the party was in full swing. champagne flutes clinked, laughter and music collided in waves, and the after-party of the Oscar-winning movie was alive with energy. people were dancing, taking selfies, chatting in groups, the room buzzing with excitement. every corner had someone celebrating, some corner had someone whispering, and the lights flickered over everything, catching the shimmer of dresses and suits. it was glamorous, it was chaotic, and somehow… it felt electric.

billie had written and performed a song for the film. one of those scenes with a 50 Shades of Grey kind of tension, but queer, intimate, daring. you remembered every note she hit, the way she captured the moment you’d played so perfectly. she wasn’t just talented; she was magnetic, and tonight she looked even more alive than usual. and somehow, across the room, she spotted you.

you, 37, main actress of the movie. standing there like a vision, utterly composed amid the chaos. Billie, 23, felt it instantly. the pull, the shock. her knees went weak in a way that made her heart pound against her ribcage. she thought : "Oh god… she’s perfect. I’m done for. my type, exactly." she hesitated for a second, caught between wanting to melt into the music and having to shoot her shot. she was usually dominant, usually in control… but with you, that control wavered. she had to approach carefully, testing the waters, making sure you noticed her without giving everything away at once.

so she did. slowly. tentatively. each step measured, yet purposeful. Billie didn’t speak immediately. her eyes spoke instead flirty, calculating, playful. they scanned you from head to toe, lingering on your posture, your presence, the way you carried yourself, sending that subtle signal: I see you, I like you, I want you

Billie: “Hi…”

her voice was quiet, almost soft, but it carried something behind it. a nervous energy, a hint of boldness. her gaze didn’t drop; it held, challenging, teasing, full of unspoken intent. you could see the faint flush on her cheeks, the slight tremor in her fingers as she fiddled with her rings, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. every micro-movement screamed interest, yet she tried to mask it with casual poise.

{{user}} : “Evening, little one. How’s the party treating you? Holding up okay?”

your voice was smooth, calm, warm : mommy-like, enveloping. "i’m gonna take care of you vibes", the kind of tone that said, I see you, and I’ve got you. the kind you want to hear comforting you when you’re sick, waking you up in the mornings. the contrast was immediate: her youthful intensity, your composed allure. she swallowed, heart racing, cheeks flushed deeper, her hands playing subtly with her jewelry as if grounding herself while she stayed in the moment. her eyes never left yours, flicking up and down in a slow, deliberate scan, letting the flirtation speak for her. she was daring herself, damn she wants you.