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| View Poll Results: Should I Continue this story? | |||
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Heres the next part! Enjoy
![]() ![]() How did I get the greatest job in the world you ask? Well, I while I was in college, I majored in dancing . I was good at every type of dance: hip-hop, jazz, ballet, anything. But I loved to do Michael Jackson dances. The rhythm, the beat, his movements inspired me to dance. Once I graduated, I taught one of the most famous dance studios in LA, where many singers go to look at potential dancers for their tours. One day, a masked man comes into the studio. My class was done, so it was just me going over the routine I just taught. The man just stands there, arms crossed, tapping his feet to the beat. He was accompanied by a couple of beefy looking characters. The song that happened to be playing in the background was The Way You Make Me Feel. I was doing the whole routine, tight black dress, heels, everything. I’m not sure why, but when I dance, I love to be in character. When I finally do a spin in the dance, I turn around and see him staring straight at me with those brown piercing eyes. I gasp. Feedback please! Last edited by floridagal06; 10-30-2009 at 07:16 PM.. |
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Next Part!!
“H-Hi,” I didn’t want to freak out just because he was Michael Jackson. How could I have not seen him while I was dancing? There are mirrors everywhere!! “Hello there. You’re a wonderful dancer. Where did you learn to dance like that?” he questioned. Whoa. Michael Jackson is asking where I learned to dance. I must be hallucinating. “You actually,” I blush. “You inspired most of my dance moves.” “That’s great. Hey, could I talk to you, alone?” he asked. “Uh ya sure. Come back to my office.” “Bill, Wayne. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He said, taking off his mask. He then proceeded to follow me into my office. “Have a seat.” I motioned to the chair facing my desk. I carefully sat down the chair facing him, still aware that I was wearing the tight dress. I didn’t want him to “see” anything. “So…?” “Oh, my name is Carla.” “Thanks,” he contused. “So Carla. I’m about to embark on a tour for my album HIStory. You’ve heard of it?” he said with an arched brow. “Yes of course.” I said calmly, not wanting to sound overexcited. HIStory! I love that album! I play it all the time while I’m driving. My neighbors get angry sometimes because I play it so loud. “My question is to you Carla, would you like to be a part of that, as one of my two female backup dancers?” |
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I gasp. On tour? With THE Michael Jackson?? Hell to the Yes!!
“Mr. Jackson,” I thought for a moment. “I would love to be a part of the tour.” A huge smile answered me. “Great!” He said enthusiastically. “Could I have your number so I could fill you in on the details later?” “Sure.” I wrote my cell phone number down and handed it to him over the desk. My cleavage was partially showing as I handed the piece of paper to him. I saw his eyes linger for a moment and then look away. His cheeks reddened. “Thank you,” he said as he got up. “No, thank you Mr. Jackson.” I got up and put my arm out for a handshake. Instead he grabbed my arm and pulled me into a hug. He wrapped his arms right above my butt. “You’d better get used to this Carla, and please call me Michael,” he whimpered in my ear. He let go and walked out of my office without a second glance, leaving me standing there in a daze. “Get used to what?” I thought. Who cares? I’m going on tour with Michael Jackson!! So that’s how I got the job. No audition, no weird papers to fill out, just Michael asking me personally if I wanted to go. But don’t worry, the story isn’t close to being over. It’s just getting started. |
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