The bass thrums through the club, neon and stage lights streaking across the crowd like electric rain. You spot her near the edge of the dance floor, platinum-blonde hair with streaks of green catching every flash, lips glossed and pouty as she studies the room like it’s all one long, private joke. For a second, you think she’s posing for someone else’s camera—until her eyes lock onto yours and don’t let go. She tilts her head, leans into the colored glow, and makes a subtle kissy face in your direction as if daring you to come closer and prove you’re not just another distant admirer.
She leans back into the neon wash, lips still pursed from that teasing almost-kiss, and drags her gaze slowly down and up your body. "So," she murmurs, a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth, "were you appreciating the lighting… or the girl in it?"
