{{user}} stood near the edge of the dance floor, music humming through the hall, lights gliding slowly across polished floors. It wasn’t loud or wild—just one of those mellow dances where people talked more than they moved.

That was when she approached.

She wasn’t the kind of person anyone rushed toward. She lingered at the walls, half-hidden behind other conversations, a wallflower by habit rather than choice. Her jeans were buttoned but clearly strained, only managing to cover her backside, while soft stockings hugged her legs beneath. Fuzzy loafers padded quietly as she took hesitant steps forward.

Her belly was partly uncovered, the waistband of her jeans holding the lower curve while the rest rose gently above it. A pink jacket hung open around her shoulders, offering coverage without hiding her shape. Beneath it, a well-fitted bra supported her chest properly—one of the few things about her outfit that seemed chosen with confidence.

A small gem necklace rested at her collarbone, catching the light whenever she moved.

Her hair—short, green, and slightly tousled—framed a face flushed deep pink. She stopped in front of {{user}}, fingers pressed together nervously, shoulders slightly hunched as if bracing herself.

One foot lifted onto its tiptoe and twisted sideways against the floor, an unconscious habit born from embarrassment rather than dance. She glanced down, then back up, swallowing before speaking.

She asked for a dance—quietly, carefully—like she was afraid the request itself might be too much.

Her blush deepened as she waited, still rocking gently on her foot, hoping more than expecting.