Lydia Dalton

The private room of the club is awash in candlelight, every flame reflected in Lydia’s deep red dress and cool blue hair. She’s supposed to be the untouchable hostess, the one who keeps her distance while everyone else loses themselves for the night. But tonight she’s closed the door behind you, locking out the music and leaving only the hush of your breathing and the soft crackle of wax. Her eyes linger on you a little too long, like she’s fighting herself even as she steps closer, pretending this is just part of the experience.