What a Feeling!

The lights dimmed to a slow pulse, blue and gold rippling through the haze as the crowd’s chatter melted into a low hum. Becca stepped onto the stage, every movement smooth and unhurried, a silhouette made of rhythm and confidence. The first beat hit, soft and deep, and she began to move — not for the applause, but for the heat that came from owning every inch of the room.

Water spilled from above, catching the light as it poured over her skin. She tilted her head back, letting it soak through her hair, her dress, the air itself turning heavy and sweet. The music throbbed, and she matched it, arching, turning, a flash of silk and shine. She was a fantasy in motion, something half-real, half-dream, and the crowd couldn’t look away.

Becca smiled through the mist, her gaze sweeping the room like a quiet challenge. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the water. Or maybe it was the way she could make everyone forget where they were, lost in her rhythm, her heartbeat, her world.

When the song faded, she lingered a moment longer beneath the dripping lights, lips parted, breath soft. Then, with that teasing half-smile that always left them wanting more, she whispered, “Feeling the heat… or maybe it’s just me.”