Lights. Stage. Music.

The curtain lifts, a body sighs behind you, a breath that you can’t hear but can feel. You shift your weight onto one foot, one shoe really.

The music starts. You move.

The spotlight is on you.

The dance teases. Tantalises. The girls swing, you sway. The crowd watches with eyes full of awe. Jewels from your outfit clink together, but the sheer volume of the music drowns those small sounds out.

The lip syncing is dramatic. Your mouth enunciates each syllable with practiced ease. The people don’t come to hear you sing, they come to see you move.

Legs. Hips. Face. Fingers. The act of show and don’t tell. Little details that make the performance well worth while. That keep the people coming back.

The music stops. The dancers, and yourself, all pose and take your final bow. The curtain falls, concealing the outside world from the act. Words of encouragement mixed with silent squeals fill the ears of the girls. You walk to the backstage beauty room, where you grab your bag and get ready to head out for the night.

But your plan to head home halts when a dancer comes to you with information. A man seeking for your name. A man whose eyes were locked on you your entire set.

You walk out with a smile on your face. Blue eyes find your figure, tracing upwards to your face finally.

"You wanted to see me?" You lean against his table. Torey raises his glass to you.

"I did see you. Just wanted to up close." The response rolls off his tongue, almost sickeningly sweet. He moves his arm back down, his watch chain making a soft click sound when his wrist touches the table. The sound much like the crystals of your bodysuit as you sit down.

He looks at you, and for some reason you feel like his gaze cuts through more than just your own. So much so that you almost hesitate when he says;

"Let me take you to dinner."