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‎She steps in.

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‎Her body moving like the flow of a river—

‎Or is she the river's daughter?

‎From her lower belly up, air moves like she's being choked.

‎Her body shines—

‎All that glitters is not gold…

‎But she is gold.

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‎Hips whisper secrets only the floor understands.

‎Hands trace arcs like fire in slow motion,

‎Fingers circling in the wind, drawing a sigil.

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‎Her eyes, above the mask, dare the shadows to follow her.

‎Every sway a promise, every tiptoe a spell.

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‎The room bends to her rhythm.

‎Heartbeats sync with the tremble of her spine.

‎Even silence leans in to watch.

‎For she dances not with her eyes—

‎But for the fever she awakens inside them.

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‎Her hair flows with the sway of trees dancing in the wind,

‎Each movement a calling,

‎and the unseen leans closer.

‎Your heart yearns for her touch—

‎Alas! She warms only those who desire her most.

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‎You call her dance,

‎But her initials spell THE SEDUCTRESS.

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‎WILDCARD\\\\ PEACE OUT 

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