deny that, but it all seemed so… methodical. They had some sexy moves, but that’s all they were: a series of movements that showed off their very flexible limbs. There didn’t seem to be anything sensual about it. He liked a woman to be just as turned on as he was, not simply going through the motions for his benefit.
“Marc! Your turn, buddy.”
Marc caught the now-empty pitcher as Ben tossed it to him. With an exaggerated groan, he stood up and went to the bar to fetch another. As he watched the bartender refill it at the tap, he heard the DJ croon, “Get your cash ready, guys, Miss M is on the stage! You won’t see this masked Vixen on the floor, so if you want to get up close and personal, get your ass to the rail and bring out the green. No one knows the true identity of this mysterious, little sex kitten but trust me, after her performance, you won’t care!”
The crowd was a little louder than before, and even the bartender glanced at the stage. Curiosity piqued, Marc turned around and watched the “mysterious Miss M” stride out and take command of the room.
She was a tiny little thing, but not super-skinny like some of the other dancers, nor were her boobs ridiculously huge. The music pulsed quietly, building slowly in tempo and volume, but she simply stood there, legs spread wide, her head tilted a fraction to the left, as if contemplating her first move. The mask concealed most of her features, but he could see her eyes sparkling as she scanned the crowd, as if assessing them. Marc’s groin gave a slight jerk as he realized her mouth was shaped just like Lily’s, with a bit of an overbite that pouted her upper lip slightly forward. He watched those lips shift into a very slow, very wicked grin. The men crowding the stage went wild, banging their mugs on the rail and shouting at her to dance.
With a suddenness that took Marc off guard, she whipped into a crazy, spinning kick. Her booted leg whirled over her head, giving him a tantalizing peek of black lace panties. Her long, brown hair whisked out behind her as she bolted forward and launched into some sort of gymnastic move that flipped her sideways in mid-air. She landed gracefully with those incredibly sexy legs spread wide, barely pausing before bursting into another series of martial arts-like maneuvers. With a laugh, he took in her costume. She was playing out every man’s fantasy of the sexy super-hero: she was Silk Spectre in the flesh, employing real karate moves to convey a mood of complete sexual abandon.
He noticed that she wasn’t stopping to gather the cash that the men waved at her. Despite the fact that she hadn’t removed a single piece of clothing, she had the crowd whooping and shouting for more. He was just beginning to wonder how long she could pull this off before the crowd got too impatient, when suddenly the music changed. She was crouched low, her left leg stretched out to the side. One daring member of the audience strained to stuff a bill into the top of her boot, but he couldn’t quite reach since they were so damned tall. As the music transitioned into a more sultry rhythm, Miss M slowly folded in her leg and stood up. She was breathing hard, the rise and fall of her breasts mesmerizing. She retreated to recline against the nearest pole, as if spent yet aroused by her acrobatics.
Marc realized that this, too, was totally in character. He’d seen Watchmen over the summer and remembered how Silk Spectre had gotten turned on sexually by action and heroics. Judging from the hollers in the audience, he wasn’t the only one who remembered what came next.
Miss M let her head fall back as she ran her gloved fingers through her hair, down the sides of her neck, around her breasts, and then diagonally across her belly to converge between her legs. Her lips parted with pleasure, and he felt himself harden in reaction.
With her hands still between her legs, she slid her spine down the pole. Suddenly he wanted to rush on stage to catch her. He almost felt her round, little butt in his hands as he imagined lifting her and pressing her up against the pole with a thrust of his hips.
He shook his head out of that fantasy and adjusted his stance to make more room in his pants.
Miss M slid back up the pole and twisted into one of the fancy pole maneuvers he had seen earlier that night. But for some reason her moves seemed more natural than the others had been, as if she were teasing herself as much as those who watched her. Hanging upside down with her legs wrapped around the pole and her hair flowing down to the floor, Miss M jerked her tight, yellow and black corset and ripped it wide open.
Underneath, she wore a black lace demi-cup bra. The contrast of that lace beneath the leather and spandex superhero outfit was tantalizing. Placing both hands on the ground below her head, she kicked out one leg, then the other. She planted her feet on the stage and kept her legs straight as she climbed her upper body up along the pole, her ass pushed outward and her back arched. Her breasts almost spilled out of the bra as she slowly stood upright. She pulled the straps of the opened corset off her shoulders and slid the entire outfit down her body, rocking her hips from side to side as the fabric slipped down. She stepped out of the outfit, now clad in a lacy bra and panties, plus those boots, gloves, and mask. The contrast of all that black up against her milky skin was mouth-watering.
