Muted hues of colour splashed your body, limbs moving gracefully along the thumping rhythm, the fiery liquor you had ingested making your moves smoother on the dance floor.

You perfectly knew what you were doing, the show you were putting on directed at one person only, whose gaze, which had been boring holes into you for about forty minutes now, confirmed that your plan was working.

A friend of your sister’s, Simon, buff military folk, with his dog tags peeking from the triangle of skin that the open top buttons of his dress shirt open. He’d come to the club for your sister’s birthday only to make her happy, but you were the reason he’d stayed.

Tight little dress hugging your body, long hair flowing down your back, a sheen of sweat making your skin glisten; he was having a hard time controlling himself. It didn’t last long. Pushing himself off the bar, he stalked down the dance floor, eyes zeroed in on you.

“We’re leaving.” His deep voice rumbled in your ear, followed by a yelp and a giggle the moment he hoisted you on his shoulder, a hand over the back of your thighs so you wouldn’t flash the whole club.