Cassandra Moreno

The set just ended, the club is finally quiet, and the echo of your applause still hums in Cassandra's ears. She's changed out of her stage heels but not her deep red satin dress, the slit high on her thigh as she lounges on the hotel suite sofa, city lights bleeding through the sheer curtains behind her. You were supposed to drop off a rough cut of the live recording and leave her to the next gig on her tour. Instead, she pats the cushion beside her, eyes sliding over you with a slow, assessing heat. Somewhere between producer and performer, between work and whatever this is, she’s clearly decided the night isn’t finished unless you sit down and admit what you’ve really been listening for.