She laughed, a sweetly innocent and shameless gesture that reminded him suddenly of Lily. Smoothly, she gyrated her body to the music, twirling around the pole and along edges of the stage, allowing the men to tuck cash in her boots and into her panties. As she turned around and bent over, Marc saw that she wasn’t wearing a G-string like most of the other girls, but that the bottom curve of her cheeks peeked out from below the lace. The panties were transparent enough, however, that when she turned to the front he thought he glimpsed an enticing shadow leading down between her legs.
Miss M was dancing again. The way she moved was an enchanting mix of natural grace and teasing sensuality. She moved only in ways that seemed to give her pleasure, and watching her made him almost feel guilty, as if he were intruding on a private moment of intimacy. But then she would smile and make eye contact with the crowd, making it clear that she was intentionally inviting them into this shared moment of sensuality. A sudden wave of anger and jealousy toward the men closest to the stage rushed through him.
He laughed at himself. Damn, she’s good.
His laughter faded away, however, when she finally removed that tiny excuse of a bra. Her breasts were perfectly round and just bigger than a handful. Her nipples were hard, little peaks of rosy pink, exactly the same color as Lily’s lips had been this afternoon. Damn, he thought again.
Before he knew it, the song was over, and Miss M was gathering the remaining cash before striding off stage with one last sultry wave.
It was another few moments before he realized he had company at the bar. The entire bachelor party crew stared at him, laughing.
“What?” he retorted defiantly, hoping they couldn’t see the bulge in his pants.
“Boys, I think one of the Vixens finally caught Officer Sloan’s attention,” Pete roared.
Scowling fiercely, and relieved that it was too dark for them to notice if his face was flushed, Marc snatched the now full pitcher from the bar and headed back to the table. The guys followed, thumping him on the back and punching him in the arm, teasing him mercilessly the entire way. When a blonde dancer came around to their table offering lap dances, Steve asked her about buying Marc a lap dance from Miss M.
The blonde raised an eyebrow and said a little too sweetly, “She doesn’t give lap dances, honey.” She slid closer to Steve and whispered, “But if it’s mystery you’re lookin’ for, I’ve got more than enough for you, big boy.”
“You sure do… And I’ll take it!” Steve shrugged unapologetically at Marc before stuffing a ten dollar bill into her G-string and sitting back to enjoy the ride.
Pete flagged down a busboy and asked him something that Marc couldn’t hear because the music had started again and another girl was dancing on stage. The kid shook his head, but gestured to a curtain next to the bar. Pete gave him a wad of cash and the boy ran off.
Taking a look at his beer mug, Marc decided to cut himself off so he could drive home. He eyed Pete suspiciously and narrowed his gaze even more when he realized Pete was purposefully not looking his way.
When the busboy came back and nodded to Pete, Marc groaned inwardly. When Pete smiled at him and announced to the table that Marc had a surprise waiting for him behind the curtain, Marc groaned out loud.
Sound like something you’d enjoy?
Tell me about your favorite dance scene (from a romance novel or movie/TV show or even real life) in the comments section below. One lucky commenter will win a free digital copy of DANCING WITH DANGER and a $10 Amazon.com Gift Certificate!
Giveaway open to U.S. readers only. Winner will be chosen via Random.org from commenters who leave both a valid email address and answer the question posed above. Giveaway closes 12:01am May 10, 2012. Giveaway graciously sponsored by Laura Sheehan.
About the Author
Laura Sheehan grew up in Las Vegas and has been dancing since she was ten years old. Her ballet mistress was an honest-to-goodness Las Vegas showgirl! She currently lives in Los Angeles with her husband, a thoroughly-spoiled cat, and a handful of fish who keep her thoroughly-spoiled cat entertained. When not working at her office day job, she can usually be found in a dance studio, on a softball field, writing at her computer, snuggling with her amazing husband, or eating milk chocolate. Sometimes she can be found doing more than one of these at a time, although when doing so she has to be careful not to get chocolate on the computer keyboard (or on the amazing husband… although now that she thinks about it, that might not be such a bad thing).
Laura writes suspense, paranormal, and fantasy romances. She can be found online at: ReadLaura.com; facebook.com/LauraSheehan; twitter.com/#!/TimesNewLaura; and gplus.to/LauraSheehan.
