She is this… exhibitionist gets her kicks from getting it in the centre of a room full of oversexed, overconfident, likeminded people.
The drinks are flowing but that's not what they came for, they're just the beginning of one hell of a night.

She takes to the floor, experienced enough to not to wait for a hush that refuses to come, the best recognition is knowing you can’t hear your own moans above the sexual noise pollution you create. Smiling, she drops to her knees. No leisurely foreplay, not to say she won’t be a tease. There is no name we can attach to her. She is most willingly objectifiable.

Experienced and most clearly an expert, her top, you think you remember as black, is peeled from her olive-skinned torso. She places it by her side. Obviously knowing that a t-shirt to the crowd is a tee that’s never found. No-one likes to walk home topless. Not even exhibitionists.

Gyrating slowly, she appears to sparkle in the lights, body glitter or something, a delicate navel piercing, it’s different and somehow mesmerizing...

Trousers inched lower, those in the cheap seats can appreciate from behind, then again, sparkling detail of a diamante thong. Rising suggestively she inches them off never-ending smooth legs then returns to her knees. The lingerie looks expensive, the underwear fetish crowd are creaming so soon. Hands flow over herself, drawing your eyes to each selected body part. Like a skilled magician she has you quickly enthralled and immersed in her show, setting up the questions with which you will later torment yourself, how did she do it? And so soon?

Almost un-noticed her hand slips under her thong, your attention with the other hand, fingers flowing through luscious dark hair, running over her shoulder taking her bra strap along, and back up over her impressive breasts, nipples pinched slightly to attention, up her neck her fingers trails, back through her hair and down, deliberate fingers stroke up and down, down to the hand, where you realise is already halfway to job done.....

The room becomes nothing more than a half un-noticed blur to the woman, and the woman becomes the most important thing to the room. It's as if she is the thing the core which the room orbits around. Blood rushes to her ears as she loses any leftover self-control, the glitter that hypnotises is echoed by every shining eye.

Whereas once, she brought your attention to singular body parts, now they have joined, becoming a completeness that eyes travel over without voluntary thought. You have no recollection of the previous image, instead, it merges, all thoughts flow into one, building like an almighty river, wave upon wave of glorious, invigorating image, it awakes every nerve to a tingling, almost unbearable height.

Whipped up she is a frenzy, the waves caught in a tornado, drawing everything in towards the eye. She is writhing, arching, moaning, shuddering, convulsing, trembling, hands frantically, expertly, bringing, holding her to an edge, the room is a knife’s blade, breath trapped, eyes fixated, dilated.

She explodes, implodes, primal instincts bared for the room to feast upon, above the noise you can barely hear her, but she is there, her presence strictly unavoidable.

Exhausted, she returns gracefully to her feet, finds her lover in the midst of the crowd.